#which seems to involve labelling everything you own

[hellenhighwater]

I saw you mentioned cricut machines in your last post. I've been considering getting one, but there seem to be a whole lot of models and I don’t know anything about them — do you have any tips?

I have the Explore Air 2, and it's just fine.

I did what I usually do when it comes to buying nonessential tech--figure out what I need it to do (in this case, cut vinyl and paper in formats up to 12 in wide) and then read a few articles about the best [whatever tech item] of the year is for several years running, avoiding sponsored articles. If I'm looking at a specific brand, like Cricut, I look up "versus" style articles, which compare the pros and cons of different models by that brand. For Cricut, the "Maker" line is their highest-end machine, intended for people who do serious production. If you're not doing a small business level of cricut work, it's probably overkill. The "Explore" is the midrange machine, for casual crafters.

I look for anything along the lines of "The new model fixes a major problem that the previous model had, which was..." If the current model is just a faster, shinier version of the old one, I'm getting the prior model--it'll be less expensive and for a tool I'm only using intermittently, speed isn't a high priority. The current Explore 3 model is running $300-$400; the Explore 2 can be found for about $200.

I think it does the job well. I actually already have a larger-format vinyl cutter--my brother and I went halfsies on a commercial scale machine we've affectionately named Arty Boi--but the cricut is faster to set up, more portable, and I like the grippy-mat material system. It does a good job for my needs, which are really pretty simple.

[dannyphannypack]

Writing ASL: Techniques to Write Signed Dialogue

Hey, guys! I've been reading a lot of DC Batfamily fanfiction lately, and in doing so I realized how little I see of ASL being represented in written text (love you, Cass!). I wanted to briefly talk about tactics to writing American Sign Language (ASL), and ways that these techniques can help improve your writing in more general contexts!

SOME THINGS BEFORE WE GET STARTED

I will be discussing everything in terms of ASL! If you have a character who uses Chinese Sign Language or even British Sign Language, the same rules will not necessarily apply! Don't be afraid to do some extra research on them.

Do not let this dissuade you from writing a character who signs ASL! This is by no means the end-all be-all to writing ASL dialogue, and I do not intend this post to insinuate that by writing ASL the same way you write English you are deeply offending the Deaf community. If this is something you're interested in though, I highly recommend experimenting with the way you write it! Above all, have fun with your writing.

Related to 2nd rule, but still very important: not everyone will agree that sign language should be treated/written any differently than English. This is a totally valid and understandable stance to take! I do not hope to invalidate this stance by making this post, but rather to introduce an interested audience to how ASL operates in the modern world, and how that can be translated into text.

ADDRESSING SOME MISCONCEPTIONS

ASL is the same as English, just with gestures instead of words.

Actually, no! There is a language that exists that is like that: it's called Signing Exact English, and it's an artificial language; i.e., it did not come about naturally. All languages came from a need to communicate with others, and ASL is no different! It is a language all on it's own, and there is no perfect 1:1 way to translate it to English, just as any spoken language.

2. But everyone who signs ASL knows how to read English, don't they?

No, actually! Because it's a completely different language, people who sign ASL and read English can be considered bilingual: they now know two languages. In fact, fingerspelling a word to a Deaf person in search for the correct sign does not usually work, and is far from the preferred method of conversing with Deaf people.

3. Because ASL does not use as many signs as we do words to articulate a point, it must be an inferior language.

Nope! ASL utilizes 5 complex parameters in order to conversate with others: hand shape, palm orientation, movement, location, and expression. English relies on words to get these points across: while we may say "He's very cute," ASL will sign, "He cute!" with repeated hand movement and an exaggerated facial expression to do what the "very" accomplishes in the English version: add emphasis. Using only ASL gloss can seem infantilizing because words are unable to portray what the other four parameters are doing in a signed sentence.

4. Being deaf is just a medical disability. There's nothing more to it.

Fun fact: there is a difference between being deaf and being Deaf. You just said the same thing twice? But I didn't! To be deaf with a lowercase 'd' is to be unable to hear, while being Deaf with an uppercase is to be heavily involved in the Deaf community and culture. Deaf people are often born deaf, or they become deaf at a young age. Because of this, they attend schools for the Deaf, where they are immersed in an entirely different culture from our own. While your family may mourn the loss of your grandfather's hearing, Deaf parents often celebrate discovering that their newborn is also deaf; they get to share and enjoy their unique culture with their loved one, which is a wonderful thing!

YOU MENTIONED ASL GLOSS. WHAT IS THAT?

ASL gloss is the written approximation of ASL, using English words as "labels" for each sign. ASL IS NOT A WRITTEN LANGUAGE, so this is not the correct way to write it (there is no correct way!): rather, it is a tool used most commonly in classrooms to help students remember signs, and to help with sentence structure.

IF THERE'S NO CORRECT WAY TO WRITE IN ASL, THEN HOW DO I DO IT?

A most astute observation! The short answer: it's up to you. There is no right or wrong way to do it. The longer answer? Researching the culture and history, understanding sign structure, and experimenting with description of the 5 parameters are all fun ways you can take your ASL dialogue to the next level. Here are 3 easy ways you can utilize immediately to make dialogue more similar to the way your character is signing:

Sign languages are never as wordy as spoken ones. Here's an example: "Sign languages are never wordy. Spoken? Wordy." Experiment with how much you can get rid of without the meaning of the sentence being lost (and without making ASL sound goo-goo-ga-ga-y; that is to say, infantilizing).

Emotion is your friend. ASL is a very emotive language! If we were to take that sentence and get rid of the unnecessary, we could get something like "ASL emotive!" The way we add emphasis is by increasing the hand motion, opening the mouth, and maybe even moving the eyebrows. It can be rather intuitive: if you mean to say very easy, you would sign EASY in a flippant manner; if you mean to say so handsome, you would sign handsome and open your mouth or fan your face as if you were hot. Think about a game of Charades: how do you move your mouth and eyebrows to "act out" the word? How are you moving your body as your teammates get closer? There are grammar rules you can certainly look up if you would like to be more technical, too, but this is a good place to start!

Practice describing gestures and action. ASL utilizes three dimensional space in a lot of fun and interesting ways. Even without knowing what a specific sign is, describing body language can be a big help in deciphering the "mood" of a sentence. Are they signing fluidly (calm) or sharply (angry)? Are their signs big (excited) or small (timid)? Are they signing rushedly (impatient) or slowly? Messily (sad) or pointedly (annoyed)? Consider what you can make come across without directly addressing it in dialogue! Something ese about ASL is that English speakers who are learning it tend to think the speakers a little nosy: they are more than able to pick up on the unsaid, and they aren't afraid to ask about it.

Above all, don't be afraid to ask questions, do research or accept advice! New languages can be big and scary things, but don't let that make you shy away. Again, there is nothing wrong with deciding to write ASL the same as you write your English. I've personally found that experimenting with ASL dialogue in stories has aided me in becoming more aware of how to describe everything, from sappy emotional moments to action-packed fighting scenes. Writing ASL has helped me think about new ways to improve my description in more everyday contexts, and I hope it can be a big help to you as well, both in learning about Deaf culture and in pursuing your future writing endeavors. :)

P.S: I am quite literally only dipping my toes into the language and culture. I cannot emphasize how important it is to do your own research if it's someting you're interested in!

P.P.S: I want to apologize for my earlier P.S! What I meant by “I am … dipping my toes into the language and culture” was in direct regards to the post; what I should have said is “this post is only dipping its toes into the language and culture.” While I am not Deaf myself, I am a sophomore in college minoring in ASL and Deaf Culture, and I am steadily losing my hearing. Of course, that does not make me an authority figure on the topic, which is why I strongly encourage you to do your own research, ask your own questions, and consult any Deaf friends, family, or online peers you may have.

[0nyancat0]

My take on “radical feminism” that nobody asked for

I myself consider myself leaning very into radical feminism but I see that terf ideologies seem to get mixed in more often than not (wanna make it clear I support trans rights)

1. A lot of rad fems think that all heterosexual sex is rape which is such an insane thing to do and implies that women do not have the power or capacity to consent to heterosexual sex

2. I do agree that we as woman will never find liberation through sex or sex work however rad fems do not realize that a lot of women fall into sex work and can not simply quit, I do not support the sex work industry but I support sex workers

3. To me it seems a lot of white women have overshadowed the movement and only mention woc when it’s used as an aha! moment against men and not with the intention of actually helping

4. Extreme transphobia, the main idea is that trans women rape women’s body’s and appropriating the body, my conflict with this is women are not their bodies and trans women have always felt like women since birth is the biological aspect that’s the problem

5. A lot of rad fems think a women choosing a certain lifestyle or religion is oppressive which again perpetuates the idea that women can not make a choice without a man or patriarchal idea being involved or a sense of brain washing

I think a lot of rad fems have lost sense of the movement and more times than often make themselves appear victim like and in a constant state of martyrdom, yes we women have suffered and continue to suffer and be oppressed but we can not let this weight break us down and make us point fingers at people (trans women and women who choose religion or certain life styles) who are not the root cause of our suffering

Please let me know your thoughts

Edit

⭐️Some people seem to be confused about this but i was born a woman and will always be a woman, it’s so crazy how other women will try to degrade me as if they were men for disagreeing with them or seeing things differently, i do not like liberal feminism and i never have, and i do not like to label my belief system and prefer to make a more individual standpoint than community⭐️

Another edit lol

⭐️I have never claimed to be a rad fem or that I know everything about rad feminism because I don’t, and that was the purpose of this post, it’s really crazy how people will say they want to educate and liberate women while yelling and degrading me for simply not agreeing with them and proceed to do the same things men do, you are no better than a man, I’ve come to realize that this community strayed from its original purpose and roots and has been taken over by people who want to put in their own two cents and opinion, this community or at least a good portion of it seems like a very miserable community, I have meet a lot of rad fems who have common sense and realize that hate will get them nowhere and being rude to me won’t achieve anything, on the other hand majority of rad fems I’ve meet have misconstrued the movement from what I’ve read and put feelings over facts, I won’t interact to hate and only to genuine discussions ⭐️

[tired-teacher-blog]

Never in a million years, had Aizawa thought the day would come when he'd finally settle down and share his life with another, but there he was..

Like a blinding ray of sunshine brightening the dark and dusty corners of his heart, you bursted into his life unexpected and uninvited, to shift everything this man had settled for.

A hurricane really, because if he were to be asked, that's how he would describe you, and despite putting his life at risk on the daily and without an ounce of hesitation or fear, he was terrified of you, or rather, of the effect of having you near.

He didn't need your presence, nor did he need the warmth or cheerfulness looming over him every time you're around, he was content on his own, living day by day like he has been for years, no family, no lover, and no reason for the added worries.

However, he soon came to realize that his once dull and cold existence was to be flipped upside down.

He lived in denial until he couldn't any longer. Yes, he started thinking about you more than he was comfortable admitting, missing you when you were not around, smiling more often while reading your texts or hearing your voice from the other end of the line, he was already addicted to you and it was too late for him to escape.

He already knew that whatever future awaited him, needed to include you or piss off, he was done pretending but couldn't -for the life of him- admit his feelings out loud.

Perhaps it was for the best, having you in his life with no labels involved, that's what he thought for a while, it was an unspoken vow in which you offered yourselves to the other, body and soul, and that was enough.

However, it all came crumbling down at his feet when you nervously grabbed onto his sleeve one day, and confessed your wish to become his wife, that day he knew that he also wanted more than what you've been sharing all along, and the only thing he could utter in response, was a breathy "yes".

It was your little jumps and cheerful squeals that made him realize he has spoken as he should, because at that moment he knew, that all he wanted in life, was to make you happy.

He simply wished for a quiet ceremony though, involving only the closest to you, but decided to keep that to himself and give you everything you wanted.

You were on cloud nine preparing for the day, the unchanging smile on your face, and the sparkling glint in your eye were dazzling as you picked the flower centerpieces together, and met with the chef when it was time for the cake tasting.

He was doing things that never seemed possible before you came along, but enjoyed every part of it as it was all for a life together with you, and seeing the thrill and exhilaration adorning your face as the big day drew near, softened his heart and filled him with certainty that he wouldn't want it any other way.

You looked breathtaking as you slowly walked down the isle in your elegant champagne colored dress and beautiful makeup and hairdo, your eyes gazing at the handsome man who was soon to be your husband as you stepped closer to him.

He could not contain the warm smile appearing on his face, or the hitch of his breath when you finally stood before him, and it took everything in him not to kiss you already, he was in love and no longer ashamed of showing it to the world.

_ "I do."

A promise you both still share to this day.

Divider by : @/saradika-graphics

[adventuringblind]

Oscar the Matchmaker: part one

Oscar Piastri x Reader x Max Verstappen (because I can and nobody is stopping me)

Genre: fluff

Summary: Max has always been labeled as things. Angry, temperamental, weird, goofy, etc., but now he doesn’t know what to label himself. When Oscar signs with McLaren and his possible next teammate is determined to figure him out, his whole world is turned upside down.

Warnings: hints of past bad relationships

Notes: nobody stopped me so I did things. I would date both of them because both are baby.

Masterlist

Oscar Piastri. One of the best upcoming talents in the sport.

Max remembers when he used to have that title. It feels like a lifetime ago now.

Now staring at the papaya clad Australian, he can't but feel sentimental. The younger males personality is much different then his own. How is he always calm when his car sucks?

To be fair, Max was a teenager when he was in his rookie year. His hormones were all over the place.

But then next to the rookie is her. She's also a rookie with alphatauri this year. A possible teammate for him later on down the line. She'd proven herself by making it into the points this year.

It's ridiculous, he thinks, how two rookies could be so good with awful cars. It just dosen't make sense.

There have been rumors that the two are in a relationship. The endearing looks and slight touches not going unnoticed by the media. Yet, with all the critics out there, they don't seem to mind much. Another thing Max can't seem to do. They seem happy just being in eachothers company.

Oscar is more of a mystery to him than the girl. She's made it her personal mission to be in his life. His habit of holding people at arms length is apparently intriguing to her. More specifically, him as a whole intruiges her.

Which is weird because she has a boyfriend already, right?

~

The girl throws herself onto the bed in the hotel room. The race was awful, and now she had successfully embarrassed herself at the stupid after party.

Oscar trails behind her. Laughing his ass off at her mishap earlier. He'd tried to stop himself, but it was honestly ridiculously funny.

"Stop laughing! I've just ruined everything!" She yells. Thought the sounds are muffled by her face being pressed into the bed.

"You haven't ruined everything. I don't even think he noticed." Oscar sits down next to her and runs his fingers along her back.

She'd come out to him not that long ago. He still remembers the anxious looks and fumble of words. The worry he would be disgusted with her or wouldn't understand evident.

It's not something he would have ever thought about for himself. But he could see why she would want that.

When he met her, she had the biggest heart. She had too much love for too many people, and it ended up getting her hurt during their time together in Formula 3 and 2. The worst part is that nobody seemed to understand her. Her past partners left her as soon as they thought she was getting too close with another person.

When she had told him, everything made sense. She seemed like she was stifling something in herself. All because she didn't want him to get upset with her.

He'd told her then that he didn't mind sharing her. Encouraged it even. It was nice to see someone with such a love for people.

They'd both agreed he'd be involved because she had a tendency to be used and taken advantage of. That was the last thing he wanted to happen, so he wanted to he involved. And what so bad about having more people around who love each other.

Then along came Max Verstappen.

Both of them had always been fascinated with him. Who would be? He's a world champion and holds records in the sport.

She fell hard through spending time with him. Being with redbulls' sister team meant they spent a good chunk of time together.

She was determined to figure him out and understand why he keeps everyone at a distance.

To say she is crushing hard is an understatment, and now she'd just outed herself to him. Tipsy with the alcohol in her system, she'd manage to spill that her love preferences extend further than one partner.

"I don't think he cares. I think he is drunk and won't remember come tomorrow morning."

She looks up at him with teary eyes. Her cheeks are still pink from her earlier drink she downed after the mishap.

"I know so." He reassures. "Now, do you want help getting ready for bed?"

"Yes please."

~

Max woke up with a major hangover. He'd gotten absolutely trashed last night.

He wasn't trashed, and he somehow managed to remember the events prior to him blacking out. The reason he thought he might need to.

Her. The girl who'd been getting close to him. The girl who made him conflicted about everything he knew.

Now his perspective has changed. He may have an actual white with her. But what about Oscar? Are they not together?

His head hurts too much for that.

He stumbles out of bed and attempts to find the advil. Then he clumsily gets a glass of water.

Should he text her? Should he call her? How is he supposed to approach this?

He needs to talk to someone about this. Lando is out of the picture because he's loose lipped. It's not his fault, but he'd rather not expose the girl he's interested in.

He pulls out his phone, wincing away from the bright light.

Daniel.

He pulls up his contact information and dials his number. Praying he answers and is coherent enough to help him get out of his head.

"Max? Hello?"

"Oh, sorry, are you free right now?"

"Yeah, I just got out of the shower and have zero plans for the day." He can hear the award winning smile on his face.

"I need you to explain something."

"Anything."

Max flops back on the bed and suddenly loses his words. "Do you know what polyamory is?"

"You mean having more than one partner, yeah?"

"I guess." Max inhales before continuing. "So let's say I like this girl but but she possibly has a boyfriend already. Then you find out she is all about having more than one partner, and now you realize you could have a shot but have no idea how to approach anything anymore." He's definitely word vomiting, but he prays Daniel got the idea.

"I think you need to talk to her... or them, I suppose."

The last suggestion he wanted was Daniel's first choice. The Dutch had never been good at communicating, and it's not like he'd had a good role model for it.

"You're right, I'll just try sending a text."

~

She woke up to Oscar making breakfeast. Her hangover isn't as bad as she thought it would be. Maybe she just can't hold her alcohol after three drinks?

The previous nights nightmare came flooding back to her, and she wanted to scream. Maybe Oscar is right, and he'll just forget it. One can only hope.

She reaches for her phone off the nightstand to check the time. Only, she's greeted with a message from the male in question.

She doesn't open it. She can't open it.

She bolts out of bed to Oscar. The nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach making it uard to breath.

"Whoa, love, slow down." Oscar sets his arms around her in an embrace. Her panting pacing form now stuck with nowhere to go. "What's the matter?"

"He texted me."

"... and what did he say?"

She pauses. Technically, she didn't know if she had reason to panic yet. However, the thought of Max texting her now of all times makes her want to cry. "I don't know." She confesses into Oscar's t-shirt.

Oscar holds her close. His hand on the back of her head to pull her closer into him still. "Do you want me to open it?"

She shakes her head yes. The vulnerability makes her want to curl up in a ball. Oscar had been through this with her before. She left herself open to the world with too much love and empathy to give, and the world sought to take advantage.

He slips the phone out of her hand and opens the message. "He's not upset." He body goes rigid in his hold. "Actually, he wants to meet up to talk about things."

~

Oscar had seen her this panicked since she signed her Formula 1 contract. The excitement mixed with fear making for a mixture of responses that he helped her navigate.

She'd done the same for him when he signed his contract. The Alpine drama had been a mess, but she was there with him every step of the way.

Now he watches as Max awkwardly leans against the wall, y/n is pacing still, and the Australian is doing his best to mediate the situation.

The key words here are: doing his best.

"So, I'm confused. Are you two together?"

"Yes, we've been together for a little over a year now." Oscar smiles warmly at the ball of anxiety walking the length of the room.

Max hums in understanding. His eyes trail the girl for a moment before landing back on Oscar. "Is this normal for her?"

"In some ways, yes. But in her defense, the last time she was in this situation, it didn't end well. That's her story to tell, though." Oscar gets up from the chair and scoops up the pacing girl in his arms. He sets her down in her own chair and gets on his knees in front of her. "If this is too much, I will walk Max out the door, and we can figure it out from there."

She shakes her head no. She wants this, but the fear is taking hold in this moment, making it hard for her to get past the wall formed in her head. The one that stops her from making the same mistake as last time.

Max watches the two with endearment. The way Oscar is so gentle with her makes his heart melt. His longing for something similar to what the two have almost overwhelms him.

Finally, she gets her breath steadied and looks at Max. "I'm sorry for what happened last night."

"Don't apologize for that. It's not like you did anything wrong." He takes a gentle tone. Careful not to scare her away from him. "So you're... open to having more then one partner?"

She shakes her head yes, refusing to look him in the eyes. Oscar sets himself back in the chair and places a hand gently on her knee in reassurance. A calming reminder of his presence.

"And you like both me and Osacr?"

Again, she nods her head. She looks away like a child in trouble with their parents. It hurts both males for different reasons.

"I also like you." Max moves to then crouch in front of her. The usually confident racing driver is now shrinking into herself. The girl who was determined to break through the Dutchs shield is now struggling to let down her own. "You have this way of making me feel safe when I'm around you."

She left her eyes towards him. Not looking directly at him, but it was encouraging to the blonde nonetheless.

He looks at Oscar for approval. The Australian nods him along. "I think I'd be willing to try this if you'll both have me?"

It didn't dawn on Oscar that Max would want him involved. Shock flooding his system at the mention on it.

Their both looking at him. He didn't realize he was zoning out until she said his name. The first thing he'd heard from her since Max came into the room. "You want me involved? Like completely?" Q

She looks frantic again. A string of explanations falling from her lips incoherently. Trying to smooth over anything that could be misunderstood.

Oscar squeezes her knee to let her know he's not upset, just processing. "I'd like to be involved. With You two, I mean. I hadn't thought about it for myself, but I'd be willing to explore."

~

They spent more time together as the three of them. Going out or staying in, it didn't matter. Oscar felt himself falling into a pattern with them that he enjoys.

After everything that's happened in their own lives individually, they deserve just to have each other.

Next ->

[sadlynotthevoid]

Once I had this dream about a modern lcf AU where Lily was like 13~14yo and somehow got involved into an otome-novel-ish type of drama. What I mean is: some girl at school was going around acting like she was such a sweetheart and making others believe Lily was a mean rich girl who bullies her.

She was very sad because a lot of people, including some friends, actually fell for it and treated her as if she was a villain. More and more people avoided her and frowned when they saw her. People who she used to play and chat now talked bad about her. And only a few close friends seemed to believe in her and treat her kindly.

She's brave and bold, but she feels really lonely right now.

And she didn't know how to tell her family. She hasn't heard that any of them had had such a problem before. What if they don't understand? (What if they don't believe her?)

One day, Cale (the original one) entered into her room while she was crying after a bad day. His brain's alarms started to sound. Whom the fuck hurt his little sister? She's a good kid who only wants to train with swords and eat sweets.

So he sat next to her and comforted her, softly humming a song. It felt so nostalgic (though she's not sure why) that Lily ended up spilling out everything. He promised things were going to get better. Then proceeded to distraught her with a gift and a promise to sparr with her.

It was Friday at that moment. On Monday, Lily went back to school just to find out everyone acting strange. Not bad, just strange.

When she asked, her classmates explained that the troublesome girl's mother had carried her from house in house to confess the truth during the weekend. She and her mother were at the headmaster's office at the moment.

Only some people apologized, but no one kept treating her like a bad omen.

Lily didn't know how, but she was sure that Cale was somehow behind this.

Other points about the dream:

-Lily and Cale got close after this. He takes her to and from school quite often. They spar together when Cale is at home or Lily tries new things with him.

-Probably because of the reason above, I remember a scene of them ice skating at an ice rink. They seemed to like it, so hc that it becomes an usual activity for them.

-They take Bassen out for a break when he seems too meddle into his studies. Then the three of them end up sitting at an ice cream shop or a coffee shop, dumming around and ocassionally getting tutoring from Cale.

-I think Cale was on his last year of college here, but he also had a business. I think it was a fashion business but I'm not sure. I don't know why he was taking college classes when he already had a sucessful business, he's weird like that. Probably because he was bored.

-Rok Soo was his roommate. I mean it like platonic roommates, not the vine. Cale somehow convinced him to work at his company after college.

-Ohn and Lily became friends after this.

-The rest of the Henituse family didn't find out about the incident until months later. They freak out a bit before Lily tell them that Cale already solved it. And Bassen is like "yeah, that tracks", which turns into an explanation about his own past bullying situation. Which leads to them connecting the dots. They freak out.

-Cale is walking between classes when he gets a call from Deruth. Half of the campus could heard the "CaLE hENiTuSE, did you sabotage yourself to help Bassen?!". And the "WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT WHAT'S THE PROBLEM?! YOU COULD HAD BEEN HURT!". A few seconds later, it was the whole campus that heard the "AN ACT? IT WAS ALL AN ACT?!".

-Thanks to the people who were near enough to listen to Cale's replies, now the whole campus labeled him of eccentric genius. The general consensus is that he's a good person, too.

-The acting class teacher kept running after Cale, trying to get him into his class after he heard Deruth's last scream. He tries harder after he overhears Cale saying "what? Like it was difficult. You guys are just easy to fool" when his childhood friends asked. Amiru is between the best students, she's definitely not easy to fool.

[romana-after-dark]

“Blessed be the fruit”

“May the lord open”

The Handmaids Tale AU

Commander!Joel Miller x Darkish!Handmaid!Reader

Summary: A few decades into Gilead’s conception, you head into your first posting as a handmaid after an affair with a guardian landed you in trouble. Determined to keep your head low in order to keep your son safe, you take on the moniker of OfJoel. Commander Miller has very little to do with you and mrs. Miller regards you with disgust, however you find solace in an unlikely friendship with Commander Miller’s daughter from a handmaid 14 years ago, Ellie who just got done with wives school. You and your friend, Ofthomas start teacher her and her friend Reilly under her mothers nose. Slowly, Commander Miller begins spending time with you and you begin to learn more about the man he was before and an affair begins outside the confines of the ceremony. Although initially you go along with it out if survival, you find yourself falling for the version of Joel you saw in these late night rendezvous.

Which Joel is really him, and how will he react when his own daughters secrets are revealed?

Content and Warnings: DARK JOEL! DUB CON!

Although no violent rape happens like in TWW, reader is under systemic misogyny and a society of ritualized sex abuse. Everything other than the violent rape scenes, everything that happen in either The Handmaids Tale book or show are liable to happen here including but not limited to discussion of rape, child abuse, child marriage, ritualized sexual abuse, sexual abuse in general, acts of violence, major character deaths, mentions of miscarriage but never shown and never pregnancies we know of. Big ole homophobia warning, specifically in regards to lesbophobia. As for Joel, PIV sex, breeding kink, degrading (slut, whore etc but thing like Raider!joel) forced breeding and breeding kink, power dynamics, Joel is not the good guy but he’s also not the worst, slightly rough sex but not violent. Cucking, reader cucks joel's wife, is dark, participates in non con.

Warnings are liable to be added as the story goes but I’ll always update. As always if I miss something please tell me, but i extensively label my warnings and in the end media consumption is your own choice. If you would like to know if this is a happy ending or not you can message me and I’ll tell you that way I don’t spoil for everyone but you can decide if this is for you.

Immersability: Reader has long hair, can conceive children theoretically. At one point, she has to pose as Ellie's mother and I know this can be loaded in terms of skin tone. I am no genetics expert but I know dark skinned parents can have white passing children, like Lional Richie and Nicle Richie. It's up to you to see if this is going to take you out of the story or not.

Undecided amount of chapters

Chapter 1: You meet your first commander, his family, and your new walking partner

Chapter 2: Your first ceremony, and you see something you aren’t supposed to.

Chapter 3: Everything is not as it seems in either Miller household.

Chapter 4: it’s smut.

Flashback Bonus Chapter: Insight into Tommy, Angela, and Joel's relationship.

Chapter 5: Joel takes you somewhere special. Tommy is involved.

Bonus Chapter: Tommy and Angela

Chapter 6: Gina gets what’s coming.

Chapter 7: Tommy, Joel, OfJoel and Angela explore

Finale (part 1): Ellie gets caught.

Finale (Part 2): Joel fixes it

If you are interested, please comment or say so in a Reblog! Rebloging a masterlist is super helpful to get a series off the ground well!

Thank you so much for your support!

[one-idea]

ASL being raised by Shanks part 4

First - Previous - Next

After everything calms down. Luffy accepts that he won’t swim again, Ace doesn’t he’s still hopping mad. But nothing cools Ace’s rage quite like his brothers. “But Ace look how cool this is.” Luffy proceeds to throw his fist forward. The rubber stretches, hits a wall bounces back, and hits Luffy square in the face. You can’t not laugh at the poor baby.

Ace is still mad at Shanks though. Blaming him for Luffy’s new powers (and if this isn’t Buggy all over again. Blaming Shanks for his own decision to eat a devil fruit, though Luffy didn’t know)

Shanks has finally calmed down. Luffy is safe and relatively unharmed (though the devil fruit being harmful is debatable) he can finally figure out what’s been going on with his son. He also gets to introduce Mihawk to the boys. Ace is suspicious of everyone. Sabo is far too polite for a homeless boy, Shanks needs to figure this kid out. He has a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with that dumb noble who was threatening his boy. And Luffy is full of wonder at anyone Shanks introduces.

He introduces Mihawk as a friend (they’ve never really put hard labels on their relationship. Not wanting others to use it against them) which gets some snickers and eye rolls from the crew. The older boys seem to catch them with a quickly traded glances, but they go right over Luffy’s head. All three boys are easily distracted by the rest of the sentence anyway. “This is my friend Dracula Mihawk. The world’s greatest swordsman.”

The boys are chaos. Sabo wants by to know how such a title is earned. Ace asking how many people he’s killed. Luffy asking is Mihawk is a part of Shanks’ crew. To which Mihawk answers them all in turn. “I killed the previous title holder. I’ve killed a lot of people. No.” The last one is the most uncomfortable question. He’s not part of Shanks crew, but that leads to the next question.

“Why not? Shanks is the best.” Luffy is more upset that he’s not in Shanks’ crew than finding out he’s killed ‘a lot’ of people.

And Mihawk can’t even argue with the kid. Shanks is the best. If he were to follow a captain he would chose Shanks. But he won’t ever tell the other man that because well…. “I prefer my freedom.” And Luffy seems to understand that. All the boys do. The same way Shanks understands.

Not many people would put up with a relationship like theirs. Mihawk knows plenty of pirates who have relations with people on shore. The pirate chasing freedom and their partner waiting for their return. He’s never wanted that. Never wanted the weakness a helpless stationary lover brings. But Shanks is anything but helpless and moves around more than Mihawk does. If he was ever going to commit to someone it would be Shanks, who could almost match him in strength. Who understood the call of the sea, the pull of a challenge and adventure. And who knows Mihawk won’t be tethered. He comes and goes as he pleases much the same as Shanks does. It works for them. (But will it work once kids are involved?)

Luffy just smiles at him and laughs. His hand coming to rest upon the famed straw hat as he smiles at the world’s greatest swordsman and says “one day I’m going to be king of the pirates! The freest man alive!”

And Mihawk gets it. Gets what Shanks sees in the boy. He’s crazy. But in the way Rogers was crazy. In the way that the world can’t take his joy and smile from him crazy. In he’s going to bend the world to his whim crazy. And Mihawk is going to love every second of watching him do it.

Ace punches him in the head and yell about not proclaiming that to just anyone. And the boy seems haunted by a knowledge his young age should afford him. He’s interesting. Mihawk catches Shanks’ eyes over the boys head and can tell his lover caught it to. There’s something off about these two older boys.

They spend about it a week on the island

Shanks spends the time catching up with Luffy and getting to know Ace and Sabo. More Sabo as Ace is still mad about the devil fruit and doesn’t trust Shanks at all.

He’s making some head way with Sabo though. The boy wants to be a writer and travel the world. He loves hearing about Shanks and the crew’s adventures. He’s making friends with in the crew. Especially with Benn and Yasopp. The former a steady presence and the latter full of stories. But Sabo has to agree with Luffy. Shanks is the best.

Shanks takes the boys up to his and Luffy’s hill at night. Ace drags his feet not wanting to come, but unwilling to leave his brothers alone with Shanks. Sabo and Luffy are thrilled. Shanks is telling them stories about the stars. He has Luffy and Sabo’s full attention. It’s only Ace who notices their shadow trailing them. Mihawk never joining the moment but close enough to make sure no danger could reach them. And it would almost be nice if Ace trusted either of these men.

One of the nights while watching the stars, Sabo lets it slip who his dad is. That he was the noble who had higher the pirates. That it’s his fault Luffy and Ace got hurt. Luffy and Ace are quick to comfort and reassure their brother that it’s not his fault, but Sabo is looking to Shanks. Waiting for the man to condemn the noble blood in his veins.

Shanks just smiles at the boy placing a hand on his shoulder. “What sort of life do you want?”

“I want to be free. I want to sail the world with my brothers. I don’t want to be a noble.” Sabo is quick. Wanting to convince the man in front of him that he’s not the monster that he knows nobles to be. That he’s a pirate just like his brother.

“Then free you will be.” Shanks turns his head just enough to catch Mihawks eye. It’s a short conversation. A raised eyebrow from Shanks ‘did you take care of this?’ A small smirk from Mihawk ‘already dealt with.’ Shanks quickly glances back at the boys before meeting Mihawk’s eyes again ‘he’s coming with us.’ A short head nod from Mihawk ‘of course.’

It takes the adults less than 10 seconds to have a full conversation. Shanks turns his attention back to the boys and smiles at Sabo. “You know you could always join my crew.” It’s said with a smile, warm and full of joy. It has a teasing lot to it. Shanks has learned never to show how much something means to him. If he keeps it light the outcome appears to not matter to him. It does. He wants Sabo to come with him. He wants Ace as well. But right now it’s a joke offer. A seed planted for when he truly offers.

Or so he thinks. Because Sabo’s face lights up. “Really?”

“Sure. Anchor’s already coming with us. You might as well join to.” Again Shanks keeps it light though he can see the excitement on both Sabo and Luffy’s faces.

“I’m still going with you!” Luffy is pumped. He was worried the devil fruit fiasco might have changed Shanks mind.

“Of course you’re still coming Anchor. We made a promise after all.” Shanks smiles as Luffy launches himself at his idol. Shanks laughs holding Luffy close, and opens his other arm of Sabo, who rushes in with out any hesitation. Is this what a dad is suppose to feel like? It a question going through all three of their heads.

But for Ace.

It’s white noise. His world stopped when Shanks offered Sabo a place on his crew. It shattered when Shanks revealed that Luffy was already leaving with him. The whole conversation has started to fade out for him. He can hear their laughter and excitement but it sounds so quite compared to his rapid breathing.

He’s losing them. His brothers. The only people in the world who know what a monster he is and love him anyways are leaving.

He can’t blame them. This encounter with the bluejams has just shown to Ace that he’s not strong enough to protect them. What good is he to them? Why should they stay with him? Why?

When they could have adventures with Shanks and his crew. Shanks who is strong enough to protect them. Who can offer them freedom in a way that Ace can’t. He’s losing them. He’s losing them and he can’t blame them for picking the better option. But he knows who he can blame.

He shoots to his feet drawling all of their attention. Luffy realizes what happening right before it does as he reaches out for his big brother “Ace.”

“I hate you. All of you. And I want nothing to do with you.” He doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t think he could ever hate Luffy and Sabo, but Shanks. Ya he meant that one. He just says it because he knows it’s going to hurt them. Because he knows Luffy would never leave him unless Ace leaves first. And knows no matter how much this hurts him it’s what’s best for Sabo and Luffy. He takes off running and just misses Luffy reaching out for him.

Sabo and Luffy want to chase after him but Shanks keeps a tight hold. “It’s alright I’ll go get him.” He reassured the boys. Knowing he can find Ace by his haki signature faster than the two little boys in the woods can. Sabo is yelling that he doesn’t understand and Luffy is sobbing.

“No you don’t get it. Ace doesn’t think he should be alive.” Sabo yells out. “We’re all he has.” Shanks freezes. How? How can a child as young as Ace, who is ten years old, think so lowly of himself. Who told this child that they didn’t deserve to exist?.

Mihawk steps in to take Luffy and Sabo from Shanks. “I’ve got him. I promise I’ll bring him back.” Shanks swears to the boys.

He needs to move fast. Ace knows these woods better than him, but Shanks’ has some of the best haki in all of the new world. He can track this boy around the whole island, but that doesn’t mean he’ll reach him before something or someone else does. He knows this is his fault. He should have phased his offer to both boys. He wanted all three to come with him. But because of his phrasing he must have made Ace feel as though he was being left behind.

He needs to find Ace. Explain that all three boys are coming with him. That he wants Ace around. That Ace and his brothers are safe with him.

[ronearoundblindly]

Time and Tines (2/3)

Reasons (see previous or series)

Steve Rogers x Villain!Reader

Summary: With the Winter Soldier on your side, Steve races against time to figure out why...and how to stop you.

Warnings for basically DARKFIC: talk of unspecified terminal illness, medical malpractice, gaslighting, revenge, gun violence, not overly graphic death but still death (not of Reader, Steve, or Bucky), and decidedly too-little editing. MINORS DNI. There's plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this isn't for you! WC 5242 (which is, yeah, way longer than it was supposed to be)

Steve will do anything to avoid a fire fight with the Winter Soldier. There are too many people involved now, and he has to approach this situation delicately from all angles.

Steve just does not understand yet.

After hours waiting with agents in the dark of Doctor Avani’s house, convinced you’ve ordered Bucky to come right over and kill the man with brute force, nothing happened. There was no sign of anyone. Steve has to try something else.

A small army protects Salvatore while he searches your apartment. If the key to activating his friend is here, he needs to find it, destroy that information, and get a handle on why this is happening.

“This can’t be right,” Steve mutters, pushing past Agent Palmer (who drove) for a better look. “It’s too clean.”

Your one-bedroom would pass a white-glove test.

There’s so little…everything. It’s a far cry from the chaos Steve woke to find in the police station. His head throbs at the memory. He forgot what it was like to have his bell good’n’rung.

“Supe says she’s been selling off furniture,” Palmer calls from the doorway, “but he thought it was replaced. Boxes kept coming.”

Steve inventories a mattress with no frame, half a dozen hanging garments, no shoes. What were you buying? Where did it all go?

The desktop is bare. You’ve taken any laptop with you, it seems. That’s a small comfort. You clearly planned contingencies for your attack andor escape; it’s fitting you had the foresight to hide your research on the Winter Soldier.

Steve is still scared, however, because he sat with Bucky many times, listening to horrible tales of being trapped in his own mind, powerless, isolated in the midst of everyone, unable to control thoughts much less actions.

This one’s gonna take a few more beers for the friends to contend with, but with any luck and quick work, they’ll get through without bloodshed. He and Bucky will decompress somewhere peaceful. It’ll be okay.

He hopes.

Steve scans the lone bookshelf. The most curious edition is a history book about WWII, a few flagged pages open to reveal passages about Bucky’s service record, an underline beneath the location where the sergeant fell from the train, and a mail receipt for an address on Forsythe Avenue keeping your page. That’s all.

It’s not even a unique read. The book isn’t any more specific than an average school text. No other notes are made in the margins, so Steve turns the book upside-down and shakes, hoping for something to fall out. He rips the other books from the shelf and shuffles their pages until a picture comes loose—a polaroid of three women.

You’re on the right, fuller faced but it’s you. On the back is scrawled “the girls” with hearts on either side.

The book is handwritten, no label on the cover or spine, only an embossed mandala design. Steve’s stomach drops, but he opens to the front flap.

Property of Faith Williams

He swallows roughly and closes it, unable to step over that line of privacy. At the moment, he needs evidence of where you could have taken Bucky, and slow-reading someone else’s diary won’t give him that.

Forsythe Avenue might, but that’s just one tiny piece of the puzzle. 

Steve checks a different unlabeled book, but it, too, doesn’t have your name inside, just a ‘Z’ fancifully drawn amidst doodles.

Damnit. This is no help.

“Palmer, you finding anything?”

“No, Cap. Bills all paid. Nothing under the mattress. No mention of Barnes on any papers in the drawers. Not even a Cyrillic symbol.”

No trace, just like how you two disappeared from surveillance.

Steve shuts his eyes, head still throbbing from how hard the Soldier landed a blow to knock him out.

The agent wanders through the tiny kitchen. “Fridge is empty. Doesn’t look like she intended to come back here…if…actually, it looks like she barely ate. No condiments, no spices, nothing.”

“How long has she rented here?”

“Over two years.”

Shit. This is a dead end.

“Keep looking,” Steve orders, but he takes the two journals and heads for the car, pulling up your thin file again. You don’t hold any clearances or a government footprint. You were let go of from your last job with a severance package. Nothing overly generous. No medical leave mentioned. Benefits, including health insurance, would be intact. Based on your appearance earlier versus you in the photo, Steve chews on a few wisps of theories, but it’s not solid proof. Without more, Steve has no leads.

“Friday, any connection to properties on Forsythe?”

He adjusts to get comfortable in the back seat of the SUV alone, firing up a view screen.

There’s a low, sad sound that means the AI found nothing in your records.

"For her or him?"

Womp womp, it comes again.

Steve lets out a tense breath, “Where are we with bank statements?”

“Authorizations just came back,” F.R.I.D.A.Y chirps.

“What about medical records?”

“That one’s a lot harder, Captain Rogers. We have to—“

“Just analyze the financials first,” Steve sighs. His head throbs again, and he knows he needs sleep. There’s no time though. If he could just get answers…

Protections exist, of course, for good reason, but Steve feels the frustration of any detective. He’s trying to find a bad guy, and by 'bad guy,' he means you, not the man you’ve taken, not the man you are certainly going to order to kill for you.

Steve rests his head on the chilly glass and pinches his eyes shut. He’ll take a minute, review the money trail, and then interview the doctor. It seems a miracle that man was able to go home to his wife and sleep, even with security inside the room, down every hall, surrounding the house…Steve wouldn’t do it; he can’t even keep his eyes closed long enough for the dry sting to subside.

How could he be so stupid?

You weren’t staring at him from across the room; you were watching your mark, waiting for an opening. Sadly, it occurs to Steve that if he’d just let you inject Avani, Bucky would be fine, here by his side, and safe.

You are the threat, not his friend, but that’s a hard distinction. If anyone else sees James Barnes—who is the stealth assassin Winter Soldier, as far as they know—they’ll shoot. No questions. Steve has to find him first. He has to get to you first.

Bucky is compromised, but Steve won’t let it come to that. Buck shouldn't do anything he doesn't want to do just because some enemy hijacked his mind and body.

“Feel better?” You twirl in the chair as soon as the motel bathroom door opens, steam billowing out.

Winter’s face is shadowed, pointed to the floor.

“Or…at least, okay? Here—“ you offer the seat next to you at the tiny table “—sit. Eat. Let me—I’ve got bandages for your knuckles.”

“Heals,” he grunts, sitting easily but with stiff posture, “fast.”

You let out a heavy breath, muttering, “makes one of us.”

The soldier reaches out for the file in front of you, but your hand pins it down.

“Uh-uh. Food first, and palm up here, please.” You wait for him to flip open the takeout container then blot antiseptic on the split skin. “Does that hurt?”

He shakes his head, focused on the meal before him.

Several months ago, an article was published about Bucky Barnes’ affinity for this one particular deli in Brooklyn, a third-generation shop. It listed his usual order.

You’ve made sure the bread isn’t soggy. You kept the spicy mustard on the side.

He makes a strange face, looking around for your portion.

“Not hungry,” you assure him, “I’m rarely hungry.” You secure the bandage like boxing wraps and spin the file around.

“Eat your food—” The command is soft, encouraging. “—while I tell you the story of how we ended up here.”

Buried in the file you’ve put in front of the Soldier is several lifetimes of horror. Maybe not everyone agrees with you, maybe not everyone cares, but that bastard Avani has to atone. For the next hour, you explain what’s expected of him, glancing every so often at the fancier hotel entrance across the street from your motel room.

It’s too early; you’d be very impressed if the Captain had followed those bread crumbs yet.

You planned so carefully for every obstacle. You anticipated so many setbacks. Men like Avani go down like great stone pyramids, not houses of cards, because their lives are built with safeties.  For him to fall, a thousand others have to be damaged, and each one of them will put up a fight to remain untarnished. That approach—the truth, and nothing but the truth—has gotten you nowhere. Diaries aren’t enough proof. The placebo effect is not a crime. Two women are worth far less than a functional, marketable drug.

Plus, they’re two dead women. The pyramid is now their tomb. Nothing ever changes.

No.

You alone cannot topple a pyramid. You’re too far gone. You’re just one person. For justice, you have to go straight to the top, to the man himself. One on one.

Well, one on one-plus-one. Your addition is the sharp-shooter who can get you the top, the target, Doctor Avani.

Winter’s mission is very simple, but he’s thorough, asking all the right questions, thinking of all the right options. You knew he would be perfect.

“Now,” you clap at the end of your story, rubbing boney hands together, “a rundown of my meds. Sound good?” You grab a zippered case from the foot of the motel bed. “Nothing complicated, but here—“ nudging out a syringe and one glass vial “—this is the emergency one. Use 10 milliliters of this if I pass out. Got it?”

The Soldier takes an enormous mouthful of his sandwich and nods, eyes flickering back to that single bed.

You smile sadly. “I…rarely sleep. I’m keeping watch for now. You’re safe. You’ll need the rest.”

He chews and adds more mustard before his last bite.

“Okay? Good.” Your smile fades, fatigue and restlessness swirling in your empty gut as you remove another medication. “Next is this one. Every four hours, twent—wait, no, I’m up to thirty CCs now…”

“Sir,” Steve grits out with far less patience than he intended, pinching the bridge of his nose as if it will stop the throbbing inside his head, “you realize I am trying to save your life?”

Dr. Avani purses his lips in annoyance. “And you realize I am required to keep my patients’ confidence, right?”

Yes, Steve thinks, he’s said that several times.

“Are they current or former patients?” Steve tries to clarify.

So far, Salvatore slipped up only once. When Steve showed him the photo from your apartment, the doctor muttered something about ‘Faith’ and ‘Ziva’ knowing each other, looking confused, then immediately shut down.

Steve has to switch tactics. He doesn’t have time for this.

“Ok. We found over a dozen hotel reservations made with your assailant’s credit card, so look at this list—” Steve taps the smart screen to lay out a map with the names highlighted “—and see if anything stands out.”

“What have this crazy woman’s travel plans to do with me?” Avani bites out, rattling the tea his wife hands him.

A tremor. Not unlike how your hands shook at the table last night. Steve wonders if yours was because you are ill or because you were lying to him.

“Darling, your blood pressure…”

Steve sighs sympathetically to Mrs. Avani. “Thank you, ma’am,” he whispers, taking the next cup and saucer and clearing his throat. “Doc, please. I’m just hoping you can narrow this down for me. We still have no motive.”

“Insanity. Jealousy, maybe!”

“Jealous of what? Do you know what she might want?”

No answer, but Avani chews his cheek, eyes wide, while staring northwest on the map of hotels. Steve files that away in his mind.

The doctor returns to sipping his tea. “Do you know what they call people obsessed with finding patterns in chaos?”

His wife drops the plate of biscuits unceremoniously down on the side table between the men’s chairs.

“Salvatore,” she snips with the same frustrated fatigue wrapped around Steve’s neck like an albatross, “behave.”

“No. None of these are familiar,” the doctor grunts.

Steve can’t accuse the man of lying unless he wants to risk an all-out breakdown in communication during this active threat, but he’s running out of options. He needs real information.

Usually Steve would have more respect for a man staying within the parameters of his vocation, but this is a unique and complicated situation. This is Bucky on the line. Steve’s had enough of secrets and red tape.

“Any idea why she’d mail something to Forsyth Avenue? Do you know anyone there?”

“Forsyth Avenue? No, I’ve never been in that area before, as far as I know.” Though Avani wrings his hands together, no indicates that’s a lie.

Wonderful. Steve’s never been this unsuccessful at gathering intel, and Avani’s status as the newly-appointed Avengers’ lead physician makes it tricky to push harder.

So Steve recommends Avani and his wife consider staying in a more secure location before he sets off to personally check the hotels in the northwest quadrant of the map.

He takes Agent Palmer, riding in the SUV while the two diaries sit in his lap, knowing now—as sure as he can be—that ‘Z’ is for Ziva, and she knew you and Faith Williams. Those are ‘the girls’ in the photo.

Without Ziva’s last name, he can’t do a general search, but there is a death certificate on file for Faith.

Three women. One confirmed dead. At least two ‘former’ patients of the doctor. All visibly ill in either the picture or in person. One mourning the loss of person(s) and out to kill the doctor.

The pit in his stomach grows. Something very bad is happening, yet while Steve has anything else to go on, he will not be reading another’s diary.

He can only hope that your medical records are finally available once the hotel searches are complete.

There’s even a possibility he’ll find Bucky at one of these. Maybe he won’t have to concern himself with the rest at all. Maybe he won’t have to think so hard about your motives for activating a Soviet sleeper agent.

Steve does think, however. He thinks hard enough to spiral as each reception desk is questioned, as all security footage is combed, as every building is cleared. He has to make some assumptions to make the pieces fit.

You believe Avani is responsible for your friends’ deaths—both of them, since when Steve interrogated you, you accepted his condolences—and believe their cause of death was whatever treatment Avani administered.

It’s sad, of course, but it happens everyday. Experimental treatments are just that. If you’re concerned about gross negligence, the doctor could easily be reported to the Medical Board. Considering the amount of research, forethought, and planning required, the Winter Soldier is one of the slowest possible solutions to your problem.

But…Bucky was just your contingency plan. You had an opportunity to kill Avani yourself, yet you still set other options in motion. You used a weapon theoretically deadly to only the doctor 

Steve still can’t understand, and it’s driving him nuts.

Finally, after the hotel reservations prove fruitless, Steve sees no other choice. He has to read the diaries.

He combs through the pages, growing nauseous as darker and darker layers of the situation reveal themselves, disturbed by everydetail except updates from the units on Forsyth Avenue or those stationed at the doctor’s house. Nothing is unfolding save the landscape in Steve’s mind.

He asks F.R.I.D.A.Y about the disease Faith and Ziva mention. He asks about the public records of the drug trial Avani lead and its results published just six months ago, after the last entries of the diaries. He notices the treatment was a huge success…for those not in the control group. Finally, he can’t continue.

His head pounds while his stomach churns.

In the early afternoon, Steve lays down to rest his eyes and reevaluate, but he’s met with only a blank  canvas and drifts to sleep instead.

He’s woken by a shrill ring of his phone.

“Yeah, Palmer, what’s—what? What do you mean he’s gone?” Steve jumps up, straps on his shield, and races to his bike. “The hell were you thinking letting him make a house call today? Where did agents—“

Steve’s foot slips right off bike for an instant.

“Avani led the driver to some suburban neighborhood. Forsythia Commons.”

It dawns of him just as the garage door squeals open.

Steve never showed Palmer the receipt. No one else saw the numbers to the address. Steve’s rattled brain finished the label with a street name he knew.

He was wrong.

Including battles in Germany way back in the day, he has rarely driven so recklessly, but Steve is nearly a half-hour behind now. He has to catch up.

Palmer tells him Avani went into the residence alone—for patient confidentiality—and after a while, agents couldn’t get an answer at the door. Upon forced entry, they found the woman who lived there bound to a chair with tape over her mouth and the doctor nowhere in sight.

Steve gets lucky.

On his way to exit the freeway, he notices a hole in the noise barrier wall past a slope of grass. He pulls over and asks Palmer what the backyard of the residence leads to, but Steve can hear the reverb of agent comms before anyone is visible through the brush.

“Friday, I need traffic camera footage from my location from thirty-five minutes ago. Were there any vehicles stopped on the side of the road?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers. A standard maintenance truck with the department’s logo shows up and leaves seven minutes later, based on ten second intervals.”

“The license plate, can you read it?”

“Quality insufficient.”

“The highway department, do they have any registered cars out here today?”

A long pause follows.

“Friday?” Steve barks.

“Negative, Captain. Inspection is slotted for the end of next week, not today.”

“Alright, follow that truck on the cameras. Tell me exactly where they went.”

He doesn’t bother to tell Palmer where he’s going because Steve doesn’t want them to know really. He needs a head start to find Bucky—to make sure it’s Bucky who is found and rescued, not the Soldier who is cornered and subdued.

The trail ends at a dilapidated office park near the river miles outside of the city. With his own, short fingernail, Steve peels away the Highway Department magnet slapped onto the white truck parked by one building.

Nobody else is in sight, and the truck cab is empty.

Across the nearest door is sun-shriveled lettering. “-alv—re Ava—, M.D” marks the third name in a list.

Steve doesn’t hesitate. He can’t. He walks right in, eyes adjusting to a cave-like darkness without electricity.

The voices are faint behind another set of double doors, but he hears them.

“I don’t owe you anything, bitch. I hope you die like they did.”

There’s a sharp slapping noise and someone spits loudly.

“Admit it. Admit what you did and you won’t die today.”

You don’t beg him to talk. You don’t plead with him. You sound weak but sure.

“Rot in hell,” Avani annunciates, and Steve flings himself through the doors, knowing what comes after such a taunt.

You give him every opportunity to come clean. He could save himself, but Avani refuses while the camera records behind you. He calls you names. He calls your friends worthless. He says they were ’whores,’ but you will still send him back to the correct authorities if he tells the truth.

He doesn’t, he won’t, and you’re honestly pleased this is how it ends.

You don’t have a choice really; you must honor Faith and Ziva somehow.

Instead of the truth, Avani curses you, though not much could be worse than your current fate, even with Winter standing a few feet away, his gun drawn.

You have readied the syringe in your unstable hand and lift it to the doctor’s throat when—crash—Captain America bursts in and scans the whole room.

“Don’t do it,” he tries plainly. “You don’t have to kill him.”

You’re impressed. That’s faster than you expected, but Steve is looking at his friend to stop, not you.

“Shoot him, you idiot,” the doctor snarls.

As if Winter thinks the order somehow applied to him, he turns toward an open palm and a raised shield.

“SHOOT HIM!”

Winter doesn’t move the gun away from you and Avani.

Steve steps closer. “Bucky,” he starts slowly, “I’m not going to do that. I’m not here to hurt you. No one has to die.”

You need to buy more time.

“Soldat, show him.”

Only then does Winter lower his pistol and reach into a pocket at his chest, revealing the tuning fork that controls his own mind. Doing this will forfeit your exit strategy, but you’ll accomplish you mission. Winter’s mission is now secondary.

Steve’s eyes flicker from the fork to you.

After a tense breath, you give the command, confident the soldier will obey, locking your focus on Steve.

“Fetch.”

Winter sprints to the other end of the room and explodes through a wall and then a window to the lawn banking the river.

Cap makes a choice, his sad blue eyes full of pity, and it’s then you realize he knows.

He read the diaries. He understands what Avani did.

Steve bolts after the Soldier.

The doctor shrieks for his Avenger to come back, to protect him from his earned fate, but the hollow thuds of a vibranium arm and a vibranium shield colliding hum through the hole in the building.

The sound of fighting continues as you return the syringe to Avani’s neck.

Enough. Enough excuses. Enough lies. Enough time has been wasted on this man already. Enough is enough.

The end is more peaceful than he deserves. It’s quick and not nearly as painful as it should be. There’s no time left for suffering.

Salvatore convulses after collapsing on the stained industrial carpet, foam gently dripping from his mouth, a symptom of his condition when mixed with a common resuscitative cocktail, one you have to take frequently, one that spiked Steve Rogers’ adrenaline and nothing more. It kills Avani. His heart nearly explodes in his chest.

If there was ever a human that medicine should fail…

You only know he’s susceptible because Ziva knew. Heart conditions and caring for them are the sort of thing one knows about a person they love.

Avani promised to marry her, to leave his wife, to be with her after the drug trial succeeded. He promised she’d live, but he told Ziva she was taking the real medicine, ensured she took the placebo, and then gaslit her until the day she died.

Ziva spent the rest of her life loving a man who would make her happy and healthy, but instead, Avani made her life as short as possible.

He was not even that kind to Faith.

In her own words, Faith wrote how dying scared her, how she begged the doctor for the actual medication, how she offered anything to get it. Avani accepted. Faith did whatever that bastard wanted for months, all the while told she was healing.

Relief never came.

Faith was bedridden when a package arrived for her—a diary willed to her by a friend she’d lost touch with once you three weren’t gathering in the same hospital suite for the old treatments. That’s when she put it together, but Ziva had passed two months prior. Faith lasted only four more days, just long enough to bequeath the two journals to you.

The victory doesn’t feel as euphoric as you expected. You thought somehow you’d know that Ziva and Faith were proud and at peace, but you’re just empty and tired.

You stare down at Adani’s body, unfazed, when the tuning fork slams against a dangling metal doorframe and Cap shuffles through the rubble.

He’s scraped and beaten which isn’t what you ever wanted, just a necessary evil to fight evil. He watches as Barnes walks in from the grass.

“It’s me, punk. You can put that thing down.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for Steve, snatching the prongs right from his hands and tucking it back in his jacket.

There’s a moment where they almost hug before Steve remembers the doctor and rushes to the man at your feet.

“Call for help! I'm starting CPR.”

Barnes simply holds your gaze.

More sad blue eyes. It brings you hope that he will complete his mission.

You step away from the others to make for a cleaner shot, nodding that it’s okay, breathing a rough but weak “please” for emphasis.

“Buck?” Steve looks up as Bucky points his gun at you again. “What are you doing? STOP. It’s over!”

“His mission was never to kill Avani,” you hiss, unable to take your eyes off the perfectly-centered muzzle directly in front of you. “He’s here to kill me.”

“The hell—“ Steve climbs to his feet “—why would you shoot her?”

“I’m not going to jail!”

“You know what they’ll do to her, Steve.”

Both men take one step closer.

“There has to be another way.”

“I did this because it’s the only—“

“—can understand doctors who taking advantage and manipulating their patients better than anyone—“

“Put the gun down!”

“Pull the trigger! It'll be—“

“—told me he could do better than me,” Bucky barks. “Doc said, to my face, that he could make a better me. He wanted to make soldiers, Steve. More soldiers. Avani didn’t give a shit about what was right.”

You jump in. “If you found the diaries, you know what he was capable of.”

“That’s not how this works. We don’t condemn a man from—“

This time you step toward Barnes. “Just do it. Shoot me now.”

Steve lunges to take your wrist in his hand, your limb comically thin and delicate beneath all his enhancements.

“She doesn’t deserve to rot while they sweep this under the rug,” Bucky adds, voice low and serious.

“This is for the best.” You look at Steve now, and something heartbreaking swims in those morose pools, something unspeakable.

His head shakes, dirty, sweaty hair falling in his face. “What if there’s another way?”

“I don’t want to be saved, Cap. Let me go.”

You offer one final, soft smile, and Steve moves just as Bucky pulls the trigger.

Steve completes his testimony before the panel opposite him. None of the questions are a surprise.

They’ve painted you as completely insane, demented, psychotic, and he can’t argue. What would he tell them? Yeah, but she had kind eyes, so, you know, remember her fondly? No, he can only remain quiet until he has something pertinent to add which is very little. Bucky had far more to offer, and he already spoke.

When Steve steps out of the counsel chambers, Maria Hill is waiting for him.

“Shame she ordered the Soldier to dispose of her body. Took the coward’s way out.”

“You make her sound like a rabid animal that had to be put down,” Steve grit out. 

“No, you’re right,” Hill admits, “but it was lucky she left the sound thing for—”

“Tuning fork,” he snaps, “which I destroyed. No one should have that. No one should even know about it.”

Buck does his best to calm Steve down with a heavy hand on his shoulder. “S’okay, pal. The interrogation footage has been wiped and unless someone with perfect pitch was walking by observation--”

“You know that’s not reassuring, right?”

The two huge men look at each other.

Steve finally mutters, “what about Avani’s widow?”

“All the blackmail sent to his mistress in Forsythia Commons was removed before Gloria even knew Sal was kidnapped, and I think it’s fair to say that lady is so grateful her name wasn’t dragged through the press that she won’t be bothering the wife. Good thing the doctor put her car and house in her name, or legally, this would get ugly.”

“Yes. We’re very lucky he was such a skilled adulterer,” Steve quips dryly. He regrets handing over the diaries for evidence. They weren’t mentioned once in any of the hearings.

Bucky flashes Steve a warning glare that reads, don’t start.

Hill obliviously flips through the folder in her hands, nodding. “All in all, this report amounts to an incredibly long lead-in of ‘use that PTO, boys!’ You earned it.”

“Understatement of the century…and I would know.” Bucky is a much better liar than Steve.

Thank god, they are fleeing to the middle of nowhere indefinitely.

Hill heads back to her office. “We’ll be here when you get back. Keep in touch.”

“No,” Steve counters. “I don’t think I will.”

Bucky and Steve leave in an old truck the next morning. They can’t seem rushed or impatient to get to their destination.

Casually accumulating supplies, Steve loads their bags in the flat bed with space for all repair materials they are likely to need. The cabin needs some work; the guys need to get their hands dirty and live simply for a while.

The team is happy for Steve; it’s been so long since anyone saw him moving forward in life, and, of course, he and Bucky deserve some peace and quiet.

No one else has any idea how hard-won this vacation is.

The drive takes all day because they can’t be in a hurry.

Steve takes pictures at every scenic outlook. Bucky climbs up onto some rock ledges to take selfies which Steve is not into. This earns him being featured as a blurry grump in the background of all of them, purposefully.

Eventually, the GPS-free truck pulls up to the place, a large A-frame style cabin that should be plenty big for two super soldiers.

Parked on the gravel path, Steve is careful not to ding the other car when he swings open his door. As Bucky heaves two duffels from the trunk, he calls out, “got the meds, too” and heads inside. Steve gathers up the remaining bags and trudges over, smelling something hearty and delicious cooking, listening to the tinkling, copper-coin wind chime hanging somewhere above him.

He doesn’t stop looking at his feet until they hit the top of the porch, spotting two smaller bare feet on the welcome mat.

There you are, holding the door open, layered in warm knits, more tired before but better than expected.

“Hey,” Steve breathes finally.

“Hey,” you say, your mouth twisted to hide an excited smile.

“Yes, hello,” Bucky grumbles from the living room. “Now shut the damn door. I’m hungry.”

Steve steps inside.

[Last Part]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

a/n: Sorry this took so long a fucking year! Tags will be in a reblog.

[cacoetheswriting]

a mutually assured attachment

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 3.9k summary: crossing the thin line between friendship and something more, but not before a few set backs.

warnings: set before tfatws, therapy positive, emotional hurt / comfort, mutual pinning, adult dialogue, use of pet names (sweets, darlin') mentions of food and alcohol consumption, a little bit of jealousy, friends to lovers, a conclusion to a lovely little slow burn

a/n: technically part of a mini-series, but can 100% be read as a standalone. also, unsure if anyone is still following this story, but i wanted to wrap it up ‘cause i really enjoyed starting this series all those months (years eek) ago. plus if anyone stumbles across it in the future, it will be complete! thank you for reading and for your support <3

SERIES MASTERLIST

Bucky Barnes did not think of himself as the jealous type.

Yes, he envied his fair share of individuals he encountered throughout his long life: the people who made life appear easy, those who seemed to have everything figured out, and everyone who took “mundane” for granted.

The regular Joe’s with their nine-to-five jobs, a random group of friends, and not a care past anything other than their stack of overdue bills or their fantasy football league (whatever the hell that was…). The average Jane’s who often reminded Bucky of his own mother, hoping to grow and nurture happy homes, full of sweetness and a load of laughter, desperately trying to shield everyone around them from pain and misery.

Envy, yes. Bucky was familiar with the feeling. Jealousy however… Well, jealousy was different.

Jealousy was usually a side effect of romance. It called for a connection stronger than Bucky allowed himself to form with the people he met ever since he became himself again. It involved trekking on dangerous territory and putting other people at risk, therefore no, James Buchanan Barnes was not the jealous type.

That is until he met you.

He’s learned to admit that you entered his life at a time he did not even realise he needed you most, turning it completely upside down (for the better) and providing him with a glimmer of hope that there was still good in this post-blip world.

He’s grown attached to you, opening up in more ways than one and sharing thoughts he hasn’t spoken about with anyone since Steve. Over time, you have easily grown to be his favourite person.

And now Bucky was sitting at the bar, picking at the label of the beer bottle in his grip while watching you toss your head back in laughter at something this random suit-wearing jerk was saying.

You disappeared for five minutes to go to the bathroom. Bucky thought nothing of it, even ordered you another drink while you were gone. But when you didn’t come back to your seat, stopping instead for a chat with a stranger, you unknowingly caused an unnerving feeling to rush through the brunette sergeant.

This wasn’t the first time someone tried hitting on you while you were out with Bucky, (and considering how jaw droppingly beautiful you were, he was actually quite surprised it didn’t happen more often). However, this was the first time you engaged back in the flirtatious interaction, which was more than unsettling to your blue-eyed neighbour. 

He wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug smirk off of the dude's face. Quite frankly, the only thing stopping him from doing so was the reason he wished to do it in the first place: you.

Fuck, Bucky cursed himself, this was jealousy.

Shifting in his seat so he wouldn’t have to witness you with that dunce, Bucky brought the beer bottle to his lips and, in one sip, finished what was left of his drink. He then paid the tab and was about to stand when a hand gently squeezed his shoulder, grabbing his attention.

“Sorry about that,” you said and he forced a smile.

“No need, darlin’,” Bucky reassured, hoping the tone of his voice didn’t betray him, although, judging by the elated look on your face, he had nothing to worry about. Your thoughts were focused entirely on something…  else.

“I was actually just about to leave,” he added and got to his feet. “Didn’t wanna disturb your conversation.”

You furrowed your brows. “What? No, don’t go,” you implored, sliding your hand from his shoulder down his leather covered arm until your fingers reached the hem of his jacket.

Bucky held his breath as you gripped the material, the softness of your skin just barely brushing against him.

“He gave me his number so I’ll call him later if I feel like it.”

“You stay,” he demanded, “I’ll go. There is something I gotta take care of anyway and I don’t wanna ruin your evening.”

Pursing your lips together, you eyed him suspiciously, scanning every inch of his face for any tale of dishonesty. See, during the time the two of you have spent in each other's company, you have gotten quite good at reading your brooding neighbour, despite his closed off demeanour. Which is how you could clearly see there was something bothering him.

However, you have also come to learn when to stop pushing him and give him space.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Bucky repeated and shooting you one last congenial smile, he walked towards the exit.

You watched him leave, his figure disappearing in the shadows of the rainy New York night. Inhaling a quick breath, you returned to the guy you were chatting with just moments prior, and four drinks later, you stopped thinking about Bucky.

Albeit just for the night.

The next morning you wound up at his door, as usual. When he didn’t immediately answer, you retreated back into your own apartment without giving it a second thought because it was definitely like Bucky to ignore you from time to time.

That afternoon you knocked on his door again, and you repeated the action after returning from work over the next four days — still no Bucky. And because he was also not answering his phone when you called or replied to any of your texts, the worry suddenly spread through your veins making you nauseous. 

Feeling conflicted about what to do next (since it wasn’t like you knew anyone else in his life you could reach out to) you decided to distract yourself any way you knew how, hoping one day the grumpy brunette would simply show up at your door as if nothing happened.

Unfortunately for you, keeping your mind from wandering about your blue-eyed neighbour proved harder than you wanted it to be and it wasn’t until a few weeks after you last saw Bucky, the perfect distraction finally made an appearance.

You often debated adopting a pet but your landlord didn’t allow any animals which seemed like reason enough. Now, you were standing face to face with what was perhaps the most beautiful cat you had ever seen, and as you cautiously approached it, the white feline inclined towards you, allowing you to gently run your fingers through its fur and eventually pick it up.

While carrying the cat to your apartment, you researched vet clinics in the area and promptly made an appointment for that same afternoon. Turns out your new furry friend was a she and the epitome of health, making you think there was someone out there missing her immensely.

While at work, you printed out flyers with a picture you took of her and your phone number at the bottom, before dropping them around town during lunch.

For about a week, you waited. Waited for your cell to buzz but no one ever called.

“Alone together, huh…” you murmured, gently running your fingers through her soft fur, “Guess I should give you a name then. Can’t keep calling you cat, you deserve better, don’t you think?”

She purred in response, as if she understood every word you just said, and you couldn’t help but smile.

The next couple of days were spent brainstorming potential names although nothing you came up with seemed to stick because either you didn’t entirely like it or she didn’t respond to it — mostly the latter.

“You’re so stubborn,” you tittered, watching her lick her paw, “I should call you ‘Bucky’.” The name escaped your lips and you immediately froze, your mood dampening.

That night you didn’t sleep. Tossing and turning all night, thinking about the blue-eyed man for the first time since the cat has entered your life.

Stirring sugar into your coffee the following morning, Bucky still occupied your thoughts. 

There was something about him you couldn’t quite shake. Despite the majority of the people in your life being there longer than your super soldier neighbour, the connection you two shared, well you couldn’t really explain it. Bucky just made you feel… different.

Frankly, you hated yourself for becoming so codependent on another human. Sure you had a good group of friends and even enjoyed the company of a couple of your colleagues, but no one meant as much to you as James Barnes.

The cat snuggled into your leg, purring softly. You tilted your head down to look at her, her blue eyes reminiscent of Bucky’s, and a defeated sigh escaped your lips.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whispered and she blinked. For a moment you wondered if she sensed the growing sadness in your heart. You remember reading how pets can detect human emotion, which is why they provide so much comfort, but you had a hard time believing it, until now.

The corner of your mouth twitched upwards, shifting your expression into a half-smile. You were about to say something when a distinct jingle of keys drew your attention.

It couldn’t be, you thought and hastily dropped the teaspoon into the sink before heading for your front door.

At first you were almost certain you were seeing a ghost, pale and dishevelled. Then, for a brief second, you didn’t really know who you were looking at. An intruder or someone new moving in perhaps? (A lot of possibilities although you only wanted one to be true.)

It wasn’t until the person turned around, eyes meeting yours instantly, you realised it really was him.

Bucky was back. Unexpectedly. The exact same way he disappeared.

“Hey,” he greeted sheepishly.

Your first instinct was to get angry, but the longer you stared at him, heart thumping, the more you knew that wasn’t the rational thing to do. Anger wouldn’t solve anything, it wouldn’t answer any questions. And you had a lot of questions.

The next thought that ran through your mind was to throw your arms around his neck and nuzzle yourself into his embrace because you missed him goddamnit.

“I-I…”

While you debated exactly how to react and what to say to him, your furry friend squeezed between your legs. The quiet meows grabbed your attention momentarily along with the attention of the brunette man.

With a shaky hand, you lifted the cat up before meeting Bucky’s gaze once again.

“I-I got a pet,” you blurted out, immediately regretting it because what a lame thing to say to someone you genuinely thought you would never see again.

He cleared his throat and responded, “I can see that.” Pause. “What’s um, what’s his name?”

“Her name,” you corrected, “And to be honest she still doesn’t really have one. I’ve just been calling her random things to see what would suit.”

Biting on the inside of his cheek, Bucky fought back a smirk.

“That’s definitely unique,” he commented.

“Don’t tease me, James.”

Just as the two of you returned to your usual banter, silence surrounded once again when his name escaped your lips. An apologetic look spread across Bucky’s features and he took a step in your direction.

“I’m sorry.”

Bucky decided quite early on into his friendship with you that he would do anything to keep you out of harm's way. When his feelings towards you transformed from general fondness into something much stronger, he decided the best way to keep the promise he made to himself would be to distance himself, (at least until said feelings faded).

He never planned on leaving. He simply wanted to make himself unavailable some evenings or weekends, come up with lame excuses as to why he couldn’t hang out. But the night Bucky left you at the bar, returning to his sad apartment alone, he switched on the TV. Suddenly, he needed to visit Sam. He figured you would understand. He never planned being away for so long. He never planned on leaving you behind without so much as an “I’ll be back”.

Looking at you now however, bottom lip quivering and tears in your eyes, he fucked up. He should have at least answered your calls and texts. 

You sniffled. The cat, which was now half-resting on your shoulder, alerted immediately to the gentle sound of your undeniable sadness and rubbed its paw against your face.

“Uhm…” you cleared your throat, “I-I should go feed her.”

Bucky chewed on the inside of his cheek and nodded. He didn’t want you to leave yet, there was so much he had to say, a lot to explain. 

“Right, of course,” he uttered almost sheepishly, “Maybe later if you have some time we can—”

“Maybe,” you cut him off and did a u-turn back into your apartment, “Welcome back, James.”

-

The next couple of weeks passed uneventfully.

And no, you weren’t avoiding Bucky. Not entirely. It just so happened that every time you had to leave, you did so via the fire escape as opposed to your front door, and every time you heard him out in the hallway, you switched everything off and held your breath, pretending you weren’t home.

You rationalised your behaviour as necessary. It wasn’t avoidance. It was… self preservation. He hurt your feelings when he left. You couldn’t just let him waltz back into your life as if nothing happened, opening yourself up for pain yet again.

Bucky was understanding of your unspoken request to be left the fuck alone. He knew he screwed up but he wasn’t sure how to make things better. All he wanted was to see you smile, and be the reason for it. How could the two of you get to that point when the couple of times you bumped into one another it was awkward?

Was it going to be like this forever?

Luckily, you had your cat to keep you distracted. 

Despite not being named yet, she brightened your mornings and had a calming effect in the evenings. She sat at your feet while you were baking and purred into your chest when you were taking a nap. She followed you around the apartment like a trusted companion, even sitting on the bathroom floor while you showered.

So it was strange when one morning she wasn’t in your bed and it was even stranger when you didn’t hear her tapper around the apartment while you were getting ready. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of your stomach when you called her for breakfast by the various names you’ve so far come up with — no response.

By the time you had searched around your whole apartment, you were already late for work. At that point you were thinking you couldn’t go in anyway, your fucking cat was missing. One quick “I think I have food poisoning.” call later, you unlock your laptop in search for the flyers you made when you found her. Tears formed in your eyes while adjusting the title from ‘IS THIS YOUR CAT?’ to ‘HAVE YOU SEEN MY CAT?.

That’s when you knew you couldn’t do this alone.

A short two minutes later, your knuckles are pressed against the wooden door of your neighbours apartment. One, two, three gentle knocks later, and Bucky is standing in front of you.

“I need your help,” is all you managed to blurt out. It’s all you needed to say, really. Bucky doesn’t need any further explanation when it comes to you. He grabbed his jacket and followed you without question.

When you showed him the poster on your laptop screen, he reassured you in a calm tone. One that almost makes you believe him. One that almost makes you forget that he’s left you all alone, without a word. Almost.

“When did you last see her?” Bucky asked.

When you shrugged your shoulders in a defeated manner, he sighed softly and without really thinking about where your friendship currently stood, wrapped his strong arms around you. The second his frame closed around yours, you burst into tears, face pressed against his chest as he held you close, consoling you.

The world seems to come to a stand still at that moment.

You’re not sure how long the two of you stood there. Seconds, minutes. He did, however, manage to calm you down, bringing the waterfall to barely a trickle as you sniffled against his t-shirt.

When Bucky eventually dropped his arms, you avoided his gaze. Scared to admit out loud how good that felt and how glad you were he was here for you, since he’s hurt you once when you became too attached, and you weren’t going to let him do it again.

“How about you stay here, in case she comes back, and I’ll go search for her outside?” Bucky suggested, dipping his head to try and meet your teary eyes. His hand is on your shoulder, barely holding on as if he was afraid you would suddenly flinch and pull away — which he most definitely was.

All you did was nod, and as he headed out the door, a quiet “thank you” escaped your lips.

“Anything for you, darlin’.” Is what you think you heard, but the tone of Bucky’s voice is so quiet, you rationalised that you heard wrong.

The day was spent wandering aimlessly around your apartment, checking your phone every two minutes to see if Bucky had had any updates on the whereabouts of your little pet. He had not.

By the time the sky turned dusky dark, you had lost all hope. She’d never be found. It was as if the universe only meant for you to be together while Bucky was away. You couldn’t have both. That would be too good, too lucky.

But just as you were about to start crying again, a glass of cheap wine in hand, the doorknob rattled and seconds later, in walked Bucky, holding your precious feline friend in his metal arm.

“Oh my god,” you exhaled as relief took over your entire body.

You ambled forward, reaching for the cat in Bucky’s grasp as she meowed uncontrollably, seemingly happy to see you. And Bucky smiled as he watched you snuggle into the white creature, heartbeat growing tenfold with every tick of the clock.

“She uh,” he began as you moved across your apartment, settling down on the couch, “She’s quite the climber, that one. After a day of searching half of Brooklyn, I eventually found her on the rooftop of this very building.”

“Thank you,” you said without averting your gaze from your furry white friend.

What he wanted to say is, “Just glad I could be here for you,” but what he uttered instead was, “Don’t mention it, darlin’.”

For a moment, Bucky hovered in your entryway, unsure whether you wanted him to leave now or if he could stay, just like he did many times before. He decided to not push it. Decided it’s best for the longevity of your friendship to not force anything with you, especially since the strong feelings he had for you before he left have only increased in the time apart — complete opposite of what he wanted to happen.

So he turned on his heel, but just as he was about to say goodnight, you turned your attention to where he stood and waved him over.

“Stay,” you requested, “The least I can do as a thank you is order us some takeout.”

“You don’t have to do that, darlin’.”

“I want to,” you said honestly, hoping he can detect your sincerity, “Stay, please. I-I let you walk away once before and ended up not seeing you for months.”

He swallowed, but didn’t say anything.

“Please stay. I want you to stay, James.”

-

The morning light trickled in through your half-opened curtains, causing your eyes to open slightly and take in your usual surroundings. Except these weren’t entirely your usual surroundings. There was one thing different this Saturday morning as compared to others.

Bucky was still asleep, covered loosely by one of your many blankets. His chest heaved softly, quiet breathes escaping through his parted lips. He looked so peaceful sleeping in your bed, sleeping next to you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight before you.

You shifted to your side and slowly trailed your gaze along his pretty perfect features, focusing on the details you’ve honestly never noticed before. The scruff perfectly angling his jawline, the little crinkles in the corner of his eyes showcasing how he’s aged over the years, barely noticeable but still present.

Then the cat made an appearance, jumping on the bed, settling between you and the super soldier. Before you got a chance to shush it, not wanting to wake Bucky up, she purred against his shoulder.

A smile crept up on his features at the contact. Seconds later, he opened his eyes before slowly tilting his head to first look at the pet, then at you.

“Good mornin’.”

“Hey.”

There’s a moment of silence during which you two simply stare at one another. Time seemed to have come to a standstill. The blue of his eyes piercing, searching your gaze for what, neither of you were really sure. All you both knew was the longer you remained this way, the more your hearts swelled.

Bucky was suddenly feeling nervous, as were you.

“Thank you for staying,” you eventually whispered.

“Thank you for asking me to stay,” he replied.

Another second of silence. 

There was so much Bucky wanted to tell you, but the words were stuck in his throat because how can someone go from avoiding, leaving without a word, to admitting that they cannot live without the other person. And that’s exactly how he was feeling. He’s come to terms with it now. He couldn’t live without you.

Would you even feel the same? He wouldn’t expect you to. In fact, he would think you’d want to remain a little distant given everything that’s happened. But then again, if that’s how you felt, then why would you ask him to stay?

Maybe you just needed the extra push, same as him.

“Think you should name her Alpine,” Bucky suggested, one hand rubbing the cat that was now sitting on his chest, while the other reached for your fingers. Slow, but not hesitant. 

“Alpine,” you tested the name on your lips. “I like that.”

You take his hand then, intertwining your fingers together without commenting on the fact. He squeezed gently, testing the waters further, and you squeezed back — again, both of you choosing not to say anything about the physical interaction.

“Did you have any plans for today?” Bucky asked and you shook your head. “So, would you eh, would you wanna go somewhere?”

The smile on your lips widened.

“We do have a lot of catching up to do, neighbour.” A modest tease. One you hope won’t ruin the moment, or the day ahead.

He just chuckled, mimicking your expression and making any worries disappear just as fast as they threatened to break through.

“That we do, darlin’.” Pause. “I’m sorry for messing it all up. I promise to make it up to you, starting today.”

Taking his apology in, you let go of his hand, instantly missing his touch. Bucky was too, but he didn't get to completely register just how much because you shuffled closer to where he lay, closing the gap between you.

One arm extended towards his chest, resting gently as your fingers brushed a now sleeping Alpine, and also grazed against Bucky’s own in the process. The thudding of your heart inside your chest was most likely loud enough for him to hear — it was. He focused on it, the beating, and it calmed him entirely.

Your aura calmed him. It has since day one and he hoped it would until the end of his days on this Earth.

Yes, Bucky was more than attached to you.

Luckily, the feeling was mutual.

Sealed with a soft kiss.

as always, thank you so so much for reading, and please reblog to tell me what you think! <3

main masterlist

[antianakin]

I found this on Tumblr and wanted to get your thoughts on it. So, that quote was from The Acolyte that the head witch lady says to Sol, and I knew that some would reference Anakin and Order 66 because of that line. But, I wasn't expecting them to mention that scene with Qui-Gonn.

Also, I don't know why some would compare Qui-Gonn to Sol cause Sol was overly emotional. He was impulsive, insistant on Osha to be his padawan, and wasn't composed. Qui-Gonn was more put together, and he spoke with reason even when he was denied by the council. I just can't wrap my head around this. The jedi aren't supposed to be emotionless. They just can't let their emotions mess with their judgment, right? So, why make Sol like this?

I have no idea what the "choice" thing is about lol, I'm not sure I want to know given everything I already know about this show.

I feel like I've made my thoughts about Acolyte fairly clear at this point. It's not shocking that there's a direct reference to Order 66 that condemns the Jedi and blames them for their own genocide. Headland has made herself EXTREMELY clear in basically every interview I've seen of hers where she discusses the Jedi and her ultimate thesis about them in this story. This is why I boycotted it and will never try to watch it even after it ends. Nothing in this show is meant for fans like me because I am not going to find it compelling or interesting or enjoyable to watch. I'm willing to bet every single person who loves Acolyte and thinks it's incredible probably hated the Obi-Wan Kenobi show (a show that was intentionally trying to feel like the Prequels and refuses to place the blame on the Jedi instead of Anakin himself), so whatever. I got mine.

As for Sol and Qui-Gon, they're not basing him on CANON Qui-Gon, they're basing him on FANON Qui-Gon. They obviously think that it's canon Qui-Gon, but it's not. Sol is based on Filoni's Qui-Gon, the Enlightened One, the man who was the embodiment of What a Jedi Should Be specifically because he "defied the Council" and was labeled a "maverick" as a result. People have taken the fact that Qui-Gon questions the Council somewhat regularly and decided this means that Qui-Gon like... understood what being a Jedi meant BETTER than the rest of the Council and that the Council's version of being a Jedi involves suppressing/repressing your emotions, so therefore Qui-Gon doesn't do that.

Some of this is also based on the fact that Qui-Gon believes Anakin was the Chosen One and the Council seems a little skeptical about that, but Qui-Gon is obviously right about this and so the assumption is that Qui-Gon is more connected to the Force or more clued in to its will than the rest of the Council.

This takes the whole "the point of the Prequels is that the Jedi were corrupt" interpretation and the conflict seen between Qui-Gon and the Council and makes some assumptions about Qui-Gon's character as a result. If the Jedi Council represents everything WRONG with the Jedi in this era, and the Council is in opposition to Qui-Gon, then naturally Qui-Gon must be everything RIGHT with the Jedi.

So when you take all of this together, despite the fact that Qui-Gon in TPM is actually pretty reserved himself, it leads to this interpretation of Qui-Gon as someone who just trusts his emotions above everything else and feels them more than any other Jedi does, which leads us to Sol, who is more visibly emotional. Since I haven't watched the show, I can't speak very well to how he's intended to come across, whether those emotions are meant to make us believe he's more enlightened than anybody else or not. I do know that the actor himself has said he explicitly based his character on Qui-Gon, so take from that what you will I guess.

Headland's views on the Jedi would impact her views on the Council as well, and a LOT of Jedi critical fans tend to laud Qui-Gon as some kind of enlightened messiah, so it doesn't shock me that she views Qui-Gon this way herself and made a character in her show that sort-of emulates her interpretation of Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon is VERY important for fans who interpret the Prequels as being about the Jedi's failure, so since Headland is writing a story about the beginning of the Jedi's downfall, it makes sense that she'd include a character based on someone she interprets as the last remnant of "what the Jedi should've been."

[scientia-rex]

Do you have thoughts about dealing with your ADHD without medication? I'm in Europe where the laws are different and its haaaaard to access meds. (Immigration is very bad for consistent health care)

Yeah, I mean, caffeine. Caffeine in the mornings and propranolol if I overdo it or have too much caffeine after 1pm. Caffeine has a variable half-life depending on your genetics, so for some people they can have caffeine within about 4-5 hours of trying to sleep and for me if I have it within 9 hours of when I want to sleep I'm a little fucked. (5-9 hours is a relatively typical range for half-life.) Caffeine has active metabolites, which means that as your body processes it to break it down it creates different molecules which are still stimulants, so it's not as simple as "caffeine in, break it down, inert molecule out." You also need to be aware that your brain WILL develop tolerance, so taking drug holidays where you have a chaotic, disorganized day will help when you go back to work.

Another alternative is Strattera, generic name atomoxetine, which gets marketed as a "non-stimulant" ADHD medication. In my opinion it does still have stimulant qualities and the classification has more to do with legal status than medical reality. However, it does have a tendency to cause nausea, so I usually start people low (10mg) and ramp up to 80-100mg, which is target range for efficacy for most people. It doesn't seem as effective as the stimulants but it also doesn't have the legal implications of the stimulants.

Wellbutrin, generic name bupropion, is an antidepressant, but it's not the same as SSRIs or SNRIs--it has its own combination of effects on neurotransmitters that makes it a cousin rather than a sibling drug. It can be used (off-label) for ADHD.

In terms of other things I do to help myself cope, setting and maintaining a sleep schedule is critical. I definitely always feel like I'm being asked to wake up at the equivalent of 3am for other people. This means I need to make sure I go to bed and get up at consistent times, including days off. Bed needs to be for sleeping and intimacy and not for being activated--not for reading, not for hanging out. "Sleep hygiene" is about training your brain that when you go to bed, you go to sleep. The bedroom needs to be quiet, cool, and dark. You can Google sleep hygiene for more information on that.

Learning how to learn was critical for surviving med school. I didn't struggle that much with the material even in grad school, though I was more miserable overall in grad school. The sheer volume meant I couldn't just read everything once and figure enough would stick; I had to read, listen, watch, and eventually I figured out that I really needed to draw pictures and make myself flash cards if I wanted to actually force my brain to retain anything. Making sure I was physically comfortable, including that I was fed, hydrated, and didn't have to pee, was also part of the process. Getting there involved lots of tears and failing multiple tests.

Cleaning can't be an all or nothing proposition or nothing ever gets cleaned. When I start cleaning, I just grab whatever I'm walking by that catches my attention. Fuck doing whole tasks at a time consistently. Move those three bowls to the sink, in the kitchen realize I need to take out the recycling, take out the recycling and realize on the way back in that I have a load of laundry to start, start the laundry and realize I need to pee, while I'm in the bathroom realize I need to clean the counter, clean the counter and realize I need to take out the bathroom trash, take out the bathroom trash and realize I still didn't pee, continue until I'm too tired and then sit down and have a snack and a nap. My house is still a black hole but it's infinitely better than my apartments when I was younger.

Accepting that you can't do things the neurotypical way is a big part of it. Giving up on how things "should" be and recognizing what you can do and how you can do it is critical. I will never stop crashing into things so I've bought rounded furniture that hurts less when I crash into it. I'm slowly designing a life and a home where I'm playing to my strengths, and although it's a work in process, I'm slowly becoming happier.

[1toreyouapart]

What It Cost

****THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY BASED ON REAL PEOPLE. 18+ ONLY. I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THE PEOPLE OR MUSIC MENTIONED IN THIS STORY OUTSIDE OF LILITH AND SADIE AND MAYBE A COUPLE OTHERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT UP FOR FANFIC INVOLVING REAL PEOPLE***

Terrible summary: Five years since she last spoke to him. Since she last saw him. Now his face and his voice is everywhere. She can't escape him.

Five years ago Noah destroyed her and the life they had built. Now he’s back and seeking to make amends. As much as she wants to say that it's too little too late, is it?

CW/TW: Angst, mention of addiction, cheating. Mention of character death. Language. Smut (later on). PinV, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it, friends), oral (f&m receiving). All smutty warnings happen later on, so I’ll update TW/CW warning labels as those parts are written and posted. If I forget anything, please let me know so I can fix it! Thank you!

Part 6 - Lilith

Noah had text her two hours ago, asking if they could talk. Again. Since then she'd been an anxious mess. Part of her was shocked he hadn't just shown up like the last time. Everything in her told him to tell him no. That there was nothing to talk about anymore. He had said he was sorry and they could go about their lives. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Couldn't bring herself to tell him to leave her alone. What the fuck was wrong with her? She should hate him. So why couldn't she?

Sadie joined her on the back porch, handing her a takeout container and a fork. Lilly couldn't help the smile at the small gesture. She'd sort of started the tradition back when the two of them had just met, always giving Sadie food from her and Noah's dates. Now it was her doing it after hers and Jolly's.

"He wants to talk."

"So, no stomach for food at the moment?" Sadie took the food back, knowing too well what happened if she ate while nervous. It wouldn't stay down long.

"I don't know what to say." Lilly sighed, her stomach starting to churn more forcefully.

"Listen," Sadie began. "I know we all know I'm still pissed at him. But, maybe hear him out? He at least seems like he's trying."

Lilly huffed out a laugh, dropping her head into her hands, elbows resting on her knees. She had expected Sadie to tell her to ignore him or to tell him to fuck off. Which almost would have guaranteed she agree to talk to him. Probably something Sadie had counted on, actually.

"I don't know-"

"Lilly, I heard him, too. He's never sounded like that. Jolly said he's been locked up in his room since." She sighed. "Maybe talk to him. If you don't want to hear what he has to say, that's fine, but at least give him a chance to do what he should have done years ago."

Sadie had a point. Never had she seen Noah like that. Sure, she had seen him close a few times when things weren't going right, but never to the point that he was on his knees, clutching his chest like that. The way he had sounded, like he was breaking. Shattering right in front of her. How unfocused his eyes had been. He hadn't been there in the present. Noah had been somewhere else in his mind.

Chewing on her bottom lip she picked up her phone, debating between texting him back and just calling him. Suddenly Sadie reached over, taking her phone from her.

"Hey!"

"Jesus. You both need to learn how to just get on with it." Sadie laughed, typing out a response for her and hitting send. "He'll probably be here soon. I'll make myself scarce."

***

Her heart leapt into her throat as she watched him pull up, her hands beginning to shake. Fuck. Right now seemed like a real good time to start smoking. Maybe she should have had some wine or something first. Either way she needed something to calm the nerves. Yet here she was empty handed, watching as he climbed out of his car, a tall iced coffee in hand. No hoodie this time. Just a pair of shorts and a plain white shirt.

She watched, helpless, as he climbed the steps onto the porch. Watched as he walked over to her, holding out the iced coffee for her. Her stomach flipped at the realization that he had brought her some kind of peace offering.

"Iced spiced chai, double shot, with a pump of pumpkin, right?" He asked, his voice soft.

"You remember my order." It wasn't a question, more of an observation than anything. Carefully, she reached out, taking the coffee from him, grateful to have something to hold. "Thank you."

Noah nodded, sitting in the chair opposite her. She had to admit to herself she was shocked that after all this time he had remembered something so small. Then again, she clearly hadn't changed much in five years if she still got the same coffee every day. Nervous, she took a sip, not daring to look up at him.

"Sorry about the other night," he started.

"I don't know. I think that's the most honest I've ever seen you, Noah," she quipped, wincing at her own harshness. "Sorry."

"No," he chuckled. "That's fair. That's really fucking fair."

"I'm not sorry that I finally was honest with you. I am, however, sorry that I started having a fucking panic attack, though."

"You're okay, though?" She asked, finally looking up at him.

Now that she looked at him she could see just how tired he was. Like he had barely slept. And deep down she felt bad for him. And maybe a little guilty. Maybe she shouldn't have been so hard on him the other night.

"Honestly? Been better. But, comes with the territory, I suppose."

The two of them sat there, a heavy silence falling between them. There he was, being honest again. The Noah she had known would have said he was fine. He would have skirted around the issue entirely and made a stupid joke.

"Listen, Bambi. I fucked up. Royally. You didn't deserve any of the shit that I did. Even the stuff you overlooked from the start." He grimaced, remembering some of the shit he had done.

"Noah-"

"Nope. Not done. You are also the first person I should have reached out to once I got sober. Instead I've been too chicken shit, as Nicholas loves to point out, to face you because the shit I put you through at the end? That was beyond fucked up. Like, way beyond. I was doing shit just to hurt you. And you deserved better. You still deserve better."

Lilith sat there, gripping the coffee he had brought her, feeling like she was going to vomit. Tears blurred her vision, her mind racing. Here he was, giving her more of an apology than she had ever thought she would get. And as much as she wanted to be angry, she just couldn't anymore. She wanted to scream and yell and call him an asshole, but the anger and the words just wouldn't come. Where did she go from here?

Tag: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard

[ateez-himari]

HEATED COACHELLA STAGE

After many attendees holding their breath for the next bold move MinAri might enact, it seems as though their shyness finally dissipated.

April 20, 2024 (6:48PM)

While weekend two unfortunately marked the last performance held by ATEEZ on a Coachella stage as of this year, the group left an ever lasting impression with powerful choreography paired with breath taking visuals and raw vocals. Through the numerous clips circulating online there is a specific instance that has been sending social media platforms into a reposting frenzy, one involving a rather passionate display by main rapper, Mingi, and lead vocalist, Himari.

While viewers were expecting something such as this to happen due to the intimate moment shared between the two during their first performance, it seems as though none were truly ready to witness it with their own eyes on stage. The interlude to their song 'Arriba' left gasps echoing in the crowd as Mingi pulled the maknae in for a true lover's kiss, an arm tightly draped across her waist whilst the other motioned for attendees to make some noise. In contrast to the beginning of the group's career where the two saw their reputation nearly torn to pieces following dating rumors, which were later disproved as nothing more than a scheme to have the vocalist removed, the crowd showed their support through loud cheers and vibrant excitement.

Their own bandmates could be seen encouraging them as some used water bottles to simulate rain, every artist on that stage including backup dancers visibly enjoying the relaxed atmosphere that had been created. Following the performance several members had gone live for a few minutes, one of them being Seonghwa who briefly mentioned a comment refering to the heated kiss as the vocalist could be seen giggling in the background prior to him playfully scolding her.

'That...we definitely expected it since he had talked about it during rehearsal, but I thought it was going to be like the first day. It flustered me too but seeing everyone having fun made me happy.'

Despite these heated stage interactions no official label has been placed on their relationship due to no statements coming out regarding the situation, leading some to believe that it was no more than a rehearsed act to rile up fans or that whatever is happening between them is simply a more intimate level of friendship. There is a possibility that this moment stemmed from the artists' immersion in the performance as well as the heat of the moment, as the youngest is after all a member of the 'Demon Line' and both are known to have rather intense stage personas.

'Seeing people say that they're still 'just friends' is so funny to me 😭Like do you guys not see everything they've been doing for a year now ? I get the people saying they could be 'friend with benefits' but come on...' - X user

It seems as though neither artist not the company intends to lift the mystery surrounding their relation to one another as of yet, leaving netizens to create countless speculations without the certainty of a confirmation. One thing that everyone can be sure of however is that this group knows how to set a stage on fire no matter who the people watching might be, living up to their newly earned nickname of 'Pirate Kings of Sahara'.

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[moonlightequin1]

hehehe I'm here again to share my thoughts about the new halloween event and Yuu. >:D

Jamil sort of trying to 'comfort' Skully is SO cute?? The angst is building up and I honestly hope Yuu can somehow play a bigher role in helping Skully, especially since they seem to share similarities.

But now that I think about it, sometimes it throws me off to see how majority of the fandom portrays Yuu as the overworked "therapist" who's tired of everyone and everything. Especially when it's clear to see that the cast helps out eachother a lot, while Yuu shared only a few 'deep' conversations with the boys throughout the game and also gets protected during fights. I feel like it takes away from the boys characters when the moments that show them caring about eachother and helping eachother out are completely being ignored or seemingly being re-written as Yuu doing all the work.

I totally don't mind when someone writes their Yuu to do all the 'therapist'—work, but seeing this under almost every comment section that includes Yuu is rather tiring. Especially since in-game Yuu doesn't seem to hate their stay in twst all that much.

I hope I don't sound rude haha, I guess this kind of ended up being a bit of a ramble? Sorry if I do! TnT

Hey again diggoes!!!

I actually do agree with your statement about the whole fandom's portrayal of Yuu being an unpaid therapist and TBH I thought the joke/meme was very funny at first until slowly, the joke started becoming less funnier to me when that's all people talked about when it came to Yuu's character. While Yuu isn't purposefully involving themselves in overblot incidents, they do help others without really complaining about it.

I think that one of the major reasons Yuu is labelled as an unpaid therapist is also because of how we, mostly a lot of the players for this game, tend to get tired of NRC's BS and may project that kind of feeling to Yuu (who is basically a self-insert character), which leads many of those in the fandom to think that way.

However, as you have stated, Yuu isn't the only one helping everyone out. In fact, a lot of the overblots are resolved from teamwork and cooperation on involved members. It's a group effort done by all sides of the parties despite NRC students having a knack for being selfish and prideful jerks who prioritise their needs/desires above everyone else.

But I believe another reason many tend to feel that way is because being in Twisted Wonderland, specifically in NRC, wasn't a choice that the player OR even Yuu gets to choose voluntarily which is something I would agree on partially. And unlike other characters in the game, Yuu and Grim have been involved in every single dangerous/life threatening events and even get to be involved with certain things that are far too personal for acquaintances such as them to get involved (particularly Diasomnia especially in book 7).

Although Yuu hasn't had any moments where they are shown to hate their stay in Twisted Wonderland, it is important to note that they seem to be homesick depending on the choices you choose in Book 7. Yuu doesn't really get a choice on many things, but it doesn't mean that they help begrudgingly. They help even without receiving anything in return.

With all that being said, if people were regarding this about Yuu, then the same should be said to apply to Grim; who has shown far more disregard and complaints about their involvement compared to Yuu. HELL– we even see Grim complain about the fact that Yuu helps out other characters too much. Sure, Grim starts AND stirs a lot of trouble, but a lot of times, it isn't really done intentionally. He can be naïve and really insensitive.

That's what I have to say about this topic at least! I don't really mind the 'unpaid therapist' concept with Yuu, but it does get overdone in the fandom and it does seem to disregard the efforts of the other characters too. Although, I do think that the unpaid therapist concept joke can work with people's own portrayals of Yuu, in-game Yuu hasn't really shown their complaints so far. Well, except with Crowley.

Thanks for the new message! ❤️

[ohanny]

change host club show

part 3/3

part 1

part 2

sailub as the dj

sailub got his start as a club dj with benz’s mother and even though his popularity exploded, he has stayed loyal. while he he has a contract with a record label and does the occasional tour and festival gig, in bangkok he performs exclusively at her clubs. in order to create hype for the relaunch, benz decides to bring sailub in. sadly sailub does not think benz the estranged son deserves any kind of family discount so after their appearance fee negotiations, benz has to go cry in the bathroom for a bit. while sailub used to be a big party boy back in the day, he took it a bit too far and is now totally sober but as anyone who has been to nightclubs totally sober knows, it can be a pain in the ass which makes him slightly grumpy.

pon as the new kid

pon is already a bit of an influencer. while stuck at home during the pandemic he started doing product review videos on tiktok and sort of blew up but he's not in lockdown anymore and he feels like he's going nowhere. he misses people. he wants the attention in person. so when he sees the flyer for an open audition at the host club, he figures he could try it out. it seems like easy enough of a gig and his most watched videos are kpop dance covers so he shows up, shakes some ass and flirts a bit. then he almost screws it all up by throwing a tantrum when a sceptical benz asks for his birth certificate because no way he is 29. luckily a bit of diva just makes benz go “oh, you'll fit right in” and “how do you feel about fire?” because, as mentioned, benz has a vision and it might involve flaming whips.  

lee as the jack of all trades

lee showed up to install the security cameras and sort of… never left. he does anything and everything from watching the cameras to barbacking to entertaining guests. he is absolutely the biggest gossip in the place and plays both sides by snitching to benz and then relaying everything benz says to babe. you simply can't tell him anything unless you want everyone to know it but, like, not in a malicious way. he's just a chronic yapper. they love him for it. currently interning under pop who has a vision of his own that revolves around putting lee in a dress.

bonus:

nut: i think garfield is trying to find a sugar daddy

benz: sounds fake. that would take an actual effort.

nut: he asked two of my friends about how much money they make and if they're allergic to cats.

benz: …

garfield: well, i don't want to work forever

nut: girl, you barely work, period

garfield: if i have to leave my bed and put some pants on, it counts as work

the story of how lee became a star goes a little like this: pon is warming up to go do his dance performance but twists his ankle five minutes before call time and it's a disaster. the house is packed, topten is home with the flu and someone needs to step up. lee basically jumps up and down going “me, me, me!” and, literally out of options, benz says “you know what? fuck it. go for it.” no one knows quite what to expect but after a mad scramble to steal booty shorts from pon and butcher one of garfield’s fur coats, lee gags everyone with a drag race finale worthy lipsync performance of lisa’s money. the second he exits the stage pop is on him, asking him if he can do the same in heels.

mistress poppy’s shot special: she will put a sugarcane straw in your mouth and tell you to hold it between your teeth. then she will bend you over and spank your ass. if the straw remains uncracked, you get your free shot. initially benz was horrified by this because free booze? in this economy? not very capitalism, not mindful at all. but then pop demonstrated his ass slapping skills on benz and he quickly changed his mind. (he also didn’t sit down for three days but that's neither here nor there.)

for charlie’s 21st birthday, babe climbed on the bartop and went full coyote ugly, doing unspeakable things with a soda gun. it was the first and last time he performed like that. michael almost killed him for defiling his bar.

benz would actually pay onlyoneof to come do libido instead of stealing the choreo. no shade.