#you have to convince me that a person exists

[grison-in-space]

you know what else fucks me up about the US election? one of the things that has left me reeling in bewilderment and grief this month?

I'm a scientist, y'all.

That means that I am, like most American research scientists, a federal contractor. (Possibly employee. It's confusing, and it fucks with my taxes being a postdoctoral researcher.) I get paid because someone, in the long run ideally me, makes a really, really detailed pitch to one of several federal grant agencies that the nation would really be missing out if I couldn't follow up on these thoughts and find concrete evidence about whether or not I'm right.

Currently, my personal salary is dependent on a whole department of scientists convincing one of the largest and most powerful granting agencies that they have a program that is really good at training scientists that can think deeply about the priorities of the agency. Those priorities are defined by the guy who runs the agency, and he gets to hire whatever qualified people he wants. That guy? The Presidential Administration picks that one. That's how federal agencies get staffed: the President's administration nominates them.

All of the heads of these agencies are personally nominated by the president and their administration. They are people of enormous power whose job is to administer million-dollar grants to the scientists competing urgently for limited funds. A million dollars often doesn't go farther than a couple of years when it's intended to pay for absolutely everything to do with a particular pitch, including salaries of your trainees, all materials, travel expenses, promoting the work among other researchers, all of it—so most smart American researchers are working fervently on grants all the time.

The next director of the NIH will be a Trump appointee, if he notices and thinks to appoint one. NSF, too; that's the group that funds your ecology and your astroscience and your experimental mathematics and physics and chemistry, the stuff that doesn't have industry funding and industry priorities. USDA. DOE, that's who does a lot of the climate change mitigation and renewable energy source research, they'll just be lucky if they can do anything again because Trump nigh gutted them last time.

Right now, I am working on the very tail end of a grant's funding and I am scurrying to make sure I stay employed. So I'm thinking very closely about federal agency priorities, okay? And I'm thinking that the funding climate for science is going to get a lot fucking leaner. I'm seeing what the American people think of scientists, and about whether my job is worth doing. It's been a lean twelve years in this gig, okay? Every time the federal government gets fucked up, that impacts my job, it means that I have to hustle even harder to get grants in that let me support myself—and, if I have any trainees, their budding careers as well!—to patch over the lean times as much as we can.

So I've been reeling this week thinking about how funding agency priorities are going to change. I work on sex differences in motivation, so let me tell you, the politics reading this one for my next pitch are going to be fun. I'm working on a submission for an explicitly DEI-oriented five year grant with a cycle ending in February, so that's going to be an exercise in hoping that the agency employees at the middle levels (the ones that know how to get things done which can't be replaced immediately with yes men) can buffer the decisions of those big bosses long enough to let that program continue to exist a little while longer.

Ah, Christ, he promised Health & Human Services (which houses the NIH) to RFK, didn't he? We'll see how that pans out.

I keep seeing people calling for more governmental shutdowns on the left now, and it makes me want to scream. The government being gridlocked means the funding that researchers like me need doesn't come, okay? When the DOE can't say fucking "climate change," when the USDA hemorrhages its workers when the agency is dragged halfway across the country, when I watch a major Texan House rep stake his career on trying to destroy the NSF, I think: this is what you people think of us. I think: how little scientists are valued as public workers. Why am I working this hard again?

This is why I described voting as harm reduction. Even if two candidates are "the same" on one thing you care about, they probably aren't the same level of bad on everything. Your task is to figure out the best person to do the job. It's not about a fucking tribalist horse race. A vote is your opinion on a job interview, you fucks. We have to work with this person.

Anyway, I'm probably going to go back to shaking quietly in despair for a little longer and then pick myself up and hit the grind again. If I'm fast, I might still get the grant in this miserable climate if I run, and I might get to actually keep on what I'm trying to do, which is bring research on sex differences, neurodivergence and energy balance as informed by non-binary gender perspectives and disability theory to neuroscience.

Fuck.

[itachiiwrites]

𖹭 𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝕯𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖞

𖹭 Synopsis— A random act of kindness was all it took for you to be infatuated with Gojo Satoru, what about him?

𖹭 Dear Diary Archives.

A/N: this is my first time writing a long fic idk what this is but it's something? Let's see how it goes. Divider by @/cafekitsune

𖹭 CW. This story will content dark elements, hence it's 18+. It includes: Murder, Gore, obsessive themes, stalking, suuuuperrr unhealthy behaviours, everyone is insane, the reader is not a healthy person, or exactly a good person for that matter. There are other warnings too but i forgot, gojo satoru is his own warning

𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝟎𝟏. 𝑾𝒉𝒚?

All your life, there was an absurd kind of thirst present in your body. You could never pinpoint what exactly it was, what drove you menselessly crazy, made you deranged.

It was hard to put the pieces of the puzzle together, blaming your moldable brain areas for not being able to figure out what was wrong with you. What was wrong with you that the girls in kindergarten wouldn't want to play house, inclusive of you? The question of why was so predominantly present in your vocabulary that it presented itself in your mind even as no curiosity to seek answers to was present. The answer was always the same anyway.

'We don't like you because you're a freak.'

Creep. Freak. Oddball. Psycho.

If you didn't know you had an actual name, you'd be convinced that these were your real names with how often you were labelled that. It wasn't like you didn't have any friends, there were friends present but their presence felt as if it existed only because there was some pity.

Not for Gojo Satoru, however.

The first time you talked to him it was near a cheap, a little worn, worm eaten walled—candy shop. The purpose of going there was to pass time, having nothing better to do when all people would do in your class was draw vile things on your desk, how childish. If they had the balls they should tell you those seemingly outrageous incentives on your face, but it didn't matter because you had found your reason for being.

Was he fucking stupid? Offering you one of his sickly sweet candies? Couldn't he tell what you were already?

"Your eyes are gonna fall off if you keep looking at me like that, miss girl" What an infectious laugh. How cute.

"Come on, take it, I'm doing this only 'cause I have an extra" The boy with the white hair sighed and groaned at how stupidly frozen you were in your spot—making the effort to wrap the chocolate bar in your fist, his cold, clammy hands made you wince. He walked away before you could even get out a spur of a word— away with a casual wave of his abnormally large hand.

At first all you could do was stare at the chocolate bar that he handed you, taking a soft sniff to make out a tiny hint of his scent. There was nothing, all blank, as if he didn't exist, as if he was a figment of your imagination.

That chocolate was placed onto your table, tucked between your trinkets like a souvenir. Because it was, it was a reminder that someone made an effort to give you this diabetically sweet chocolate, just because he could. You didn't even dare to open it.

Frequent visits around the same crippling shop lead you to the information that his name was Gojo Satoru, an 18 year old student at Jujutsu Tech, a religious school.

And with a name in your hand, everything was in reach with internet at disposal.

Checking his myspace became a ritual. Satoru was a social person because.. Ofcourse he was. This was your only gateway to him for now but the desperation to know more was catching up.

He was beautiful.

You found him absolutely captivating, a sight that made your heart race with an intense langour.

The more you looked at him the more his beauty became ethereal, a vision that awakened something so grotesque within, it scared you.

Each feature of his face, every move he made no matter how ridiculous it was to others, fueled your obsession further until it was all-consuming. In his very presence that you never came too close to, you felt an overwhelming need to possess him completely, to have him all to yourself. His beauty was like gasoline to your raging flame of yearning, making your desire grow exponentially. For him.

This love of yours made you question yourself, it was idiotic to be in love with someone so unreachable, someone so beautiful. But an idiot is never complete without their mindless optimism for the better.

And you, were truly an idiot.

The way your heart dropped to your guts and your body manoeuvred nausea as if it was the only thing it knew. Seeing an equally beautiful man holding his hand, looking at him with the same longing in his eyes, the one that leveled yours. The pain was shrill, piercing, tinnitus and unbearable.

He wasn't yours.

The walls of your room that were plastered with his face all over felt smaller, it was getting hard to breath. Something simple like air came so difficult, with emotions risen like a tempest making your chest incredibly tight.

He had to be yours. He was yours.

The question of 'why' was up yet again, but this time with burn in your throat so harsh that it felt lacerated and while a thousand knvies gauched into your heart.

Why. Why. Why.

Only one of all the why's you've had in your existence, this was the one you could answer.

A knife like that from him felt bearable enough.

He had to be yours.

Taglist (Open :D) @rinachains

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[burningcheese-merchant]

Psst, hear me out: The Beast being fucking yanderes with the ancients.

You Get It™️ I mean... Did you guys see episode 6? Burning Simp Cookie is already a yandere lol. He's been there and he refuses to leave. And Shadow Milk is honestly not that far behind, he feels some type of way towards Pure Vanilla and it would be cute if it wasn't so sad and creepy lol

Really though, I just love hero/villain ships in general (always have, since long before Cookie Run ever existed) and I get a kick out of villains acting stupid over crushes (read: obsessions), and acting stupid in general. There's just something about a villain being in love with the hero to a psychotic, comical degree, and the hero rebuffing them at every turn that's just really amusing to me lol. Like what Joker sort of has with Batman, you know?

Here are my Yandere Beasts in bare-bones terms:

Burning Spice: come on, if you've read my stuff, you know EXACTLY what Yandere Spice is like lol. If not, I'll refer you to this and this, as well as my fics on AO3. If those don't tell you what Yandere Spice is like then idk how else to help you lol

Shadow Milk: if the final boss of theater/drama kids had a crush but was also a malignant narcissist of some sort lol. Absolutely DESPERATE for Vanilla's attention at all times. If he's not actively trying to worm into Vanilla's brain and harass him in his thoughts and dreams, he's in the real world brainstorming better ways to do that lol. He does not grasp why the creepy puppet shows and gaslighting attempts aren't convincing Vanilla to fall in love with him. Will attack and torment and insult Vani in one breath and then praise and love and worship him in another, because he's a histrionic clown freak with whirlwind emotions. But above all else, he literally thinks he owns Vani and is meticulously plotting the horrible and hilarious demise of any and all he perceives as a threat to their union

Eternal Sugar: World's Laziest Stalker™️. Almost exclusively haunts Holly in her dreams (I have to assume that that's what her power will entail, as the Beast of Sloth); however, she's more "effective" in her wooing attempts due to her past experience as the Herald of Happiness. She actually goes out of her way to construct dreams and the like that have things in them that make Holly happy (or what she thinks makes Holly happy; she, as well as the others, has big tunnel vision and is very selfish and self-absorbed, and thus pays more lip service to her own wants than those of who she loves/obsesses over). Thankfully doesn't run into Holly in person often because that's work... but sometimes she DOES work up the nerve to go after her for real, and... well

Mystic Flour: Denial, denial, denial. Not just a river in Egypt the Golden Cheese Kingdom, but she'll say and act like otherwise. No, she does not like Dark Cacao. He robbed her of her volition and the chance to enact her will. He prevented her from freeing the world from pain and suffering. He is a stubborn fool who refuses to understand the truth. He... is very handsome. She does not like how handsome he is. It is distracting. She doesn't like dwelling on her memories of him and their encounters. She doesn't like how she came to harbor a single kernel of respect in her heart after he stood his ground against her; a kernel that she inadvertently nurtured and cultivated slowly but surely, until... no. No, she doesn't like Dark Cacao. She doesn't think about him all day. She doesn't want to try to lure him back to her land so she can trap him in the flour fog with her again. She doesn't miss feeling his dark eyes on her. She doesn't deeply resent his attachment to his people, and seek to transfer that attachment to her instead. No, she... damn it, he's ruined her. He's made her feel things again. He's made her succumb to selfishness and greed, to earthly desire and attachment - desire for HIM, attachment to HIM. All of her hard work and enlightenment gone to waste... She doesn't want to like Dark Cacao, she recognizes the folly in such a thing, but she's stuck - and so stuck is she that not only does she not really see a way out, she doesn't WANT one. She's become too content with her attachment to him too quickly. Now she has to agonize over her own foolishness, and try to keep denying that she doesn't care while also longing for his attention and wanting to do away with all that steals his attention away from her

Silent Salt: probably the least awful of the five, but he's still creepy and that's not a high bar to clear anyway lol. Has a better grasp on "normal" behavior than the others (like... he pays attention to what White Lily likes/wants and tries to adjust accordingly), but he's following her around everywhere and acting extremely violent and territorial over her towards anyone who he catches approaching her. He's legitimately, surprisingly sweet and gentle towards her; he brings her flowers, he listens to her when she asks/tells him something, he's more or less respectful of her personal space (he will try to be as physically close to her as possible, but actually backs off a little if she asks him to, only to try again, and so on and so forth)... but he's still a villain, he's still violent and creepy, he still gets angry when she pays attention to other people for too long and he has brought actual harm to others out of jealousy. He's the best of the worst but that really doesn't mean much of anything, he's still a psycho creep like the others

In short, they form a tight-knit coalition of absolutely fucking deranged freakazoids and they should all probably die :)

[killerblackberrypie]

THIS.

My mother will never, ever, listen to me about politics. I’ve tried. It’s only gotten worse with time. To her, I am a clueless child who’s bought in to the vast liberal conspiracies. I cannot convince her about *anything*. About all I can do is mention when right-wing policies personally affect me or people close to me, which she then…well, she generally denies that the policy had anything to do with the thing I’m mentioning. But sometimes she becomes aware of real-world things that the policies she’s voting for are affecting. I did get her to call her congresscritter one time when the ACA was up for repeal and say that even though she supported the repeal, the replacement needed to keep the pre-existing condition clause. It was the best I could do. It’s gotten worse since then.

All the folks saying that you have to talk to your Trump-voting family members- yes, but also no. You can, and should, be strategic. Your older relatives don’t respect anyone younger than them? Leave them be. You don’t have to take shit from them but leave them be.

But if you’re a guy and your younger male cousin who looks up to you starts saying incel bullshit? You likely have an opportunity.

My college friends come in two flavors, mostly- wildly right wing and queer people who left the evangelical community way long ago. The folks in the B group don’t have any sway over the folks in the A group, and it would be a waste of time for them to try. But I’m also thinking of one of the few sane friends who’s maintained connections with both sides- she’s one who, if I lived closer, I would honestly try to radicalize. (Wouldn’t work well online- I know her well enough to know that.) And she’s “safe” enough to some of the crazies that a few of them might be willing to listen to her if she said things to them.

Look for the people with whom you have good relationships, who respect you, who listen to you. If your whole family doesn’t, then you’re not it. Look elsewhere. But there are very likely people you can influence safely, and should.

Activism is not cold-calling.

Activism is not cold-calling, and this is critically important to understand.

I'm seeing a lot of posts on here about 'building bridges' and 'finding community,' and then (extremely valid) response posts saying "BUT HOW??" And I'm going to explain something that can be very counter-intuitive: there is strategy involved in community.

As a longtime volunteer labour organizer, I’ve taken and taught many trainings on the strategy of talking. Something that surprises a lot of people is the very first thing you do in a union campaign. You sit down with your organizing committee, take out pen and paper, and literally map it out. You draw a physical map of the workplace: where are the entrances, exits, break rooms, supervisor offices. Essentially, ‘where is it safe to have a union conversation.’ Then you draw another physical chart of your coworkers. You sort out who is union-friendly, openly hostile to unions, or somewhere in the middle, and then you plan out very deliberately and carefully who talks to whom and in what order.

Consider: If Vocally Leftist Jane walks up to Conservative David and says "hey what do you think about unions," David is going to shut down immediately. He's not inclined to listen to Jane. But if Jane talks to Moderate Jason and brings him into the fold, then Jason is a far more effective strategic choice to talk to David, and David may actually hear him out without an instant reaction.

IMPORTANT CAVEAT: If Conservative David turns out to be Alt-Right David, and could be dangerous to follow organizers, we write him off. We are not trying to reach Alt-Right David. We are trying to reach Conservative David, who may actually be persuaded to find solidarity with other employees as fellow workers. Jason is a safe scout to find out which one he is. It does no one any good if Leftist Jane (or even Moderate Jane who is a visible minority) talks to Alt-Right David and puts herself on his radar. Not only has she done nothing to convince Alt-Right David to join a union - she's probably actively turned him against the idea - but now she's also in danger and the entire campaign is at risk. NOBODY WANTS THIS. Jane was NOT a hero for doing this. The organizing committee was foolish and enacted a terrible strategy to everyone's detriment.

Where you can make a difference is with people who will listen to you. You having a conversation with your well-meaning but clueless Centrist Democrat Auntie, and maybe gently helping her understand some things the media has been glossing over, is way more strategically useful than you marching up to MAGA Neighbour You've Met Once and trying to "build community" or "understand" them. They don't care. They're impervious, dangerous, and cruel. But maybe your beloved auntie will think about what you said, and then talk to her friend Anna who IDs as "fiscally conservative" but didn't vote because she can't bring herself to get on board with Trump. Then perhaps Anna talks to her brother Nic who has MAGA leanings but isn't all the way there yet. Proto-MAGA Nic would not have listened to you, nor would he have listened to Centrist Democrat Auntie, but he might absorb some of what his sister is saying.

This is not a cop-out or an echo chamber. This is you spending your time and energy strategically and safely. You are not a useful activist to anyone if you’re dead. Anyone who is telling you to hurl yourself directly at MAGA assholes like cannon fodder has no understanding of the strategy behind community building, and you should feel comfortable writing them off.

Last point: If you are tired, emotionally devastated, and/or in danger: take a break. This post is for people who would feel better jumping into action, not for people who are too overwhelmed to even think about it right now. You are worth so much even if you’re not actively Doing Activism, and your rest is worth more than “a break period so you can recharge and Do More Activism.” We all deserve the individual dignity of being worthy of comfort, rest & safety just on the basis of being human, outside of whatever we're doing for others' benefit. To deny ourselves that dignity is to devalue ourselves, and that’s the absolute last thing any of us should be doing right now.

[katiascraft]

"Tender is the night for a broken heart" | CL16

Parings: Charles Leclerc x Reader.

Summary: you been feeling very sad lately. Your emotional stress is taking you places you didn’t want to back in ever again. And Charles knows it - just wanna make sure you know you are loved despite it all.

Now playing: "Space song" by Super Pipo.

Word count: +2k

Warnings: INSINUATION OF SUICIDE - if you are sensitive to these kind of topics please don’t read it. ANGST WITH HAPPY ENDING. VERY SAD. Not a native English speaker so there could be (so many) errors. I do what I can. Not proofread.

Author's note: I may or may not written this one about a real situation. PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION. Hope you like it and sorry in advanced if I make you cry. Charles the man that you are in my head 😭. Don’t forget to comment, like or reblog! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

The wind was brushing the tears that were dropping from your eyes gently. You were shaking, scared. Nature was the only thing that surrounded you. Tall pines with your favorite gradient of green were all around you. You could hear the bird singing. You thought it was morning because the sun on your face was warm - that made you close your eyes to take it all in. that made you sob even harder. You could hear the water of the river crashing against the stonewall of the cliff you were standing on. when you opened your eyes you could see that you were on the edge of it. You took a gasp of fair freezing in the moment. A feeling so overwhelming took over you starting to sweat. Your hands wrapped your own body around. You hugged yourself there. The pain eating you alive was almost unbearable. The wind intensified, sending shivers down your spine. You closed your eyes again, ready to let go of everything. Of this pain you carried along so many years of your life. This burden you carried everywhere. This ghost living inside you is trapped, washing away your personality. Your soul felt in prison by the canvas it got. Your body felt the most uncomfortable place to exist. Your mind was so twisted sometimes you didn't know what was reality and what was your anxiety inventing fake scenarios which will hunt you all night long. Living with you was so difficult. It felt impossible for you that someone could actually love just by who you were. If you are this dark entity then who could love you? Anyone. Your mind convinced you, you needed to end it all to be finally free. You knew you were meant to fly. You just needed to let go. Relax your body and let it float. Let it fall into the immensity of the universe. Let you find a better place to live in. have your happy ending. You finally opened your eyes again out of breath trembling. You were ready. This was it for you. It was time. It was finally time. You even smiled.

But when you were about to let go you started hearing that voice. The same voice you heard every morning and you didn't know why it would choose to stick around your misery.

“y/n! y/n stop!” his voice almost broke your ears of how loud he screamed. You stopped freezing at your feet. Your heart started pounding like crazy. Adrenaline takes over your body turning your face red. Tears started to come out again even more violently. “y/n please don't do it!” his voice was torn in desperation. He was crying as violently as you, you could feel it. You could feel him grabbing your arms. You saw the watered disappear. Now you could only see the stone of the mountain you were standing on. You screamed at the top of your lungs and then everything was black.

“No!” you woke up sweating cold. You were a sea of tears shaking. Charles was already awake. He was trying to wake you up for a couple of minutes and now is really worried about you. You couldn't stop crying stunned by the nightmare you've just had.

“y/n. It's okay, love. I am here. You are ok” he said gently so wouldn't scare you. He grabbed you in his arms carefully. You looked so fragile he was scared he could break you. His heart ached seeing you like this.

These past few weeks were really hard on your end. You started feeling like your old self, self doubting about everything and anything. Insecure you weren't enough anymore for him or your job or your friend or even your family. You started feeling like a burden again lost in your own pain and struggle. Life was always a little harder for you. You've been out of really toxic relationships during your teenagehood that broke you down so bad you had to rebuild yourself all over again as if you weren't ever born. All this trauma you carried made everyday harder to live for you. You developed social issues not knowing how to interact or make friends as the aftermath. You also couldn't trust people or ask for help. Yeah, you were depressed for a couple of years. Thankfully you met Charles at your best self you liked to think. You were starting to feel happier. You liked who you were becoming. It wasn't that hard anymore to talk to people or open up with them.

When you met, you never thought Charles would even like you to be fair. He was the most gorgeous guy you have ever met. Real life prince charming you used to tell your friends. You were only an average girl, a troubled and messed up one, you thought you had no chance with him. But at the end of the road trip with friends he kissed you and you felt so overwhelmed with joy you couldn't believe it was actually your life, the one you were living. It felt strange and at the same time amazing. It was so easy with Charles to open up to him and tell him your story. He never judged you nor ran away from you scared. He didn't see you as a monster. As a broken record never able to be fixed. He fell in love with you because to him you were the sweetest person with the biggest heart he has ever talked to. You were so honest and real to everyone about everything he fell for it. He fell for your loud and weird laugh. So Precious and contagious. With your beautiful sparkly eyes always so honest and crystal clear. You were so you, so real. He felt you were so brave to be so you. In his world it was uncommon for your kind of people. He knew since the first night he met you at Lando´s birthday 5 years ago that you were the one. He didn't know you but he already knew. Destiny told him.

He knew your struggles, of course he did. He always listened to you. Felt so heartbroken every time. If he could, he would literally murder every single monster - because the one who hurt you didn't deserve to be called even humans - that did all of that to you. To him you were so pure, maybe too good for this cruel world. He tried to protect you from it all the best he could. But there was one thing he couldn't protect you against and that was your mind. He knew that your mind was the one who could move earth and seas just to hurt you in the worst way possible.

Heknew something was off with you when you started retreating. You stopped going to friends´ dinners. You didn't assist in the races you were supposed to. You stopped getting out of home more and more. You barely went out to the garden. Most of the time you were in your studio working non stop to preoccupy your mind and not think. He knew you were struggling when I stopped doing your hair the way you loved to do it. Stopped wearing your fancy outfits just to drive him crazy and urging you to take them all off when you two got home. You stopped eating the meals you were supposed to. He knew you avoid seeking help when you feel this down. He knew it was really hard for you so he let you be and wait for you to take your time until you're ready to address your feelings.

Tonight you were asleep when he got home from Max´s. You didn't want to go either and Max was your best friend. Charles was really concerned about you. He hated seeing you like this when you don't deserve to feel this. He would burn the world alive just for you to be happy if needed. You were sleeping peacefully so he decided to take a shower and join you. He laid next to you on his side to look at your face so peacefully relaxed. So angelical. He always felt so lucky to have you around in his life. Even without noticing you were the light of his life. You made him so incredibly happy, heard, understood, supported, embraced. You were his angel. Always reaching for him to give him a hand with anything he needed. So patient and understanding. You were his favorite place and he wished he could make you feel the same. Because he loved you with every fiber on his body and the only wish he had was for you to be happy.

After about 20 minutes of sleeping or so he woke up to you sobbing uncontrollably next to him. You were asleep. He guessed you were either having a nightmare or sleep paralysis. He settled on the bed so he could try to wake you up. His heart was racing in anxiety full of worry. He tried to wake you up for a couple of long minutes until you finally did and he clothed you in his arms. He rocked you gently trying to comfort you in some way.

“I'm sorry baby you feel this way” he whispered with a knot on his throat. You were shaking still but your crying ceased little by little. He kissed your temple lovingly and carefully. You just stayed like that until you could calm down.

When you did you felt drained. Your heart aches as your face from your salty tears and tries to wipe them everytime. Charles cupped your cheeks making you look at him. You felt so guilty and embarrassed to make him go through this. He didn't deserve to be with a broken soul. He deserved better. Someone that could make him happy as he deserved. You looked at him, his eyes glassy with tears.

“Listen to me y/n, i know you may or may not believe me. But listen to me okay?” you swallowed hard, ready to hate yourself for being a burden to him. “I love you. I know you feel like you don't deserve me like you are not enough for me. But let me tell you all of that is not true. I swear I would kill all these people who made you believe all these awful things about you if I could. You don't deserve to feel this pain baby. You are beautiful. You are important to so many people. You make so happy you don't have an idea” his voice cracked making you start crying again and so did he. “You really do y/n, please, believe me. You are an amazing person despite everything that happened to you. You fought so hard to be who you are and I promise it's beautiful to see. And I'm so proud of you baby. Everyone is, I promise. You are really important to me and to everyone that knows you. You are light and I know you don't feel like it. That you feel like a burden but you aren't. And you'll never be for the right people, the ones that see you, the real you. and the real you is so interesting and pretty baby. Yes you are my love” he was crying and smiling. You were sobbing but didn't take your eyes away from him. He was burning your soul with his words. Telling you everything you needed to hear and he didn't even know that. Charlie was so perfect to you even in this shitty as fuck situations with your mental health. You felt so lucky right there in his arms under the sight of his beautiful eyes that looked at you with deep love.

“I love you charlie” you said below whisper and hugged him tightly hiding yourself under his frame. You wanted to hide there forever if possible. He intensified his grip and kissed your head trying to comfort you as much as he could.

“You deserve to be happy y/n, i really mean it. You're the best person i've ever come to know.” he said softly making butterflies fly like crazy on your stomach. The pain you felt was fading away now little by little. You felt so dumb for not talking sooner about your feelings but you forgave yourself. That's what your therapist told you. You need to be more gentle with yourself and give the same understanding perspective as you give to others. Treat yourself as you treat others. Always.

“You make me happy” you said with your face buried in his neck not wanting to get out of there anytime soon. He smiled relieved and pressed gentle kisses on your cheek.

He was the first person who listened to your soul. And you knew right there that with him by your side you could heal and finally be the person you deserve to be and be loved just because.

Charles was the love of your life. And he was yours. There´s nothing to be afraid of.

You will be more than okay.

[eatanorange]

marauders do the candy trauma salad trend since I JUST saw a fantastic one for pjo (highly encourage y'all to add your versions/to this pls I don't have solid hcs of everyone) (evan's is fully me projecting btw)(a lot of them are me projecting <3).

Upon completion I want to add up here n not just the tags that these do reference various traumas/bigotry so be careful and mind what headspace ur in n all that pls take care of urselves k thanks love u.

Sirius: Hi I'm sirius and every time my mother considered something I did 'impure', like experience joy or get sorted in to gryffindor, she took my mouth away! *momentary zone out from the horrors* I brought milk duds!

Barty: bazooka bubblegum. *vid cuts* I'm barty and I hate my dad for all of the reasons you can imagine and I think it would be fun if he blew up. good?

Lily: Hi I'm Lily and after I got sent to magic school, all emotional ties with my muggle sister, who regards me as a freak, and my mother, who was more sensitive to her side, were severed. They didn't tell me when my dad died. I brought 3 musketeers.

Remus: Hi I'm remus and I got bit by a werewolf when I was 5, then my dad offed himself because of it. I brought moon pies.

James: Hi I'm James and I fell into limerence with someone and incessantly pursued them for over a year in ways that were detrimental to both of our mental states. I was so public about it I don't even need to say who it was. My mother sat me down one day and said "was it something your father and I did, something we said, that convinced you you need to beg someone to love you? to let you show them love?" and that broke something in me. We're chill now though, and I have coping techniques that work for me while still allowing me to be my expressive self, so I brought mr. goodbars.

Peter: Hi I'm peter and my animagus is literally a rat. I brought sour patch kids.

Dorcas: Hi I'm dorcas and my pureblood parents will never say it to my face but they wanted me to be a boy. To compensate I was sure to always get top marks, be well liked, and experience gender dysphoria. I burnt out before our 5th year, and learning radical acceptance in the place of trying to guess unspoken rules saved my life. I brought smarties.

Regulus: Hi I'm regulus and in order to be sure my mother didn't assassinate my brother for running away, I stayed behind in the abusive household and eventually became a deatheater to keep my cover, hunting down one bald headed bitch's horcruxes until it literally almost killed me. I think it did kill me in some lives. and I brought the starburst.

Mary: Hi I'm Mary and due to blood supremacist bigots, I have to go to school with people who want me to die just for having the audacity to exist. The muggle world is also like this. The school I go to does not matter in this scenario. I brought mentos for the salad and a bottle of soda for the show.

Evan: Hi I'm evan and my ex went on holiday to another country for 3 months, told me we could write to stay connected, they didn't, broke up with me via owl while still on said vacation, and then came to talk to me in person about that, denied that it was an active choice to disconnect from me, then tried to put the onus of any friendship to follow on just me. We haven't spoken since. Also I'm a sex positive, but also trauma affected ace, it was an open relationship, and they somehow still managed to be shady/inconsiderate about hooking up with someone on the vacation. I brought blow pops.

Pandora: Hi I'm pandora and sometimes I get prophetic dreams so vivid I can't tell when I wake up. Sometimes, though the future is not stagnant, I see my friends die :) I brought airheads.

Marlene: Hi I'm marlene and I have 5 brothers. 3 of them accept my nonbinary identity. The rest, and my parents, blatantly ignore that I use they/them pronouns. Then they told me if I don't have children as an adult I won't be worth visiting because it's my job as a pureblood to produce an heir. So I went to St. Mungos and got sterilized. I brought baby ruth candy.

Hope you enjoy! and thanks if you read them all! This was fun for me.

[butch-reidentified]

This is in reference to this post

She didn't laugh at me, she was being entirely serious when she said that (1)

I have spent a decade working in medicine and am published in a peer reviewed neuroscience journal (2)

This was SO long ago, before tiktok EXISTED etc, this was before POTS was heard of online or even by most doctors etc. It wasn't taught in med school for most current doctors of the time. This online illness faker shit was not even a kmown phenomenon over a decade ago when this occurred, ESPECIALLY not with POTS. Which, yes, means "munchausen POTS" was simply not even a thing then (nor am I remotely convinced it is now). Can you even imagine how that shit has impacted people like me because of people like you?? (3)

I never said "I think I have POTS" bc I know most doctors' egos all too well and I'm not that stupid. I just told her my symptoms and what I had tried. Nothing more. She had never seen me before as my insurance had been changed so I had to switch, and spent mere minutes with me and refused to order any tests. I got my TTT with a competent doctor a month later. (4)

You are also pushing misinformation:

POTS is not easy to fake unless you (as the doctor) are a complete and total fucking moron. My TTT showed a >ONE HUNDRED BPM increase in heart rate. >100!!! you cannot simply fake that, and if your doctor has any doubts, it is very very easy to repeat the test - or the "poor man's tilt" version which any idiot can do with a simple BP cuff and chair & you can repeat that hundreds of times if you like. Good luck faking it every time. I've never once in my life, without medication, had a result under a 50bpm increase (those were my absolute best days). And I was a competitive rock climber and healthy, active, hydrated, well-rested person. To this day, my results are the same if there's a gap in my medication coverage (thank you USA healthcare!). But overall I don't think about it much anymore because ivabradine is so good at treating it for me.

POTS is *treated* not cured, and mine is pretty well treated will ivabradine (the changes you listed did not help much, I even had a personal trainer who was educated on POTS and related conditions & was drinking Normalyte all the time). *You* sound like a fraud, tbqh, as someone who is actually published and actually has devoted her life to medicine. You don't sound like you know fuckall, yet you poise yourself as if you were a medical professional here. I deeply hope that's not true.

You also, quite frankly, sound like a piece of shit, tbh. I know I am very lucky in terms of my POTS (and even my vEDS symptoms thus far), but the girl I knew whose nurse mother first tested me has not been so lucky. Both she and her sister have (genetically tested and confirmed) EDS from their father's side, and POTS as a byproduct. Her sister is a tough kid and doing alright for herself all things considered. But she is on disability and living at home, not able to work, because of the severity of her illnesses. If you were a real medical professional, you'd understand what a massive spectrum these conditions exist on.

If you ARE a real medical professional and are this ignorant and show this little compassion, I am begging you to either reup on your studies or quit. Someone should report you to the board xx

[eroticcannibal]

It's still a minority view (plenty of varied viewpoints do get conflated with those things though, by people who have also grown up with the criticism of men = man hate line and internalised it in the other direction). It's still heavily exagruated by bad actors. Have you not actually talked to these people? Have you not looked at what they feel is man hate? Have you seen the examples the radicalised will list? Evil radfems saying all men are scum on twitter is a *tiny* fraction of what they feel attacked by and is almost never what they feel *most* attacked by.

I saw an intelligent, reasonable, compassionate, previously explicitly feminist man become *violently* (and I do mean violently, I was the target) antifeminist overnight because I expressed on Facebook I was having a trauma response (wariness of men) after an assault. And you know what else? Not a single man in that room defended me from *actual violence* because to them, fear looked like hate. Anything that made them uncomfortable looked like hate. This was during a time where publically discussing online your experiences with sexual assault was first becoming a Big Thing, the original #MeToo (interesting that it had to happen twice), and there really wasn't anyone going all men evil, just all men can be scary because we don't know who will hurt us. There was SO MUCH EFFORT to add nuance to the discussion, to let men know hey! We aren't saying *youre* bad! And they would not listen. Why? Because they'd rather listen to other men saying we are man hating feminists who are calling them all rapists even when we explicitly say the opposite! And that got me assaulted by a friend. The same shit fucking led to elevatorgate ffs. How dare a woman say she is uncomfortable, that's man hate, ignore all evidence to the contrary.

And yknow I did see an uptick in *performative* man hate at the time, but it was purely reactionary and it was a *test* (and a lot of current supposed "man hate" is still a relic of this era). Since you can make clear you don't hate men all you want and they will still say you do, "yes all men" became a sort of password. If you could here that without being a little bitch about it, if you knew the context because you actually bothered to listen, then you were cool. You knew no one actually meant that because you bothered to listen to them instead of people lying for political gain.

This is a tactic that has been going on since *before feminism even existed* and it is effective! It relies more upon the constructed belief that feminism is anti man which has become very well established over the years than it does the actual behaviour of feminists. I would strongly encourage you to look at anti-feminist sentiment throughout and predating the history of feminism (starting with the votes for women movement, that's the earliest I am personally aware of, there may be earlier examples) and see how we got to this point. Convincing every feminist to never again say "men are evil" will not create any change. (Which is not to say people *should* do it, but just that it's not the true root of this kind of radicalisation). Actual examples of it are *convenient* but not necessary for this tactic.

I would never *entirely* discredit the viewpoints of someone who has escaped cults and cult tactic using groups (I've been through that, I get it), but I would encourage caution with how much you trust the narrative of the *whys* from someone who has escaped. Leaving is quicker than undoing the thinking, and I really do believe that user isn't quite there yet. Best case scenario, that user is right about *them*, but it is not correct of radicalised men in general.

Because you can be as gentle as you like to these people getting radicalised, you can have all the nuance in the world, you could make it so that no one, not even as a joke, says anything about hating men, and you know what will happen? Just like has always happened, they will listen to who they want to listen to. They will listen to the people promising them superiority, they will listen to the people giving them a reason for their economic suffering (we must remember how much economics plays into radicalisation), that reason being evil feminists. They will see the man hate regardless of if it is there or not. Because they have been told to. Because it is convenient for them. And even if you convince them that we don't hate *men*, now you've got to convince them we don't hate them for being *white*. The point is not the hate they perceive but the superiority they seek and the power they desperately want.

Radicalisation and cult tactics do not rely on facts.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[fruityindividual]

you erased tonks and she's literally teddy's mom??? why do ff writers keep doing this??? this fandom is hella misogynistic let the female characters be MOMS!!

mkay. thoughts + questions below the cut xx

i do not care abt tonks enough to write abt her. i won't spend my time writing abt a character i dont find interesting just cos jkr did and u think i should.

is it ok w you if i leave tonks out of fics that don't include teddy?

is tonks' motherhood where u draw the line?

cos shes a mum?

cos being a mum is the most important aspect of her canon female character?

or am i misunderstanding you? like u've misunderstood why i chose to not include tonks in tmos?

should i have killed her off? or made her a v minor character? either way, as ppl who clearly care so deeply abt tonks, u would've been disappointed.

oh! i shouldve just written an oc kid?

so u don't mind if tonks is left out of fics that don't include teddy? cos if she's not a mum, then there's no point? or am i misunderstanding you? like u've misunderstood why i chose to not include tonks in tmos?

'this fandom is misogynistic' -> 'let em be MOMS!!'

fictional characters dont actually have 2 b anything just cos you and jkr say so.

including a character solely cos shes a mum in canon isn't a v convincing reason to divorce (<-lmao) myself from wht i'd prefer writing. imo

i feel no obligation 2 write tonks just cos jkr did n u think i should. this stems from my personal belief that i can write whtevr the fuck i want.

calling a fandom as a whole 'misogynistic' but citing tonks' motherhood as ur only grievance is rly interesting. and by 'interesting,' i mean dense + annoying

fandom is 'denying tonks her motherhood?' well i also denied her a fucking existence......btw.

excluding tonks from tmos wasn't driven by my desire to 'get her out of the way' so r/s ('two gay men' <-insane three words 2 type n click send on btw anon) could raise teddy, but rather my desire to literally not write abt her at all. cos ive never rly found her an interesting character. is that wrong? i'm not convinced it is. but i dont pretend to have given this as much thought as u three big thinkers.

write ur own fics n give tonks the appreciation u think is lacking instead of whinging abt the product of my own loser daydreams in my askbox.

u'll never convince me that these sorts of asks are sent in effort to make the world a better place <3

will always welcome asks n polite discourse + treat everyone w the respect they deserve, but pls consider baiting, drama-fuelled asks like these outside of my boundaries. dont bring this shit into my house xoxo

[yippeeometer]

Yippeeometer, Im gonna need those Mass headcanons please and thank you

IVE WAITED YEARS FR THIS DAY!!!!!! MASSHOLES RISEEE!!!!!!!! WE MAY NEVER SEE OUR FAMILIES FOR BOSTON TRAFFIC GODDAMNIT BUT WE ARE PROUD!!!!!!!

incapable of normalcy and i truly mean that.

look theres a very specific vibe to mass and its 'will call in a bomb threat to get himself out of doing stuff he hates'

I HATE HIMMMM

so insane he's beyond dark humor atp that man grew up with puritans trying to convince him nothing was fun and now makes ass jokes for a living. what a 180.

oh and hes irritatingly cool even though hes such a dick. he's got big beautiful eyes and youre laughing along even though hes absolutely mocking u.

sports arent just sports its his way of life. which is why he wants to DIE because the red sox SUCK BALLS

sat there like a renaissance painting of despair in a dark room as the red sox fumble another game. phone illuminated w/ ny and nj sending him videos of the play with the sound of their laughter pasted on top.

'jock mass' 'nerd mass' get real he would be that one guy on the school newspaper that gets banned within the week for posting articles that are wayyyyy too radical to be necessary

he's be a journalist i fear. i fear he turns up to ur press conference and tears instantly spring to ur eyes bc hes got this shiteating grin that just says hes going to drag yours and your grandmothers name through the mud.

yk what i dont even fear. i am PROUD. no better job for a petty hoe than to write thinly veiled insults all day everyday.

sat there cackling into his computer describing one of maine's books as 'so bad its become a hatecrime to a group that doesnt exist' whilst maine actively tries to throttle him

hes such a MESSY BITCH INSTIGATOR. killing him with a rock until he's dead.

i could go on and on and i shall. man collects degrees, but not for fun as we may presume. its to win arguments against people so he can just casually pull out 'as someone w a phd-'

ok sue me he and rado would be great together. bc mass the type of guy to need to be the most impressive person in the room and anythig's impressive when youre stoned. rado sat there gasping in shock as he ties his shoelaces. gay.

if theres one mental image i have of him its that he claims that coats are for pussies to piss of ny and then spends the next 100 years only wearing t shirts and jeans. catches hypothermia 10 billion times. virginia interrogated daily for his taste in men.

ok furthermore and he cant drive. have u ever been to boston. its like a fucking psa on how to die most efficently.

[naranjapetrificada]

This post is making the rounds again for whatever reason and besides all of the things that like, make absolutely perfect sense about it, for whatever reason it's also made something click about Izzy characterizations in fic that do or don't work and why and how I can (in ADHD veteran fashion) "trick" myself into handling him and his nonsense more easily.

We're always reminding people about his status as a device vs an actual character, and that's something I've understood implicitly about the show but only intellectually in fic for whatever reason. Sometimes you can "know" something without truly internalizing it and you need like, the stars to align in a certain way on a certain day before you actually know what to do with that information. I guess that day was today? Anyway.

I've talked about what I will believe about an Izzy characterization and what I won't, and those things still matter, but what's behind them is the question behind any storytelling device: what's being attempted/accomplished with him here?

And when you take away everything else about it and deal with the question head-on, it's usually extremely straightforward to answer, even with portrayals that absolutely don't work for you or may not have been intentional on the author's behalf. In fact, it can even be tied to the thing I was just saying about understanding something on an intellectual level versus actually internalizing or believing or buying into it, and how that intersects with Izzy as a device instead of a character. Because here's the thing, like The Thing the thing about Izzy in fic, from the most sympathetic canyon-cooked apologia to the most excoriating condemnation:

He's still not a person, he's a tool.

And he'll never be more than that. There are writers who understand this both intellectually and implicitly, there are writers who understand it intellectually but have yet to internalize that understanding, and there are writers who reject the premise outright. But every single one of those writers still ends up treating him that way whether they mean to or not, because we're not given more than that to work with.

Whether someone is writing a nice guy OC with Con O'Neill's face and naming that guy Izzy or is making an effort to adhere as close to the text of canon as possible, they're all just using him as a tool. Maybe they're using him as a tool to reveal something about the world or the other characters, or maybe to move the plot forward. Maybe the message they want to convey is just that they think he's hot and/or they find something compelling enough about him (or Con O'Neill's portrayal of him) to make them want to build up whatever they need to to make him seem sympathetic. But you have to engage in a great deal of invention if you want him to be more than that, at which point he starts to go all ship of Theseus.

Izzy is a character in the way that the letters I'm using to form the words that make up this post are characters, in that he exists as a device for accomplishing the goal of conveying meaning. And sure, some characters are seemingly straightforward alphanumeric characters like the number 1 and the letter I, and other times characters are complex and multilayered and capable of conveying a great deal of meaning with room for rich discussion and interpretation like in some scripts that are both phonetic and ideographic (cuneiform, Egyptian hieroglyphics, Chinese characters).

If you want to extend this overstretched metaphor even further to all characters fine, but there's still a key difference between him and the actual protagonists Ed and Stede. If they're all "characters" in this sense of the word, whether or not you write Izzy with a dull pencil on wide-ruled notebook paper or paint him on silk with a calligraphy brush, he's just the number 0 or the letter O. Ed and Stede though? They're those works of figurative calligraphy where Arabic writing takes the actual shape of a bird or a boat or a tree. They're those Chinese characters written with dozens of strokes that feel like single, self-contained poems.

And that's a distinction that matters greatly when it comes to reading and writing fanfic. So next time I'm wrestling with a portrayal of Izzy in someone else's work that doesn't work for me or I'm continuing to wrestle with the struggles of trying to write him myself, I hope I remember to pause and ask myself hey, what's the point of him here? What's he meant to do? Because who he "is" doesn't matter, and isn't even the right question. I cannot tell you how easy that makes it to quiet down all the constant noise around him and put down all the baggage attached to him and just move forward with everything. It's so freeing.

[crispyjenkins]

mandalore the young cont.

original post/discussion here! it was just getting really long and i for one hate scrolling so far, so. here's this. have also added this au to my masterlist in my pinned post!

@malcontent-crow

#i had a whole wall of tags and it didnt save! lets try this again#i am loving this. the potential for world building and the consequences of knowing more than you should (literally)

#i had forgotten that DW wasnt in peoples thoughts as a threat during the Clan Wars#and the idea that Pre was so far underground with the movement is a very good thing to remember as well! #on one hand you have this driven and spirited young verd that is inspiring Clans to start reassessing who they are fighting and why#on the other you have this clanless outsider that knows waaaaay too much about all the potential major players and is saying#that this major threat isnt really as gone as everybody thought and hoped. sith parallels out the wahoo for ppor obi#and hes standing there watching them all argue over his head about this threat that he KNOWS needs to be dealt with#he is seeing himself as pretty on par or above with the Old Guard in terms of mental age or prowess or large scale battles#so he sees them doubt him maybe even to his face and knows he'll need to get things started on his own

#and becauae everything in the galaxay has at least one person watching it from the outside... how quickly does the news of a jedi padawan#going off the rails on this mission get out? whos keeping track and who points fingers at the jedi for attempting to control the outcome#of the war of their historical enemies in their favor? the senate (read sith) want mandalore defanged before their war but what does it look#like the jedi want? how does the council answer for his actions? do they condemn or condone him? do they try to stay out of it?

#the world building potential of the Manda and the Ka'ra is delicious.#what does it mean to be a mando or darmanda? can you walk around and have people look at you and know you have failed in your oaths?

#and ouch! Obi-Wan considering the fact that he has never been allowed to be his own person.#from padawan to knight/master and then a general and councilor and sheesh. hes really never had the chance to see who he is as a person#outside of his responsibilities to everybody around him and right now hes a war worn adult in a war worn teens body#hes always had somebody else there. as a battle companion a teacher a student as somebody to protect and guard and guide#and now he has this entire culture looking at him and waiting for his next move. and im guess it still feels like less than a burden than#the care and raising of an entire child on his own. sure he had the temple resources and other jedi to lean on but anakin always looked to#him first to solve any problem or teach him something new or cuddle him after nightmares as hes trying to hide his own dreams#and grief and flounding to find his footing as an independent adult

#so right now hes looking around at the entire mando population and realizing thats he might need to reshape himself again for somebody else#to make himself what others need and knowing he can and will do it if it means saving somebody else

#and when exactly did he come back from the war? did he have satine die in his arms and see the ruin that is madalore after a pacifist reign?#does he see the potential for that ruin to happen right now if he doesnt succeed? where does he see himself in regards to the jedi?#has he considered the consequences of stepping up to be the Mand'alor to this culture he has never seen as his own?#has he let himself think about the choices he needs to make and how some things you cant always come out the other side the same as before?

(following the trend of each of these getting longer, this has hit just under 5,000 words, so just a heads up lol? so much world building is happening in this one)

sorry you had to rewrite so much! that last exchange was cursed, it seems lmao

it's so easy to write Obi-Wan as prescient, or the route I'm going with in Dha Kar'ta, so i think it's a fun change-up to have him knowledgeable for completely different reasons! I'm actually going to avoid visions almost at all for this Obi, but everyone else certainly won't know the difference, and he doesn't tell them otherwise (though he won't encourage it either. I do actually have a Naruto time travel where Nart pretends to be psychic à la Shawn Spencer, so that isn't the route I wanna go for this Obi). the consequences of knowing too much, indeed

hmmm many of these questions depend on how deep into Jedi and galactic politics I wanna go, and I'm not sure it's very deep at all. or at least, not very dragged out. i'll explain in a mo

SO first: yes, this Obi is from after Satine dies, in 19 BBY, maybe a month or so after, but before the bombing of the Temple so before Ahsoka left the Order. He was back on the front, no time to properly mourn, though he was doing his best, and was meditating on the whole war, but especially the Sith and their hand in everything that happened on Mandalore. It went deeper than Maul, he knew, had been going on longer than Maul and even Dooku, and it occurred to Obi-Wan that the Sith either wanted a Mandalore that will side with them but not be too much a threat, or they wanted them not a threat at all. He realised his hand in that, in helping put the New Mandalorians on the throne that led to the demilitarisation of the entire sector. Obi-Wan had practically teed Mandalore up for Dooku and then Maul's interference, and if the Republic won the war, he could all too easily see them doing another excision. won't get too much into it to save it for the fic, but he is mediating with something beskar, and he gets a lil too deep into the Force, and of course this is post-Mortis so...... 👀

so this Obi-Wan, back in time, is helping Mandalore to prevent any more Sith machinations in the future, to change the future for the whole galaxy, but even before he's Chosen, he realises he's also doing all of this for Mandalore. for his own hand in its destruction, for the Jedi's hand in the Excision, for his personal connection to Satine drawing Maul to it. it's for atonement, for reparation, and also because Mandalore deserves to be saved, and Obi-Wan is in a place he can help do that. it isn't just about the health of the galaxy, anymore.

I usually shy away from having Obi-Wan leave the Order, no matter what AU I'm throwing him in because I believe in the fundamental goodness of the Order and the people in it, and Obi-Wan is fundamentally a Jedi, one of the best, one of the best. however, in this case, I don't think he can have his cake and eat it too. if Dooku had to leave the Order to accept his countship, then Obi-Wan would have to leave to become Mand'alor. Jedi are (supposed to be) politically neutral, and Obi-Wan is all too aware he'd nullified his own neutrality the moment he decided to go for Keldabe to find Jango.

one of my favorite... tropes? in time travel fic is Obi using his future fellow councilmembers' access codes to get into things he shouldn't, and he certainly knows how to work the Order's internal systems in his favor, so he

wait so i was gonna have him go in and tender his resignation from the Order directly into the systems, and backdate it for before the Mandalore mission, so that anything he's done on Mandalore so far cannot be blamed on the Jedi BUT WHAT IF he just. deletes himself. like completely. from admin to the Archives to the crèche's own internal systems to the Shadow's private servers, Obi-Wan Kenobi was never a Jedi, was never a Temple bastard, was never Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan. his mission records are all in Qui-Gon's name now, his medical file simply doesn't exist, his crècheling clan is listed as simply having been a person short compared to other clans that year. he goes so far as to delete comm histories with him or mentioning him, it's like Obi-Wan Kenobi just doesn't exist anymore.

he does this first thing after leaving Jango, he spends the entire week back to Mandalore ensuring he's been completely erased from absolutely anything relating to the Jedi, and then uses his future councilmember knowledge (and lessons from Quinlan) to erase himself from Republic systems, too. any planet he'd helped as a padawan will suddenly have no records of him as having been there with his master, so the senate or Order can't subpoena them for the info, though Obi-Wan knows he can't have gotten everything (such as any planet not in the Republic, or who don't have holonet access to their files, or both, like Melida/Daan), but he figures he's done enough to absolve the Order if anyone comes knocking about what he's doing.

he buries his lightsaber in the deserts of Mandalore, not knowing that in his old future, he'd have done the same on Tatooine.

so as far as the Jedi are aware: Obi-Wan went on a mission with Qui-Gon that (predictably) went to hell, got separated from his master for weeks to months, then suddenly changed, at the same time their Jedi with the highest prescience collapsed due to his visions, which have also changed. Obi-Wan left Qui-Gon behind to hightail it through the Mandalore sector, and Qui-Gon couldn't catch up or find him, and then Obi-Wan disappeared from anyone's radars for two weeks. then Qui-Gon senses him reenter the Mandalore system, right before breaking his training bond with him, and the Order wakes up to Obi-Wan completely erased from their systems like he never existed in the first place. everything is going so so wrong, and yet. and yet.

and yet the Force is telling them all that this is right, that this is the least Dark course of action, that whatever Obi-Wan is doing is indeed the Will of the Force

so the Order mourns one of their own, and tells Qui-Gon to let him go. and then the Order ups their cyber security because what.

i think he leaves an unsigned letter/comm message for a few people. Bant, Quinlan, Mace, Feemor, his old crèchemaster, Yoda, maybe Jocasta Nu. it's short, basically thanking them for their hand in his upbringing (Feemor hasn't even met him before so is very confused by this), apologising for leaving abruptly, but to follow the Will of the Force, he had to leave; the first part of the message is all the same, but ends with little individual notes. he apologises to Madam Nu for fucking with her archives and hopes she can one day forgive him; he asks her to keep her friends close and to mend the tension between her and Dooku, that Obi-Wan should not know about. He tells Yoda that the future is always in motion but they must move with it; he asks Yoda to meditate on his dwindling lineages and learn to accept all that he cannot control. He reminds Quinlan to wear his gloves and asks him to thank Tholme for looking out for him when Qui-Gon wouldn't or didn't; he thanks him for their years together, and asks him to check in on Feemor every now and then. He apologises to Mace for all the shatter-points he likely caused and will continue to cause, and suggests he put a permanent reminder in his comm to remember to refill his migraine prescription that sixteen year-old Obi should not know about. He asks Bant to look out for a young Togruta initiate that will join in seven years, and suggests Bant might like the healer track rather than the knight corps; he thanks her for being his longest and most dearly-held friend. He thanks his crèchemaster for realising his visions were more than dreams (which will inadvertently lend credence to that theory for why Obi-Wan changed so suddenly), for supporting him when Bruck was at his nastiest, and for always being someone he could turn to even after he became a padawan. For Feemor, Obi-Wan apologises that they hadn't had the chance to meet before then, and for the relationship they won't have anymore; Feemor has no idea who this message is from, until he starts hearing the gossip that Obi-Wan Kenobi has left the Order again. He too mourns never getting to know his padawan brother.

and Obi-Wan sends Qui-Gon a message, of course, thanking him for his teachings, apologising for "leading him on" as an apprentice, leaving and coming back so many times only to permanently leave this time. he reminds Qui to reach out to his friends and his support system, asks him to at least consider talking to a mind or soul healer about Xanatos (knowing that once it gets out that Obi-Wan is a planetary leader, it will likely badly trigger Qui-Gon), and asks him to at least try and mend his relationship with Dooku, though understands if that's not something Qui-Gon is willing to do. asks him to keep Satine safe, but to deeply think about why the Republic is so intent on helping her faction, and why Qui-Gon had questioned so little of the New Mandalorian ethos.

so by the time Obi-Wan finds the Old Guard, he's broken from the Order completely, has buried his saber, has broken his training bond, has cut his braid. I think he shaves his head entirely to let it grow out at the same rate, because the padawan cut is *Eliot Spencer voice* Very Distinctive. he paints his armour white for, yes, his men, his vod'e, but also for cin vhetin. he can't be the man he was before, nor the teen he was before, neither are who Mandalore needs, and as long as he can stay true to his morals and upbringing, he will be what Mandalore needs him to be.

okay now onto the Manda vs. the Ka'ra vs. the Force. the Force is a scientific concept of an energy connecting absolutely everything in the universe, and the Jedi have a religious view on the scientific concept. for both purposes, the Force just is. I really like the idea of other non-Jedi ideas just being different aspects of the Force, different religions and cultures based on the same scientific concepts. for Mandalorians, their "aspect" of the Force is the Manda, the collective souls of every Mando'ade that's ever marched on. just what it means to be Mando'ade has varied greatly through history, and is varied between different groups even now, but none of that changes what the Manda is, which is an aspect of the Force only Mando'ade can touch. sort of like their beliefs of it being separate from the Force have made it so?

now I haven't really talked about this before, but from the beginning of me writing Mandalorian related things, i've separated Ka'ra from ka'ra, which was a little bit me misremembering there was another term for "stars", and then it became it's own thing. kar, meaning "star", with it's plural kar'e or kare, to me, means physical stars, the way we'd call our sun a star. ka'ra, uncapitalised, is the more poetic and/or spiritual "stars", the way we might say something is "written in the stars", which actually aligns with how jate'kara is spelled; for my writing, i've used this form for Mandalorian Force-sensitives being Star-touched ka'ra-touched. Ka'ra, capitalised, is that "ruling council of fallen kings", the Mandalorian myth and it, the way I've always interpreted it, is a separate part of the Manda made up of specifically the souls of every Mand'alor already marched on. So, Tor Vizsla could have joined the Manda after death, but not the Ka'ra; make sense? all that ka'ra vs Ka'ra worldbuilding was done very early in my writing for star wars, and has since expanded to include the idea of the Manda as something separate, and I would now actually consider Manda-touched over Star-touched to describe Force sensitive Mando'ade, because that's really what I think Mandalorians would consider causes their supernatural powers: ancestors rather than the stars.

so what does that mean for this fic? the Manda is directly influenced by all those that consider themselves Mandalorian, Force-sensitive or not. it is, however, not affected by New Mandalorians, unless they worship the Manda in some facsimile, and I think many, many, many do not, not the way they were raised to. this worship looks different for every clan and every individual, and I've always interpreted it as more of a broad spiritual practice across the whole culture rather than a religion, per se, the way a real-world broader culture might pray at shrines at New Years even if individuals themselves or their family aren't religious. this is what I'm referencing when I say the Will of the People: the alive Mando'ade and their choices and emotions affecting and influencing the Manda, the collective amalgamation of every passed-on Mando'ade, and it's when these two are in tandem that they "pick" a Mand'alor. HOWEVER, such a pick is also up to the Ka'ra, the Mand'alor'e that have all marched on; to one day enter the Ka'ra themselves, a Mand'alor must be "picked" by both the People/the Manda, and the Ka'ra. Tor would be "picked" by a significant part of the People and the Manda, and so would Jaster have been, but (according to me, myself, and i, obviously), only Jaster had been chosen by the Ka'ra. Pre is "Mand'alor" only in name, only in a tenuous loyalty existing in House Vizsla and Death Watch, not even by the Manda; just simple human (et al) loyalty. Jango had a weaker "pick" from the Manda than Jaster did, but was picked by the Ka'ra, meaning if he did not declare himself dar'manda (even just internally; I don't think he's ever said it out loud), he would have joined the Ka'ra after death; if he ever reconnects with himself as a Mandalorian, I like to think he'd have that chance again. Canon Jango, though, who went on to make the clones? Absolutely not.

what does this all mean for Obi-Wan? he'd spent weeks inadvertently drumming up support in the people and therefore the Manda, and maybe most haven't really looked at him and thought "sure I'd follow him as Mand'alor", but they have looked at him and thought "that one has mandokar, that one wants what's best for Mandalore, that one is touched by destiny". I dunno, man, like. Obi-Wan is their hope before he is their leader. That will make all the difference when he does end up uniting them. His searching out Jango had made Jango finally confront that he feels dar'manda, until then he hadn't really lost the Ka'ra's support, but that severs that connection. and now the Ka'ra are without a Mand'alor, but look at that, there's a mandokar'la little idiot right there, already strong in the Manda, already rallying hope and purpose, already so invested in the nurturing and the future of Mandalore, how could the Ka'ra not choose him?

I posed the question previously whether or not Mando'ade can tell who has been chosen to be Mand'alor, and I think I've ironed out what that'll mean for this fic. non-Force sensitive Mando'ade will have this sense when near their Mand'alor, a subconscious and inherent trust in them, and indeed, some will be disturbed by this and fight it. that's alright, that's their right. Some never clock this extra sense, some are aware of it always, some just chalk it up to "gut feelings" and the like. The more spiritual or religious Mandos maybe put a little more stock in this feelings, I think especially goran'e and other spiritual leaders, but the fact that the Manda can technically pick more than one person at a time (like Tor and Jaster, and then Jango), this extra sense isn't a perfect indicator of a properly chosen Manda'lor.

now. what about Force sensitive Mando'ade? Well, the Manda is an aspect of the Force, and is in fact how said Force sensitive Mando'ade connect to the Force, by going through the Manda, first. their relationship with sensitivity is inherently different from others in the galaxy, at least those that connect to it directly. they are the ones that can sense or see if someone is chosen by the Ka'ra, depending on their sensitivity. Some see the ghostly line of previous Mand'alor'e stretched out behind them (like the Avatar cycle lmao), some see a wavering crown of stars around their head, some just sense there is a duplicity (/neutral) to their Force presence that doesn't exist in anyone else. how common is Force sensitivity in Mandalorian space? not fuckin very. Jaster had three in his entire faction of aprox. 2 million (fanon number), at least that were aware they were sensitive. Jango only had a few more, and only because he had gained a couple hundred thousand more followers before Galidraan. so i'll make the nearly-arbitrary number that Force sensitive Mandos are 1 in 1,000,000, across the entire sector. by some calculations, in the whole galaxy at around the time of the Clone Wars the number of Force sensitives is 1 in 5,000,000 but these calculations do not generally include societies and species with a near or 100% chance of Force sensitivity, because we simply don't have the data for it. does this all make Mandos slightly more likely to be Force sensitive than others, by my own numbers? sorta. which i'm making an issue of underreporting, based on Mandalore not being a part of the Republic, and also contention with the Jedi and Sith; they don't consider those Manda-touched to be Force sensitive, and with the way I've built this, they aren't exactly wrong.

for the purposes of this story, there are maybe eight Manda-touched Mando'ade in the Mandalore system at this time, and all but one are goran'e. that single non-armorer is part of the Old Guard. I have the roster for the Old Guard decided, so I'm debating whether the Manda-touched one is Cort Davin (a journeyman protector), or one of the women. Instinct wants Vhonte Tervho, but I have plans for her to be related to the goran Obi-Wan got his armour done by, who I wanted to be one of the seven Force sensitive armorers, soooo. lmao how fucked would it be if Isabet Reau is the Force sensitive one? I like the angst of that, since I definitely do not plan on redeeming her, but I kind of want the only Old Guard that can sense Obi-Wan is Chosen by the Ka'ra to be really quiet and accepting of it, while everyone else is arguing. hmmm I have an unnamed Wren as part of the Guard, that I haven't fleshed anything out for yet; perhaps them?

okay I think I've solidified what it makes a Mandalorian, at least for the function of this fic. it is tied to the Resol'nare, and following it, which does allow those who had Chosen Tor Vizsla as their Mand'alor to technically still be following the Resol'nare, and are therefore not dar'manda. at least not for that. but part of the reason the Resol'nare is even able to determine who has a Mandalorian soul, is because they believe it does. Those alive and those dead influence the functionality and reality of the Manda, which also allows for those pre-Resol'nare to still exist in the Manda. What causes someone to become dar'manda, if they are technically following the Resol'nare?

maybe it's reductive, or over-simplified, or maybe even too broad, but it makes sense to me and allows for many many different types of people to still fail, and this is obviously not the only way to become dar'manda, but one thing that will always strip someone of their Mando soul? treatment of children. caring for children. not harming children. this allows many of Death Watch to still maintain their Mando souls, but still be fucked up awful people in other ways. It allows even True Mandalorians to have lost their souls and not realised it because they otherwise adhered to the Resol'nare, because they'd chosen to interpret "defending oneself and family" and "raising your children as Mandalorians" to not include other peoeple's children. Or maybe they were abusive in the belief they were caring for their children. This would also make every single one of the Cuy'val Dar dar'manda, which I think is a fascinating concept.

to answer your question directly, no, one cannot look at someone and know they're dar'manda, even the Force/Manda sensitive ones. one will only know in death, whether or not they have a place in the Manda.

NOW what does this mean for New Mandalorians?? well, by technicality and the way I've set the Manda up, one can interpret the Resol'nare in ways that could align with New Mandos. Perhaps they interpret "armour" as more than specifically "beskar'gam", maybe they wear armourweave or other protective fabrics. Maybe they interpret "defending one's family" as putting down arms instead of raising them, in order to create a peaceful future for their children. I think there are plenty of New Mandos that technically tick off all the boxes, and believe in themselves and their fellows so much that the Manda is like "yeah sure why not, we'll make that count". I think some tenants are more easily... bent, like swearing to the duchy in place of the Mand'alor, but I think an easy one New Mandos miss, is "speak Mando'a." I think many New Mandos were all too quick to switch to Basic for everything except religious and spiritual ceremonies, and I think those already in the Manda would find that very hard to forgive. I actually get into this a little in Dha Kar'ta very soon, but for this fic, i'll have Satine not outright outlawing Mando'a, but it is socially heavily discouraged. you're not allowed to speak it in the palace unless in aforementioned ceremonies, you cannot fill out paperwork in anything but Basic, you're not allowed to use Mando'a titles (including Mand'alor), you're not allowed to teach it to your children. no outright like. punishments for speaking it in public, but if your kids are caught, there are repercussions, including investigation into how else you're raising your kids, and if you're found to be doing anything else, they can take your kids from you. not every New Mando agrees with this, of course, and go about adhering to the Resol'nare as best they can in secret, but so many do give up the language by convincing themselves it's not as important as the other tenants and, well, the duchy hasn't steered them all wrong yet, has it?

okay so on the subject of what the outside galaxy is seeing. I like the headcanon/trope/idea of like. the one thing all factions of Mandalorians agreeing on is fuck everyone else. oh, the New Mandos will emulate the Core and the Republic, but they aren't the Republic nor want to be, and this animosity extends to keeping as many internal Mandlorian issues just that: internal. no faction can keep news from leaving the system or the sector, obviously, but there also isn't a lot of interest in Mandalorian news? "oh look all the Mandos are fighting again", except that's been the standard for like. actual thousands of years. I like when fic have people outside the sector not evening knowing there are different factions, so I'll be doing that here, too, and I like the idea of non-Republic sectors having their own holonets, separate from the Republic one. so like, if Obi-Wan happens to go a little viral during his mad dash to Keldabe, that would be on the Mandalorian holonet, not the Republic one, so even if Obi-Wan was visibly still a Jedi (and he wasn't), actual news of him wouldn't reach the Mid and Inner Rims until like. possible years after it happens.

could this maybe be expedited by Sith machinations? absolutely, though I'm not sure I want to go that route, since I don't think the Sith are overmuch interested in Mandalore at this point, at least not in any hands-on capacity. I'm unclear on whether them funding Death Watch is fanon or not, but it is a headcanon I subscribe to, and I think they'd have stopped funding DW after Galidraan, to cause worse infighting and prevent DW from gaining enough power to actually restart their imperial conquering days. Palpatine has been senator for about ten years by this point, but has very little political power overall, and Demask would be looking basically anywhere but Mandalore at this point in time, both of them having written it off until they actively need something from the sector. if anyone had clocked Obi-Wan as a Jedi, this all would have gone very differently, news would have spread much further and quicker and I think undoubtedly would have reached Palpatine, but since I have Obi-Wan just... cutting ties to anything Jedi, news of him remains in-sector. is this perhaps unrealistic? maybe, but I kind of want to focus on Mandalore and not worry about galactic-wide politics for once, lmao, actually very much like Obi-Wan is doing. however, he will clock a lack of Sith interference and thinks That's Very Weird.

haven't decided how he finds Palpatine out yet, but I think it'll have to do with his Manda senses being different than his Force ones, maybe the Ka'ra even gives him a few tips or gifts to sense Sith since they've allied and fought with them so much in the past. regardless, that'll be after he's become Mand'alor and united the clans.

now to actual plot progression! Obi-Wan meets up with the Old Guard, they don't know what to make of him other than "he's kriffing weird. and young. and creepy. and probably Manda-touched." whatever other verd is Manda-touched will see him blessed by the Ka'ra, which causes them to look inwards more closely and realise they trust Obi-Wan inexplicably, which means they're blessed by the Manda and the Will of the People, too. they wonder if Obi-Wan has noticed, if any of the other Old Guard have noticed. they are one of a few that notice Obi-Wan sneaking back out while everyone is arguing.

Vhonte Tervho is another. She's at this lil summit to represent clan Tervho, tho isn't the clan head, because her ba'vodu, a Manda-touched goran, had sensed she needed to be at the summit. said ba'vodu is of course the armorer who reforged Obi-Wan's armour (need to find a name for them hmm), who had told their clan they were to cease fighting until their new Mand'alor called on them. Vhonte sees Obi-Wan, realises at the same time as everyone that he's the Kih'Manda, the Mand'ika that the entire system had been gossiping about for weeks, and she thinks of what her ba'vodu said. she looks inwards, like they had taught her to, and finds, yes, she trusts Obi-Wan, just like she used to trust Jango. And, well, her Mand'alor is obviously leaving to go do something, and she isn't going to let him go it alone.

the Manda-touched verd doesn't go with them, wanting to see what comes of this, but they already know Obi-wan is Ka'ra Chosen. they will come when he calls.

[seitmai]

“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”

They are very eager, maybe a little too much to "get" a little sister 🫣

His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin. “Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?

Someone had to tell them lol

“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end. “Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”

This is not going well🥴

You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.

😬😬😬

He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car. “Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”

Puhh he really just sees or hearswhat he wants to see or hear 🥴

“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.” The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?” “I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”

He knows exactly how to push her buttons

A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?” “I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?” He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”

Geez, what a request to end the day 🫣

Hold You Tight: Part 9

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 8 | Series Masterlist | Part 10

Chapter Summary: Bucky takes you home, but will he keep his hands to himself?

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.7k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, dirty talk, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight and thank you for your patience! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You thought you heard the men wish you well once more when Bucky led you out of the office. You weren’t completely sure since you tried to block everything out, but attempting to disassociate wouldn’t exactly do you any good. The night wasn’t over yet and you had to stay sharp. You didn’t know what Bucky had planned for when he got you home. Were you prepared at all?

Not in the least.

You half expected to walk back through the front of the club to leave, but Ray directed you to a door near the back once he gave Bucky a nod. The car was waiting in the alley and you took a moment to glance up at the sky. You could only make out one star and you wished in that moment you could grow wings and fly away. But when did wishing upon a star do you any good?

“Let’s get you back to your place,” Bucky said, helping you into the car.

You had to give him credit for trying to keep up his end of the bargain by getting you home on time. Your body refused to relax though once he sat beside you and took your hand. Was he trying to get you accustomed to his touch? Make you crave him? It bothered you that in spite of your determination he drew you in to a certain degree. But you wouldn’t let him take you to bed tonight. You weren’t ready to cross that inevitable line.

Maybe, just maybe, if your performance in bed disappointed him, he’d get bored and walk away. The thought almost made you laugh. That wasn’t happening. If anything, he’d probably love teaching you how to be his perfect lover.

“I think tonight went well,” Bucky smiled.

“Which part exactly?” You mumbled, pulling your hand away. The part where he forced you to go, how his men all but admitted they knew Bucky stalked you, or how they beat the hell out of a man?

“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”

“Fighting. You guys seem to excel in that arena,” you said, remembering how they all took turns beating up John. “But I guess Steve does have a bit of that ‘big brother’ vibe, helping you take total control of my life and whatnot.”

“Not total control. I’m still letting you work, but maybe I can buy the shop.” He chuckled at your thunderous expression. The light threat had you seeing red. “I probably shouldn't joke about that, should I?”

“Letting me work? Like it’s your decision? And don’t you dare buy the shop.” You pushed at him to keep from slapping him when he chuckled again. Not with enough force to get him far away from you, but you needed some sort of space in the vehicle. He also needed a good hit over the head. “You’re a bully, do you know that? So are your friends.”

His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin.

“Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?

“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end.

“Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“You’re a person, not a possession, Kotyonok. And not just a person, a good person who gives so much of herself to others. And probably one of the only people who rightfully calls me out on my shit.” His response drew you up short. “Outside of my friends, no one else does that.”

“Maybe because they’re afraid of you and what you can do,” you said after a moment. Fear could make anyone say what they thought people wanted to hear. “Either that or they want your approval,” you added, which you could also understand to a point. People wanted a sense of belonging, especially with those who had influence and power.

“Maybe they are afraid,” he agreed, brushing his lips against your palm again with a sigh. “What is it about me that scares you most?”

“I’m not really sure exactly,” you admitted. There was so much about the situation that terrified you. What he was capable of. How he inserted himself into various aspects of your life and so quickly. How far he was willing to go to keep you. “But I think it’s your conviction. That you’re so sure that I’m your other half and no one can convince you otherwise, not even me.”

You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.

Those steel blue eyes of his met yours and mesmerized you for a heartbeat before you looked away. “Love is scary. It’s natural to be afraid of it.” His lips brushed your ear, making you shiver. “But giving someone the most fragile parts of yourself is one of the bravest things a person can do.”

There was truth in his words, but it felt like he moved another chess piece into place. He was trying to disarm you and you couldn’t let him. “Who painted that black dahlia in your office?” You asked suddenly, feeling him move back enough that you could turn your head toward him. “And why display that flower?” You didn’t believe for a second that he chose it for aesthetic purposes.

“Beautiful, isn't it? Steve painted it,” he replied with an odd mixture of affection and bitterness. “It’s for my parents.”

“Steve is a gifted artist.” You hoped your voice stayed even enough that Bucky wouldn’t get jealous of you complimenting another man’s talent. “I don't know if the symbolism of flowers mean anything to you, but the black dahlia-”

“Betrayal. Sadness. Darkness,” he ticked off, his voice cold enough that another shiver moved through your body. “It was the last flower my dad ever got my mom and it serves as a reminder.”

You swallowed as warning bells sounded in your mind to tread carefully. “And what's that?”

He moved close, your eyes shutting as his hand wrapped around the nape of your neck. “That I'll never do to you what he did to her.”

There was suppressed rage within him. Sorrow. It rolled off him in waves strong enough that they could drown you. He said earlier that his dad got what he deserved. What had he done to his mom?

“You’re in pain,” you whispered. He was hurting and you logically shouldn’t care. So why did you want to know the cause of that hurt? “You have to tell me why.”

It wasn’t for you to use to your advantage. You weren’t sure if you could manipulate someone else. If you knew what happened though, it would at least give you more answers to who Bucky was and why he was the way he was. It could help you gain some sort of understanding.

“I’m not in pain when I’m with you,” he whispered, bringing your hand on his chest. Was he relying on you to chase away whatever haunted him? “Later. I’ve overwhelmed you enough for one evening.”

You let out a breath. You swore he was doing this on purpose, giving you just enough information that you’d wait around until he gave you more. “I can’t argue with you there,” you said, his heart racing under your touch. “Just answer one thing for me, please.”

“What’s that?”

“Marc from the bookstore,” you began, the man’s kind face shimmering in your mind. “Did anything happen to him?”

“I’d question another man being on your mind, but I know you’re just concerned about his well-being.” An easy smile crossed Bucky’s face as you bit your tongue. You could think about anyone you wanted to. “I can’t speak for him right this second, but he was perfectly fine when you and I left. He was just having a chat with one of my associates.”

You exhaled, thankful Marc wasn't hurt. “What kind of chat?” You asked. He was a nice guy, though he did seem to know a bit about Bucky. What exactly was he involved in?

“He just got a warning to be careful about what he does or doesn’t say to his customers.” You tensed before he kissed your forehead. Did he know about the conversation you two had? “And I don’t think the two of you should be alone with each other in the bookstore going forward.”

Just when Bucky had you feeling some sort of sympathy for him moments ago he shocked you right out of it. “Another decision that isn’t yours to make,” you stated, the car coming to a stop. “And you really don’t have to walk me up. I think we’ve had enough of each other’s company tonight.”

“I said I’m tucking you into bed and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” The smile he gave you was nothing short of cocky when he added, “And you owe me a photo. I’m going to get it.”

He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car.

“Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”

“Let’s go, please.”

You said nothing else as you went into the building, your anxiety mounting by the second. The slow rise of the elevator didn’t help, Bucky’s hip pressed against yours like he couldn’t stand to have space between you. You figure he’d shove you against the wall and claim your mouth, but he didn’t make a move. It impressed you that he behaved until you got to your floor. It didn’t stop your hand from shaking when you got your keys out.

“Still don’t want to say good night now?”

“I don’t want to say good night at all,” he answered, following you into the apartment and turning on the light. The welcoming feeling you expected when you got home wasn't there. There was a chill in the usual warmth.

“Well, you’ll have to sooner or later,” you said, swallowing when you faced Bucky. He shut the door and watched intently as you set your keys and bag down. You were quiet as you stared back, tension thick as you tried to predict what he was going to do. Once again, he managed to hold all the power in your home.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He asked, heat and hunger in his stare as he slowly advanced.

Your throat went dry as you stepped back. “You have.”

“So beautiful and so good.” You made another move to retreat when he stepped forward, his manner confident and compelling as he reached out and prevented you from moving back further. “It’s driving me crazy not having you yet.”

“Please, you don’t…” you trailed off when he sank to his knees, unexpected heat flowing from your core. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder to brace yourself, his eyes soft as he helped remove one of your shoes. You found it difficult to breathe as he removed the other, his hand brushing your ankle with infinite tenderness. Like it was an honor to touch and be on his knees for you.

“I know the first time I taste you I’ll never want to stop. I’ll have to wake up every day between your thighs. Fall asleep that way, too.” His hand slid up your calf and his eyes darkened when your other hand found its way to his thick locks. Wetness gathered between your legs when his touch moved to your thigh. “Your pussy is hungry for me, isn’t it? My fingers, my tongue, my cock. I’ll feed her well.”

His voice was like velvet. Seductive. Aching. “Bucky…” Your breath rushed out swiftly when he kissed your mound through your clothes, tormenting you with arousal you didn’t ask for. It frightened you.

“I can smell you,” he murmured, nosing along where his lips had been before he sat back. “Smell so fucking good.”

Moving your shoes out of the way, he rose to his full height again as you willed your legs not to shake. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you, let alone speak to you, the way he did. Stark desire. Possessiveness. His form of love. Your heart pounded and you refused to answer him or glance down. If you looked at the front of his pants…

He took your hand and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom. Your heart pounded with mounting speed, your heels digging into the floor. “You still haven't kissed me,” you blurted out, hoping it would prevent him from taking you to bed. Or would he take that as an invitation to kiss your lips?

“No, I haven't.��� You tried to keep some distance between you as he went to your bed, his hand moving along the blanket. You couldn't breathe. “It scares you how much your body wants mine, doesn’t it?”

“Is that what you think?” You asked, forcing air back into your lungs. It did scare you. It also scared you that you didn’t push him away or scream when he dropped to his knees to remove your shoes. Where was your fighting instinct?

“It is what I think.” The ease in which he moved away from the bed to your dresser to find your pajamas frightened you, too. Like he belonged in your room. You thought back to the night he broke in and left your gift on your bed. How much time did he take to look around? “Like love, giving your body to someone can be scary. You have to trust that you won't get hurt when you’re physically vulnerable.”

“You swore you wouldn't hurt me,” you reminded him.

“And I won't. But you know what else I think?” His magnetic gaze stayed on you as he brought a nightgown over. “That no guy has ever really taken care of you and you’re apprehensive to let me try.”

If you were apprehensive, it was because he was a walking red flag. “What makes you…” Your words stopped when he grasped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up. Your arms instinctively went up before you realized what you were doing. Removing your shirt, you didn’t get a chance to cover your breasts before he slipped the nightgown on you.

“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.”

The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?”

“I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”

Exhaling slowly, relief flooded you. Though you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t trying to take what he wanted. “You won’t?”

“Not tonight.” He shook his head even as his fingers moved along your waist. “Like I said, I’ve overwhelmed you enough. Sleeping with you might really put you over the edge.”

“Thanks.” He desired you, but continued to hold it at bay for your sake. How long would that last? “I appreciate that.”

“And we both know the moment I take you to bed, you’ll be begging for more.” His voice dropped as he toyed with the soft fabric. “And as much as I want to stay in bed with you all night and morning and give us what we both crave, I still need to get things in place at the penthouse and you need rest. You understand.”

You tried not to smile and failed. He acted as if he was doing you a favor. Cocky bastard. “I guess we’ll just have to suffer until then.” Sarcasm continued to be a good way to deflect.

He exhaled at your light teasing, his body still a bit tense. Being close to you and not having you was probably driving him mad. “Maybe we'll have to have another private call and finish what we started. Give us both some relief.” He turned you toward the door and gave you a light swat on your ass. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth before I change my mind.”

You made it to the bathroom in record time, not having to be told twice. You didn’t want to risk staying there in case he lost his resolve. Looking in the mirror as you went through the rest of your nighttime routine, you expected to look more exhausted from the whirlwind of the day. You somehow looked wide awake. Was the experience giving you thicker skin? Or did his desire for you somehow give you a bit of a twisted spark? You’d still be billing him for your future therapy bills either way.

A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?”

“I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?”

He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”

You stiffened as you stared up at his face, your heart simultaneously racing and breaking for him. Love was something that provided a sense of connection, fulfillment. It was a way to show you that you weren’t alone in the world. You wanted to believe you were worthy of love, that you could build a life with someone. Bucky believed he was that someone.

Why?

You weren’t sure if it was his yearning gaze or if you were ready for the night to end, but your expression softened as you imagined meeting him in another life. Going on fun dates, talking about books, making each other laugh as you cooked together, snuggling under a blanket as you talked about your future. You found yourself smiling at the images that went through your mind. What could’ve been. What could be if he lessened his hold a bit on you.

He audibly exhaled when he snapped a photo on his phone, making you blink. “Thank you. Now I can look at this whenever I’m not near you and need to feel your love.”

Words escaped you, the invisible collar around your throat getting tighter. You could only nod and wonder how you kept throwing fuel on the fire of his want for you. Which one of you would burn first?

“Get some sleep. Dream sweet dreams.” You felt featherlight kisses on each eyelid when you shut them. “You know, I’ll sleep a lot easier once you’re in my bed.”

“If you get me into your bed,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him.

“Stubborn kitten.” He chuckled and gave each eyelid one more kiss. Why were his lips so soft? “Maybe I’ll stop by the shop tomorrow so I can take you to lunch. You can tell Addison all about it.”

“Maybe.” You yawned and snuggled more into your pillows. “Good night, Bucky.”

A finger moved along your cheek before it stopped abruptly. “Good night, Kotyonok.”

Bucky still hadn't kissed your mouth.

You didn’t open your eyes as he left, but you didn’t fall asleep right away either. Your body was too wound up. Too many questions went through your mind. Like what happened with his parents and how exactly he’d move you out of your place.

The man was a step ahead in everything. You’d be in his penthouse before the month was over. He’d get his way, but maybe it didn't have to be his way completely. He could give you an area in the place for you and you alone. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. After all, he did say he’d make it up to you by dragging you out tonight.

And if he cared the way he said he did, he could give you that one small thing.

Is our poor Kotyonok starting to accept the inevitable? Will Bucky stop by the shop? And how much longer until he really takes you to bed?Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[heliomanteia]

Organizing & contamination OCD Will Solace 🤝🏼 OCPD Annabeth Chase friendship forever in my head.

[aquarianlights]

How do you keep going when it looks like 99% of your country has joined a cult whose soul purpose is hatred of everything you & everyone you know & love are when all you're doing is existing just like everyone else?

[ssaalexblake]

dw is a mid kid's sci-fi tv show and it's quality level has been mostly entirely consistent (mid, basically, with the occasional very good episode to balance out with crimes against humanity it sometimes produces) the whole reboot, and anybody acting like the Only thing going into peoples opinions of the characters are writing preferences are either Deeply naive or are trying to hide something they know people will not take kindly to.