#I just love creating new things to get anxiety over huh

[fiendir]

I'm so fucking stupid, I really don't have a single fucking functioning braincell left

and if there is? then it is dedicated to making ne suffer

[scorpioracha]

Dating Bang Chan

Hey guys! I’ve decided to do a series, let me know who you want next. Please reblog/read comments, it helps me to keep creating this content.

Bang Chan 방찬

-I feel like your relationship progressed very naturally from platonic to romantic. Bang Chan gives me shy/reserved energy when it comes to romantic endeavors so I feel like he would need the security that comes with a deep friendship to even consider pursuing you romantically.

-the changes to your relationship was more subtle than anything—like he was testing the waters to see where your boundaries were. Resting his hand on top of yours, knocking your knee against his, tentatively moving your hair from your face. Basically using any excuse he can get to touch you while also gauging your reactions.

-he only gets bolder if you’re receptive. Although he is shy, he’s a lot more obvious than he thinks he is. Like an overgrown puppy who thinks he’s being sneaky when he’s not. It’s hard to not think somethings up when he’s making direct eye contact and tracing shapes on your hands with his finger tips.

-poor baby spends months agonizing over how he’s gonna confess when in reality your relationship has shifted without him really realizing. It’s only until you’re in his studio, straddling his lap, one hand on your hip tracing lyrics while he’s working that he has a 😳 moment.

-his brain kinda 404 errors and he rips his headphones off saying “y/n will you-I want you to-can you-gf?” His body had gone stock still underneath you and you’re half asleep like huh 🤨😒????

-which does not ease his anxiety at all. He takes a shaky breath and tilts your chin down so you’re at eye level with each other.

“Y/n, I want you to be my girlfriend”

You shake your head and run your hand through his messy hair.

“Channie, I thought I already was”

-from that moment on he is not shy not me ITZAYYYYY

-All the kisses. Forehead kisses, shoulder kisses, corner of the lip kisses, hand kisses, etc. If there is a kissable spot then Chan’s lips will be on it. He is the master kiss giver but gets shy and giggly whenever you return him.

-Big Hug™️. All the hugs from channie, all the time. He will scoop you up into his lap and coddle you over the smallest thing, no emotion is insignificant in this household and he will remind you however many times you need to hear it.

-Just like before he is always touching you, either rubbing your back or your ears or playing with your fingers—basically he needs to be touching you at all times. His love language is touch, it’s how he shows he loves you and it helps ground him.

-loves nothing more than to stay at home with you, curled up in some blankets binge watching a show or having a movie marathon. Chan is a bit of a cliché but something about it makes him all giggly and giddy when the lights are dimmed low and he’s got you in his arms. It feels like time stops and he can’t really process how full his heart is when he sees you.

-Always let’s you eat off of his plate at restaurants, another one of his love languages is sharing. Sharing food, sharing music, sharing clothes, etc. if it’s something that can be shared, Chan wants to share it with you. It scratches the itch of needing to provide as the eldest hyung of skz and the eldest brother in his family. Even if you’re older than him, he’s going to want to share all of his things with you.

-On that note, paying. You’re funny if you think Chan is letting you pay for anything🤡 you can’t hide anything you want from this man, somehow someway he always just knows??? If your eyes linger on a necklace for too long in a jewelry store, it’s yours. If you’re in a store touching the stuffies just to touch them? Congrats on your new child, name it well. He doesn’t even mean to flaunt his wealth and honestly feels really bad if it comes off that way, he just wants you have whatever you want. He doesn’t mind if you get a little spoiled, that’s what he was going for anyways.

-Late night convenient store runs in your pajamas. Chan usually comes back late or very early from the studio, he tells you not to wait up but if you do it anyways he’s only going to scold you a little bit. He’ll walk through the door, kiss your forehead, go through his nightly routine and put his shoes back on so you guys can go raid the 24/7 store. The snack options are limitless between 1am-4am. These convenient store runs are ALWAYS followed by a mandatory cuddle session on the living room.

-All the serenading. Chan will sing to you whenever you ask him to. if you’re a singer too? Even better, he’s immediately composing cute little duets. If you’re not a singer? He wants to hear you anyways, doesn’t matter if you’re good or bad he still looks at you with stars in his eyes.

-I hate to say it but he is a baby girl/baby boy/baby type of guy😩

-Besides the obvious he’s a fan of the classics. Sweetheart, prince(ss), Darling, etc. during extra soft moments when he’s feeling so squishy his heart can’t take it he calls you love or lovie—this is usually followed by cooing.

NSFW

-definitely the type to grab your jaw when he’s kissing you. It’s firm but gentle—almost as a reminder that he’s the one leading. He has no problem falling back sometimes too and letting you lead, this is just where his mind naturally goes. He’s a natural born care giver and this is one of the ways he thinks he’s taking care of you, making sure you don’t have to lift a finger. Your pleasure is his pleasure.

-Chan is versatile he’s a libra I feel like if he trusts his partner, he’s comfortable taking on any role. He is definitely adaptable. Basically our boy has no problem switching if it’s what you want. If he did have a preference or to put it in percentages it’s about 60% dom 40% sub, but if you want him to tap into that 40% he’s gonna tap into it. Chan is a pleasure dom first and foremost, he’s going to make you cum as many times as you think you can and then some. He gets this wild look in his eye every time you cum, biting his lip and looking just a little bit dazed as you squeeze around him.

-Secondly, I’m sorry for the hard dom Chan enthusiasts but this is a soft dom Chan account. I think he’s a soft dom with some hard dom tendencies—again he’s very accommodating to his partner and as long as it’s within his limits he’ll do it. He’s much more praise centered than degradation and likes to let his partner know they’re being good for him. He wants to have you sitting pretty for him between his legs while he guides your head up and down his cock cooing if it’s just a bit too much for you to take🥺 willing to go into more detail if prompted

-I don’t think he is necessarily a fan of brats. I think if he loved you and you just so happened to be a brat then it’s not a problem for him, but I don’t think he exclusively seeks them out? He doesn’t give brat tamer energy. He’s soft for you but he’s also no nonsense in a way. I feel like a lot of his leader tendencies bleed over into the bedroom and he just expects good behavior. Like, if you’re acting bratty it genuinely shocks him in a ‘what kind of audacity’ kind of way. I think for truly bratty behavior he either ignores it until you realize it’s not going to work or he shuts that shit down so quickly.

-that’s where the hard dom tendencies tend to kick in, because Chan does not tolerate blatant disrespect. He doesn’t like being pushed. He’s the type to do a complete 180 on you if you’re genuinely being a little shit just for the sake of doing it. Like, his smile drops and his whole demeanor changes. He’s the type to look you dead in your eyes and be like “does it look like I’m laughing?” This more often than not results in a punishment instead of a funishment(within your limits ofc)

-But this is a last resort kinda thing, he usually tries to coax you back into being good with praise and rewards rather than threatening a punishment. If that doesn’t work he starts lowkey psychoanalyzing you. Once again he leader tendencies bleeding into his personal life, he starts asking if somethings the matter, if anything’s bothering you etc which usually solves the problem. But if none of that works and you’re acting out simply to act out, he simply does not tolerate that kind of behavior. It’s not how he’s wired.

-If Chan is subbing for you, he’s gonna be a good boy. It’s a bit harder to get him into a submissive headspace as he’s always taking care of others and never lets his brain shut off—but when he does go down, it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever saw.

-he doesn’t sub often not because he doesn’t want to, because he does. He really does. It’s just really hard for him to turn his brain off and relinquish control. Domming is safe to him, because being in control is safe. if he’s in control, no one can disappoint him. He’s always been afraid of being too much and if he doesn’t let anyone see this side of him then he doesn’t have to face his fears.

-then he meets you, and his world crumbled down around him.

-our boy comes off as a service sub, he of course wants to make you feel good but also wants you to praise him and play with his hair when he’s giving you head. It’s hard for him to voice his needs at first when he’s subbing since his main priority is please my you. But once you get him on his back and straddle his lap, it’s like his brain does a factory reset and he becomes a pillow prince who just wants to sit there and take it.

-begs so prettily for you and makes the cutest little hiccuping cries when he cums. Tear stricken cheeks and burying his head in the crook of your shoulder. He’s a sight to behold. Always says thank you after every orgasm because he’s a polite puppy. He basically gets tunnel vision and his entire world orbits around you.

[sicklyseraphnsuch]

Jack starts babbling which is... funny. Hiccup is the babbler between the two of them. For all his flair and fun times, Jack is surprisingly introspective and quiet when he wants to be. Whereas Hiccup's anxiety explodes outwards, Jack just curls into himself. That's how he vanishes so easily from parties. When people go looking for him, expecting noise and a flurry of movement, less people notice him when he hushes up and falls behind.

There's an art to it, something that he - clumsy and awkward Hiccup - can't quite master. Jack can get any ball rolling, pushes it right off a cliff until people are carried away by their own laughter, swept right off their feet. Then in his cleverly created commotion, he just... slides right out, quick and clean and easy. People don't realize he's gone until hours after, when the ball finally comes to a stop.

So... Babbling. Hiccup does that. Jack doesn't. Learning about him takes an awful amount of patience, literally like waiting for water to thaw. He doesn't just talk talk talk. But he is, right now, about Nightlight. Because yeah, okay, Hiccup should have seen that coming. Jack would come apart about Nightlight - it's like Nightlight is a very important person to him, or something. As if Hiccup hadn't witnessed or listened to all the times Jack spoke about a missing part in him! Hiccup shouldn't be so surprised and now he's frustrated at his own surprise which is just... great.

"You... are not listening, are you?"

Hiccup blinks, finding Jack uncomfortably close. He jerks back. "Whoa! What? Yes, I was!"

"So you heard the part about me eating yellow snow?"

"You what?!"

"See!! You weren't listening!!"

Hiccup rubs a hand over his face. "Okay, fine. Sorry. I just... Wouldn't it be better to tell Nightlight about all this? Since he's your Other Half..."

Yeah, this is incredibly mature of him, honestly. He's not being petty at all, noooope.

Jack laughs that bright, tinkling laugh of his. Hiccup feels his stomach drop to his knees. He could listen to Jack laugh forever, he really could.

"Hic... I think... There's been a misunderstanding? But also it's hard to understand in the first place. I think the closest explanation would be... You know how Toothless is your best friend? Who understands you better than anybody? And at some point, you literally completed each other - him needing you to fly and you needing him to fly, that sort of thing? Well... It's like if you woke up one day and you had to share the same body."

Hiccup thinks this over, weirds himself out, then thinks it over some more. "I can... I can kinda imagine that?"

"Good, because my thing with Nightlight is only sorta like that. It's the closest thing but it's not exactly like that. For one thing, me and Nightlight never had separate bodies like this before. I never got to know Nightlight as someone outside of me. It used to be... hard sometimes, to see where he starts and I end. But... not in a bad way. He was - I was - We were something completely new. And now..."

Hiccup knows this part, grown familiar with this - the waiting. Jack has spoken more than he's ever spoken before, but Hiccup can tell that he's still only saying half of his thoughts. There's a lot more hiding under that shock of white hair.

"... Well, the point is... We're not together... like that. I wasn't, you know, flirting with you just for kicks and giggles."

Yeah, that makes sense. Of course, Jack... Wait. Uh. What. Wait. No. Wha- He? Then? At Hiccup? Huh?!?

"Aaaaaand I broke him. I think I broke him. Hiccup are you in there? Blink once for yes, twice if no!"

"You!"

"Me?"

"You - You - You said that men loving men was not done from where you came from!"

"Ah, yeah... But I also had like 300 years of experiences that were more or less coloring my perspective of the world, whether I realized it or not."

"You were flirting with me? Since when??"

Jack adopts a positively sly look. "Since... You showed me your big black dragon..." He wags his eyebrows. "... Then took me on a ride, up and down, and up and down."

Hiccup gives him a flat look, grabs Jack's hood and pulls it over his face. "Whenever you're ready to take this a little more seriously, just let me know."

Jack struggles briefly with pushing up his hood but when Hiccup finishes speaking, he pulls it further down, hiding his eyes. "Weren't you listening, Hics? I've... I've always taken this seriously. This, I mean - I've always been real about you, anyways. I..."

Oh. "Oh." Oh!

Jack shuffles back a few steps, hunching over, keeping his head low, and out of sight.

And Hiccup is... He isn't many things. But he does like to think of himself as smart, and... And he can put the pieces together - that he and Jack and Jack's Nightlight might have to stay apart.

[anxious-witch]

What a year, huh? We all know I have to be emotional on tumblr.com whenever the opportunity arises because that's one way I allow myself to have an emotional catharsis (for legal reasons this a joke)

In all seriousness though, this year has been a lot for me. Both in a good and bad sense, but Käärijä and Joker Out improved it significantly. And more importantly, their fandoms. (More inder the cut bc this is long af)

I have never really been someone who knows anything about the artists' whose music I listened to. Before this, I don't think I ever listened to a full album of someone, just random songs that I liked. Finding stuff from personal life of bands/musicians I liked usually made me depressed so I didn't bother.

Then, ESC 2023. happened. I frankly have no idea what flipped the switch in my head. Bojere interactions? The way people on tumblr were so welcoming even back when I was mostly posting about Let 3 and Käärijä only? I don't know, I only know that we are here now, regardless.

Another thing about me is that I used to be very pessimistic person. Likez genuinely. I have been "unofficially"(long story) diagnosed with depression and anxiety since I was 11, which is over a decade now. I always had a lot of bad experiences with people and really awful trust issues. I have been doing better for some time now, but it is very hard to let go of the feeling of pessimism and helplessness. In a world where awful things happen every second, what can I possibly do that would change anything?

Then ESC happened. Käärijä lost and I thought "another injustice that will never be corrected". Except, instead of feeling defeated, everyone just loved him more. In those weeks after and later on months, all I have seen had been unrelenting love and acceptance of Jere. Reminding him that despite not winning Eurovision, he is our winner and we'll forever think of him as such. Jere who has a wonderfully belly and strong thighs and is short and by no means is he conventional in any sense. And people loved him not despite all that but because all that. Because we all found ways to relate to him, or to what he went through.

His story of almost dying and still getting where he did only served to highlight that more. Because of he did it, why can't we get to what we want? Why can't I? It shifted my whole perspective.

Then, Joker Out. It is so, so funny to me how I barely paid any attention to them during ESC, except for bojere interactions and was dragged in it by the shared fandom, when now I post most about them.

But yes, JO. A band from Slovenia that while tehnically isn't Balkan, felt so close to me. Like they could understand all the things I kept to myself because of where I was. And then they showed me there is still hope.

I have never seen a band from around here take a pride flag on the stage. Never. I know it's a thing, especially abroad, but God I have never seen that happen here. And with how much love they always took it! That's...wow. It gave me hope that not only is it possible for injustices to be corrected, but that ot's possible to do it even in the environment I'm in.

And then...the Virtual Letters Project happened. Or well positive confessions that @spockowhales turned into Virtual Letters Project.

That's when I knew it's truly possible. I have seen tumblr posts, yes. But getting stuff so directly addressed about or to JO made me realize how much of a "wave" they all created. So many people said they helped them with their depression, with viewing their world differentky with meeting new peoplez with daring to do something new.

I have no words to describe how much that meant to me and I really hope that when they read those letters, they understood the impact they had.

But even that aside, I want to thank everyone in this fandom. People I have talked to, people I have interacted with it any way, through replies, reblogs, likes, anon asks. I appreciate every single one of you for helping create such a wonderful space. We had our ups and downs in the fandom, but we are all here because we love these fandoms, these people so much to keep talking about it even months after.

Thank you and I wish everyone here a wonderful New Year with even more laugh, love and positivity ❤️ have a good one

[patton-sanders-killed-a-man]

I love the comic and I miss it, and I hope you're doing well

What happened to Patton-sanders-killed-a-man?

Well the short version is: ⦁ trauma ⦁ school ⦁ I had set up an unrealistic precedent for myself

And now you can skip to the Read-More to see the ask-blogs originally planned plotline alongside the panels of the unfinished last update, but if you want the long version:

Patton-sanders-killed-a-man was the first of my creative ventures that ever garnered a notable amount, with me making comics since I was 13, though all of my previous projects got little to no attention. So obviously when the ask-blog blew up, 16-year-old me was ecstatic, but very much not ready to handle it. Not only was this my first project to receive this amount of attention, but I also lacked experience as a writer, and with a medium of storytelling as fickle as an ask-blog in which the plot can change drastically depending on the asker's actions, it was not a good combination.

I mostly wrote the story on the fly, with an outline (which you can read under the Read-More) composed of cool ideas I had and various dark themes I was fascinated with but didn't have the emotional maturity to discuss. But the worst writing decision I made was making the inciting incident, the thing that led Patton to kill "Johnny", based on a personal trauma of mine, one I was in denial about. However by the last update, something happened that forced me to acknowledge it, and after that, I was no longer comfortable with the story I had set up.

That combined with the fact that School Was Kicking My Ass (which to be fair was mostly due to my own overambition) forcing me to shift my focus away from the ask-blog. I had also set up an unrealistic precedent for myself, with updates getting longer and longer. It was unsustainable, but with the pressure I placed on myself I didn't know how to go back from that and make the process easier for myself.

(this isn't even to mention all the different ways I made the art process itself horribly time inefficient, like the way I obsessed over perfect line art, choosing a semi-realistic art style rather than something less time-consuming, not creating character design sheets to help me stay on model, obsessing over wrinkles in the clothing, spending ages taking my own reference photos, redrawing panels over and over because I'm unsatisfied with them. If you're thinking of making an askblog/a comic, if you can't make a single-character panel in 10-20 minutes with your current art process you gotta figure out a style that does allow you to do that. There is a reason why 90% of Homestuck looks like crap til shit gets serious, ok. Please don't do what I did)

I had been running purely on fumes, and the second those ran out, I fell out of love with the story I created.

…

Well, that was a bit of a bummer, huh? But as mentioned I still have been making stuff, even if it isn't ask-blog related, for example, I just recently finished my first animated short which you can watch here:

(with its completion being mostly due to my teacher, who forced me to learn to take on more manageable projects, which I must thank her for)

I also have made a new art blog, that being @anonymous-utility and have been posting things on my youtube alongside it. I don't post often since I need to focus on IRL stuff, but it's where I post updates to all the projects I take on alongside just various other art. Even if ended far too soon, I'm still proud of this ask-blog, as it has taught me a lot. Thank you all for participating and if you choose to follow my art blog I will be seeing you soon.

Rough outline and unfinished update under the Read-More:

From what I remember, because I never actually wrote it down, as the majority of the storyline relied on the actions of the audience, but it was intended to go something like this:

⦁ Everything that has already happened

⦁ On the bus Dee would meet Virgil's younger sibling Andy (who is anxiety from the shorts), though Dee won't understand the significance of that, not knowing who Virgil is. We'd also be shown Dee's scar on his neck, all shown in the unfinished update above.

⦁ We'd later meet Dee's coworkers, Dee would log in at his desk as the interview isn't scheduled for an hour or so, and he notices that his email is full, this is the first hint that it isn't just his phone the askers can send messages to, but through technology in general- Dee is not stoked about this.

⦁ He then would meet "Johnny"'s mom and older brother (Daniel, aka the critic or Dice as referred by the fandom) They'd be using "Johnny's" real name, Renard, and we don't catch on that it's Remy, until Daniel calls him that. Overall the attitude of the two would be like this; the mother would act upset, but in a manner that makes it all about her, and Daniel would be rather cold and matter-of-fact. Daniel's attitude would frustrate his mother, leading to an argument breaking out, during which Daniel points out that she only cares because Remy is the only one of her children to never go against her, mentioning a certain Remus getting kicked out (to which the mother reacts negatively to daniel calling Remus by his chosen name). The interview ends poorly and Dee leaves the entire situation wondering how this family has ended up being so dysfunctional.

⦁ From then the askers could direct Dee toward Remus or Andy.

⦁ If directed towards Remus Dee would find him working at a library, and with a bit of time, they'd realize they recognized each other, mostly via each other's chosen names, as they were online friends but lost contact when Remus got kicked out and lost access to the internet. Remus is delighted to see Dee again after all these years but confused about why he's in the States, since Dee's Canadian, to which Dee explains that he moved to the States, moving in with Logan, their third online friend, as soon as he could to get away from his own family.

⦁ Once Remy's fate Remus is generally uncaring since his family is dead to him, "So golden boy kicked it, with how many people he pissed off it was only a matter of time, now come back to me when Roman commits manslaughter, oh wait" to which we are told that Roman is serving time for having killed someone in a car accident (something that Remus finds hilarious since he was often labeled the troublemaker out of the two).

⦁ Remus would also be somewhat weirded out by the concept of Patton being the killer, since Remus knew him via association and always thought him a bit of a wet rag, then again even 50's housewives snap eventually. They exchange contact information and go their separate ways.

⦁ After this Remus becomes available to the askers, taking the form of a strange figure that only Remus can see that hangs in the corners that can stare at Remus and make various gestures, though that takes coordination as they would be controlled by various people. Remus would at first try to ignore this strange figure, having experienced hallucinations in the past, but if the askers become more aggressive in trying to get Remus to pay attention to them Remus may become more desperate to get rid of them.

⦁ If the askers direct Dee towards Andy we learn that Virgil went missing three years ago

⦁ At this point, the plot becomes more vague as I hadn't planned that far ahead aside from the major plot points.

⦁ After having spent so much time with Dee, we'd cut back to Logan. Any asks directed to him will not go through the phone, unless Dee is present. Instead, askers' messages would get scratched into Logan's skin, specifically on his arms, and if the askers become particularly aggressive, especially with Logan refusing to acknowledge them due to the absurdity of this situation, the messages would begin to cut into Logan's skin rather than just scratch. This is an issue due to Logan being a high school Comp Sci teacher and really needing to not bleed in front of his student if he wants to keep his job. Logan got his priorities in order.

⦁ This will be the first time the askers would have the option to directly hurt someone

⦁ Logan will not tell Dee about this, due to the absurdity of it and due to his history with depression, he worries that Dee would think he did it to himself.

⦁ Either way, the deadline for Dee's article is closing in and he must make a decision on how to frame the narrative.

⦁ But first, we cut back to Patton. It's the 12th of May, 2020, and he has gotten as far away as he could and is currently in the woods. He is not doing well, and he hasn't heard the askers in the past two days, with him being certain he has imagined them. Once they flood back in it startles him, and he reacts loudly, loud enough to attract a passerby.

⦁ That passerby is Virgil. Patton does not react well, thinking that he started seeing things as well. But once Virgil confirms that he is in fact realm that only replaces the problem of potential visions with the problem of meeting his estranged friend who he hasn't talked to in three years. Virgil quickly forgives him, however, especially after Patton awkwardly states that he is homeless, to which Virgil assumes Remy to be the cause, stating "he took your shit and ran, I told you he wasn't to be trusted", offering a place to stay.

⦁ I didn't have much planned for Virgil, and at the time I was unsure if I just wanted him to be a paranoid guy who decided to live off the grid or… a genuine serial killer who sold people's organs. Needless to say, the second option was certainly a thing my 16-year-old self came up with and it's not a concept current me stands by.

⦁ Either way after this interaction Virgil would become open to asks, with the askers becoming able to slightly move things to garner his attention, though this ability would be limited to asks directed to Virgil only.

⦁ These interactions between the askers and Virgil will spark an obsession in him, as he always feared and was fascinated by the other-worldly since childhood.

⦁ Through the course of the story, Virgil and Patton would grow closer, with Patton eventually confessing to what he did and the circumstances that lead him to do it. Virgil stays on his side, and this leads Patton to grow comfortable, enough that with the help of Virgil he grows to accept his identity.

⦁ Cutting back to Dee, no matter the tone of the article the askers stay, and now it's not just his phone that the messages are being directed towards him through, but all the technology around him, and no one seems to be aware of this aside from him and Logan, eventually becoming convinced the only way to get the askers off his back is to get Patton done in since he appears to be the source of all this, resulting in Dee tracking Patton down and getting him arrested - this solves nothing.

⦁ After a breakdown from Dee, Remus, Logan, and Dee realize they have the same problem, and Remus gets in contact with a coworker and friend of his who is into the Otherworldly.

⦁ That's when it's revealed the askers are an interdimensional entity called The Audience, a creature with uncountable eyes and mouths, and the more people it gets in contact with the closer it gets to gaining physical form, with the sixth person contacted being its gateway.

⦁ The Audience's motive? To take control of the "story" and mold it in its own image.

⦁ Going back to Patton, he meets Roman, who's doing time for manslaughter. Their meeting goes as well as the one between a killer and the younger brother of the victim since Roman was closer to Remy than Remus was. But their meeting also results in Roman becoming open for the askers, this manifesting in them getting control of his left hand, eventually climbing all the way up to his shoulder.

⦁ All the while the askers can manipulate Virgil into breaking into prison, as the prison contains what they both want. With Virgil, he not only wants Patton back but has also become convinced that The Audience/the askers are his dark patron god and serving them is the only way to regain control over his life and be able to do something other than live at the edge of society in terror, while the askers want Roman not only because he's the gateway but also The Audience gains physical form they'll gain full control of the story, perhaps even allowing them to rewind back to prevent the inciting incident from occurring.

⦁ Of course, askers not aligned with this goal can warn the Intruloceit crew (Dee, Remus, and Logan) about what's happening but it will be pretty difficult to make them trust you after all that has happened.

⦁ The rest goes as one would expect from a cosmic horror climax, Virgil tries to get The Audience into their dimension, and Patton probably goes through with it with promises of having his crimes erased and being able to feel safe again after all that happened, but the Intruloceit gang show up armed with knowledge from Remus's friend and seal the gateway, Remus makes fun of Roman for being the cult sacrifice rather the dashing hero and then therapy.

⦁ The very last scene of the ask-blog is Picany alone in his office as suddenly an ask gets sent through his email, asking whether he will be involved in the plot.

⦁ The End

All in all a big part of the story would be my own fascination with the potential of ask-blogs serving as a vehicle for cosmic horror, especially with the audience being the source of said horror. Other than that the ask-blog's themes would center around identity and various forms of violence and how one can find themselves the victim of said violence, and other sensitive subjects 16-year-old me was not prepared to handle (nor had the time to with how long this story would have been, comics take a long as while to through their plots yall).

But I have grown since then and have actually finished one of my projects for once (cough please watch 'She gets eaten by the end *cough) and I'm a better writer for it, as well as just better at managing my time. While I won't give any guarantees, with IRL stuff taking the majority of my time, in my free time I have been working on an illustrated horror novel that I plan to release for free once it's finished, so if you enjoy my younger self's writing, you may want to be on the lookout for that on my art blog ;]

[the1simp]

ᴘʟᴀʏing ʀᴏᴜɢʜ

(p3)

arriving at the place where your friend mc works, you open the glass door , entering and greeting him

-hello mc, so how are you today?

-umh... i'm fine

a little worried  you come closer to him, but you noticed that behind him was a tall boy with blue hair and a colorful style

-Won't you introduce me to your new friend mc?

-huh?! you can see him?

-sugar your friend is 6 foot tall  only a blind man wouldn't  see him

they both exchanged looks like they were having a telepathic conversation ,the boy in blue approaches and with a smile introduces himself

-hello my name is jack

-so nice to meet you jack, my name is (y/n)

holding out your hand so he could shake it, you notice mc's nervous reaction, but you don't think any of that because mc became a more anxious person after breaking up with ian. just thinking about it again made your blood pressure rise, bo who was happily hanging from the necklace, vibrates a bit to calm you down, which works right away, finally squeezing your hand jack smiles once more and immediately goes back to mc.

-So when were you thinking of telling me that you got new friends mc, if I didn't know you I'd say we're ashamed of me .

He grins but it was forced , once again worried about him, you reach over and offer him a hug, which he accepts right away and starts trying to control his crying, looking at Jack to encourage him to join the hug.you then say :

-mc ... I know that everything is not well, and for a while it won't be, and although I don't know Jack ,I can see that he brings you happiness, and as your friend I encourage you to pursue that happiness, I only ask you both to not forget me.

mc finally manages to calm down if and after a few more minutes of conversation, now lighter the three have said goodbye, (y/n) goes on his way to his next message, bo comes back vibrates again, and putting on some headphones and holding his phone turned off to look like he was on a phone call with someone she asks him

-yes bo , are you ok?

-you just talked to a ghost...

-huh?!

-I thought you knew

a few minutes in silence you answer him .

-I didn't happen to know but I don't take back what I said, he seems to bring happiness to mc's life and I know very well how much he needs someone besides me in his corner.

Bo didn't say anything, luckily he didn't feel any insecurity in the presence of the two strangers, but just imagining other people in the same situation created discomfort in his being.

arriving at the grocery store, entering and taking a basket, you start talking to him again.

-you know, I'm really happy that I met you, I never thought I'd find someone like you

- someone Like me ?

- yes, that likes me unconditionally

He smiled, not quite sure how to react, just letting his face redden and his eyes unfocus .

putting bread in the basket you ask

-any suggestions for today's dinner

-hmm... ramen maybe or soba

-huh...I think it's a good idea

looking for the ingredients and heading to the cash register, you put the items on the counter

The guy who was working the register was looking at you, but he was doing it in a creepy way and your anxiety was increasing, trying to quickly ignore him. You waited for him to finish registering your items to pay to go on your way .

-hello doll

-...

-oh you're the silent type huh, i love it when a woman know their place.

ok this was starting to get ridiculous, and if he doesn't shut up and do his job you're going to take drastic measures

-I've never liked girls who talk a lot, you know, and you're even pretty pretty, maybe we can go out one of these days...

-ya... no

-oh com on don't play hard to get , I was just being nice

-And I told you no, can I pay now or do I have to ask the manager to do it?

-man , you didn't need to be a bitch about it

mutters the boy, but he was lucky , because your social battery was already exhausted and the only thing on your mind at the moment was to be at home in the company of bo .

paying for the groceries and returning home you put everything in the right places and sit on the couch for a while, taking Bo out of your necklace and looking at him, sighing to see his cute face but he was a little upset, caressing him a little his face relaxes a little.

...

                                         🐶ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ🐶

[hummingbird-games]

Dev Diaries

March 5th, 2024

So. We're 3 months into the new year. Huh.

Updates from me? I started a new job! I've been reading/catching up on a toooooon of manga lately (I'm also sloooooowly making my way through a nonfiction read and can't help thinking how Corey would heavily sympathize with me. Sigh.)

I also got another free month of Spotify (lol, I think I'm the only person I know who only uses the free plan because I'd rather spend that money elsewhere??) so I've been on a listening spree and flagging songs for a writing playlist I will use for the majority of the HSDJY 2 drafting process moving forward.

I still have yet to play BG3. My family gifted me the physical edition, so I've been impatiently waiting for it to ship out. It's been 84 years JFJEHFJHJF!!

Hmmm...nothing else interesting has happened to me (that I can publicly share ☠️) so on with the game development updates!!!!!

What Has Gemini Been Up To? -> TKD (again)

March 16th!!! Y'all, this is the deadline the team and I are working towards for a finished and published game 😭 unfortunately my plans for full voice work won’t be realized by then (but they will be realized. Just in a few months. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me if y'all get the updated HSD 2 demo before the fully voiced TKD….)

What Has Gemini Been Up To? -> HSD:JY and Ko-fi

Ko-fi first!!

It’s only been a few months (since November??) but I’m super proud of my posting consistency! Granted, I’m a little anxious about how posts will look moving forward once I start moving major updates and general silliness to Tumblr. But. We shall cross the bridge when it appears.

March snuck up on me and I only have the free and any-paid-support ready, but the subbies are just There™️. That being said...when I'm quiet or posting non-Hummingbird content here, there's 99.9% chance I've made a free post on ko-fi.

Tumblr is looking like the other social media platforms right now with its flagrant support of AI, and it gives me a headache trying to decide how to keep everyone informed as well as share posts from my peers and new kids on the block. Anyhoo!!!

High School Daze goodies??

At the time of this post, a couple things have been happening that I haven't had the time (or the energy) to talk about. The obvious? HIGH SCHOOl DAZE: JUNIOR 2 HAS AN ITCH.IO PAGE!! I...have no idea when the full game will be out. I have an idea...but I don't want to say it and feel obligated to make that deadline just so I don't disappoint players. (I'm well aware that some people took one look at Crushed, went "Aww, that's nice, Gemini. Now where's HSD??" 🤣)

The first round of sprites have been commissioned!! If you peeped the key art (also done by my sprite artist, heehee she's lovely) you might notice some new outfits, some new hairdos. Fingers crossed I'll be able to update the page--to mirror the debut game's page--at the same time the new demo goes live (which will showcase all of or at least 75% of the common route of the full game. Stay tuned to find out if we'll focus on the friendship route or if I can defeat the Coding Monster to include all the variations for the romances too aha).

Writing wise? Five of the six total routes are outlined. (Florence's I've…barely started 🥲…this pre-production thing is kicking my ass). I’ve started drafting out the friendship route too, as seen by the random posts I’ve made about HSDJY 2. Well, a combination of friendship route + the common route with its lovely variations that aren’t a nuisance at all. Nope. *eye twitch*

I alsooooooo discovered that all the raw and edited music I created for HSD and for personal projects over the years using GarageBand were deleted. And I never backed them up. So. The tracks I made, the jingle for the splash screen, the main theme and it's 2 variations, and alllllll the little cute things I made that are as old as my own high school days are....gone.

Poof!

If I sound very calm about this, what an astute observation! But my anxiety is being used elsewhere, and I decided that I while I can't go back to the original files to tweak them, I've backed up the other files. And I don't mind starting from scratch with this.

But also y'all, please back up your shit. Please. Don't be caught slipping.

That poll I made a while back that now has results and I totally didn't forget about?? The boys won!! And I'm not surprised 🤣 I haven't decided yet if I'll do a live developer stream or a prerecorded one, but either way it'll happen closer to October, the 2nd anniversary date.

What Will Gemini be Up To?? -> Rest?!?!?

I assumed a lot of things about what would be done or not done by March, and that led me to loosely block out March as a 'rest' month. I wouldn't work on any projects, and instead would read, play console and computer games, and basically take the break I didn't take in December.

Well. The Knight Dance is still in production. And I commissioned sprites earlier than expected. And I didn't plan enough ko-fi content to be scheduled in my absence. LOL and I started a new job!? 🥹

But!!! But but but, I do need to take some type of break so I'll do my best to be scarce in this space (and lower the temptation to work because I see y'all are working LOL). Cool? Cool!

- Gemini 💛

[justadudetryingtobeahero]

“Are you guys ready?”

“Huh? Ready for what?”

“To save the fucking world. One person at a time.”

I used to be the guy that said shit like this all the time at work. Reminding people that we get to work, we don’t have to. Self love was the woven into everything I did because I found it to be the most useful philosophy propelling me to where I wanted to go — feeling free, doing what I wanted everyday, plenty of time for self care, physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I did massage therapy at the top clinic in SF, but subtly integrated coaching around nutrition, mindset, sleep, and movement into everybody I worked with.

Then COVID happens. The clinic closes and my first thought it, ‘Fuck yeah, the world is forcing me to do what I’ve always dreamed of, switching my practice to be fully remote so I can travel and surf and teach people all over the world all the stuff I’ve learned over the past decade helping people get out of pain.’

But first, I deserve a little break. I’ve been grinding hard for a solid 2 years. I can chill on unemployment for a bit and move in with my parents in SD while I build my new business. This fucking voice in my head destroyed me, literally.

I was no stranger to self sabotage, it was probably the only consistent trend through my life, creating an awesome life for myself and then finding a a way to blow it all up and start over.

I ended up “chilling” for 3 years. Draining all my savings. Letting all my self discipline fade into nothingness — no more workouts, no more meditating, no more cold showers, no more cooking healthy meals, no more working. Depressed as fuck, crippling social anxiety to the point where seeing my closest friends was terrifying — imagining how I’d answer the question “How are you?” felt exhausting. I’d either have to lie and put on a fake ass smile saying “Good dude, how are you?” Or I’d have to be honest and describe the dumpster fire of a life that I’d fallen into.

I felt useless, trapped, hopeless, and couldn’t see a way out. The only thing that seemed to make any sense was to end it all. The thought of an endless silence… fuck it sounded so nice that i found myself living in that silent, peaceful fantasy for weeks. So I start googling and it turns out google actually does a really good job of bombarding you with resources and stories designed to help get you out of the darkness when you search for anything related to practical suicide methods.

Something deep inside of me forces myself to read a few. Bullshit, bullshit, bullsh… god damnit. One finally hits. Something about neurology and mental loops we get trapped in, but have the power to get out of by focusing on something else. It gives me a flash of my old life, of the shit I used to tell people. I decide to fight the darkness the only way I can think, just hit a workout, unleash all this pent up sadness and anger and shame on the pull up bar.

5?!?! That’s all this useless fucking body can muster right now?! Fuck that. I can obsess over getting strong again. Another phrase i used to say comes to mind, “Getting back into working out is great. Sure you’re weak, but it takes barely any time at all to get a great training session in.”

Out comes the training journal. Buried in my closet in a box of my old stuff. I flip through it and look at my workouts from years ago, from when I was in peak form. More anger at myself starts brewing for letting my body slip into this weakened, soft state. Give it to this workout. Start over. You know the way.

A path emerges in my mind. Just get back in shape. One workout at a time. One meal at a time. One good night’s sleep at a time. One fucking day at a time, I will forge this meat suit into hardened steel again.

Deep down I know these thoughts aren’t the way to sustainable happiness, but it’s all I feel capable of right now, and I’ll take it.

The thing I learned to love about health is that when you fully commit to optimizing any facet of your own health, be it physical, mental, or emotional, the steps required to push it over the top bleed into every other facet to some degree. Like if you’re trying to get in shape and you want to do everything you can to get there, sure you must workout, but you also have to eat well, get good sleep, take care of yourself mentally so you don’t burn out etc. So all it really takes is that initial commitment, some form of burning desire (unfortunately it’s usually some form of intense suffering) that causes a shift inside yourself inducing a newfound commitment to growing in some way — in anyway, and soon enough everything is going to be trending upward, blasting the fuck off.

Just commit, we deserve it.

Somewhere I heard that the root of commitment was that you were chopping off all other possibilities, so the only way forward is whatever you’ve committed too. Regardless of the truth in it, I fucking love that. No other options make it stupidly simple.

A few months go by. We’re working out again. Meditating. Eating well. Starting everyday with water, sunlight, and movement. It doesn’t stick like it used to though. Everyday becomes a battle to the death between that god damn voice telling me it’s not worth it, to just chill, and my will to ignore it, to fight, to chop off all other options save the one that I know will move me forward.

A year goes by and I’m worn down. Exhausted again.

Why is this so hard. I remember it being easier this deep into the practices. I remember these habits becoming self perpetuating at this point.

Enter the final catalyst.

A beautiful woman, a devious minx, freshly out of long term relationship. Immediate, intense physical chemistry. I’ve been on this ride before. Time to strap in and prepare for take off. I know there’s a time bomb somewhere on this bitch, but I’ll find it, disarm it, and we’ll fly this ship into the stars.

Lmao. Silly hopeless romantic. All rocket ships blow up.

But why?

When I finally started hearing the detonation timer ticking down, frantically searching for my parachute, what I found was the final piece of the puzzle. It had literally been sitting right in front of me for years.

The mountains call to me. I decide to hit a solo backpacking trip. Pack my shit, unknowingly throw the last puzzle piece into my bag — an unread book that had been collecting dust for 5 years. Social media used to bombard me with all things self love and I used to listen, so why would I need to read a book titled, Love Yourself Like Your Life Depends On It?

Mountain climbed. Hammock setup next to jaw dropping alpine lake with snow capped peaks in behind it. The book gets cracked open, along with my soul, expecting nothing, and yet finding everything, again.

It felt like how I would imagine an eagle suddenly, immediately remembering how to fly would feel.

Of fucking course.

The deeper why beneath it all.

Love.

For myself.

6 hours of cycling between reading, crying, laughing, smiling, self love meditations, and experiencing the most intense feelings of gratitude I’ve ever felt, for Kamal fucking Ravikant.

This beautiful, courageous, vulnerable human hits me with a gripping, relatable story of his past, a practical solution to our problematic themes of the past, and finally a post-script that is the hardest hitting “It’s okay, we all fuck up and will continue to” metaphor of all time.

So here we are, two weeks later, magic dripping back into my life, habits starting to flow again.

There are still battles everyday, but I now remember to fight them with love and gentleness towards myself.

And you know what?

It’s getting a little easier everyday.

It gets harder sometimes too. When mental patterns of the past start losing their power, they elicit powerful responses to try to take it back.

But re-digging the mental groove of self love is starting to let life flow again. Flashes of effortlessness and deep feelings of knowing that this is the way, contain enough fuel to blast off this solo ship into the stars.

Hammering in healthy habits is great, useful, but searching in external sources for love and validation that is readily available within ourselves is a sure fire way to make life feel like an endless fight to the death, and eventually explode.

We got this.

[mybiasisexo]

Girl i just have so much to say so bear with me

I'm not gonna lie I love how complicated this whole story is because it surprises me every time with what they do and how it all turns out

First of all the peeps, Jongdae being so loud with his realizations made me laugh like dude was thinking out loud making everything more awkward lmao but i love him like that ❤️

baek is still the mvp, my guy, my true champ in this mess 🫶🏼🫰🏼🤘🏼 and poor nini he didn't do anything wrong he just loves his friends so much and wants them to be all together and happy 🥺

I loved the easter eggs like i thought wow jongdae still can't cook meat on a grill to save his life 😭

You're so good at conveying emotions and details, i felt the anxiety when Mel was trying to hide the marks of what happened and everyone was so nosey 😖

By the way when Mel said he took the ring i thought he took it forcibly against her wish but i didn't expect that at all, now i want to know what was Mel's reasoning behind the decision to give it back if it affected her that much to lose it 👀

Mel Mel i just want to smack her in the head, i mean chan has always been straight forward with his feelings (except for that one time he just left) and she just dived deeper into something she's still hesitant about and mislead chan into thinking she was ready to work it out smh

I love all the parallels and how they've both done similar things to each other, but their wounds are so deep that they cannot be fixed with a simple sorry, she still resents him too much to accept that she did a lot of damage too and the lack of communication just worsened the situation beyond repair 🤧

Oh and that last forehead kiss and soft thank you broke me I hope you know that 🙂

you said that it's almost over and it made me sad, what would I do without this amazing story, it's been going for so long and I've been following it since ch1 always looking forward to the new updates 😪

Anyways great chapter, I'm devastated 💔 I'm gonna go wrap myself in a blanket and cry, ily bye ❤️

Yay let’s go essay!!! 👏🏾👏🏾🥰

I was hesitant to post this chapter bc I was nervous about backlash. I knew it was gonna upset ppl but was scared folks were gonna drop it 😭. But seeing this fills me with relief 😮‍💨

Jongdae was a mess this whole chapter, I blame it on the weather 😂 and one thing he shouldn’t ever be is behind a grill lmao. Bbh is THE voice of reason but idt anyone is actually listening tho 😬. And nini is such a poor baby. The couple was really couple-ing when it came to bullying him 😭

I love getting compliments about my writing!!!! Esp this one, it’s such a high honor and helps with the imposter syndrome 😭🙌🏾

The drama with the ring oh boy. All imma say is they def have different stories on what went down that day and we haven’t even began to get into it 🙃

Mel needs a good shaking I can agree. Chanyeol has been so patient with her ☹️. Some would say she don’t deserve him 🚶🏾‍♀️

These two react so strongly with their emotions. And the thing I like about them both is that they never seem to realize just how badly their actions hurt each other until they voice it. Then they’re like ‘oh that was bad, huh?’ 😭

Don’t worry the last kiss messed me up too 🤕

I knoooow I can’t believe it’s almost over either. But I appreciate you sticking around! And am glad I can create something you can look forward to 🥲

So sorry for breaking you. I promise it’ll get better ❤️. Well….👀

[dzpenumbra]

5/1/23

New month. Geez, this year is flying bye, huh.

I had the whole waking up every couple hours thing again, even with the earplugs which work quite well. I don't think it was nightmares either, I don't remember though. I did get back to sleep every time, so no real complaints.

I did a very long yoga routine this morning, almost 40 minutes. I was pretty proud of that. I'm actually getting in pretty good shape considering I'm not really doing any other consistent exercise other than morning yoga every day. Adding in regular skating and walking will definitely get me in good shape.

I am... however... I honestly don't even really know how to describe this... I'm having weird pains all over my body. It's been going on for a while now, but it's been getting really strong lately. That whole panic scare with the deep pain in my inner thigh was the same kind of pain... ish... and probably the most severe. Today it's been the lower back by my spine, and the outside of my hips, and my adductors in my inner thighs. And my forearm. It's muscle pain, I guarantee it. But it's not sore. Not like sore used to be. It feels like... electric, kinda, or like the feeling when someone grabs a bunch of your skin and pinches it really hard? So like, not like a sharp pinch, but like a blunt pinch. I have no idea if that makes sense. The notable part about it is how uncomfortable and intense it is.

I tried using my desk as a standing desk for a bit today and it did help, I think. I've been really afraid of being too sedentary lately, so spending half of my work day standing at my desk and dancing to 80s music helped with that.

I've been watching this big transition that's happening where a bunch of RPers are flooding over to IgniteRP, a new and kinda game-changing GTA V RP server that's set in 1985. It was created with the intention of making a very different environment than the min-maxed memey shit going on on NoPixel... It's been really good so far. Though it does have a lot of glaring problems and a lot of work left to be done.

I watched like 9 hours of it today while I worked on another abstract ink drawing. I hope to have that one finished by tomorrow night so I'll hopefully post it then.

Hearing them talk behind the scenes about what's going on with the server, it made me really want to apply myself to getting into 3D modeling. I fucked around with SketchUp like 10 years ago a bunch, like... making recreations of my apartment at the time and everything. I am very detail oriented. But again, I don't know shit about all this. But I guarantee I could learn in Blender for free. And I can cram and learn really quick. And I have an actual art background to back that up, so... doing custom graphics and shit? And applying them to 3D models? Once I get the 3D shit under my belt, I could pull that off. If I wanted. And there's good money in that. And these guys would be constantly looking for good custom shit. I just, again, have no proof of concept... and no real knowledge in the field. But it's something in great need, if I want to go that route, especially if I can give them a good deal.

I've been really tempted to get into RP. I would fucking love it, it's really good social practice and social interaction. I really enjoyed it when I was playing my character Raymond Holmes on TwitchRP. I just... well... I got a bit too emotionally attached to my first character, which I would need to work on. But the big thing is... I don't want to be loud. I don't feel like I can. I feel like I'll be whispering the whole time, and that wouldn't do my performance justice. It worked at my old house because I could be as loud as I wanted. Here? I've got lots of neighbors. Here, I feel bad if I sing at a normal speaking volume in the shower, with music playing along. Not sure how much of that is anxiety and how much is just being a good neighbor.

So yeah, that was pretty much the entire day. Watching RP, drawing, making and eating 3 baked potatoes with butter, habanero jack cheese and scallions. Drawing more. Then... here I am.

Not much else to say there. XD Still kinda riding the post-project-completion lull. Instagram was devastatingly anti-climactic. Next piece is going to be my hoodie, most likely, but I might try to polish a few of the stones from the other day first. And I also have had the impulse to go paint wooden beads again, so I might... I might throw a batch in a jar and dye them. Like 20 or 30 of them. Just so I have some with a base coat on them, then I can add ornamentation after. Aaaand there's also the skull to do, too...

I have no idea why I keep putting the hoodie off, maybe because of the "finality" of it, or maybe the visibility of it. Maybe because the rest of the back piece looks so damn good, I don't want to "ruin" it. I dunno. I kinda left off with... doing research on the zodiac constellations. I have the 12 signs plotted out and properly aligned, I have spaces that will serve as the houses, too. The signs are essentially a wide ring around the entire backpiece, and inside each wedge I wanted to put the glyph for each zodiac sign, and the actual constellation. Everything but the actual written name of the signs. Then I'm going to superimpose the planet alignments after, but I haven't even gotten that far. So... that's kinda where I am with it. So I just need to do some research on how I want to do the constellations, and then do some sketches, then... I'm guessing black out pretty much the entire zodiac ring? Or I could leave it hoodie color, because the hoodie is black? Not sure... And then I can just do the stars in white or silver. Maybe do a low-opacity glyph in the back with the constellation on top? That could be cool.

So yeah, lots of ideas, but the abstract ink shit has been calling me the strongest so I've been answering that call. It's very therapeutic, and really good hand exercise for longer drawing sessions.

I'm off to bed, we'll see what inspiration calls for tomorrow.

[miraculouscontent]

“Sentibubbler” summary? “Sentibubbler” salt?

Why not both at the same time?

Something a little experimental, though also somewhat reminiscent of some of my past videos. Calling it “summasalt” for now, based on the word “somersault” because this episode was an exercise of my patience.

It’s basically just me going through the episode with my usual episode summary, but salting along the way instead of making you guys read a wall of text without any images or clips or me making snarky comments.

(By the way, yes, I did in fact have caffeine before recording.)

script below for anyone who wants/needs it:

"Sentibubbler" begins with Marinette having food with the Cesaires and I already know this isn't real because Marinette is actually getting to interact with her best friend's family. That's only happened, like--when, two episodes of Season 2? [”Sapotis” and “Anansi”]

Marinette sees Trixx and points out how they're supposed to be a secret, and Alya asks why while calling Marinette "Ladybug." Marinette plays dumb but is told by Nino that everyone already knows her secret. Chloe is also there, chiding Marinette for her identity rule - it's not Marinette's rule but after "Reflekdoll" I've just gotten used to Marinette being blamed for things she didn't do - and Marinette goes to question Chloe's apperance when there's a knock on the balcony door. Alya invites Shadow Moth in and--[Shadow Moth has to duck to come inside]--huh, I thought Sole Crusher was seven episodes ago.

Anyway, now obviously, Marinette is just being ridiculous and overemotional as usual, because why would Marinette ever think that Alya would reveal any information to--["Feast"]--oh yeah, that's right.

Tikki doesn't transform Marinette and says that Marinette shouldn't have trusted Alya with her secret. Enter Chat Blanc, who says that they can be together now without any secrets. Not really sure what this episode is aiming for with the mixed message of "your identity rule sucks" but also "your fault for trusting someone instead of having a mental breakdown," but a’ight. Trixx also gets another dig in on Marinette for giving Alya the fox miraculous.

Marinette wakes up from her nightmare and panics, but Tikki reassures her that Alya is loyal. [”Chameleon”] Mm. Also, that kind of support might've been nice from Tikki literal seasons ago when Marinette could've used a confidant.

Wayzz - I swear, they've had eyelashes more often than not in this season - points out that Trixx is mischievous and Xuppu talks about Trixx being the cause of the Loch Ness monster rumors, which worries Marinette further. Marinette runs out in her pajamas and I can already predict that neither Tom nor Sabine are going to check on her later or care.

Marinette finds the Cesaires looking for something, their words vague enough for Marinette to think that they're talking about Trixx. Alya brushes Marinette off and tells her to help with looking instead of lecturing her.

Marlena makes a comment that reminds Marinette of her nightmare, only increasing Marinette's stress. A tarantula crawls up a ladle and Marinette freaks out when she sees it, which Marlena has a laugh at because Marinette's anxiety, fear, and panic is hilarious, guys!

This is my laughing face. [not a laughing face]

Nino exits, having been too afraid of the spider to leave the room, so Nora compares Marinette to him. Nino tries to play it cool, then changes the subject to point out Marinette's pajamas. Alya wonders aloud why Marinette showed up and Marinette tries to act casual, but Alya sees through it and states that she doesn't usually lose things when someone lends them to her.

I presume the exception is Marinette's trust. OH-HOOOOHHH, we'll get there.

Nora takes a jab at Alya for losing the spider and Marinette drags Alya away to talk. Nino tries to join but Alya states that it's between her and Marinette, which makes Nino sad.

Nino, does the phrase "guys' time" ring a bell by any chance?

Marinette is explaining her nightmare and is simply told to calm down by Alya, though Marinette is briefly startled by a phone ringing. Marinette puts together what she knows that Shadow Moth knows, including that Alya is Rena Rouge, adding on that Shadow Moth could steal the fox necklace if he figured out that Alya has it permanently. Alya reassures her that no one will ever know and Marinette states that this must include Chat Noir. Alya agrees and brings attention to the fanny pack around her waist, which Trixx has been hiding in, and Marinette has Trixx promise not to show up at the dining table like in her nightmare. Tikki tells Marinette that everything will be fine and Marinette admits that it was silly of her to worry, which it was! ...If you ignore all the anxiety, mental scarring, and constant pressure to be perfect or risk Paris lighting itself on fire, much like I presume they accidentally did with their original script for this episode.

Alya tells Marinette to trust her and also herself - I'll be sure to keep that in mind, Alya, thank you - then Alya loses her temper at the phone continuing to ring. She leaves to find an empty living room, then answers the phone only to hear Shadow Moth on the other line. Alya turns upon hearing Marinette scream to see that Marinette has been trapped in a bubble. Cue the reveal/return of the Bubbler, who is definitely Nino akumatized and not--like--a sentimonster, because the episode didn't spoil it at all with the title of Sentibub--

show, this is freaking embarrassing. Why even bother akumatizing someone when you can mold a sentimonster with the exact power you want?

At least they reveal it quickly, though that also means I have to live with the knowledge that Shadow Moth wINKED AT ALYA, NO.

Anyway, Shadow Moth tells Alya that he wants her to betray Ladybug. Marinette, meanwhile, is panicking over being unable to transform while in public, whereas Tikki remains calm and reassures her that Alya will figure something out and it's why Marinette gave Alya the fox miraculous in the first place.

Weird, I thought it was for the show to continuously validate Alya as a worthy choice for a confidant despite repeatedly covering up her sINS and so the show can push for more anxiety on Marinette's part while simultaneously not having to make a new hero model for Alya, which they would have to do if the realistic decision had been made to give Alya a different miraculous due to Shadow Moth knowing her identity as Rena Rouge.

Marinette texts Alya to inform her that the Bubbler is a sentimonster and so Rena can tell Chat not to use Cataclysm on him or the bubbles will burst due to the sentimonster's lack of control.

Hate to burst the show's bubble but Alya could literally see Nino up in the sky and they could see her; the bubbles are in viewing range. Did this even go through a quality check?

Alya goes to look at Marinette's text, but the phone is bubbled away by Sentibubbler. Marinette sees the phone floating by and panics, only to be reassured again to trust Alya and at this point I vaguely wondered if I was watching this episode on repeat. Tikki also adds that Alya has never let her down - [”Ladybug”] MMMM - and Marinette agrees, also certain that Chat Noir will show up soon.

Oh yeah, he exists. Oh no.

Cut to the Agreste mansion where Adrien is watching the news - dude, how is there never anything better on when you need to be told that there's an akuma? here, look, I'll show you [”Silencer” Lukabug clip] there, much better, see? - and it's pointed out that the bubbles are identical to the ones Bubbler had, yet Nino is in one of the bubbles. Adrien readies himself while Plagg is - for once - okay with leaving since his cheese isn't "edible" yet.

I feel like he should be a little more concerned about Marinette being in a bubble.

Meanwhile, Shadow Moth is explaining to Alya that Ladybug will come to give her the fox miraculous due to the bubbled people in the sky - plenty of other choices that aren't within breathing range of the obvious danger zone, but a'ight - and SentiBubbler will catch Ladybug. Alya brings up Chat Noir saving her but Shadow Moth states that she'll create an illusion of Ladybug and Rena to lure Chat Noir, who won't see Sentibubbler coming, at which point Rena will hand Shadow Moth her miraculous. He adds that her loved ones will only be returned once all three miraculouses are in his possession, though if she tries to warn the heroes then Sentibubbler will send the bubbles into space, too far for any hero to save them.

[clip of space power-ups] Hm.

Also, I would've just let her keep the miraculous as an extra bribe since he doesn't need the fox and she wouldn't have time to recharge anyway - at least to his knowledge - but that's just me.

Marinette is relieved that Alya still hasn't been captured--TIKKI, I KNOW, YOU'VE BEEN PARROTING THIS ALL EPISODE, I KNOW--but Marinette changes her tune when she sees Alya blindly calling out for Ladybug's help, unaware that Alya is buying time. Marinette laments the idea of transforming there and having using the rabbit to go back in time to reverse, as that's never a good thing (seconded), but gets the idea for Tikki to take her miraculous to someone else. Tikki rejects the idea, as the earrings won't go through the bubble, and Marinette realizes that Chat Noir is their only hope.

I mean, it was nice knowing them. Sure is interesting how Marinette has only been getting herself into these situations where she requires saving when the show needed to present Alya as a valid choice for a confidant.

Meanwhile, Chat Noir is leaving a message for Ladybug about the bubbles in the sky, saying that he'll wait for her; I already see where this is going and I don't like it.

Alya mutters to Trixx about how they need a plan to release Marinette. Through Alya Vision, we're shown Sentibubbler, a bowl of fruit, and the bathroom door. Alya tells Sentibubbler that she needs to go to the bathroom and - wow, we're really doing this, aren't we? - which Shadow Moth rejects. Shadow Moth is also on top of a building holding a coffee cup which honestly makes about as much sense as the rest of the episode, so whatever. Alya claims that she can't wait and that it'll be awkward for Ladybug to find her like that, which gets Shadow Moth to relent but also remind her of what's at stake if she tries anything. Alya states that she can't do anything without a miraculous anyway, then purposefully falls onto the table, concealing her long enough for her to transform and allowing an illusion of herself to go to the bathroom while she escapes. She detransforms in the twins' room and feeds Trixx with some grapes that she'd picked up.

Alya explains her plan to trick Shadow Moth and Sentibubbler since they don't know that she has a miraculous, though she also has to make sure that Chat won't ruin things. Rena then proceeds to call Chat Noir and claim that Ladybug wanted her to call him with her plan, but adds that it's a two-person plan and Chat himself isn't needed, so he needs to wait for further instructions. Chat demands that Ladybug call him to tell him herself, but Rena insists that she can't, as Ladybug is very busy. She warns him not to use Cataclysm if he sees the Bubbler, as he's a sentimonster, then promises to talk to him later before hanging up.

She uses Mirage again, making the Alya illusion reappear as well as creating a Ladybug. Chat Noir, infuriated at being left out, destroys part of a building with his baton. He then dismisses the action because Miraculous Ladybug will fix it.

Spoiler alert, it will, which is a very fascinating detail! I mean, I can't imagine another situation where a hero did something while there was an akuma going around and Miraculous Ladybug decided to help 'em out, but it just goes to show what happens when you're the writers' pet. Just look a little pitiful and they'll give you all the sympathy in the world.

By the way, didn't expect them to actually confirm my theory that Chat Noir does Chat Noir things because he knows that Miraculous Ladybug will fix it anyway, essentially allowing him to earn brownie points from Ladybug via sacrificing himself regardless of how it affects her mentally, yet here we are and I don't know whether to be sad, angry, disappointed, or a mixture of all three.

Chat Noir sees the Ladybug illusion jumping off and gives chase, refuses to stay where he is. Marinette, seeing that Rena Rouge's illusions are active, panics at the sight of Chat Noir, as the illusion will vanish if Chat touches it.

I like to imagine the immediate concern is the idea that Chat Noir will try to take Ladybug's hand while trying to flirt.

Anyway, Marinette flails inside the bubble in an attempt to reach Chat Noir, while illusion Alya and SentiBubbler get into position. Chat Noir watches what he perceives as Ladybug heading into the Cesaire house with Alya, but Marinette gets to him in order to tell him not to go anywhere. Chat complains about everyone telling him to stay put, but Marinette explains Rena's plan to him. Chat is skeptical of how she knows that, to which Marinette insists that she saw it from where she was. Chat Noir relents with a sigh and stays where he is.

SentiBubbler watches as the illusion of Alya and Ladybug talk to each other, Rena making it look like Ladybug is piecing together what happened and refusing to give Alya a miraculous ever again due to Shadow Moth knowing her identity. She claims that she'll find another holder and give them an even more powerful miraculous, which interests Shadow Moth and gets him to follow after the Ladybug illusion. Once Sentibubbler leaves as well, Chat sees this as his chance to stop the sentimonster, as the Ladybug illusion will vanish if it's touched. Marinette strokes his ego for the token love square moment of the episode, and Chat Noir fights SentiBubbler while Shadow Moth goes after the Ladybug illusion.

I'm noticing a real lack of tension in this episode. Once Alya has her plan, it's kind of a clean sweep from start to finish with no interference or unexpected roadblocks in the way. Even Shadow Moth following the Ladybug illusion goes fine, with Shadow Moth even punching a building thinking that Ladybug actually got away from him.

Dude, it's fine, Miraculous Ladybug will fix it, just put on your best sad face. Maybe Chat Noir gets it from you actually, is treatment from the writers a hereditary thing?

Sentibubbler and Chat Noir are still fighting. Shadow Moth shows up and Marinette tries to warn Chat, but Chat gets caught in a bubble and Marinette apologizes; she doesn't have anything to apologize for but after "Reflekdoll" I--wait I already did this.

Chat Noir uses Cataclysm to escape, only to get caught in another bubble. I'd just like to throw out there that this guy's a hero three seasons going and the love interest for the main character, yet his role in the episode has amounted to complaining about the authority of a hero Ladybug chose, throwing a property-destroying tantrum over being excluded, and wasting his power without a single thought which just got him captured again.

Chat, does the name "Syren" ring any bells by any chance? I'm just sayin', you could always quit. In fact, wasn't it you literally one episode ago saying that you understood if Ladybug couldn't always come get you? Then, after seeing the jump from "Glaciator" to "Frozer," I'm about as shocked as rubber.

Back with the competent one, Alya notes to Trixx that Rena Rouge can no longer be seen by Shadow Moth or else the jig is up. She transforms and texts Marinette to be ready, creating an illusion of Marinette that simultaneously hides the real version, allowing her to transform into Ladybug.

Chat Noir's bubble gets dragged down and Shadow Moth gets SentiBubbler to mute Chat Noir's bubble.

[clip from “Silencer” where Ladybug takes amusement in Chat being muted]

Ladybug uses Lucky Charm and receives a pot, her Lucky Vision spotting Shadow Moth's coffee cup, then SentiBubbler, then the tarantula trapped in a bubble. Ladybug deduces that the cup is the sentimonster's object, then pulls the horse miraculous out of her yoyo and unifies it with the ladybug--oh.

Oh my.

You know, it's times like this where I'm reminded that the show knows nothing about fashion... or girls... or good writing actually--there's just a lot of stuff they don't know.

Sentibubbler does a countdown, then starts sending the civilian bubbles up into the sky. Chat Noir is about to de-transform while PegaBug notices of Shadow Moth's two miraculous, up for grabbin'. She notes that she won't be able to catch everyone, so she forms a portal behind Shadow Moth and goes for the coffee cup first, thus putting her in control of SentiBubbler, who happily brings the bubbles back down at her command.

Shadow Moth erases SentiBubbler from existence though, causing everyone to fall, but Chat and PegaBug manage to catch them. PegaBug de-transforms and presents the Cesaires with the tarantula, which had been trapped inside the lucky charm. Ladybug and Chat Noir watch Shadow Moth escape and Ladybug laments that it could've been the end of Shadow Moth once and for all because it's not a Miraculous episode without Marinette being at fault or feeling guilty in some way! Chat Noir reassures her [*by “reassure,” I mean he might as well have said, “Well, you saved ME, so you did great!”] - wow, that's two token love square moments for the price of one episode, don't I feel spoiled - and Ladybug leaves to retrieve the tarantula's tank.

Rena Rouge is waiting for her and they hug, with Rena repeating that she doesn't lose something that someone gives her. Ladybug states that she never should've doubted the idea of giving Alya a miraculous and Imma just give you guys a counter real quick. [counter that shows that Tikki has complimented Alya four times, Alya has complimented herself/told Marinette to trust her thrice, and Marinette has said that she was wrong thrice]. Miraculous Ladybug is cast and everything returns to normal, with Alya explaining what she did and Marinette being relieved that Shadow Moth won't be going after her anymore. Alya confidently asks if she was smart and Marinette is happy to praise her, confirming it and stating that Alya is a real superhero and honestly? If the narrative wanted to marry Alya this badly, they should've just used some of the budget to buy a ring instead of projecting onto the other characters.

Then again, the apparent budget can't even afford a new hero model nor new akuma to a very noticeable degree, so I guess they're taking what they can get.

Alya praises Marinette as well for her work as PegaBug and they do a fistbump, thus ending the episode. There's also this ever-so-lovely post-episode scene with Gabriel and Nathalie where Gabriel laments the fact that Ladybug never makes mistakes which--I... has he even watched the series at all? Gabe, babe, Babriel Agreste, it's literally part of the show's formula that Marinette makes a mistake in every episode and she felt guilty like a minute ago over not yoinking your miraculouses when she had the chance, where have you been?

But, yeah, anyway, the episode.

Needless to say, not a fan. Like I said, the show seems so intent on immediately validating the choices they make with Alya in order to make her look like a better character. "Gang of Secrets" basically replaced her with someone different at the end of the episode, and the episode immediately afterwards in chronological order, "Mr. Pigeon 72," did everything it could to push Marinette out of her guardian position long enough for Alya to figure out the grimoire despite having zero onscreen experience with it, the episode even trapping Ladybug in a situation that forced Rena Rouge to come into play to validate that decision as well.

And now we have "SentiBubbler" here following immediately after "Optigami," desperate to reassure its audience that Alya is cool, smart, truthworthy, and that not needing to make a new model--sorry, I mean Alya continuing to have the fox--was a good decision. All the while, they continue pushing Alya's flaws under the rug [Note that it’s not even considered that Alya is even remotely at fault for Shadow Moth going after her specifically after her stunt in “Optigami” when no one else but Ladybug and Chat have ever given out a miraculous], hiding them instead of Alya actually acknowledging them, the only reason she did so in "Optigami" being the same as in "Gang of Secrets"; to make her look good while Marinette makes a big decision in their relationship.

The episode tries so hard to drill in this idea that Alya is a good friend who can be trusted, and I'm just not here for how much they try to hammer it in. Marinette's very real anxiety over Shadow Moth's power and ability to plan things is played off as her being silly instead of something to be concerned about, and instead of giving her a hug and trying to help her calm down - [clip from “Heart Hunter” of Luka hugging Marinette] I miss Luka - she's just told to trust and believe and hAVE fAiTh in Alya.

Shadow Moth is an adult; he has abilities that the teenage heroes don't. I'm not even saying that Marinette isn't overreacting [Basically, her concern about Shadow Moth is valid, especially after “Optigami” where her identity was almost found out], but she has anxiety and some obvious trauma over "Chat Blanc." I was already upset that Alya got a free pass to Marinette's identity, but the constant stressing over how much Marinette should trust her just doesn't affect me when I know Alya and I know the kind of stuff she's done that the show blatantly ignored in favor of pushing for her.

But okay, show, I'll give Alya the benefit of the doubt that she doesn't deserve. Let's say that she's turned a new leaf, and has become the reliable, trustworthy, and loyal partner that Marinette deserves. I'm sure that Alya has Marinette's back, and will never go behind said back in order to do something completely unsurprising and wholly indicative of the character I actually know her to be.

Especially not a mere three episodes later...

[fruggo]

the boys x tough f!reader (part 2)

requested by : @dranonymous

i love this idea and i hope you all enjoy part two! :D here’s part 1 with the original request.

warnings: swearing, canon-typical violence, dwight is really cute, danny is an asshole, jake is that cute “stoic man who is actually caring and thoughtful” trope because i say so

𝐃𝐖𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃

you are so cool. like ,,,,,so cool

dwight admires you so much. you just got here and yet you are breaking pyramid head’s ankles—dodging his trail of torment left and right, the killer just can’t touch you.

and how did you feel about everything? terrified, honestly, but nobody would ever be able to tell because you didn’t let it get to you. it was like you had already been here before, because the second you learned how to do something, you had it down no problem. fixing generators came naturally, and you could also run the killer for the whole trial if you had to. teammates could easily rely on you to do whatever needed to be done.

that was what made you and dwight such a powerful duo. from the moment you met, you knew you felt comfortable around this guy. he was sweet, maybe a little timid sometimes, but he knew how to step up and be a leader for everyone despite his fears.

you both knew what to do, and you fit together like a glove. your minds worked in very similar ways, which made communicating that much easier and efficient; the second a decision needed to be made, dwight was on top of it, encouraging the teammates and helping them get on their feet. you were already ahead of them, so dwight would just nod to you, knowing you could do your job well.

of course, there were times when dwight’s anxiety got the better of him, and you had to be the one encouraging him.

dwight hated the hag. despised her. he could not stand her jumpscares when a trap was triggered, he would swear he was about to have a heart attack. he couldn’t admit this at first, but you figured it out when feng min was hooked and dwight stuck to the generator, nervously glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. he always went for the saves, so something was obviously wrong.

“dwight? why don’t you go save her?” you asked, eyeing him from your side of the generator.

he didn’t respond, looking over his shoulder again.

you decided to rescue min, but when you got back, you were going to chew dwight out until he gave you a straight answer.

you crawled up to the hook to avoid triggering a trap and gently lowered min to the ground. the two of you inched away carefully until you were far enough away to patch her wound.

“dwight, get off your ass and answer me,” you demanded (affectionately) once you were back at the generator, which was nearly finished. “what’s wrong?”

his eyes conveyed nervousness in every sense of the word; they darted all around, searching for any incoming danger. this was your first time seeing him like this, so you were confused. was he alright?

“it’s just…the hag,” he started, still fiddling with the wires. “her traps, i can’t…”

oh. was he anxious about the traps?

“i just can’t deal with them,” he finally said with difficulty. that was understandable; when they caught you off guard it definitely made you leap out of your skin.

“dwight, listen,” you said. “you’ve dealt with every other killer in this realm, haven’t you? you’ve bested the nurse, the huntress, micky myers, and even the spirit, who’s a bitch. i know hag’s traps are fucking terrifying, but you’re dwight! you are a leader, and you are good at being a leader. you can get out of here, i promise. and besides, with me here, you have nothing to worry about. i’ll kick that witch’s ass, got it?”

your very inspirational speech got him to smile. you were right, anyways—you could definitely kick the hag’s ass. what could go wrong?

nothing, actually. genuinely nothing went wrong. you took chase for the rest of the trial so that dwight didn’t have to worry about a thing, and everybody escaped with no problem. he didn’t understand how you were so good at evading capture—but perhaps you would tell him about your past eventually. you hadn’t yet decided.

back at the campfire, you and dwight comfortably sat side-by-side, patiently waiting until your next trials.

“thanks,” he said.

“for what?”

“for that very motivational speech you gave me,” he laughed.

you wiped imaginary dust off of your shoulder, giving him a confident smile. “i got your back. and man, that hag lady really is a bitch, huh? i can see why you hate her.”

that comment unintentionally caused one of dwight’s long, angry rants about his least favorite killer, and all you could do was watch him and listen with a soft grin on your lips. you’d never seen him angry before—it was adorable. made you wonder if you should just piss him off for fun sometimes.

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊

this guy has hella respect for you

you’re independent and easy to teach, and that’s everything he could ask for.

now and then, the other survivors basically gave newbies to jake to teach them everything about the realm—they considered him the expert on all things survival. you were one of those newbies he was forced to take care of.

jake normally hated teaching new survivors more than anything, because it was never his choice and they were all so difficult. but you were different. you were responsible, reliable, and smart, and it made his job so much easier. as time went on, he grew to be quite fond of you.

word eventually got out that the new girl had managed to charm jake out of his “hermit ways,” but he insisted that it was not true (he also disagreed about the “hermit ways” part). it was never spoken of between the two of you, but it definitely floated around in the air waiting to be addressed.

it really couldn’t be ignored any longer. anytime you were seen anywhere within 24 feet of each other, the other survivors would give you looks and wiggle their eyebrows or shoot you a thumbs up—all of which were unwanted. it created a weird tension between you and jake that wasn’t there before, and you really didn’t like it.

you missed when you were first starting out, and jake had just realized how competent you are. those days were fun—he respected you a lot; you could see it in his face when he looked at you. you always knew when he was pleased and when you did stuff right, because he would have the tiniest, most subtle grin on his face, but you could see it, and it made you feel accomplished.

you knew he still respected you, but you had basically jumped the learning curve of the realm and quickly adapted to every killer, every challenge, and every task. how you did it, nobody could ever know. but you were almost sad, because there was kind of no reason for you and jake to spend a lot of time together anymore. if you did, then everybody would freak out for the wrong reasons, and it would ruin your friendship.

so what if you had a few small feelings for him? no one gave a shit—you knew jake probably wouldn’t give a shit. to him, you were just another annoying survivor he was forced to teach. besides, you didn’t have time for that kind of thing.

man, were you wrong, though. he really, really wanted to be around you, but you already knew everything, so he didn’t know what to do to spend time with you. his way of initial bonding was sharing knowledge, but that had already been done, so…what now?

then came the one trial that changed everything.

it was normal at first. the killer, blight, was doing well, so you had to step up your game. one generator was completed and he had 4 hooks on three different people—you were the only one not hooked yet.

he was after you, and you were expertly dodging every rush and swing he threw your way. unfortunately, you accidentally ran to the generator that jake was working on, and things got a little complicated.

when the blight rushed at the wall, then at you, jake ran towards you while you ran towards him—you were both looking over your shoulders—and alas, bonk. you crashed into each other.

oh, no!! how terrible!! looks like jake fell on top of you :/ what an unfortunate situation to be in /s /s /s /s /s

wowwww near proximity ! you’d never been so close before and it was awkward but nice (?)

then you remembered there was a crazy drug addict or whatever over there and he was chasing you, and the moment was ruined. jake quickly rose and pulled you up with him, and you went in opposite directions, both nervous and wide-eyed now.

lol

after that, the trial went quite south. everybody was sacrificed. perhaps the loss could be partly attributed to you and jake avoiding each other like the plague. but who knows, right?

back at the campfire, you began feeling overwhelmed by all the weird stuff happening lately, so you excused yourself to the edge of the woods to have some quiet time to yourself. a few minutes later, jake came to check on you bc he is a fucking gentleman and yes i will die for the “stoic man who is actually caring and thoughtful” trope. fuck you

it’s slightly awkward at first, but then you start talking like normal and things feel a lot better. a little bit of the tension eases away, but not completely. what the fuck do you do with feelings like this?????

you simply composed yourself as best you could. it would have to do.

now that you felt a little more normal (lie), you trekked back to the campfire to wait for your next trials side-by-side. there was no one you felt more comfortable with or more respected by than jake. he appreciated you for your competency, and that was one of the best things you could ask for.

and to your surprise, jake actually took your hand and laced your fingers with his own. and it felt nice. never in your existence would you have thought he would be okay with displaying public affection, but you smiled up at him and gave his hand a light squeeze.

maybe the entity gave him drugs.

or he just liked you that much. either one would make sense.

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐍

danny hated you. he really did.

you were so unbothered, so calm, so good at knowing what to do. it really pissed him off.

you got so much attention from the other survivors for your skill and that really pissed him off too. it’s not like you cared or wanted it or anything, but how dare they even touch you when you so clearly belonged to danny?

…who knows wtf that even means. so anyways-

when you realized how much time danny spent chasing you in trials when he should have been patrolling generators, you began to get suspicious. especially when he would take you to the hatch and then close it in your face, watching you die to the entity. he obviously had some kind of beef with you.

you were determined to find out what he had against you, so you began to tease him a bit in chases. your favorite and most frequent phrase was something like, "can't catch me? lil baby man? lil baby? lil baby man gonna cry?" you were really testing your luck with that one, and that's why you loved it.

once, you told him his fly was down, and he actually fell for it, making you nearly keel over in laughter. you got moried without even being hooked after that.

despite the horrors that frequented this place, you were never in a crisis about it. you simply learned what had to be done, and then you did it, much to the chagrin of danny. you had skipped the big "useless baby survivor" phase, and that one was his favorite :( he loved trials with new survivors because it was so easy and fun!

but alas, from the beginning, you were always on top of things, always slamming pallets onto his head or saving teammates with a flashlight.

oh, don't even get him started on your flashlight usage. you were the absolute worst to go against--every pallet stun, boom: danny's eyes fucking burned out. every time he picks up a survivor, boom: danny's eyes fucking burned out. you were a bitch with that item.

he finally began to get so fed up with your behavior that he decided you must be taught a lesson. somehow, countless mori and tunneling and camping incidents had not even managed to bother you. you literally did not care. but he had something different in mind this time.

the realm was haddonfield, of course. all of the killers despised this map, and for good reason--you ran danny around the entire neighborhood for three generators. did he have to chase you? no. but he needed to for himself.

he finally caught you in a dead zone, rejoicing to himself as you fell to the ground in defeat. "wow, that was a good chase," you mumbled under your breath, feeling accomplished. one of your best against danny, probably.

you were expecting him to pick you up, but instead he snatched the flashlight from your grasp and chucked it as far away as he could. and before you could protest, he pulled you up to stand again and yanked you towards himself, gripping your wrists so tightly you swore it left bruises.

"what's wrong...lil baby man?" you said with a pout, trying not to laugh. "is baby man angry?"

you were slightly scared if you were being honest, but you couldn't let him know that.

danny sighed. you really didn't know when to stop, did you?

"bitch," he spat, voice dangerously quiet. "cut that shit out."

"what shit?"

he squeezed your arms tighter, provoking an "okay, okay, i get it!" from you.

"do you?"

"sure. what's the worst you could possibly do to me anyways?" after those words left your mouth, you got a weird feeling that the killer was smiling behind his mask.

"listen, uhh, danny, is it?" you said, putting as much nonchalance into your voice as you could. "i just wanna know why you hate me so much. remember that time you closed the hatch in my face? the fuck was that for?"

he frowned at the use of his name but responded regardless, "you're a little bitch, and you deserved that."

you gasped dramatically, feigning offense. "ouch. that one hurt."

"i can make you hurt a lot more," he said darkly. you probably should have been scared, but you just really couldn't take him seriously.

so you laughed. it shouldn't have been funny, but it just was and now you couldn't stop. "you're just--you--i can't--" you wheezed, shaking from the laughter. "i'm sorry, it's really not funny."

danny didn't understand you. anybody else would have been sobbing if he so much as touched them, and here you were acting like it was a joke.

what could he do if you truly were not afraid of him?

perhaps it was time to let it go.

while his guard was down, suddenly you reached above his head and plucked his mask off, revealing his face and continuing your bouts of laughter at his shocked expression.

you threw the mask in the same direction as the flashlight, composing yourself and putting your hands on your hips. "you look pretty nice," you said, nodding.

wow. what the hell was danny supposed to do with you? perhaps the only completely unbothered, completely unserious survivor? he knew you were smart, and you knew what you were doing. he didn't even want to kill you anymore, you were just that fascinating.

that trial ended in you standing at the exit gate, your finger and your thumb in the shape of an L on your forehead. danny couldn’t care less at this point--he was done with your shit. but somehow he still liked you, and this definitely would not be the last time you saw him without his mask.

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

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

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.”

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part

[xiaq]

Hi, I have a question re:sex and Christianity. Small background: I still go to church, and I still live with my parents even though I'm not much younger than you, because housing is very very expensive where I live (pretty common here, I would say about 2/3 of my friends live with their parents and we are decently privileged kids)

Anyway. How does one get over purity culture? To be clear, I've never been told in church not to have sex, I've never gotten the gendered lessons that you got. But I am terrified of having sex. My first real, multi-year relationship just ended and while there was hand stuff etc, there was never any p in v sex (lol I feel 12). But I still had insane anxiety about being pregnant despite being on bc. And I think its because I know my parents would be so disappointed if I had sex. And if I was pregnant I could imagine all the gossip. And honestly I think im from a pretty open church, b/c one of our previous ministers kids recently got married at 8 months pregnant and lots of church people were at the wedding and supportive and her parents were there and everything.

I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???

(Asking because it seems like you've been pretty open about purity culture/removing yourself from it)

CW for sex talk (again)

How does one get over purity culture?

Oh man. That really is the million-dollar question, huh? Obviously, I can only answer re my personal experiences, and this is something you should talk to a therapist about, but I can tell you how I’ve tackled it with my therapist at least.

Purity culture is, at its core, an ideology that is perpetuated by shame. If you’re indoctrinated into purity culture when you’re a kid, the concepts become baked into the way you construct your identity, your perception of self, and your perception of your sexuality. It’s practically intrinsic, by the time you’re an adult, to feel shame any time you’re reminded you have a body, much less a sexuality.

According to the chapels I sat through every week as a kid, a girl's body could be 3 things: an intentional stumbling block for men, an accidental stumbling block for men, or unnoticeable. Women were to strive for the third option so as to keep their (and their male friends/authority figures) purity intact. After all, if a boy, or even your male teacher, had impure thoughts about you, it was your fault for tempting them (which, holy shit. I still can’t believe that was a thing I bought into for so long. If my 45 yr old grown-ass teacher had impure thoughts because he could see my 12 yr old collarbone, that sure as hell wasn’t my fault. But I digress.) The Only time a woman’s body can be something else, is when she gives it to her husband, at which point she must suddenly flip the switch in her brain that she is now allowed to be a Sexual Being and she must perform Sexual Duties despite living in outright fear of her own body and sexuality for years (decades?) up until this point. Jesus take the wheel.

Purity culture isn’t a thing you can just decide to walk away from if you’ve grown up in it. Because its ideology is insidious and internalized. So first you need to submit to the fact that you’re going to be fucked up about sex. It sounds like you’re there. Second, you need to interrogate what you believe. If you’re leaving religion behind entirely, you’ll approach removing yourself from purity culture differently than if you still identify as a Christian. It sounds like you might be the latter, which meant, for me, separating what’s actually biblical and what’s shitty, contrived, doctrine that I was told is biblical but is actually more political than spiritual. This helps you address the shame issue.

You need to throw away I Kissed Dating Goodbye and Lady in Waiting and all those ridiculous books you read and reread in the hopes of somehow obtaining impossible marriage perfection and look into actual scripture interpreted within its historical context. I could write a book on this, but the TL;DR is that the text of the Bible was written, translated, curated, and changed multiple times over thousands of years by human beings with human biases and, often, personal and/or political agendas. It contradicts itself! Reading it as it is—a flawed historical document—rather than some sort of God-breathed perfect document—is incredibly freeing. When you do, you’ll probably realize that purity culture is bullshit on a spiritual level. Which is a good start, if that matters to you. Because any time you start to feel shame or guilt you can ask yourself: does God actually care if I wear a bikini or touch a dick I’m not married to? Probably not. Wear the bikini. Touch the dick.

The most important therapy session for me was when my therapist asked what I would do if I got to heaven and God was actually the God I’d been raised to fear. What would I do if he condemned me for being bisexual and having premarital sex and becoming educated, for arguing with men, and failing to isolate while menstruating, and wearing mixed fabrics? If Montero had come out at the point, I probably would have said I’d pole dance down to hell. Instead, I said I would spit on heaven’s gates. If a god that cruel and that pointlessly demeaning really exists—a god who would create in me condemned desire—I won't worship him. The good news is, I’m 99% sure he doesn’t exist. At the very least, he isn’t supported by scripture.

Okay. The final thing you need to do is figure out what you actually want, sexually speaking. This bit is probably the hardest. I’m still in the early stages of this myself. You say: “I dont even think I particularly like sex, i might be on the ace spectrum, but how do I remove it from all the anxiety that's tied to it so I can even give myself the chance to find out???” Bro, I wish I had an easy answer for you. For me, whenever I’m feeling anxious about Sex Things, I tell myself: 1. My God does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 2. My partner does not equate my worth to my sexual habits. 3. I do not equate my worth to my sexual habits. It seems silly, but reminding myself of those three things is massively helpful. If, after I’ve sorted through those, I’m still anxious or uncomfortable, I stop doing the thing. I evaluate. Am I overwhelmed and I need to try again some other time? Do I just not like the thing? Sometimes it’s hard to tell. Sometimes you change your mind. Sometimes you just don’t know. That’s why having a partner who you trust and who’s willing to patiently explore your interests (and respect your disinterests) is so important. Half the battle, for me, was having a partner who told me they’d be ok with no sex at all. Because that took the pressure off me. If the bare minimum they need is nothing, then anything more than that is a bonus! Hooray! This is maybe TMI, but let me tell you. I thought I was asexual* right up until I was able to have moderately non-anxious sex. Never in my life did I think I would initiate a sexual situation but… I do now. It’s a fun thing to do with a person I love and, holy shit. I am furious that I nearly missed out on it.

Finally, re birth control: I don’t know how you can approach that fear in a way that works for you. If you don’t want to ever have penetrative sex, that’s fine! If that’s a point of anxiety you can’t get rid of, then don't push yourself to do it. If you find out you like other sex things, do the other sex things! If you don't like doing any sex things, don't do any sex things! Also, have you considered sleeping with people who can’t get you pregnant? Always an option if it’s an option you want to consider. ;)

Okay. I hope this was even a little bit helpful. Sorry if it’s a little convoluted, I typed it up in bursts during my work breaks.

*This is not at all to say that asexuality can be “fixed." Rather, it’s to say that things like purity culture can drastically confuse your sexuality in general. If you’re asexual, then this process is still important to discover what you like/dislike. Then you can be explicit about those necesities and find a partner who’s a good fit (if you want a partner at all, that is).

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

CTRL+ALT+DECEIT

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; oral, fucking, stalking, hacking, threats, implied violence.

This is dark!Jake Jensen x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You find your pictures on someone else’s Insta but that’s not the only thing he’s stolen.

Note: Yay, another Jensen fic at last. I’m probably gonna try to work in more one shots between my series. I’m looking at Andy Barber, Ransom Drysdale, or Lee Bodecker right now for next week but we’ll see.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The chirp of the chat pierced your eardrum once more as you ignored it for the spreadsheet of dates on your other monitor. Working from home could be both peaceful and distracting but the third bing had you muting and pushing your headset to your neck with a grumble. You switched windows as the chat box blinked.

‘So why didn’t u tell me u had a bf?’ Zia’s bubble blipped up followed by impatient emojis.

“Wat r u talking bout?’ you typed back and clicked back to the spreadsheet to update the status of each course. That noise came again and you flipped back.

‘I’m not stupid! Come on. He’s far away but he’s cute.’

You frowned and tapped the space bar lightly. You were utterly confused. The only activity in your daily life were the general notifications from Tindr. You repeated the question and she sent an emoji rolling its eyes.

‘I’m serious.’ you replied.

She sent a link and then a laughing GIF attached to another bubbled response, ‘I’m not buyin it.’

You clicked on the hyperlink and a new tab opened. You scrolled down on the Insta as the air was knocked out of you at the sight of your own face. Not only were their pics taken from your public profile but several you’d never even posted. Your skin crawled and the bing sounded again.

‘So… an online thing huh.’ Zia pressed on.

‘I gotta work.’ you closed out of the window entirely but stayed on the Insta.

You scrolled through about a dozen or so selfies of you, each labeled as ‘missing my lady’ or ‘she’s so sweet, sending me pics to keep me company’. Your stomached roiled with mortification and the unsettling sensation of intrusion. It was easy enough to guess you’d been hacked but to think this was what the creep did with it was even more startling.

You changed the password on your Insta and went through the process of doing so with all of your accounts and ran a scan on your PC. You would likely have to file a ticket for a proper inspection with a specialist. You couldn’t help but shake as you went back to the profile after checking your bank account and PayPal to make sure it wasn’t worse than just pics.

You went back to the profile and found photos of the culprit. His spiky blond hair and glasses were unsurprising and his comic book tee shirt was even less. Your disgust was quickly replaced with anger as you hit the chat icon above his info.

‘Hey, jackass, care to tell me how you have my photos on your profile?!’

The read icon appeared almost and you saw him typing. It stopped and then started again.

‘You’re so beautiful, I wanted to share it with everyone.’

You scoffed at the message and cringed at the screen. ‘Are you nuts? Like actually. You stole my photos! You hacked me. Creep.’

You blocked him immediately after hitting send and logged out. You opened Excel again and tried to focus on the coloured cells. You could hardly process what you were doing as your phone began to vibe on the corner of your desk. It didn’t let up and you couldn’t focus past the incessant buzzing.

You snatched it up and several messages covered the screen as you unlocked it. ‘You really think that’s gonna work’; ‘You can’t block me’... several in a similar vein that you deleted before blocking the number. You silenced your phone and turned back to your monitor.

Suddenly the screen went black and you blinked. You hit the keyboard and clicked, assuming it fell asleep. It lit up again but all you saw was yourself staring back. Your mouth fell open and you ripped the clip-on cam from atop your monitor. You disconnected it as the notepad opened and typing flicked up across the white space.

‘I didn’t want it to be like this.’

You could move the mouse or backspace. All control was lost and you sat there helplessly watching the scrawl.

‘I think we’d be really good together if you only gave me a chance. Can’t you see I worship you?’

Your phone began to shake constantly and a private number flashed. You picked it up and hollered into the speaker, “leave me alone”. You hung up but it kept on and your screen turned to black once more. Your PC was still on but there was no reaction from the machine.

Fuck, you sat back and looked at your phone. You couldn’t even call work to tell them because the damn thing wouldn’t stop ringing. You put your head in your hands and grunted in frustration. How the fuck did all this happen?

🖱️

After your initial panic died down, you disconnected your tower and shut off your phone. You left your cell behind as it was just as useless. You hauled the PC down to IT at your work and filled out the ticket without giving intricate details on everything the weirdo had taken.

You left with a borrowed laptop. You wouldn’t sign into your personal accounts and stick to the company portal. You were embarrassed but happy to have a temporary solution. You got home and set up the new computer and reconfigured your wi-fi. You finished the last of the day’s work and ended the day with a glass of wine.

When you dared to turn your phone on again the next morning, it was filled with notifications from all platforms but each one you clicked on errored and prompted you to sign-in. All your new passwords were wrong and you knew it was him. 

You checked the Insta and found a screenshot on his profile from the day before, your mouth agape in horror that could easily mistaken for surprise.

‘Her face when you pop the question on the call’. The caption made your stomach curdle and you nearly flung the phone away. You couldn’t comment without logging in or message. So you created a shell account with a throwaway email you used on Reddit.

‘Why won’t you stop?’ you sent the message through as you waited for your coffee to brew.

‘Stop what?’ he added a winky face with his reply and you growled.

‘You know who this is! Why are you doing this?’

‘Hmmm…’ he let the message hang there and you sat down with your mug and listened to the birds outside. ‘Imagine what someone else would do with everything I have.’

‘Look at what you’re doing. You’re ruining my life.’

‘Ruining? Sweetie, I’m watching over you. Protecting you.’

Your nostrils flared and you burnt your tongue on the coffee and planted it on the table so it sloshed over the sides.

‘Love you, sweetie. See ya soon.’

The chat box turned grey as you realised he blocked you. That pissed you off more than anything and you lobbed your phone away with a shout of anguish. This guy was fucked!  

You were shaking so much you couldn’t even drink your coffee. You got up and paced until you could think straight. You dialed into work and told them you were taking the day off for a personal emergency and shut down your phone. You were too afraid he would find a way onto your work laptop and you didn’t want to have to explain that to IT too.

🖱️

Zia showed up on Saturday and she wasn’t happy. She buzzed up and banged on your door impatiently. You let her in and she crossed her arms over the strap of her purse as she crooked her hip.

“I know I shouldn’t have snooped but if you’re mad at me, you should’ve just said so. I would’ve backed off,” she scowled.

“I’m not mad,” you said as you backed into the front room and dragged your feet over the rug.

“Sure, you’re just ignoring all my messages by accident,” she stayed at the other side of the room.

“Not exactly, no,” you shrugged, “it’s a long story.”

“And you couldn’t shoot me a message to say that at least?”

“Look, I’m stressed the fuck out. I’m sorry but the only reason I didn’t answer you is because I can’t.” 

“You can’t?”

“I can’t even turn my phone on anymore.”

“What--”

“Just--” you touched your temples, “I don’t even know how to explain--”

“Jesus, are you okay?” her anger slaked away as her voice softened.

“No, I’m not,” you sniffed, “I’ve been trapped in this apartment and I can’t think straight and I can’t even talk to anyone because my phone and my life is totally fucked.”

“How about we get a coffee and you can tell me once you’ve calmed down,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so worked up.”

“You don’t know how bad it is. I really fucked up,” you whined, “I don’t even know how it happened.”

“Is this about the boyfriend?”

You huffed and shook your head, “I told you, he’s not my boyfriend-- Let me get dressed.”

After you felt presentable enough to leave the apartment, the thought of getting away ushered you down the winding stairwell and onto the sidewalk. You and Zia walked down to the cafe on the corner where you always overspent on their specialty drink and caught up.

You ordered but when you tried to use your card, the machine beeped in rejection. You tried again but still no luck. Zia offered to pay and you promised you’d pay her back. Anxiety pitted deep in your stomach as you sat. You’d have to call the bank and figure out why eight dollars would bounce.

“So,” Zia said as she shaded her eyes against the sunlight streaming onto the open patio, “he’s not your boyfriend?”

“I don’t even know the dude,” you hissed as you almost overturned your cup, “Zee, those pictures, they were all on my phone. I never sent them to anyone. I don’t even know his real name and when I confronted him, he crashed my whole system and blew up my phone. I haven’t been able to log into anything because of him.”

“You’re shitting me,” she chuckled.

“Zee, I’m not fucking kidding,” you blinked, “don’t you think if I was dating some dude out in who knows where, you’d be the first to know? You think I’m wasting my time with the idiots on Tindr for fun?”

“No way,” she scoffed.

“Zia, look me in the eye,” you said as you gave her a stern look, “I’m freaking the fuck out.”

“Did you call the police?” she asked.

You sat back and closed your eyes. You were so swept up in the panic, you hadn’t even thought. You could report it to the police, just get a record of it even if they didn’t do anything else. You heard horror stories of hackers and how little could be done but you had to at least try.

“I guess I should go down to the station today,” you ran your fingertips along your chin, “I don’t know, I felt so alone, I thought--”

“And call your bank right now,” she slid her phone over, “figure out what’s going on with your accounts.”

You took her cell and dialed the number on the back of the card. You dragged your finger down the side of your cup as you listened to the automated message and hit the buttons to direct you to customer service. The hold song bubbled in your head and finally picked up as you finished the last of your mocha.

You explained the issue after giving your information as Zia sat patiently across from you. She watched the other patrons and looked out across the street as you waited on the representative on the other end.

“Looks like your account has been locked. Your savings and checking have been placed on hold citing possible fraud,” the woman explained.

“Well, can’t you unlock them? Why would they be flagged?”

“Hmm, well I see no suspicious spending so possibly… it could be due to an external lock, not us.”

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t speak to that. Have you received any communications from the Revenue service?”

“Revenue service? I don’t--no,” you gulped.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing else I can tell you,” she said, “you should consider contacting federal services.”

You hung up and handed Zia her phone back. “Apparently, I’m under investigation for fraud? I don’t know.”

“Shit,” she took her cell, “are you sure?”

“It sounded like it but-- I gotta check my credit card,” you stood and grabbed your empty cup and your purse.

You stormed down the street to the ATM at the corner and inserted your card. LOCKED the machine made a hideous noise and you pulled out your card in irritation. You put your wallet and touched the sides of your neck as the heat swelled through you.

“I don’t understand--”

“Um, you should see this,” Zia said.

Zia turned her screen towards you and your heart dropped to your toes. There was a picture softened by a blush Insta filter and the caption read, ‘just got into town, surprising bae with flowers’. Over the cluster of petals at the bottom of the image were you and Zia sitting at the cafe patio.

You spun and searched around for any sign of the man and the bouquet. You could hardly breath as it felt like you were being squished between invisible walls. You clapped your hand against the wall and steadied yourself as Zia gently rubbed your arm.

“Let’s go to the station,” you croaked as tears welled in your eyes, “please.”

🖱️

The police told you everything you expected. Even as you showed them the photos and explained how you never met that man in your life, they only offered you words on a piece of paper. They’d file the report and follow-up in case of any further escalation. It was a non-answer, a cold shrug.

Zia went home with you as she offered to stay the night. You gladly accepted and the two of you cozied up on your bed and spent the night watching early 00s rom coms. You found it hard to relax even with her there. You couldn’t stop thinking about how close he’d been without you even knowing.

You at last began to doze off as Reese Witherspoon triumphed and exhausted by the endless maelstrom of dread, you slipped into a deep but perilous sleep. You were locked in limbo between waking and slumber, almost as if you could hear everything around you but remained blind and unknowing all the same.

You woke with a start as you felt like you were falling. You sat up and reached to the other side of the bed. Zia was gone. She must have got up to get water or use the bathroom. You took a breath and turned your legs over the edge. You got up groggily and lumbered across the room, your mouth dry and head aching. Some tylenol and water would do you well.

You hesitated as you noticed the bloom of light just around the corner from your doorway. Zia must be having trouble sleeping, you guessed as you kept on. As you came in sight of the front room, you heard a whimper and you backed up against the wall as tall figure stood before the coffee table. The flowers laid across the wood, slightly crumpled from a struggle.

As Zia whined, he jabbed her with his foot and she grunted around the rag tied around her mouth. Her arms and legs were bound behind her as the man loomed over her. You recognized his blond hair and glasses, the menacing blue eyes as he raised his chin and crossed his arms.

“Been waiting on you,” he stepped over her, “I was disappointed when I realised it was her. Good friend though, hanging around…”

“Don’t hurt her, please. What do you want?”

“You can’t figure that out?” he taunted, “huh, I’m sure you can guess what it will take for me to leave her in one piece.”

Zia wiggled and received another boot. You pushed yourself forward and he stepped closer, predatory as he dropped his arms and clenched then unclenched his fists. He chuckled as you stopped short and gaped up at him.

“She’s cute,” he said, “she can join us if that makes it easier for you.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snarled and winced as he reached out to touch your cheek. You fought not to shove him away, your eyes on Zia’s bound figure.

“Play nice and I will,” he warned, “every time I hurt her, that’s on you. I wish I didn’t have to do this to show you how much I love you.”

You shook your head as your lip trembled. He pressed his palms to your cheek and ran his thumb along your lips. He leaned in and you cowered as you realised how big he was. You didn’t expect that looking at him from the other side of a screen.

“Do we put on a show for her or did you want a little privacy?”

“You won’t get away with this,” you hissed.

“Oh yeah? I locked you out of your social media, your pc, your bank… do you really want to see how far I can take this?”

He smothered your murmured answer with his mouth and kissed you gruffly. He pulled away and looked you in the eye. He bit his lip and hummed.

“So, do we do this here?”

“You’re sick,” you grabbed his hand and wrenched it away from your face. You yanked him and directed him to the bedroom, “you monster.”

“Now come on,” he twisted his wrist around and grabbed your elbow, “I could’ve killed her. Don’t think I won’t.”

You quivered as he forced you back into your bedroom, the street lights casting shadows between your curtains. He flung you ahead of him, as strong as his thick arms would suggest. You stumbled and caught yourself on the side of the bed. You turned as the door slammed and he prowled towards you like a wild cat.

“Well,” he threw his hands up and you caught a glint of light against the lens of his glasses, “you want me to undress you or you think you can handle that, sweetie?”

You puffed in repulsion and looked away from him. Even in the dark, you could feel his eyes on you. You jittered as you reached to the neck of your loose tee and slowly raised it over your head. You dropped it to crumple on the floor and you touched the top of your shorts. You heard him moving around and shied away as he flipped the switch and light shone across the room.

You pushed down your shorts as you heard a thump from the next room. His jaw twitched as his eyes lingered on you and he reluctantly glanced away. He swung the door open and stormed out into the front room. You went to the door and heard his snarl.

“Stop fucking moving,” he rasped, “every time I have to tell you, I’ll pop another out.”

Zia gave a muffled sob as you heard a sickly crack and you hurried to look around the wall into the room. He blocked your sight with his broad chest and pointed you back to the room.

“I didn’t say you could leave the room,” he spun you and slapped your bare ass, “fast, fast, fast… before I lose my patience.”

Your skin stung from the strike and you tripped through the doorway as he followed quickly. Another slam and he poked you further into the room with his knuckle. You stepped away from him and tried to cover yourself as you faced him in horror.

He quickly swooped his shirt over his head and revealed a buff chest thick with blond hair. He kicked off his shoes and fumbled to undo his fly. He tilted his head as he looked you over and groped himself through his jeans.

“You know what to do,” he said, “I’ve seen the way you touch yourself… cyber security 101, cover your webcam.”

You shuddered as he beckoned you closer. He stopped you and put your hands on the waist of his jeans. He leaned in and nuzzled your temple as his hot breath seeped into your goosebumped skin.

“My turn,” he pushed on your hands until you pulled down the denim on your own strength.

He stepped out of his jeans and snapped the elastic of his boxers. You stood and latched onto those shakily. He ran his fingers along your arms as you pulled them past his erection and they fell to the floor with a whisper. You didn’t look down, instead staring past him as his hand swept up to cup your tits.

His fingers crawled up your chest and his hands wrapped around your neck. He squeezed and turned you so that your back was to the bed. He marched you backwards as you felt his dick bobbing between your bodies. You gasped as he pushed you down onto your mattress, your legs dangling over the edge as he came up to straddle you.

“Such a good girl,” he taunted, “look at you… I bet you’re wet already.”

He pulled a hand away and stroked his length as he raised himself on his knees. He clung to your neck as he leaned over you and planted his hand on the bed above you. He hovered his dick over your head and you closed your eyes.

“Put it in your mouth,” he ordered, “now, or I’m putting it in your ass.”

You reached up blindly and angled his tip against your lips. He dipped his hips down and you choked as he prodded at your throat. Your legs twitched as he forced his cock past your gag reflex and your whole body tensed at the intrusion.

He balanced on the hand above your head and the one on your neck. He thrust harder and harder as sloppy sucking reverberated around the room between his dark groans.

“That’s it,” he purred, “look at you taking my cock. I can only imagine how tight that cunt of yours is.”

Your eyes welled and you flicked your lashes as you tried to bat them away. You kept your hand at the base of his dick as you tried to ease his motion. He ignored your reluctance and only delved deeper as he brought himself to his limit, your lips touching the fuzz along his pelvis.

When you couldn’t breath, you slapped his hard stomach and he reared out of you abruptly. You coughed up spit as he sat back on his heels and released you. He huffed as he looked down at his glistening dick and climbed off of you.

“Stand up, turn around,” he snarled as his eyes flashed. 

His glasses were low on his nose and he slipped them off entirely and folded them up on your night table. He squinted as he watched you stand and turn stiffly. He smacked his hand in the middle of your back and pushed you over impatiently. He stepped closer and tapped his tip against your cunt as you were exposed to him.

He bent his legs and poked along your slick folds. You were wet enough for him to glide in and fill you up completely. He was so big it was painful and you arched your back as you tried to take it. He pulled back and slammed into you harshly. You let out a garble and he repeated the motion, taking you off your feet.

He leaned over you and grabbed your knees, lifting them on the bed as he urged you forward. His hand brushed up over your ass and he pressed between your shoulder blades until your face was flush to the mattress, your arms bent around you like a broken doll.

He thrust again and the loud slap made you wince. He jerked his hips roughly until he found his motion, rutting into you with hissy breaths as his other hand groped your ass. He hummed as your body shook before him, ruled by his touch as your walls clenched him.

He pushed his thumb down between your cheeks and circled your asshole. You strained and lifted your head in alarm. His other hand quickly stretched over your crown and pinned your face to the bed. He felt along your cunt and slickened his thumb before trailing back to your puckered ring.

He pushed lightly at first and as he broke through you gasped and whined. You gripped the blankets as he moved his thumb in and out of you, his hips still rocking steadily into you. He slid his thumb out entirely and prodded with two fingers instead. Before you could react, he forced them inside and you cried out in surprise and pain.

“I know you want it, sweetheart,” he groaned, “I can feel…” he kept fucking you, “I can fucking hear it.”

Your holes tightened around you as he carried the pace. A new pressure began to bloom inside of you, unlike anything you’d felt before. The burning in your ass and the stretching of your cunt mingled to an agonized bliss. You sobbed into the blankets as you came uncontrollably around him, shamed by the unwanted release.

“Fuck,” he drew out the word as both his hand and his hips sped up, “look at you cumming for me. Cumming for this creep.”

You moaned and curled your fingers around the duvet tighter. You felt the same knotting deep inside and you came again as he reached a tantamount. This time, you gushed around his cock and felt the deluge down your thighs as the noise grew wetter and louder.

“Look at you, sweetheart, you can’t handle it, can you?” He snorted as he sucked in a breath suddenly and his hips staggered.

He pushed his fingers deeper and kept them there as he fucked you as hard as he could. He slammed into your cunt over and over. Your hips throbbed with each tilt of his pelvis and you smothered your cries as you felt him coat your walls in his release. 

He stopped just as suddenly and dragged his fingers out of your ass. He leaned against you until your legs collapsed and fell onto you with a sigh. He covered your body with his as his shallow breaths hazed around you. 

Your own heart raced as you stretched your arms out stiffly and quivered. You tried to pull yourself from beneath him. He kept you pinned under his weight and jolted you with a cruel thrust.

“Oh, we’re not done, sweetheart,” he muttered along the shell of your ear, “not even close.”

[star-anise]

I read your post about trauma and I'm trying to make sense of my parents treatment of me as well as my own diagnoses. Is anxiety itself trauma? Or a result of trauma? Its the stress response itself not calming down. I think I was and am emotionally neglected. My parents are not sympathetic. I'm adhd anxiety depression my whole life. That post about learning new social situation techniques really resonated. What are the treatments for neglect? Besides plain old cbt and mindfulness and anti anxiety meds

Trigger warning: Child abuse, child neglect, emotional neglect

Anxiety can happen because of a wide variety of reasons, from medical to situational to genetic. It could happen out of the blue to a totally healthy adult. Or it might be a symptom of trauma and a bad childhood. PTSD used to be classified as a kind of anxiety disorder, but we now understand it's a lot more complicated.

I'm very sorry your family aren't sympathetic and don't get what's up with you. I want to make it very clear that it is not your fault that they aren't sympathetic.

It's not your fault for not explaining things clearly enough. It's not your fault for not being a more lovable child. It's not your fault for being emotional or oversensitive. It's not your fault for not communicating your needs in a way they can hear. Their treatment of you is not your fault.

That's important not just because it feels good to be absolved of blame. It's not a meaningless platitude. It's a nicer coating on what can sometimes be a very bleak truth. That truth is:

There is nothing you can do to make your family be sympathetic to you.

I am so, so, so sorry. You can spend your entire life turning backflips, you can learn interpretive dance, you can become the world's leading expert in your field, you can get hit by a car and find out you have cancer, you can be as sympathetic and understanding about their reasons for neglecting you as they could possibly want, you could do everything in your power to be a good child, and none of that will ever give you the power to make your parents be sympathetic to you and what you've been through.

Sometimes parents do learn and grow and change and work to repair the damage done while their kids were children. But that's because of their own issues and experiences and reasons, not because of anything their children have done. Many parents keep being oblivious and neglectful even when their children have become everything a parent could ever hope for.

Actually, an amazing number of my adult neurodivergent friends have had the absolutely excruciating experience of hearing their parents say, in essence, "Hey adult child! The other day someone I respect way more than you told me about [your condition], and I was astonished! They told me that thing you've been telling me for years, and it blew my mind. I now realize that this is a real part of your life! Wow, it sure would have made a difference if I'd done that thing you've been begging me to do for years now, huh? Hey, have you heard about this handy behavioural technique you've been doing every goddamn day of your adult life? It sounds like it would really help!"

Like, even if your parents ever Get It about your specific disorders and conditions, they're extremely likely to salvage their self-esteem by refusing to ever seriously acknowledge how much it's hurt that they've failed you.

And what that means is: You have to plan the rest of your life as if they will never be sympathetic.

That might mean never giving them any say over your medical care or personal life choices. It might mean not living with them, not turning to them when you need a supportive community, or not letting them play a large role in the lives of any children you yourself may have. It might mean having to build your own support network that doesn't include your family at all, because you can't count on them to care when you're in distress. It can really suck to have to keep giving up the dream that one day you'll be able to count on your family to nurture you emotionally, but I promise that it sucks less than being continually disappointed with no backup plan.

Researching emotional neglect can be really difficult because a lot of the best research psychology as a field has achieved on the topic comes from really extreme forms of neglect and abuse. Exactly the kind of neglect and abuse that society waves in the face of the "merely" emotionally neglected: "So what if you didn't get hugged enough! You had enough to eat, a roof over your head, and they never hit you! They weren't even mean or malicious! Stop whining!"

And... look, if you've just broken your legs and you're in a wheelchair, who would you rather learn about using a wheelchair from: someone who can easily walk everywhere all the time, or a double amputee who's been using a wheelchair for years? The first person can probably get around more easily, but the second one can tell you a lot more about the specific challenges and skills that will be central to this phase of your life.

That's the frame I propose for research: Your life might not have been as bad as the case studies you read (though it's probably worse than your family is willing to admit, because invalidation is itself a form of emotional neglect, and this is so common there's even a poem about it) but the issues they encounter and the skills they require are probably useful to you, too.

With that in mind, check out books about early childhood neglect and trauma like The Boy Who Was Raised as a Dog by Bruce Perry, which talks about the parts of the brain and developmental stages that can be impaired by toxic stress in childhood, and the various forms of treatment that can address each one.

As far as CBT, remember to focus on behaviour, not just cognition. Reading about using touch to self-soothe is good, but less powerful than using that knowledge to find a blanket you love to touch, and wrapping yourself up in it whenever you're upset. Neglect means that you failed to get repeated, predictable experiences of being comforted. Healing therefore means getting that practice in as an adult: Creating thousands of daily, repetitive experiences of being cared about. Caring about yourself, and finding people who will care about you.

Maybe also give Dialectical Behaviour Therapy workbooks a try? They're designed for Borderline Personality Disorder, which can be seen as a specific subset of complex trauma. Like, if the effects of childhood abuse and neglect were a rainbow, BPD might be red-orange. But what makes DBT useful is that it has examined which skills and coping mechanisms vital to emotional health people with BPD most commonly weren't taught/never learned/need more practice on. The curriculum might not overlap completely with your own needs if you fall into the yellow, green, blue, or violet aspects of C-PTSD, but it's a good starting place when you're inventorying skills and habits you want to strengthen.

Good luck? I hope this helps!