#It's been 11 years now and things are better but damn

[mulholland-driver]

Nomad's Lament

I breathe in sun, Now I breathe out ice. And I wish I could be enjoying The familiar aroma of pumpkin spice.

But I can't.

Because I'm numb And I'm torn Didn't ask To be born, And I'm cracking My teeth Between smokes.

But I'm stoked

For the scantily clad life That awaits me Because all this time, I've only been trying To Escape Me. To break free From this life And this town And its staunch crowd That Hates Me.

My teachers The stress My parents The mess I held on And I bent And I broke.

But I meant Every word I've written Since the day you came. Finding myself smitten With each vowel in your name.

A-E-I-O You are all I think about, Even though I'm just Queen of the concrete now.

Homeless, day one Still feels like A freedom run. All alone, I am Second To None.

[roosterforme]

Mr. Right Now Part 11 | Hangman x Reader

Summary: As soon as you told Jake you wanted him to come find you, there was no stopping him. He couldn't make you need him the same way he needed you, but he would take care of whatever made you cry. When you hurt Jake, you hurt yourself, too. He deserved an apology that you were ready to give him, and then he gave you more than you could have hoped for.

Warnings: angst, adult language, fluff, 18+

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Why is Jake on my masterlist!? Mr. Right Now masterlist

Jake whipped along the dark, quiet streets of Coronado before crossing the bay bridge at twenty over the speed limit in his truck. You called him. He thought his number never even made it into your phone, but after almost two weeks, you called him. Your voice sounded distraught, but when he went out on a limb, suggesting he come find you himself, you readily agreed. Now he just needed to figure out why you were upset and make sure you weren't hurt.

"Come on," he growled at the red light where he needed to turn left. There wasn't much traffic this late, but it still had been fifteen minutes since you called, and he didn't want to keep you waiting. Not when he heard the tears in your voice. Not when he missed you so much, it felt like part of him was lost.

Something must have happened. If he had done a better job with you, maybe you'd have been back at his place again tonight, safe and sound. That was exactly what he wanted. He hadn't cracked open a college textbook in almost eight years, but that didn't stop him from imagining you doing your classwork on his couch while he offered his two cents here and there. He'd been so damn desperate to feel as good as he had when you were there two weekends ago, he ordered himself your favorite kind of pizza tonight. If he thought it tasted bad before, it was a hundred times worse without you on his lap teasing him.

When he made it to your campus, he found the street you told him over the phone, and he drove a little slower, eyes darting from one side of the street to the other. He was tempted to call your number back to be sure he was on the right track when his gaze caught on a bench across the next intersection. 

It was you. Your head was in your hands, staring at the ground, but he recognized your Converse sneakers as soon as his headlights shone on them. You had on the cutest dress imaginable, and all Jake wanted to do was make sure you were okay.

He pulled his truck up to the curb and killed the engine, and you looked up at him as soon as he hopped out. You were illuminated by a streetlamp, shivering on the bench, and he ran to get to you faster. Tears streaked your cheeks as you stared up at him like he wasn't real, and he sank down onto his knees on the rough sidewalk at your feet.

"Darlin'," he whispered as more tears filled your eyes. "Tell me what's wrong."

You only got one word out before fresh tears fell. "Jake."

He scooted a little closer, and you let him take your hand in his. "You can trust me. I meant it when I said that." As he ran his thumb along your knuckles, he added, "If you tell me what's wrong, I'll try to fix it."

You hung your head and took a deep breath. "I'm such an idiot." Your eyes were closed, long lashes resting on your damp cheeks as you whispered, "I shouldn't have bothered you. Can you just give me a ride back to my dorm?"

"Hey," he coaxed, giving your hand a little squeeze. "I'll make sure you get back safely, but I can't help with whatever caused the tears unless you tell me what happened."

Your eyes fluttered open as you licked your lips. They parted in silence, and Jake was close enough now to feel your warm breath on his cheek. You were hesitating. Reluctant. You were never like this with him before. He was used to you making demands and walking around his place like you owned it, and he found that was how he preferred things. But he waited for you to speak, simply stroking your knuckles with his thumb until you were ready.

"Cooper happened. And it was awful."

Even the name made Jake's skin crawl. He'd been thinking about that stupid kid since the first time you mentioned him, but right now, anger burned just beneath the surface of his skin as he asked, "What did he do to you?" When you tried to hide your face, Jake ran his palm along your cheek and guided your gaze back to his. "Did he hurt you, Darlin'?"

The sentence hung in the air as Jake's throat grew tight. One more tear slid down your cheek as he examined your beautiful face, and you pressed your quivering lips together. Your lack of response was enough for him to get to his feet, and he pulled you up from the bench as well. He tried his best to stay calm, but he could hear the anger in his voice when he asked, "Where is he? I will fucking destroy him."

You responded by taking a step closer until your cheek was resting on his chest, and Jake wrapped his arms around you. Some of his rage melted away at your touch. Goosebumps covered your arms as you shivered, and he couldn't help but kiss your forehead. Maybe that gesture was why you finally spoke more than a few words, or maybe it was because you could still feel the anger inside him. Either way, Jake held you close as you said, "Cooper did exactly what I gave him permission to do. No need to destroy him."

"Did he hurt you?" he asked again, needing a straight answer.

"No."

"Do you want me to beat the shit out of him anyway?"

You laughed in spite of your tears, and the sound made Jake's heart clench in his chest. "Kind of. But it's all my fault for being so stupid."

"Look at me," Jake said softly. He waited until you did before he said, "You're not stupid. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way when I called you naive. You're young, but you're not stupid."

"I am though," you replied immediately, hand coming up to rest on his chest. "You were so sweet to me. A perfect gentleman. A perfect weekend. And then I just fucking threw it in your face and had sex with Cooper."

Jake let out the breath he had been holding. He wasn't really surprised. That was your main goal the whole time, and you were a good student. You knew what you wanted, and you went for it. But some twenty year old dipshit wasn't going to be able to handle your level of class. He'd been trying to show you that all along. "Let me guess, Darlin'. Cooper wasn't a perfect gentleman?"

You shook your head, and Jake leaned down to kiss your cheek. "It was terrible," you told him. "I just... I messed up somehow."

"Fuck," Jake murmured, hoping the answer to his next question didn't make him want to pull the bench out of the ground and throw it across the street. "Did he use a condom?"

Your eyes were sincere in the glow from the streetlight. "Of course I made sure he used a condom." You bit your lip and added, "You're the only one who can fuck me without one. That was lesson number twelve."

Even the thought made him dizzy. "Just me," he grunted. 

Jake hadn't stopped wanting you for a minute since you kissed him at the bar, but tonight, he found you sitting on a bench on a sketchy side street, crying over another guy. And that really fucking hurt. But at least you made sure Cooper used a condom. At least you were safe.

"He was nothing like you were," you whispered, and he held you tighter. "I asked him for some extra foreplay, and he didn't know how to touch me. I told him I liked oral sex, but he just automatically assumed I'd go down on him instead. I can't believe I did all of this so wrong."

When you tried to remove your hand from his chest, he covered it with his own. "You didn't do anything wrong. I can promise you that. Maybe... you just don't belong with that asshole." Jake sighed and fought the urge to kiss your lips, because he knew you belonged with him, even if you weren't quite there yet. "As long as you're okay, I'll take you back to your dorm. But... maybe in a couple days or a few weeks, when you think you're done crying over Cooper... maybe you'd consider calling me again?" Your eyes went wide as he added, "I really am done with the tag chasers. I haven't been with anyone since you. I think you were my final straw in admitting to myself I wanted something more. Because being with you felt perfect."

"Jake!" you gasped loudly. "I'm not crying over Cooper. I'm crying over how badly I messed things up with you!"

Jake's brow furrowed. "Oh." Now he felt like the idiot. He also felt a little light headed as you leaned in closer.

"I'm so sorry for making you feel cheap," you whispered, eyes shimmering with more tears. "Because you're not. I didn't mean it. I got scared of how much we did together in such a short amount of time. But it was unbelievable how special you made me feel." When he tried to say something, you shook your head before you touched your lips gently to his and asked, "Was it just a normal weekend for you, or did you feel as good as I did? And I'm definitely not just talking about the physical stuff."

"Darlin'," he whispered, wiping your tears away as they fell. "It was the best weekend of my life. And not just the sex. It was never just the sex." You kissed him tentatively again, lips barely touching his before you started to pull away, but Jake chased you for another one. And another one. And then you were smiling against his lips as he said, "I'm really happy you called me, Darlin'."

"Me, too. I missed you."

When he finally broke the kiss, he asked, "You're sure you got Cooper out of your system?"

"I'm so sure," you said softly, never breaking eye contact.

"Then let's get out of here."

Jake ushered you to his truck with his arm around your waist. "Are you taking me back to my dorm?" you asked when he opened the door for you.

"Nah. You're spending the weekend with me. Where you belong."

-----------------------------

Walking back through Jake's front door felt like going home. He held your hand the whole ride over, and when you told him you might need some things from your dorm room, he promised to take you back there in the morning to get whatever you wanted. Then he smirked and added, "But you wore everything from my dresser and made yourself at home last time you were here. You can do that again while we make up for being apart last weekend."

Now that you were standing in his living room where everything looked and felt familiar, you closed your eyes and let him hold you. "I missed you so much," you whispered. "I thought about calling or texting you so many times, it's not even funny. Then I told myself there was no way you'd forgive me."

Jake sighed deeply. "I was terrified that I didn't save my number in your phone before the battery died. I thought I'd never hear from you again. I missed you so much, I even stopped by the Hard Deck last weekend to see if you went there by chance."

Your gaze settled on the pizza box on the coffee table, and when you tried to reach for it, Jake grabbed your hand. You looked up at him, and when you tried one more time to open the lid, he wrapped you in a tighter hug and tried to walk across the living room with you in his arms.

"What kind of pizza is that, Jake?" you asked, tone playfully accusatory. 

This man literally picked you up from a bench on your school campus after you slept with a loser your own age, and he'd once again done nothing except show you respect and affection the whole evening. And now you could feel how easily you and he were falling back into the playful bubble you'd existed in two weeks ago. It was exquisite. This time you weren't going to burst it.

"Come on, Darlin'," he groaned, letting go of your hand so you could investigate the pizza box for yourself. "I couldn't help myself."

"Ha!" you said once you had it open. "My favorite kind!"

Jake's cheeks were pink as he nodded while you pointed at the half eaten pizza on the coffee table. "I told you I missed you," he whispered, and you stumbled back into his arms. "I've been sleeping with my window open so I could listen to the ocean, but it's better with you there. Everything is. The pizza was bad enough before, but it tasted like shit when I ate it alone. I didn't even want to stay in the tub until the water got cold the other day. I only lasted like five minutes"

Your eyes went wide. "You broke one of your own rules?" When he nodded, you kissed his cheek and asked, "Can we take a bath together now?"

His expression melted into a smile. "Go get it started while I get us some drinks."

Lighter than air, you practically floated down the hallway to his bedroom. Everything was tidy like you remembered it. He had some clean laundry folded on his dresser, and when you ran your hand along the soft cotton of his undershirts, you paused. Your black thong was sitting there as well. Excitement welled up inside you, because he never got rid of it. Your fingers wrapped around the lace and you carried it into the bathroom with you, excitement building further as soon as you saw the green toothbrush you used was still there, right next to Jake's. He held onto both of them since you were here last.

These were things a boyfriend would do. You were sure of it. When Jake strolled in with a Sam Adams in one hand and stemware filled with ice water in the other, you were holding your underwear and the toothbrush to your chest. He kissed your cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world before saying, "I thought you were going to fill the tub."

"I was," you replied, making no move to do anything as he set the drinks down on the sink vanity. He smiled when he saw what you were holding, and then he opened the cabinet to pull out two towels and some washcloths. There was no new box of condoms inside. None at all.

"You're really done with the tag chasers?" you blurted out, toothbrush digging into the palm of your hand.

Jake looked up at you and nodded as he turned the water on to fill the tub. "Yeah. To be honest, I think I was done with them as soon as I picked up your fake ID from the floor." His green eyes were earnest as he stood tall again and reached for you. "Now, can we make this water as hot as possible? So it'll take longer to cool down? Once we start snuggling, I'm not going to want to get out."

His fingers were teasing along the strap of your dress at your shoulder as you finally set down your thong and your toothbrush. Then you let Jake undress you as the bathroom started to get steamy. The part inside you that was still afraid he wouldn't want you now was soothed by his words and his big hands on your bare skin.

"Climb on in, Darlin'."

You watched him undress from the comfort of the bath, and he handed you both drinks before he turned off the brighter lights in favor of the softer ones. Then he climbed in with you, and his arm was around your body immediately, guiding you to settle between his legs. 

You sipped your water while he sipped his Sam Adams, and the two of you smiled at each other before you asked, "Are you sure you want me to spend the night?"

He hummed into his beer bottle before taking another sip and setting it aside. "I'm going to want you here as much as possible." His words were so simple, but so full of possibility. He felt the same way you did. You were sure of it now. But you had to sip your water to take time to collect your thoughts.

"Well, I have work to do for my classes," you finally said, and he took the glass from your hand and discarded it.

"I can try to help you with it," he replied, both hands on your body once more. "Or maybe I can learn something new. You can be the teacher."

Your heart was beating a nervous rhythm even as you curled up against him with your head on his shoulder and your fingers in his chest hair. "Maybe we should buy more condoms tomorrow or Sunday?" you asked quietly. Nothing about the current state of things felt sexual, but you were still a tiny bit scared he would reject you in that way because of Cooper. But his lips found your forehead while he traced a little heart on your thigh.

"Sure. We can do that." He tipped your chin up so you were looking at him. His expression was serious as he softly said, "But the two of us don't need to have sex to be intimate and have a good time together. You have a lot more than that to offer, Darlin'. I do, too."

You thought back to all the little moments you and he shared in between hooking up. Making out on the couch and laughing together. Eating pizza and falling asleep in his arms. Those were the best parts. "I don't know what you did, but you made all of it so good. Every minute of the entire weekend."

He seemed to relax more as he accepted your words. "It was never just fucking to me. Not since the first night when you trusted me enough to sleep over. And certainly not since I asked you if you wanted it to be sex or something more. That was us making love."

You whimpered before his lips met yours, and you kissed him hard as you let your wet fingers drag through his soft hair. "It was perfect," you said against his mouth before you pulled away an inch.

His forehead was pressed to yours as he murmured, "You're perfect. You always were." His lips brushed yours as he added, "But yeah, after I take you out for lunch tomorrow and we stop by your dorm for whatever you need, we can get more condoms. I would enjoy that immensely."

"You better not get me pregnant before I graduate from college," you joked.

Jake snorted. "I better not get you pregnant anytime soon. I haven't even met your parents yet."

"You want to meet my parents?" you asked in surprise. 

You were perched on his lap awaiting a response as Jake leaned back against the tub. His gaze lingered on every part of your face before he casually asked, "Which lesson were we on?"

He was being coy and sweet and sincere, and all of your feelings were right there at the surface now. "Are you serious right now?" you asked, poking him in the abs. When he nodded, you said, "We were on number thirteen."

"Right. Lucky number thirteen. My favorite one," he crooned, offering up nothing else.

After another beat, you poked him again and said, "Spit it out, Jake. What's the lesson?"

"Smartass," he muttered. The water was starting to cool down now, and when you shivered, he just held you a little closer. "Lesson thirteen is more for me than for you." He paused to kiss you before saying, "I'm feeling like I don't want to be with anyone else. Just you. Make this a permanent thing. Think you can humor me by labeling it?"

"Yes," you replied so quickly that he was laughing when your lips crashed against his.

--------------------------------

Jake wrapped you up in one of the towels, and the two of you brushed your teeth side by side. You already knew where everything was, and without prompting, you rooted around in his dresser drawers until you found something you wanted to wear. Then you climbed into his bed like you knew without a doubt you'd always be welcome there, and he turned off the lights.

"Jake," you whined softly, patting the empty spot next to you in the glow from the moonlight. When he didn't immediately move, you added, "Get in bed with me."

But he took the time to admire you as he slid the window open another few inches. The sound of the ocean had a calming effect on him again now that you were back, and he felt more peaceful. You belonged here with him. When you reached for his hand, he let you tug him toward the bed with a smile on his face. He belonged with you, too.

"That's better," you whispered, melting into him as soon as he had his arms around you under the blanket. "Good night, Jake." 

"Night, Darlin'." He was ready to keep you warm all night and spend the weekend showing you that he made an excellent boyfriend. "I love you."

---------------------------------

Jake and Darlin' pulled it together in the end. Thank you for reading my fic about intimacy, consent, trust and knowing your worth. I loved every second of writing this. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls

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[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 5 - Meet The Adams Family

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The first thing you’d done when you woke up, still somehow in the Wayne manor, was pull out not-your phone and check the date. When it tells you that you are not, in fact, in some weird version of a time loop, you feel some measure of relief. The second thing you do is look your own damn name up on Google. There were over 3 million results. You have a Wikipedia page. If that hadn’t made you want to gag, the press from last night had you bumbling your way into the ensuite bathroom and puking into the toilet.

It’s still sitting on the bathroom floor, nauseous and achy and sweaty, your mouth washed out but still tasting foul, that you continue your research.

It’s just as you had suspected, your family was dead. Still dead. Well, shit. In the light of day, you supposed that made more sense. That there was no real reason to assume otherwise. You hadn’t for most of yesterday, but as soon as you’d thought that maybe there was a chance, your hopes had been dashed. Which was good, rip the bandaid off and all.

It was good. Things were good. They were fine, you were fine. You really wish you were a better liar.

Again you wash your mouth out. Root around the cabinets for some medical-grade mouthwash, do it again, and then you throw yourself into the shower. Again. You notice the soap smells like whoever’s clothes you stole. Refreshing and awakening, that mint and earth again. You think you can detect something floral in it too. It’s still masculine, but…

Wow, you are such a freak! You put down the fucking soap and manage to resist the urge to slam your head into the tiles. Your headache was bad enough already.

When you leave the bathroom, you glance at the door, and then down at your towel. Guess you’re stealing some more apparel. You find a Superman shirt, give it a judging glance, and then pick out a black T-shirt with ‘The Beatles’ across the front, and some sweatpants. You have to roll up the pant legs so you don’t trip and fall flat on your face.

One hand scrolling through Twitter and TikTok and Reddit and every single piece of social media you could find, getting the people’s source of news and you get the high overlords’ one when you turn on the huge TV attached to the wall. The remote kind of confuses you at first, but you manage to find the good ol’ Gotham news channel.

Immediately, you’re greeted by your miserable mascara-streaked face. You turn the TV off. You take a deep breath. Turn it back on. Luckily it’s not just you getting your private moment of trauma blasted open in the media. Your party had been filled with Gotham’s elite, after all. You weren’t the only rich idiot left crying by the side of the road.

You weren’t the only one who had to suffer. There had been twenty-eight casualties, in total. A small amount, considering the man behind the deaths. The Joker wasn’t known for his cleanliness. You tell yourself that, and yet still, you can’t make them just numbers. They’d been standing right next to you, after all. All in the same boat, all waiting for the axe to swing, secretly hoping you’re the one who lives to the next day. Only one of the party guests had been shot, and that’s because you think they’d personally pissed off the Joker. That’s what Twitter says, anyway. There were multiple video recordings of the altercation, and it didn’t look like he’d been the smartest banana in the bunch. The TV is a lot sweeter on the dead soul.

You feel sorry for all the dead. You still don’t think this rich heir should be the face you see, though. When you check his name, you find several forgotten assault cases. Assault, rape, just like that disappearing bastard had tried to do to you. That female janitor you’d seen shot had done more for this city than that guy ever had.

Did her family know? Did she have a family? Someone to mourn her? You’d never thought about that before. How many people out there wouldn’t have anyone to even remember them?

It’s none of your business, in the end.

After a whiles more research, you switch the TV off and tuck your cracked phone into the sweatpants. You know where your mother’s grave is, on the west side of the estate. Wikipedia knew all, which was now kind of creepy to you as it knew all about you as well. Really, you couldn’t believe it. Your mother, buried with the Waynes? You’d always thought she should find someone new, someone who’d appreciate her, unlike your father who had dipped as soon as Sam was born.

You couldn’t even remember the guy. Still, you remembered that he’d smelled bad and made your Mum do everything, and was just generally all around the worst choice for a husband.

But, Jesus Christ, Bruce Wayne? Absolute insanity. You had no idea how the two of them would’ve even met. Let alone fall in love and get married. Your mother was one of the loveliest women on earth but… they had absolutely nothing in common, other than having troublesome kids. And you hadn’t seen her getting lovey-dovey with the other PTA mums.

You walk out of the room you’ve borrowed and into the hallway. In the light of day, the Wayne manor is much less creepy, and you can find it in yourself to appreciate the antique space. Warm sunlight falls over dark oak furniture, illuminating your bare feet as you walk along the Persian rug. Your fingers trail along all the tiny little decorations, some annoying part of you demanding you leave traces of yourself behind. Your fingerprints dirty an old clock, a golden candelabra, a lamp and a tiny spinning globe.

You might’ve gotten lost in a place this huge if you couldn’t hear people’s voices floating down the halls. They were too far away for you to be able to tell what they were saying, but you could still hear them. They’re to the west, so you’re definitely going to have to go past them.

You follow the voices and eventually come to a stop in a hallway. You can smell food. Good, real food. The type that makes your instant-ramen-powered body salivate. The people are in the kitchen, right around the corner. You duck your head and quickly sneak past the mostly closed doorway. On the other side, you pause, your curious self unable to leave just yet.

“She needs help,” Bruce says, and you mentally curse. Balls. You didn’t want to hear this. You guess this was instant karma for snooping. Maybe they weren’t talking about you?

Why did that sound very unlikely…

“She went through a lot last night,” he continues, which, well, yes, you did go through a lot, “And he said that she saw a woman get shot right in front of her. It makes sense if she doesn’t want to talk yet.”

He? Who’s he? Who ratted you out? Wait, dumb question, the four other witnesses who saw the janitor get shot. You were still pretty sure the Waynes weren’t supposed to know that, but everybody knew those GCPD pigs were always just a dollar away from whatever you wanted them to do. It’s not surprising that the Waynes know details only the police should know at the moment.

…It is a bit disappointing, though. You chose to have hope in them, that they’d gotten that information legally. Your fatal obsession with the Waynes wasn’t going to disappear after one miserable party. You wished it would.

“She was acting strange before that,” Timothy Jackson Drake’s smooth voice drifts from the kitchen. You were still a little starry-eyed over him, which was… bad, you think. It’d definitely make whatever relationship the two of you had been forced into a whole lot more difficult. It did not need to be any more difficult.

“Are you accusing her of something?” Bruce Thomas Wayne’s voice is gravelly in comparison, angry, maybe. Also, ‘accusing’? What could he even be accusing you of? It was pretty obvious you weren’t capable of anything nefarious, you were far too stupid for that. You were a plastic bag drifting along the Gotham river, barely able to affect which direction you flowed in.

“God no. And I definitely wouldn’t do it with her listening, that’d be rude.”

Your breath hitches, and you push off from the wall. Busted, damn. Your face feels unbelievably hot. As you leave, you can hear Mr Wayne scolding his adopted son. You walk until you can’t hear their voices anymore, and then a little further, finding an exit door.

You stumble out onto a stone staircase, probably a servants’ one in the olden days. You move down it, hand gripping the railing. You’re barely conscious of where you’re going. There’s a path that leads away from the stone manor and further into the estate, and you follow it. When you spot a small gated area, with stone obelisks and angel statues, you veer off the path and onto the grass.

Hissing out a breath, it’s only now you realise you went outside without any shoes on. Your toes curl in the cold, wet grass. It’s a miserable feeling, and you want to walk right back inside. And then you think about the awkward conversation waiting for you, take a breath and keep going. The gates swing open easily under your hand, the golden embossed ‘W’ glinting in the light.

A guardian angel stands before you. Its stone face is disapproving, glaring down at you from above. ‘Interloper,’ it calls you, but you move past it without pausing. It’s pretty obvious which graves are the new ones and which are the old ones. They’re all clean and well-kept, but the ones to the left have dates going back hundreds of years, and the ones to the right only decades. Your eyes follow the rows of graves. Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne…

Your breath whistles out of you, nearly muffled by the grey morning wind.

And your mother. She has a different last name, now another Wayne. Your siblings don’t, which makes sense. You’re surprised to find many of your extended family also in this graveyard. Your grandmother. Your uncle and aunt. A few of your cousins.

It’s cold this morning, and you’re out here with only a thin T-shirt on. Shivering, you rub your palms against your bare arms. It doesn’t do much. Still, you don’t want to go inside yet. Instead, you crouch in front of Sam’s grave, eyes reading the tiny epitaph. It’s not the one you wrote.

‘Beloved Son and Brother.’

Simple, clean-cut, formal… unfamiliar, you suppose. Yours had been much more flowery, ‘All the colour in the world is gone without you’. It was a bit silly, but you’d never said you were a poet. You’d just known you’d wanted something that represented them, if poorly.

Sam was a beloved son and brother. But that wasn’t who he chose to be. He liked colours. He’d change his favourite every other day, so he liked everything rainbow. It made it easier to choose which one he’d like next, he said. You were always buying him more and more coloured pencils because he’d wear them all down to the tips, he dyed the cat a bright red headache, much to your mother’s horror, and considered it his personal job to make every single birthday, christmas, and easter card. He’d paint on the walls in washable markers, and you’d often been the one to volunteer to help him get it all down. In school, he always had the best art project out of the entire class, even if you were slightly biased.

He was a colourful kid. He wasn’t… a plain grey tombstone. Nothing to help remember him, because you were always losing more and more of their precious memories.

The others had similarly impersonal graves. Just what they were, not who. Mother, sister. Nothing that spoke of how they’d lived their lives, what the world had lost when they’d died. It was… you didn’t think it was right. It was a disaster, really. Even when you’d had to rely on the Wanye Foundation donations, you’d managed a better resting place than this.

You suppose you’d never gotten them into the Wayne family’s personal graveyard, though. That was a bit of an upgrade, you guess.

“You need to come back inside. You’re worrying my father.”

“Jesus Christ!” you shriek, leaping backward. Your foot catches on one of the cobblestones, and you end up tipping back farther than you mean to, your ass bruising against the ground. You bump another gravestone, and there’s a horrible moment where it gives a little and you think it’s going to knock over.

It doesn’t. A shining miracle on your day.

From your slightly wet seat on the ground, you look up, finding one such Damian Al Ghul-Wayne. His towering height is the first thing you notice, second his stunning emerald green eyes. Both were incredibly shocking in their own ways, but his height really was almost dizzying. Perfect brown skin and a stylish 'long on the top, short on the sides’ black haircut, paired with the sort of face some European model might have, all come together to make sure you feel as pathetic as possible. His posh-looking outfit doesn’t help.

Neither does the fact he just watches you. He doesn’t even pretend to bend over to help you up. Which you’re sort of grateful for, honestly. It’d just make you more embarrassed. You didn’t know if you could hold the hand of your celebrity crush and… well, be normal. Pretend to be normal. You weren’t doing a very good job of it anyway.

You have to wonder, which was the worst introduction? The drunk, the bloody, or the one where you fell on your ass? God, you really are screwing this all the way up. You wonder how you’re inevitably going to make it even worse. There’s a part of you that desperately doesn’t want to meet any of the other Waynes, even as another part of you is screaming that it needs to.

If they knew they had a fangirl in their graveyard, you’re sure they’d kick you out. That was why you were lying about everything, not because you had intimacy issues.

Stop thinking, you idiot! You’re only making things more difficult for yourself with all your worrying and fretting. And maybe you should get off the ground, you looked stupid. You push to your feet, wiping your dirtied hands on the sweats.

He still doesn’t say anything when you stand, still just staring at you. His open staring is far too intimidating, so you scrounge for something to say.

“Your father? You- Is he alright?” you stammer over your words, giving Damian Wayne an awkward smile. He doesn’t return it, instead canting his head towards one of the windows.

You look toward where Damian Wayne gestured to, find nothing but an empty window frame, and then back to the ridiculously tall man. You swear, the guy had grown like a bean pole. He had to be something ridiculous, like 6’5, or maybe more. You were fairly certain you’d been taller than him at twelve, or thirteen, whenever it was he was first introduced to the world as Damian Wayne. Now, now… not so much.

“There’s nobody in there?” you ask, like you’re questioning your sanity. You are.

“My father’s shy,” He says, coolly shrugging one shoulder.

What. Bruce Wayne? Shy? Was he joking or something?

Damian Wayne stares down at you with narrowed green eyes, and dark brows in a harsh frown. His arms are crossed over his rich kid sweater, shiny black shoes tapping against the cobbles. That’s not the face of someone who makes jokes, you think.

You swallow, mind whirring as you try desperately to fix this conversation, “Right. Okay. I’ll… I’ll come back inside, then. Sorry for bothering you guys.”

He keeps staring at you. He doesn’t seem bothered.

“Sorry for bothering him?” you correct.

Damian gives one slow, cat-like blink of his eyes, and then turns with a tsk and walks away. It takes you a moment to realise you’re meant to follow him. It takes you even longer to actually catch up with him because he’s so fucking tall.

On TV he didn’t look this tall. You feel kind of betrayed, which is weird.

As you’re walking along, getting closer back to the manor, a stick or something pokes you in the foot. You curse, grabbing your foot. Thankfully you don’t start bleeding or something. You’d already be tracking dirt all over the inside of the impeccable space, you didn’t want to bring blood in as well. It takes a moment for you to realise the sound of Damian’s footsteps crunching in the grass has stopped, and you glance up.

He’s staring right at you again. He looks even less impressed with you, raising an eyebrow and mouth ticking downward. You put your foot down and tuck your hands behind your back in a very obvious anxious display.

“You went outside not wearing any shoes?” Damian Wayne asks, incredulous.

“I was… yeah, I forgot to,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. Not your best moment, but you weren’t really having any of those today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Maybe you should stop thinking about that, actually.

“That’s disgusting,” The young Wayne sneers, and then turns and gives you his shoulder.

You think your heart maybe cracks a little. Well, they do say to never meet your idols. Maybe whoever wrote that quote had you in mind specifically, because now you were in… this situation. Ex-step-sister. If that was a thing. Your Wikipedia page said that you said that a lot, very insistent that you had absolutely nothing to do with the Waynes.

…It didn’t really look like you had nothing to do with the Waynes, from an outsider's perspective. Which obviously didn’t make any sense, since you were… you. You were not an outsider, not anymore.

This was too complicated. You needed a coffee. With like, so much sugar it’ll make you bounce from the walls.

Damian strides up the side entrance’s staircase and through the door, leaving it open for you to follow through. You hesitate at the doorway, looking over your shoulder to the graveyard. The statue calls you names in the distance, and although you feel like a stranger who doesn’t belong here, you manage to step back into the house.

You force yourself to walk through the hallway and into the kitchen, fists clenched tight at your side and your shoulders bunched up to your ears. Bruce Thomas Wayne, Timothy Jackson Drake, and the butler from earlier. Damian Al Ghul Wayne steps around the trio, picking some drink from the counter and moving to sit at the dining table at the edge of the room. There’s an open book on the table that he starts flicking through, and well, apparently that’s the end of your first conversation with the youngest Wayne.

You did… well, alright might be pushing it. You're still going to say you did alright.

Tim Drake gives you a sweet smile, catching your attention. The silky raven hair of his heart-shaped fringe falls over his beautiful, pale face, and for a moment there you totally forget that he’d called you out earlier like that. Which was just, such an odd thing to do. His hand lifts to scratch at the buzz cut under the floppy strands of hair. The movement mesmerises you. You look away from his sky blue eyes, very quickly realising they’re robbing you of the few remaining brain cells you have. And you need those, damn it. Especially because you’d already made the decision to hide from all your problems like a baby. Negative, negative…

“How’re you doing today?” Tim asks you, giving you a friendly greeting. It’s a welcome olive branch.

“I’m good,” you lie like you breathe, eyes glancing around the space. Bruce Wayne has his phone out and a mug of coffee in his hands. He sips from the cup, his focus swallowed by the tiny screen. You glance back over to Damian Wayne. Huh, it really does run in the family.

Your neck prickles, and you glance back at Tim again. You get a brief vision of his tired, unsmiling expression, and then it’s back to the angelic and gentle smile. You smile back at him, a wretched, awful twisting of the lips that you hope doesn’t look like a grimace.

Tim’s smile turns into a grin. It’s really too pretty and makes you shift in your seat uncomfortably. Damn it all, look away!

“Would you like some breakfast, young miss? I’m afraid we’ve run out of pancakes, but I’d be happy to make some more for you,” the butler says in an awfully familiar British accent. You think you know this person, but you can not remember from where. Shit. Your memory was bad on the best of days, much less after… after an event like last night.

Anyway, the food from earlier had been pancakes. Despite the delicious scent, you really didn’t want to make him make any more food for you. You felt like you were intruding as it was.

“Do you have any toast, or… cereal?” you suggest instead, wondering if rich people even bother with cereal. The butler chuckles, and you think, ‘Oh, yeah, probably not’.

“We have both, miss. Master Grayson has a particular fondness for cereal, in fact,” he informs you, which, oh, cool. You did in fact know that, you stalker you. You’d totally forgotten about that weird fact or the weird fact that you knew that weird fact. Dick Grayson has an Instagram where he posts reviews of different cereals, which of course you have notifications on for.

“It’s more of an obsession,” Tim says, resting his palm in his hand as he… continues to stare at you. Nobody else thinks his ogling is strange, so you try to ignore it as well. Try is the choice word.

“I like cereal too. It’s normal,” you say in defence of Dick, a natural and instinctual urge.

And apparently, the fact that you like cereal is fucking shocking, judging from the open-mouth looks the group gives you. Oh no, you’re supposed to hate him, right? You’re supposed to hate them all, actually. What had you called him on your phone? Something about being annoying and a dickhead?

Swallowing your inner scream, you move around the counter and towards the cupboards. Whatever, they’ll have to deal with this new and improved version of you, which didn’t despise everyone in the room. Along with being a terrible liar, you were also pretty bad at keeping secrets.

You don’t want to think about that, so instead you turn to Alfred.

“So,” you start, “Can I see your cereal collection?” you ask, like a totally normal person. Man, this cupboard’s looking pretty head-smashable right now.

This family has more tact than yours did, because they all manage to put their eyes back to what they were doing and pretend you weren’t acting really, really out of character. Rich people. They’re good at overlooking the crazy.

“Of course,” the butler clears his throat, “In here, you’ll find Master Dick’s collection-” score! Not another fan can claim this right, “-and in the fridge a carton of milk. Are you sure I couldn’t serve it for you, miss? I understand you might still be a little…”

His voice trails off. Little what?

He glances at the others and then leans in close like he’s going to tell you a secret. Behind a hand, he whispers, “Hungover.”

Ah. Well, yes, but you were a big girl who could make her cereal, even on hangover days. Kind of embarrassing it was that obvious, though. You were usually better at hiding how much of a mess you were.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” you say, and the butler nods and backs off. You’re pretty sure at this point that he was the one who called you yesterday morning, but you still couldn’t quite recall his name. When you were out of sight, you’d check your phone for his contact information.

See? You could do this. Stealthy.

As you start perusing through the cereal options, Tim gets up from his spot by the counter and comes to stand next to you at the breakfast bar. He heads straight to the coffee machine, and you glance at it longingly.

It’s one of those cafe-quality fancy espresso makers, with an Italian name embossed in silver on the top. Tim manipulates the machine like a master, which you’re very jealous of because it might as well be alien technology to you. You miss your shitty drip coffee, at least that dingy little machine was loyal to you. Better than George.

“Coffee?” Tim Drake offers, glancing at you. Ah, the starry eyes are back. While Damian Wayne had been a mildly disappointing introduction, Mr. Drake was just reinforcing your celebrity worship. And of course, because your brain works against you, his offer reminds you of the daydreams you’d had on your first twenty-first birthday. Coffee shop au real person fiction- a new low, even for you.

Flustered, you look up at the ceiling. The old mansion is decorated in every single available corner, the plaster above spreading across the entire surface with delicate filigree and pretty curling patterns. It’s gorgeous, absolutely entrancing. That’s what you tell yourself at least.

“Please,” you say, your voice just the slightest bit too quiet. He hears you anyway.

It’s surprisingly domestic. Of course, you don’t know any of these people past face value and Wired YouTube interviews, but… it’s quite indulgent. This is sort of your dream, isn’t it? A full house of people enjoying their morning together. Peaceful bird song drifting in through open windows. The comfort of being around people you trust, not having to perform or put on a show. Well, you are very much putting on a show right now. It’s the thought that counts, or whatever.

“What would you like in it? We have sugar, milk, oat milk, and I like having a few syrups on hand,” Tim chatters excitedly, listing off the different ingredients he has on offer. Your poor ass stares at his rich one, and you are very rudely reminded these people live in different tax brackets than you.

Who the fuck had coffee syrups in their house? You could barely afford the little treats of caramel syrup you get every couple of months. The disappearance of the middle class was one you had witnessed personally.

You rattle off a very basic, bland order. Tim looks sort of disappointed in you which… well, you could be a coffee snob. You just didn’t have the time, usually. A flat white kept you going through the day, you didn’t need anything else. And so, Tim hands you a very bland coffee, and it is god sent. You can’t imagine how good it would be if you had mustered up your courage and asked for some caramel syrup.

Huh, you could be a coffee snob. You could be anything you wanted, really. And your first thought is being a coffee snob. Good God.

“Are you going to be staying?“ Bruce Wayne asks, immediately putting you on the spot. You weren’t ready for this, you were thinking about the coffees you could buy. Oh no, you really aren’t ready for this.

“At least for now, right?” Tim Drake says, just making it all the more stressful. You let out an awkward chuckle, fingers tight around your drink.

“Oh, I don’t want to be an inconvenience-”

Damian Wayne slams his mug down on the table, so hard a crack splinters up its side. He picks the cup up, strides across the kitchen, narrowed green eyes meeting yours for a second, and then he dumps the cup in a secret rubbish can. He murmurs an apology to the butler and then is out of the room.

Okay, well, you certainly feel like an inconvenience.

The butler clears his throat, and says, “Please forgive young master Damian. He’s been having a difficult time recently, I hope you can understand.”

And you think, ‘bitch, a difficult time?! He’s not the one who almost died last night!’ but what you say is, “Of course, I completely understand. I don’t want to bother him anymore so I’d really like to leave today.”

Mr. Wayne laces his fingers together, blue eyes giving you an assessing look.

“Stay for the day, and you can leave tonight. I want to make sure you’re truly alright,” he eventually says, and the mere presence of the man has you yielding to his commands. Didn’t really matter you were an adult who’d managed to survive this long on your own, you were listening to the big scary guy when he told you what to do.

Well, that’s that! You make your cereal and have a very quiet breakfast. You can’t tell if they’re being quiet because you’re here, or if mornings are usually like this. You hope they’re usually like this. Once you’ve finished your very nice cereal (one of the highest rated on Dick’s Instagram) you place the bowl by the sink. You want to wash it, but when you ask Alfred he gives you a look like you kicked his dog. Okay, you’ll just go then.

You’re about to sneak away, when you realise Tim’s staring at you… again…? But this time he seems quite focused on your clothing. His eyes follow the double lines on the side of your sweatpants, before settling on the Beatles logo on your shirt. He hums at it. Raises his brows.

“I’m sorry, I borrowed this because I didn’t have any other clothes. Is there something wrong with me wearing this?” you ask, and then experience a moment of horror, “This doesn’t belong to you, does it?”

“Hmm?” Tim chirps, “Oh, no, don’t worry. It’s not mine.”

And then he turns away from you in a very clear dismissal. Nice, you really wanted to go hide for an hour or two. With one last awkward wave to Bruce Thomas Wayne, you scurry out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom you’d started thinking of as yours. You need to figure out how you're going to handle all this, and you're going to do it alone. Maybe with some dessert, if you can find it. You wouldn't say you think better with sugar running in your veins, but it definitely makes you more willing to deal with the bullshit that is your life. Hopefully it'd work in your new one, too.

-

Tim listens to your retreating footsteps, waiting till you’re far enough away to begin talking to Bruce. Humans were creatures of habit, so you’d probably be going back to the same room you slept in last night. He thinks Damian and him were the only ones who noticed whose shirt you were wearing, B’s off his game today. You’ve really managed to mess him up, to Tim’s delight.

“See? Dames was totally fine with her being here,” Tim says, cheerily enjoying his youngest sibling’s suffering. Bruce sighs, witheringly, lifting his hand to rub against the headache he always has. He’s probably noticed the excited, slightly fanatic gleam that’s entered into Tim’s eyes.

It was sort of obvious. This was all so exciting! You’d come back, sporting absolutely none of the defensive vitriol you usually have, and ate breakfast together. You took a coffee out of Tim’s hands. You’d willingly spoken to the devil, who everybody in the family knew hated you as much as you hated him, and even more than that-

You’d spoken to Bruce. Tim was sporting the idea that you’d gotten head trauma, at this point in time.

“Okay, fine. You get the mission, but-” Tim has to resist the urge to clap his hands together like a gleeful child “-but no extra cameras. I’m serious, Tim, if I find out you’ve invaded her privacy just after she’s starting to warm up to us again-”

“She wouldn’t know,” Tim complains, cutting the Bat off with a roll of his eyes.

“She’s smarter than you’d think,” Bruce shakes his head. Tim has to disagree, after the catastrophe that was last night. Unless of course, you were just playing with them all. So many options, it’s dizzying.

“We’ll shelve that argument for later. So, I want full control of the case, and in turn, I’ll do another two weeks as CEO,” Tim waves off Bruce’s complaints, going straight into haggling. The CEO position was tossed between the two of them like a hot potato, and it was one of Tim’s favourite bargaining tools.

“I am absolutely not agreeing to that, a month and nothing less.”

“This is why half your children don’t talk to you, but sure, whatever. Chase away your last, loyal loving son-”

“My God, Tim. Three fucking weeks, and if I hear another word I will hand this matter over to Grayson,” Bruce sighs, sounding a bit defeated.

Tim gives an offended gasp, placing his hand against his chest. And then he realises Bruce might actually be serious, and freaks out a bit.

“He’d be bad for it. Far too personally involved. You definitely don’t want to do that,” he says, leg bouncing under the table. Of course, the Bat notices, but he doesn’t mention it. He wouldn’t take this from Tim, they both knew he was getting too frazzled around the edges. He needed something to focus on, to ground him.

You were the perfect project. He loved his projects.

“I am aware. But the girls are out of town, and uncontactable. And I think if I gave Damian this assignment the two of them would kill each other.”

“No Jason option, sir?” Tim says because he’s a shit-stirrer and wants to get to work.

Tim succeeds in chasing Bruce away. He’s left to have his coffee in peace as the old man quickly flees the room at the mention of the son he's on the worst terms with. For the next few hours, Tim taps away on his computer, enjoying his time.

And when the front doors open, his ears prick, and a decidedly evil grin spreads on his face.

“I’m home!” Dick calls out, words travelling through the grand manor.

Tim gets up from his seat and wanders leisurely to the main hall, where Dick stands. He’s got a suitcase by his side, filled with all the things he’s brought up from the Blud. When he spots Tim, Dick’s face spreads in a familiar sunny smile. He quickly rushes to Tim’s side, swallowing the younger brother in a hug. Tim groans at the tight squeezing.

Despite his clinginess, it was good to see him. His tanned skin glowed healthily, and his curly black hair was messy over his brow. Sapphire blue eyes sparkled. He was happy to be home, despite everything that was going on. Dick always looked like he’d just gotten back from a run because he usually had. It was hard to get the guy to sit still for even a minute, much less stop parkouring over every imaginable surface.

“Tim! How’s it been? Ah, it’s so good to be home,” Dick starts, and again, Tim groans. When Dick starts yammering he never stops.

“I’m good, man. We can talk later, you should go put your things away before Alfred does,” Tim reminds Dick, and Dick pouts. It was a general rule that unless it was cooking, the family wasn’t supposed to rely on Alfred for everything.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be down in a minute! I have so much to tell you,” Dick relents, hand lifting to mess with his hair. Tim pushes him off, glaring at the man, and Dick laughs.

Tim gives Dick a tired wave as the gymnast bounds up the stairs to his bedroom. Tim watches him disappear down the hallways, and thinks, ‘I wish I could see this happen.’ He sighs, guess he’ll just have to hear Dick retell the story later. The distant sound of your shrieking voice has him chuckling. Yeah, he’ll hear about it later, he’s sure.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[arlowthenacho]

cherry wine

(carmen berzatto x reader)

summary: carmy has panic attack and calls for you.

warnings: cussing, fem presenting reader, kissing, intended lowercase, please let me know if i misses anything !

wc: 975

a/n: omg its finally done...part 2 to “that funny feeling” !! its a bit short but i dont have the patience for anything longer lmao. @unbearableblog ik you wanted to be tagged so here you go <3

its been a week.

a week since carmen invited you to his house. and the funny thing is, its happened again. more than again, actually.

within the seven days after he originally asked you to come over, you’ve been invited to come back about 5 more times, all for the same reason. being a little taste tester for carmy. telling him what needs salt and what’s too bland and what’s perfect and doesn’t need any more tinkering.

and what’s even funnier than the fact you’ve been in carmen berzatto’s kitchen at 11:00 pm for the better part of the week is the fact he hasn’t tried to get in your pants at all. not once.

all he’s done is…talk.

about you, about him, about his family, and about yours. and its been nice.

refreshing.

seeing this other side of him, this vulnerable side of him, has been almost eye-opening. everything you thought he was had been turned to dust and reborn with new perspective. carmen berzatto wasn’t just the guy who occasionally hooked up with you to let off some steam anymore.

he was soft, and gentle, and vulnerable, and sweet. sure, he had his faults. his stubbornness, his ceaseless need for perfection, and most of all, his pride, but the sweet balanced the sour.

your thoughts drift back to the show playing on the t.v briefly, when a buzzing in your back pocket stuns you out of focus.

carmy parmy 🧑‍🍳

can u comw over?

huh. carm never really misspelled words. whatever.

course! gimmie likeee 15 mins

carmy parmy 🧑‍🍳

please come quickly

shit. now you’re worried.

you hastily make your way towards your bedroom and throw on a hoodie and leggings, damn near sprinting to your car.

after turning on the ignition and pulling out of your garage, you’re right back where you were a week ago. only this time you wear a concerned frown.

“carmen?” you rap your knuckles against the door, your breaths coming short and shallow.

“its unlocked,” his voice is hardly his right now. its all television static and distance.

you burst through the door and frantically scan the room for any trace of carmy. after a couple seconds of searching, you see him curled into himself on the floor of his kitchen, hands in his hair.

your heart drops six feet deep as you sit next to him, taking his hands into yours.

“hey, carm. what’s the matter, hmm?” you spoke with a foreign gentleness, a tone that was never usually present between you and carm.

“i just—i cant…” he hyperventilates. “i can’t breathe,”

and within a second, your blood was lead and dropping your organs to hell.

“i cant—”

he can barely finish his sentence before being enveloped in your arms. the sinking in your gut was still present, but you ignored it. you both just sat on the floor, holding each other together.

after a while of holding carmen, his breathing had somewhat evened out. he releases the white-knuckling grip on your shoulders and lifts his head from your chest. you brush the stray hairs out of his eyes and smile softly.

"hi, baby,"

he takes a stuttering breath.

"hi."

"what happened, carm?" you whisper, not daring to break the silence you both have fallen into. carmen takes another deep breath before letting the words fall from his lips.

"its, uh. family stuff. my mom is fucking insane and it just..." he pauses, takes another breath, and continues. "during christmas one year, she went really crazy. and it gave me some lasting issues."

your heart ached for him in a way that you can't explain. he spoke a little more about his warped family dynamics before trailing off. he meets your eyes again, but with a look in his eyes that you can't quite place. you're rendered speechless for a second before finding the words to say to him.

"you're safe now, baby. you're safe now." you pick the both of you off the floor and towards the couch, still grasping carmen tightly.

another week passed since carmen had the panic attack.

that night, you stayed at his house for the first time. you're departure was abrupt and maybe a bit rude, but in your defense, you panicked. however, you have been over his apartment pretty frequently for one reason or another.

today, you've been invited over to cook.

its 12:34, which is a normal time for carmen to ask for you, when you start to get ready. you only throw on a bra, some socks, and more comfortable shorts before you get in your car and drive to carmen's.

your knuckles rap against his door twice before he opens it.

"hey, hi, come in," he rushes out, mindlessly taking your hand and dragging you inside.

"oh, alright then," you mumble, letting yourself be pulled into his space.

the kitchen smells like an array of spices and you look at the bottles that litter carmy's counter. rosemary, tumeric, paprika, chili flakes and more things that you can't pronounce are written on the glass.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when carmy picks you up by the waist and places you on a clean portion of the counter. you smile at him and swing your legs against the cabinets below.

"what do you have for me today, carm?" you tease.

"this."

he nearly lunges for you and attaches his lips to yours. he tastes hungry, like hes been starved of your lips for an eternity. you gasp an press back into his mouth with a matching passion. his hands find your waist and yours find his hair. a whirlwind of pulling and tugging sends you both into a frenzy before he parts away for air.

"this wasn't about the food, was it?" you breathe. he giggles, the sound akin to something angelic.

"no, it wasn't. it never was."

[mostlysignssomeportents]

American education has all the downsides of standardization, none of the upsides

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

We moved to America in 2015, in time for my kid to start third grade. Now she's a year away from graduating high school (!) and I've had a front-row seat for the US K-12 system in a district rated as one of the best in the country. There were ups and downs, but high school has been a monster.

We're a decade and a half into the "common core" experiment in educational standardization. The majority of the country has now signed up to a standardized and rigid curriculum that treats overworked teachers as untrustworthy slackers who need to be disciplined by measuring their output through standard lessons and evaluations:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_Core

This system is rigid enough, but it gets even worse at the secondary level, especially when combined with the Advanced Placement (AP) courses, which adds another layer of inflexible benchmarks to the highest-stakes, most anxiety-provoking classes in the system:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Advanced_Placement

It is a system singularly lacking in grace. Ironically, this unforgiving system was sold as a way of correcting the injustice at the heart of the US public education system, which funds schools based on local taxation. That means that rich neighborhoods have better funded schools. Rather than equalizing public educational funding, the standardizers promised to ensure the quality of instruction at the worst-funded schools by measuring the educational outcomes with standard tools.

But the joke's on the middle-class families who backed standardized instruction over standardized funding. Their own kids need slack as much as anyone's, and a system that promises to put the nation's kids through the same benchmarks on the same timetable is bad for everyone:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/28/give-me-slack-2/

Undoing this is above my pay-grade. I've already got more causes to crusade on than I have time for. But there is a piece of tantalyzingly low-hanging fruit that is dangling right there, and even though I'm not gonna pick it, I can't get it out of my head, so I figured I'd write about it and hope I can lazyweb it into existence.

The thing is, there's a reason that standardization takes hold in so many domains. Agreeing on a common standard enables collaboration by many entities without any need for explicit agreements or coordination. The existence of the ANSI/SAE J563 standard automobile auxiliary power outlet (AKA "car cigarette lighter") didn't just allow many manufacturers to make replacement lighter plugs. The existence of a standardized receptacle delivering standardized voltage to standardized contacts let all kinds of gadgets be designed to fit in that socket.

Standards crystallize the space of all possible ways of solving a problem into a range of solutions. This inevitably has a downside, because the standardized range might not be optimal for all applications. Think of the EU's requirement for USB-C charger tips on all devices. There's a lot of reasons that manufacturers prefer different charger tips for different gadgets. Some of those reasons are bad (gouging you on replacement chargers), but some are good (unique form-factor, specific smart-charging needs). USB-C is a very flexible standard (indeed, it's so flexible that some people complain that it's not a standard at all!) but there are some applications where the optimal solution is outside its parameters.

And still, I think that the standardization on USB-C is a force for good. I have drawers full of gadgets that need proprietary charger tips, and other drawers full of chargers with proprietary tips, and damned if I can make half of them match up. We've continued our pandemic lockdown tradition of my wife cutting my hair in the back yard, and just tracking the three different charger tips for the three clippers she uses is an ongoing source of frustration. I'd happily trade slightly sub-optimal charging for just being able to plug any of those clippers into the same cable I charge my headphones, phone, tablet and laptop on.

The standardization of American education has produced all the downsides of standardization – a rigid, often suboptimal, one-size-fits-all system – without the benefits. With teachers across America teaching in lockstep, often from the same set texts (especially in the AP courses), there's a massive opportunity for a commons to go with the common core.

For example, the AP English and History classes my kid takes use standard texts that are often centuries old and hard to puzzle out. I watched my kid struggle with texts for learning about "persuasive rhetoric" like 17th century pamphlets that inspired anti-indigenous pogroms with fictional accounts of "Indian atrocities."

It's good for American schoolkids to learn about the use of these blood libels to excuse genocide, but these pamphlets are a slog. Even with glossaries in the textbooks, it's a slow, word-by-word matter to parse these out. I can't imagine anyone learning a single thing about how speech persuades people just by reading that text.

But there's nothing in the standardized curriculum that prevents teachers from adding more texts to the unit. We live in an unfortunate golden age for persuasive texts that inspire terrible deeds – for example, kids could also read core Pizzagate texts and connect the guy who shot up the pizza parlor to the racists who formed a 17th century lynchmob.

But teachers are incredibly time-constrained. For one thing, at least a third of the AP classroom time seems to be taken up with detailed instructions for writing stilted, stylized "essays" for the AP tests (these are terrible writing, but they're easy to grade in a standardized way).

That's where standardization could actually deliver some benefits. If just one teacher could produce some supplemental materials and accompanying curriculum, the existence of standards means that every other teacher could use it. What's more, any adaptations that teachers make to that unit to make them suited to their kids would also work for the other teachers in the USA. And because the instruction is so rigidly standardized, all of these materials could be keyed to metadata that precisely identified the units they belonged to.

The closest thing we have to this are "marketplaces" where teachers can sell each other their supplementary materials. As far as I can tell, the only people making real money from these marketplaces are the grifters who built them and convinced teachers to paywall the instructional materials that could otherwise form a commons.

Like I said, I've got a completely overfull plate, but if I found myself at loose ends, trying to find a project to devote the rest of my life to, I'd be pitching funders on building a national, open access portal to build an educational commons.

It may be a lot to expect teachers to master the intricacies of peer-based co-production tools like Git, but there's already a system like this that K-8 teachers across the country have mastered: Scratch. Scratch is a graphic programming environment for kids, and starting with 2019's Scratch 3.0, the primary way to access it is via an in-browser version that's hosted at scratch.mit.edu.

Scratch's online version is basically a kid- (and teacher-)friendly version of Github. Find a project you like, make a copy in your own workspace, and then mod it to suit your own needs. The system keeps track of the lineage of different projects and makes it easy for Scratch users to find, adapt, and share their own projects. The wild popularity of this system tells us that this model for a managed digital commons for an educational audience is eminently achievable.

So when students are being asked to study the rhythm of text by counting the numbers of words in the sentences of important speeches, they could supplement that very boring exercise by listening to and analyzing contemporary election speeches, or rap lyrics, or viral influencer videos. Different teachers could fork these units to swap in locally appropriate comparitors – and so could students!

Students could be given extra credit for identifying additional materials that slot into existing curricular projects – Tiktok videos, new chart-topping songs, passages from hot YA novels. These, too, could go into the commons.

This would enlist students in developing and thinking critically about their curriculum, whereas today, these activities are often off-limits to students. For example, my kid's math teachers don't hand back their quizzes after they're graded. The teachers only have one set of quizzes per unit, and letting the kids hold onto them would leak an answer-key for the next batch of test-takers.

I can't imagine learning math this way. "You got three questions wrong but I won't let you see them" is no way to help a student focus on the right areas to improve their understanding.

But there's no reason that math teachers in a commons built around the (unfortunately) rigid procession of concepts and testing couldn't generate procedural quizzes, specified with a simple programming language. These tests could even be automatically graded, and produce classroom stats on which concepts the whole class is struggling with. Each quiz would be different, but cover the same ground.

When I help my kid with her homework, we often find disorganized and scattered elements of this system – a teacher might post extensive notes on teaching a specific unit. A publisher might produce a classroom guide that connects a book to specific parts of the common core. But these are scattered across the web, and they aren't keyed to the specific, standard components of common core and AP.

This is a standardized system that is all costs, no benefits. It has no "architecture of participation" that lets teachers, students, parents, practitioners and even commercial publishers collaborate to produce a commons that all may share and improve upon.

In an ideal world, we'd get rid of standardization in education, pay teachers well, give them the additional time they needed to prepare exciting and relevant curriculum, and fund all our schools based on need, not parents' income.

But in the meanwhile, we could be making lemonade of out lemons. If we're going to have standardization, we should at least have the collaboration standards enable.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/16/flexibility-in-the-margins/#a-commons

[icanseethefuture333]

The Astrological Observation of Gen Z, (a series)

Part II 👶🏽🩷:

The birth of Gen Z children👩‍🍼:

Now what is described as a Gen Z baby is different depending on what method you use, but since we are using astrology, we determine that by looking at Pluto. Pluto is one of the slower moving planets and typically lasts in the same sign for over 12 years. In tropical astrology, what all Gen Z babies share is a Sagittarius Pluto (and it is in Scorpio if you fancy Vedic astrology 😎), Which begins in mid to late 1995 and ends in early to mid 2008. Some other placements that are shared for early 2000s babies is a Aquarius Uranus & Aquarius Neptune, While mid to late 2000s babies share a Pisces Uranus & Aquarius Neptune.

The most populated birth years of the 2000s in order were 1. 2000, 2. 2009, 3. 2008, 4. 2007, & 5. 2006. The least populated birth year being 2001. While the amount of births stayed consistent in 2002-2003 with only a slight increase by a million in 2004-2005.

00: 143.01 million

01: 133.88

02: 134.02

03: 134.40

04: 135.23

05: 135.80

06: 136.91

07: 138.56

08: 140.16

09: 141.20

The year 2000 was the start of the 21st century, so parents being excited for the new millennium and having lots of babies in the celebration of the new year makes a lot of sense. If we use January 1st 2000 as an example for a baby's birthday. That would mean that the parents would had to conceive / the mother to get pregnant around in April (9 months). In 1999, Jupiter was in Aries and Taurus was in Saturn. Prince wasn't lying when he said "we gonna party like it's 1999 (all night long)" - because y'all parents were doing the *Raven Symone voice* NASTY 😭. Aries is action oriented and hasty. So I believe the collective during this time actually made new year's resolutions that they could accomplish. I always associate Taurus with fertility, abundance, & pleasure. So when the sign rules over saturn, it creates the need to be focused on security, comfort, & protecting personal possessions. Add a Scorpio Lillith to the mix and yeah... 🥴 The song sums it up pretty well (fun fact it was also released in the year 2000 LMFAO)

Now let's see why there was such a decrease of babies being born in 2001.

Jupiter moves from Aries into Taurus/Gemini, Taurus still remained in Saturn, & then there was a Capricorn Lillith. So things got less hot and heavy 😅 (they got tired out from all that fucking huh LOL 💀). I believe that parents were too nervous to have any more children in this year. Also there was so many earth placements, so I believe there was more of a focus on finances, creating structure, and coming up with ideas/plans for a better future. Parents could of seen how crazy things got (The Y2K crisis, people acting out of fear thinking the world was ending, 9/11, etc) and just decided not to have as much children. The libido or sex drive could of died down for some couples as well. There was a lot of resistance from couples in this year for getting pregnant. Parents were more worried about business. The babies that were born in 2001 were most likely by accident or needed to be under the supervision of a doctor in order to help the parents conceive (also there could of been possible complications during the pregnancy 🤔?). The women were just over it during this year 😭

Now let's talk about the rise of babies being born in 2007-2009 when there was LITERALLY a god damn financial crisis going on 💀! It was so bad it got compared to the great depression and parents were just like "huh... yeah, I think this is a great time to have a baby" 😂. Guess what sign Lilith was during this time...? ("BITCH YOU GUESSED IT! HO! You was right"😈) FUCKING SCORPIO LILITH 💀 with a Virgo Saturn, Sagittarius Jupiter, and then Uranus finally transitioned from Aquarius to Pisces. Soooo it was giving anxious attachment, it's giving "I'm scared but aroused", the parents' idea of a coping method during this time was "let's use a baby as a way to have hope during such troubling times" 😭??? Couples during those years were not thinking clearly at all and with Pisces being the dreamer that she is 🙄... ("you're a dreamer, you dream a lot") as well as Sagittarius tryna act like they're mr. philosophical over here but instead is really just thinking with their dicks. It just made the parents overall act really delusional and they thought having a kid would give them hope for the future (like why would you do that to late Gen Z's and set them up like that omg 😭???). The financial crisis during 2007-2009 was described as: "The collapse of the housing market — fueled by low interest rates, easy credit, insufficient regulation, and toxic subprime mortgages — led to the economic crisis." So overall it was a period of parents only being intimate to try to find comfort in each other while also dealing with anxiety and not being able to see past their own illusions.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Japan is Winning on Kisses & Other Alternate Realities

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

March 2024 Wk 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Two Worlds (Thurs IQIYI) ep 3 of 10 - It would be great if we got the alternative romance with dead Kram from Tai’s perspective (JBL style.) Still I like this show. It’s a little bit like I Feel You Linger in the Air only with a love triangle. And while I'm not a fan of triangles as a general rule, I don’t mind it here because the set up is clever. Wayu and  ao are fun sides too. It sure is moving very quickly, which I like. I’m not entirely sure what’s going on. But that’s normal for me with this kind of Thai drama. 

Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 4 of 8 - They are extremely sappy boyfriends. I love that mom has a secret gf. Could we please have more of them? The love triangle sides are ridiculous, but I do like that it’s all out in the open. I also like they are actually addressing the complicated parental dynamics of owning a sex club. Honestly, I think Khem should have to be a host too. Learn him the right way, girl!

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 9 of 12 - It’s good, I like the fallout and them actually having to deal with crazy fans and past relationships. They’re so good at communicating it’s kind of a pleasure to watch them suffer through external pressures, because I have faith that they can make it through.

To Be Continued (Thai C3 Thailand grey) ep 6 of 8 - They are such cute puppy dads and so clearly meant to be together, the fact that they aren’t is just frustrating. The fight thing was stupid. And not a whole lot happened... plus singing. I’m getting fatigued with this one. 

1000 Years Old ep 7 of 12 - Did I miss something happening, or did nothing happen? 

Kiseki Chapter 2 (Sun iQIYI) ep 2 of 6 - It’s so boring, there’s so much guitar playing, and it got weirdly voyeuristic (in a very much not sexy way). I’m totally out. DNF

Close Friend Season 3: Soju Bomb! (Weds iQIYI) ep 3 of 6 - I can’t tell if this is trying to be a BL Romancing the Stone, or a BL Hangover, or both. The problem with situational comedy is it must be both situational and comedic, not just option one. The problem with calling something BL, is that it must be BL. This show got 1 of 3 claims correct. 33% is not a passing grade. DNF 

Honestly, it's the HANDS with these two. They do beautiful beautiful things with their hands. If you're one of those hands-obsessed BLabies you should be watching LIBTSTA!

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Unknown (Taiwan Tues Youku YouTube & Viki) ep 6 of 11 - So the worst finally happened. The mountain of pain has fallen down upon us. And now, hopefully in the second half things get better for our boys. But what a rough ride. Normally, this is not my style of BL, but everyone is doing such a gorgeous job with it, I can’t fault it… except that it hurts. The red thread symbolism was elegantly done. I’d like to hope we get a reunion in the next one, but knowing this style of series they’re gonna draw it out. There's gonna be a more pain first.

Love is Better the Second Time Around AKA Koi wo Suru nara Nidome ga Joto (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 4 of 6 - Those fuck me puppy dog eyes were perfectly executed. I would not have been able to resist either. Gosh they are so damn cute. This is a great show.

Jazz for Two (Korea Gaga/grey) eps 1-2 of 8 - This comes from the Shoulder to Cry On team so I'm scared, but this one is all actors* not idols so maybe they'll be braver. Boy howdy does it have a fantastic opening sequence. Also the lead is fucking adorable. Mr Broody McBroodypants is cute too. Korea sure loves “pretty but broken.” On the JBL end of the spectrum, is everyone in love with their siblings? That’s weird. The dining room scene was painful. All in all, it's good, I'm intrigued. Let's see how you go little show.

I stand absolutely corrected the lead is a member of NEWKIDD (in my defense I'd never heard of them until Build Up last month). I did recognize him from To My Star because at the time I thought he was too pretty to be only a side character.

AntiReset (Taiwan Fri Viki/Gaga) ep 10 fin - Again there was overuse of previous footage and maudlin navel-gazing grief over something we knew was going to happen. So I didn’t really feel much emotional connection to the drama. 7 year time gap.? t was a cute reunion but the moral quandary never really got resolved. I don’t know how to rate this, I’m not sure I will ever watch it again, so that is a big mark against it.

There’s nothing objectively wrong with this BL except how upsetting it is because of the foundational pygmalion story - grown man falls in love with an android who is basically both his slave and, by maturity level, a child. Yet that premise is crystal clear from the get go, so we watch it eyes open. The actors are cute, the romance sweet, the physical chemistry on point (of course, it’s Taiwan) and yet I was left ultimately unsettled by the concept, content, and plot. 7/10 

My Strawberry Film (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 7 of 8 - I'm so ready for this to be over, and for Gaga to have something good on. Soon please?

It's done, ready to binge, but I suck

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps

It's airing but...

Graduation Countdown (Taiwan YouTube) - It's too much to ask me to keep up with 2 minute verticals, I don't have that kind of TikTok endurance training. Waiting to binge.

A Secretly Love (Thai Sat WeTV grey) 10 eps - I watched the first ep but grey is too much work for this inferior of a show. I may pick up and binge if it gets distribution but for now, it gets a DNF from me. KimCop might have held this crap together but Kim without Cop? No thank you.

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.

Tangential to the genre

There has been the occasional discussion on this topic here in this little corner of tumblr so I thought there might be a few intersted in this podcast: AmericanThaiGuy Ron Weaver on the Complicated Issue of Racism in Thailand (The Bangkok Podcast)

Thailand passed its Marriage Equality bill through the lower house. It's expected to pass the high house and get signed by the King, but that hasn't quite happened yet.

And MaxTul dropped a photo shoot.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Starting Soon

3/31 Only Boo! (Thai GMMTV YouTube) 12 eps - New main couple for GMMTV in an idol romance about a boy who dances good and a food stand vendor. Other side of the tracks grumpy/sunshine pair who fall deeply in love but, of course, baby boy idol can't date. Boyband but from GMMTV? Control your singing and I'm game.

3/31 The Next Prince (Thai ????) 12 eps - trailer. ZeeNew in a fantasy/historical set in a palace where Zee plays a knight and Nu a prince - YES PLEASE. (Apparently this is just the pilot, not the start of the actual show, see comments.)

4/1 Love is like a Cat (Korea ????) 12 eps - This completed filming Aug 2022(!) which means there have been serious problems with post-production. This is another of Silkwood's Korean+Thai colab projects. Mew Suppasit plays a rookie film star, called the Cat Prince (for his cold arrogance) who goes up against a charismatic puppyish animal daycare director (JM of JUST B). There is a side romance (love triangle?) with a veterinarian. Geonu of JUST B is also in the cast. Dual languages.

Hum, trash-watch-a-licious?

4/3 We Are (Thai GMMTV YouTube iQIYI) 12 eps - University ensemble BL featuring PondPhuwin, WinnySatang, AouBoom, MarcPawinPoon - basically the good kind of messy gay friendship group (so more My Engineer and less Only Friends). Looks a bit like the Kiss series but everyone is queer. I'm IN!

4/11 Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan ????) 10 eps - Kindly Ryota goes off to uni only to find his new roommate is his childhood bestie, Kazuhito. Kazuhito doesn’t have a girlfriend and Ryota tries to help him figure out why, they fall in love along the way. Same director as Old Fashion Cupcake.

4/11 Gray Shelter AKA Gray Currents (Korea ????) 4 eps - SooHyuk is only just surviving and reunites with YoonDae, an old friend. They end up living together. One of the leads is played by Choco of Choco Milk Shake.

4/18 At 25:00, in Alaska AKA 25 Ji, Akasaka de (Japan Gaga - may not be global) 10 eps - Yuki lands his first starring role in a BL drama alongside superstar Asami (previously his senior at uni). Said superstar suggests they form a sham relationship until filming concludes. As they actually begin to fall in love, the spotlight begins to burn.

Seriously? You're killing me with these titles, boys.

4/26 My Stand-In (Thai iQIYI) 12 eps - adaptation of Chinese novel "Professional Body Double" by Shui Qiang Cheng. Stars Up (Lovely Writer) and Poom (Bake Me Please) directed by the same team as KP (not a recommendation IMHO - my biggest criticism of that show was the clashing directing styles). This one looks well complicated, lemme try: Joe is a stuntman for famous actor Tong. Joe falls in love with Ming but Ming sees Joe as nothing more than a Tong-replacement. After learning this horrible truth, Joe dies. Joe then wakes up in the body of another man also named Joe. He manages to rebuild the same life as before—with the same people eventually re-meeting Ming. Ming wants Joe back but Joe doesn't understand why. But Ming seems to know what's going on and wants to give him some kind of explanation.

I'm exhausted just trying to describe the plot.

Knock-Knock Boys (Thai WeTV) - 4 college friends conspire to help their friend lose his virginity. Familiar faces like Seng (yes, Billy's previous partner) and Best, news here.

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

NOTE: It looks like one of my personal favorites of last year Unintentional Love Story is getting a spin off!

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

Just these two, in my head, rent free. Thanks Japan!

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are too much work.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy. (With so many tags when does a weekly tumblr post become a newsletter? That is this week's philosophical question...)

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#380

“Boy, that took you long enough.  Did it come out clear three times in a row?...  Good.  I don’t want no fag mud on my hog.  I will beat the shit out of you if I go to fuck you and you ain’t clean.  And it won’t be the fun kind of beating the shit out of you.  It will be your responsibility to keep your hole clean.  You understand?

“…You seem to be taken aback by what I’m saying, or when I told you to go clean out not one hour after we first met.  Look, I’m 63 years old, I don’t have the patience for beating around the bush.  I’m blunt.

“When Leonard assigned you to train with me, he knew that I only train faggots.  I know him, and he would not have brought up my name as a seasoned trainer unless he told you that I’m a fag fucker.  For the next 11 weeks, you will be the fag I mostly fuck.

“What did he tell you about me?...  That I have been ‘A truck driver for forty years and that I’m a total top.’  Ok.  Did he also tell you I have a fat sausage?  He probably did; I use his cunt from time to time, and he loved to brag to the other fags that he can take me.

“Oh finally, that car is pulling out of here…. 

“Strip….  I said ‘Strip.’  Now listen here you little faggot.  I don’t know what you thought was going to happen between us, but that’s my rig.  My rig!  It’s not the company’s.  I create the rules.  They are not negotiable.  At the end of the eleven weeks, you will be a damned good truck driver and well trained cum dump.

“Look you can see a mile up the road.  Not much on the road right now, we have plenty of advanced notice if someone should approach let alone pull off.  Now strip.

“Faggot, you are going to learn very fast that I think about sex just about all the time….  Wait, let me guess, you don’t like being called a ‘faggot?’  For fuck’s sake.  OK, I won’t call you Faggot.  Does that make you feel better… Cunt?

“Cunt you will leave this pecker alone.  Now turn around and show me that cleaned out cunt.  Whew!  That hole sure is pretty.  That prettiness won’t last a minute.  Spread your legs and put your fingertips on the asphalt.  Your master is coming in.

“One thing you will learn is, I love to fuck.  When I’m waiting for a load to be unloaded, I fuck.  When I have to refuel, I fuck.  When I am driving, I’m thinking about fucking.  I always have a small bottle of lube in my pocket for times like this.  Now hold still.  I’m going right to the root, and I expect you to scream your fucking head off.

“I love fucking a naked cunt outside in the middle of the day, especially far from anyone to hear the screams.  Now scream!  Oh hell yes.  Scream motherfucker.  You don’t want to hurt, then accommodate me!  Your focus in on my cock, always.  Always.  When we are driving across the country and you are tied up to the bunk with your cunt facing the front, your focus is on my cock.  When I am asleep and you are driving naked with a large butt plug in your cunt, your focus is on my cock.  When I bring you to a cruise spot and have anonymous men use your cunt, your focus is on my cock.  When I am taking a belt to your ass, your focus is on my cock.  When I bring you back to my home in Minnesota and install you under my rimseat, your focus in on my shithole first and then on my cock.

“You got all that?...  Cunt!  I don’t give a shit how much pain my dick is inflicting.  If I did care, the answer would probably be ‘Not enough.’  Don’t worry, after a day or two, you will be stretched out enough so that this is not that much of a struggle.  Hell, I already feel your cunt relax to accept me now. 

“This is your life for the next eleven weeks.  This is why you will be douching out daily.  I’m also going to control what you eat, that’ll make the clean out process easier.  It’s going to be pretty much non-stop butt fucking for you, with some blow jobs and ass eating to break up the monotony. 

“…What was that?...  You don’t eat ass?  You don’t want to stick your tongue where another man shits?  Believe me, I understand.  That’s why I don’t do it.  And when you get your own rig, you won’t have to. 

“Don’t you dare try to stand up when I am fucking you in this position.  Yes it’s an uncomfortable position.  I want it that way.  I said, don’t stand up.  In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t give a shit what you want or don’t want. 

“You keep up this idea that your opinion matters, I will give a shit….  Literally!  I am not into that scene, but I will totally shit in your mouth to get you to understand that your opinion is as useless to me as your pecker. 

“You know what?  Stand up.  Look at me….  Look at me Cunt.  Yeah, face slaps are my thing too. 

“I’m ready to end this now if you want.  I will walk back to my rig, and I will leave you standing naked in this lot.  You want to stay with me, you agree to do what I say when I say it.  No asking not to do anything.  And what I will give you is free driver training, free lodging, I’ll pay for your food, all the expenses along the way, and finally and most importantly all the sex you ever wanted from men like me. 

“I know where the active cruise spots are.  I have driver contacts across the country that like to fuck faggots like you.  I know where the last remaining truck stops that still have communal showers.  You’ll definitely get gang banged there.  There are some other places, like this biker roadhouse where faggots get used.  That’s only the beginning.  Summer is approaching, and the fag fuckers come out to play in a big way.

“This is the only time I will make you this choice.  You want me to leave you here or do you want to be transformed into a cum-guzzling and ass eating cunt, one that can drive a truck?

“…What was that?...  That’s as I thought.  But don’t call me ‘Sir’ as you haven’t earned the right to.  You are to refer me as ‘Master.’  Once you establish yourself with me, without future problems, I’ll let you call me ‘Sir.’  And if you do a real good job, after the end of the eleven weeks, I might let you address me as ‘Dad.’

“Ok get on your knees and suck your ass juices off my cock.  Don’t think.  Just do.  Stick it in your mouth.

“Atta boy.  You are taking your first step on the right path.

“I plan on taking you there tonight, to that biker roadhouse.  They require all faggots to be locked up in a chastity cage.  They have a guy there that will fit you with one exactly to my specifications.  You’ll wear it for your duration with me. 

“I will pay for your entrance.  They charge faggots to be used by them.  Faggots from all over the area arrive, pay, and get stripped.  They are secured in one of several stations for the night.  There’s one that is bent over to lick boots all night.  Another is on urinal duty.  There’s a glory hole station and a rimming station.  There’s a full toilet station.  Piss me off again, and you might be secured in there.  And they have ways of making the faggots comply. 

“Get up and get back into position with your fingertips on the asphalt….  There you go.  Fuuuuuck…  Cunt, your cunt feels so good.  You’re not screaming this time.  Good.

“For you, I was going to have you installed at the glory hole station.  I’m going to switch it up to the ass eating one, get you under one of their rimseats.  There’s this one that your lay down on a small platform in one room, and you scoot your head through a hole in the wall.  Your head comes out into the bar area under what they call ‘The Throne.’  Your legs are lifted up, spread, and secured to the wall, leaving your cunt open for any type of pussy play.  That’s sometimes reserved by faggots weeks if not months ahead. 

“I’ll contact the owner and the man that likes to sit on the Throne for hours on end.  He’ll let me know if it’s available.  Regardless, you will be installed at one station through the night.  I’ll use you early on, but I’ll go back to the rig to spend my down time. 

“The thought of that is really getting me going.  Can you feel my cock getting thicker?  It loves it with thoughts of faggots used in a way that god intended.

“We have about some time before we need to get rolling.  Now that you know what the next three months will look like, I’m going to enjoy my new accommodating cunt for a bit.  Try to hold your position.”

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 4861

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, mental illness, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

11. Palmiers

Bucky

Because he’s on the far end of the spectrum, Bucky’s sex drive is affected by his condition. He wakes up hard almost every morning of his life, and Steve doesn’t need much encouragement to get himself worked up into the same state very quickly. Mutual morning jerk offs were always bound to become part of their routine.

They take a shower and stand toe to toe, hands sliding and groping all over each others’ slick bodies, pulling on their cocks until both of them are shooting off against each other’s bellies. The water washes it away, and Steve gives him a deep, happy kiss. “Mmm. Mornin’.”

“Blegch. Go brush your teeth, you heathen.”

Steve laughs and gets out of the shower. Bucky stays in for a few minutes longer, adjusting the spray to its hardest setting and letting the hot water beat down on his back and shoulders. He sighs and stretches his neck this way and that, trying to get his vertebrae to pop, but his muscles are all too tight, and the stretching just seems to make it worse. Bucky drops his head in defeat. In all honesty, his shoulders and neck and back are all pretty fucked after months of near-constant use of his prosthetic.

Steve’s right: he doesn’t usually wear it this much. And he’s also right that Bucky’s been wearing it all day every day because he wants to feel powerful and able bodied in front of Mary. As per usual, Steve is the first one to have noticed what maladaptive behavior pattern he’s doing and why, and pointed it out to him. It really is for the best, Bucky knows. Because he can’t sustain wearing the arm all the time anymore. The thing is just too damn heavy.

The engineers who designed it have made tweaks and adjustments over the years. They’ve done all they can to lighten the load as much as possible, but the thing still weighs over twenty pounds. Twenty pounds doesn’t sound like much, but when it’s pulling on the same muscle groups day in and day out, everything in Bucky’s body winds up getting strained and unbalanced. He understands better now, how women fuck up their necks so badly from shouldering their purses (or their tits) around. A little bit of weight makes a big difference.

As a Dom, Bucky may have a tiny problem admitting when he needs help. He has to be in quite a bit of pain, trouble, or both, before he’ll ever speak up and allow himself to be vulnerable like that. It’s an inherent behavior that shrinks have been trying to therapize and medicate out of him since he was a kid, but nothing ever changed it much. Falling in love with Steve helped; Bucky can let himself be more vulnerable around him. But even still, it’s no small thing that he regularly approaches his husband to ask for help in getting his arm back on correctly (Bucky can do it, but it’s a pain in the ass, getting the mechanism lined up just right before it’ll take). 

He gets out of the shower and dries off, then approaches Steve with the prosthesis. “Gimme a hand?” 

Steve makes a cheerful noise of acknowledgement around his mouthful of toothpaste, spits and rinses, then takes the arm from Bucky. He lines it up just so, and then Bucky feels the deep shudder of the arm’s inner workings coming to life as they recognize their mate. The arm attaches and Steve lets go. 

“Thanks babe.”

“Uh huh.” 

It’s as Bucky’s bending over and pulling up his underwear and joggers that a spasm runs through his back and he cries out in a pained, “Ah!”

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

Gritting his teeth, Bucky slowly stands back up. He’s able to get his pants up, but when he tests the movement of his neck and shoulders, the pain flares again. It feels like everything between the base of his skull and his mid back is seizing up. “Fuck,” he hisses, frustrated. It’s his day off. He’d been planning to go to the gym for his long workout. 

Steve steps up and puts a worried hand on his left shoulder. “Babe? Do you need it off?” 

“No. I need some painkillers and a magnesium tablet,” he grunts, already turning around (full body, because turning his head is a bad idea right now). “Fuck.” He starts off for the kitchen. 

Steve follows along with worried protests, telling him to lay his “stubborn ass” down and he’ll get it for him. Bucky ignores him and goes to the kitchen cabinet where they keep their supplement stuff. He winds up yelling again when he tries to reach up and grab the ibuprofen. “Fuck!” he says angrily.

“Babe, I said to let me do it,” Steve scolds, his hand back on Bucky’s shoulder. “And let me take this off. It’s hurting you.”

“Steve, back off,” he snaps, angry and waspish from being in pain, and from being frustrated with his own goddamn body. 

“What’s going on?” 

Bucky turns his head without thinking, hisses in pain, and then turns himself full-body to face in Mary’s direction. She’s standing there looking at the two of them in concern, one hand holding one of those swirly, flaky, crack-cookies that she makes, and the other holding a cup of tea. Her eyes widen at the sight of Bucky’s arm and body, reminding him that this is the first time she’s seen him without a shirt on. “Nothin’,” Bucky grunts.

“Shit,” she says. “Are you guys fighting? Is this a couples’ fight? I’ll just …” She turns to leave back towards her room.

“We’re not fighting,” Steve says. “Buck’s just being an ass. He gets that way when he’s in pain.”

Bucky would turn his head to glare at him, but it isn’t worth another flair of agony in his shoulder. “I’m fine,” he says, when Mary comes back over. “It’s fine,” he stresses. He opens the pill bottle and dumps three capsules into his palm. “Jeez, will everybody stop babying me? I just need a glass of water.” 

“I’ll get it,” Steve says, causing Bucky to huff once again. “Don’t be a jerk, babe.”

“Why are you in pain?” Mary asks, her eyes tracing all over the left side of Bucky’s scarred up body. “Is it … does your arm hurt?” 

“No. It just fucks up my muscles, sometimes.”

“Your muscles?”

Bucky sighs impatiently. “Steve, do you know where the heating pad is?”

“I’ll have to look.” Steve has returned with a glass of water, and Bucky tosses back the handful of pills, wincing at how even the slight motion of raising his arm up makes his trap twinge in protest. “Ugh.” 

“You should get a massage,” Mary suggests, and Bucky fights not to lash out at her. She doesn’t know that one of his biggest pet peeves in life is having other people tell him what he “should” do.

“My PT maxed out back in October,” he tells her. “Doesn’t renew again till January.”

Steve takes the water glass from him once he’s done. “Go lie face down on the bed,” he murmurs. “I’ll find the heating pad.”

“Well I could do it,” Mary blurts out. Both Bucky and Steve pause and look at her. She looks surprised, too, as though she hadn’t been planning to say the words until they were out of her mouth, and now doesn’t know how to continue  “Um, that is ..." she gestures weakly with her cookie. “I just meant I know how to, if you wanted.” Eventually her cheeks color and she looks away. “Erm, Nevermind.”

“Wait,” Steve says. When Mary turns back, he’s looking at her earnestly, and Bucky thinks, Oh no. “You know how to give a back massage? Like a real one?”

“Yeah. My, ah, my ex always had neck problems, so.” She shrugs, looking embarrassed. “I took a class at the community college, learned the basics.”

Bucky blinks. That’s the subbiest fucking thing he’s ever heard. “You did this for the husband that beat you?” he drawls, immediately regretting it because it comes out sounding way more derogatory than he intends it to. “Sorry. I just … actually would pay good money for a massage right now. If you know how to do it.” 

Mary bites her lip, looking deliciously shy and sweet. Bucky’s mood sours as he realizes that she doesn’t really want to. He’s about to let her off the hook, but then some unconscious movement he makes without meaning to has him flinching in pain again. “Sheezus,” he complains. 

“It’s not usually this bad,” Steve worries.

“I must’a slept on it wrong.”

Mary nods, as if this settles it. “Okay. Well, go in the bedroom and tie your hair up so it's out of the way.” She turns to Steve, all but dismissing Bucky now that she’s got a task to complete. Bucky fights back an amused smirk as he heads towards the bedroom, and he hears Mary bossing Steve around, telling him she needs dry oil, the heating pad, towels, and all the seat cushions off the couch. 

The fuck does she need those for? Bucky thinks as he pads back into his and Steve’s room.

He finds out a moment later, when Mary and Steve come in with a couch cushion each, and Steve goes back out to get another. They lay them in a line on the bed, and Mary directs Bucky to lie on top of them, with his body placed just so and his face down just there, and … Oh. He gets it.

She’s left space between the cushion under Bucky’s chest, and the next cushion up, which supports his forehead. The gap creates a drop through for his face—like a massage table. And when she shapes the towel into a donut shape and sticks it there, it's pretty much perfect.

“Oh,” Bucky says, as he’s settling into place. “Oh, that’s actually really smart.” He can’t see Mary from his position, but somehow he senses her preening over the praise anyway. Steve returns from the bathroom with the heating pad and oil. “Found this stuffed in the back of the linen closet. I don’t know what ‘jojoba’ is, but, um … it’s either that or the virgin olive out in the pantry.”

“Do not use that,” Bucky grumbles. “Shit’s expensive, and I don’t wanna smell like garlic truffle for the next three days.”

“That’ll work fine.” Mary is totally task focused, ignoring Bucky’s surliness and telling Steve to apply the heating pad across Bucky’s shoulders and neck for thirty minutes before they get started.

“Thirty minutes?!” Bucky complains, unable to see anything but the top of the bedcovers as the two of them go out into the hallway. 

“Just relax, Babe,” Steve says (and if Bucky isn’t mistaken, he sounds amused). “Take a nap.”

“I just woke up!” He scoffs at the bedspread when the door quietly ‘snicks’ shut and he realizes that he’s been abandoned. “Well okay then,” he mutters petulantly. Steve is right: he does turn into an ass when he’s in pain. Hmm. Maybe he should work on that.

Steve

Steve turns the tv onto a low volume so they can talk without Bucky hearing. “Sorry about him,” he says. “He’s a humongous jerk whenever he’s feeling crummy.”

“You mean it’s not just all the time?” Mary drawls.

“He’s … just one of those people you have to learn to love before you like them.” Mary raises an eyebrow, and Steve winces. “Er, that sounded harsh. Don’t tell him I said that.”

She twists her lips and looks down. “Your secret’s safe with me.” 

“Thanks, Hon. You want more tea?” 

“Yes please. There’s more of the palmiers in a baggie next to the coffee pot, if you want any.” 

“Heck yeah, I love those things.” Steve had thought the prepackaged ones at Starbucks were good, hadn’t even realized that they weren’t supposed to be all stale and hard like that. Just another commercialized pastry that Mary’s gone and ruined him for. He goes into the kitchen and makes himself coffee and Mary tea, knowing by now how she takes it.

She thanks him silently as he returns and joins her on the couch, both of them sitting close to one another on the chaise, since it’s the only part of the couch that still has its cushion.

"Palmier is French. Know what else they call these?" Mary asks.

Steve's lips quirk. Mary's always got these little facts she knows about the origins of this pastry or that. It's cute. Endearing. "No," he plays along. "What?"

"Elephant ears, because of the shape, see?"

"Oh yeah. Huh. That's neat."

She goes back to eating and sipping at her teacup, and after a moment of unrequited, affectionate staring, Steve looks away. "Elephant ears," he murmurs, trying not to be mopey. "That's funny."

They split the palmiers between them, and aside from the sounds of them munching cookies and sipping their drinks, it’s quiet for a long time. Steve made both the tea and the coffee very hot, so they at least have the excuse of cradling and blowing on their steaming mugs to keep the silence from being too awkward. Mary keeps her eyes trained forward, but Steve gets the sense that she isn’t really paying attention to the home renovation program that’s playing on the tv. His suspicions are confirmed when she eventually asks,

“So: His arm.”

Steve inhales slowly. “Yeah. His arm.”

“What happened?”

Steve frowns. He can tell by her inflection that she’s asking not just about the arm, but about the state of Bucky’s entire left side from shoulder to hip. “We were in the army,” he confides. “Deployed overseas. I made captain young, but he was a specialist in the field: a sniper. So I wasn’t put into the same types of situations as he was. His convoy got blown up by an IED. And when the dust settled …” He shrugs. “No more arm.”

“Oh.” Mary sits there and absorbs that information. “I guess I kind of figured it was something like that. I mean what else is there, besides like, a shark attack or something?”

Steve’s mouth twitches. Shark attack, ha. He’ll have to suggest that one to Buck. Might be fun to lie about, the next time a stranger asks. “Naw, just a boring old bomb. And afterwards, well. It was a long road for him, after. He didn’t have the arm when I met him.”

Mary turns her head, surprised. “Oh. You two didn’t meet in the army?”

“No, after. I met him at the V.A., when he was already angry, hurt, and didn’t want to be where he was.” Steve looks over and gives her a meaningful look. “Kind of like when I first met you.” 

Her eyes widen, and then her face colors and she looks away again, pulling her knees up and hunkering over her mug. “Was I really that bad?” she mumbles.

“... You were pretty bad, Honey.”

She frowns and doesn’t say anything, and Steve decides to leave it alone. “So yeah, his arm. He got into a program for experimental cybernetics. It was a big gamble. Back then, he still had his arm down to nearly the elbow, which meant he could use a lot of the different types of prostheses they had on the market. The less arm you have, the less they can do for you. The surgeries for the implant required removal all the way up to and including his left shoulder blade. So if he went through with it and the procedures didn’t work out, he’d be left with less function than he started with.”

“Jeez.”

“Hm, yeah. It was a risk.” Steve stares across the living room as he remembers all of the hospital stays and surgeries and revisions and therapy appointments. “Luckily it worked out. They replaced some bones with metal supports, some of his natural muscle with enhanced synthetic tissue. His body didn’t reject any of the junk they were putting in him, which was the biggest worry. All in all, it took five surgeries over the course of three years, and then a shit ton of physiotherapy. Buck says it was worth it, now, but it wasn’t a walk in the park when it was happening, I’ll tell you that.”

Beside him, Mary makes a sad little noise in her throat. “But … all that and it still gives him pain?”

“Yeah. He gets PT for it, but like he said; it never winds up lasting the full year. I force him to my veterans' support group when I can, but he’s gotta be in a really charitable mood for that.” Steve snorts humorlessly. “He’s always hated being disabled. It doesn’t jive with his DPD. You know that stereotype about men: never wanting to stop and ask for directions?” 

“Yeah.”

"Well it's true. And then you take a guy who’s as far on the spectrum as Bucky is, and it’s ten times worse.” He widens his eyes in emphasis and gets a little giggle out of Mary for it, which makes him warm with pride. He pulls his feet up onto the couch next to Mary’s and nudges her knee with his. “Just fair warning: He’s the worst patient I’ve ever seen. So don’t take it personally if he’s grumpy at you in there.”

Mary frowns and looks away. “Well, I mean I don’t have to do this. If he doesn’t want to.”

“Pretty sure he wants to. And he needs help with it, whether his stubborn ass wants to admit it or not.”

She nods, though she still doesn’t look confident. “It’s been over a year since I worked on anybody …”

“Well then this’ll be good practice for you, won’t it?” Steve nudges her again in encouragement and tells her to finish up her tea: He doesn’t expect Bucky’ll lie around patiently for much longer.

(“Oh, and Hon, maybe don’t tell him we were out here talking about him this whole time.”)

(“Duh.”)

In the bedroom, Mary climbs onto the bed next to where Bucky is laid out on the couch cushions. She takes the heating pad off his neck and puts it aside, looking nervously over the broad expanse of his back. “Um …” She reaches for the oil bottle and pumps some into her hands. She spends a long, long time just spreading it between her hands and staring at Bucky, until finally he snaps,

“What’s the holdup?” 

“Babe, be nice,” Steve warns. “Mary? You need anything?”

“Um, no. It’s just … usually I'd ..." She makes an aborted move, like she's thinking about repositioning herself, but winds up staying where she is. "Right," she mutters to herself. "This'll work fine." She reaches forward like she’ll start rubbing Bucky’s back, hesitates, shuffles closer to his side, then sets her hands on his shoulders.

Bucky doesn’t so much as twitch, but he’s not used to new people touching him, and Steve would bet money that his eyes are clenched shut right now.

“Okay,” Mary warns. “I haven’t done this in awhile, so don’t get your hopes up for a miracle or anything.”

“Anything’ll be better than what I can do myself,” Bucky says gruffly, voice somewhat muffled by the cushions. “Just go to town. You can’t hurt me any worse.”

Steve can see Mary’s face, and he knows by now what she looks like when she’s flustered. Awkwardly, he steps to the side, heading for the door. “I’ll just go watch some—”

“No!” Mary squeaks, and when Steve turns back around she’s looking at him with wide eyes. “Don’t leave,” she says, like being left alone touching Bucky is the worst possible thing that could happen. Steve doesn’t miss how the muscles in Bucky’s arms do tense at hearing her plead for Steve to stay. 

“Uhm, okay. I’ll just … be over here.” He leans back against the dresser, feeling almost painfully awkward. Once again, he’s reminded how Mary has shown absolutely no desire to engage in sexual contact with them. He hopes she doesn’t think this is a ploy to force physical contact. She was the one who suggested it, after all.

She starts at the base of Bucky’s skull, rubbing her thumbs in small circles. “As I go along, try to tell me which areas feel the worst,” she murmurs, and Bucky hums in acknowledgement. Steve watches as she pushes and circles and kneads Bucky’s neck, working down on into his shoulders. He’s struck by how feminine and tiny her hands look against Bucky’s body … and then has to steer his mind away from the thought of how tiny they might look in other places.

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky gasps, when she reaches a certain spot on the left side of his neck.

She freezes. “Bad?” 

“Nngh. Good,” he slurs. “That whole area from there goin’ down into my back ‘n all around my shoulder blade is where it’s worst.”

“Okay.” She tentatively presses around in and around the left side of his neck and shoulder. “Oh, yeah. It starts right here and goes down.” She slides her hand down the muscle and hums. “Oh, I can feel it.”

(Steve tries really hard not to think sexual thoughts.)

“Riiight here? and … here?"

Between the cushions, Bucky’s voice comes out in a series of garbled moans.

“That’d be a yes,” Steve interprets, and Mary actually shoots him a grin at that. Glad to have cut the tension a bit, he dares to take a few steps closer to the bed. He peers down at what Mary’s doing, the way her fingers dig in at sharp, focused points in some places and rub more gently in others. “It’s your trap that’s the worst,” she mutters distractedly, feeling around with her hands and staring off into space with the tip of her tongue poking out at the corner of her mouth. It’s cute. “Mmm, but probably your levator scapulae, too. Those tend to get fucked up hand in hand.”

“Mmrr.”

“And here: your rhomboid.”

“Ooh!”

“Tender?” 

“Shuyeahhh,” Bucky grunts, then his breath hitches when she digs into another spot. “Oh, yep yep right there. Was’that?”

Steve can’t help but grin. Bucky sounds like he’s drooling at this point.

“Your trapezius muscle. It's big. Does a lot of work, covers a large area. Probably the main offender.” Mary hums and feels around a little more. “Oof, yeah. You’ve got a whole bunch of tension right here.”

“You can feel it?” Steve asks, fascinated. He can't see anything.

“Yeah. Here, gimme your hand.” Steve is taken aback when she grabs his hand and guides his fingers into place, her own smaller hand pressing down. “Riiight there. You feel it?”

Steve swallows thickly. “Ah, yeah.” His eyes flick from her hand on his hand on Bucky’s back, up to her face, and back again before she can catch him looking. “Y-yeah it’s hard.” He grimaces at his choice of words (If he's not careful, "it" soon will be).

“I’m gonna focus on this one for a few minutes,” Mary tells Bucky. Then you can guide me around to the other bad spots.”

“Sounds good,” he slurs. Steve is about to take a step back again, but then Bucky calls out, “Hey Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Pay attention to what she’s doin’. It feels really fuckin’ good.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mmhm. You can learn n' do it next time,” he says dreamily. On his back, Mary’s hands still for the briefest of seconds. “S’goood.”

Steve nods and comes back to sit on the bed. “Okay,” he agrees, scooting in close and glancing at Mary. Her face looks pinched all of a sudden, her expression stiffened as if in annoyance. “I promise I’m not as dumb as I look,” he jokes, and watches as her face smooths out and she smiles a little.

“Oh! Oh no it’s … it’s okay, I don’t mind. I’ll teach you how.”

“Don’t mind me, m’just a teaching tool,” Bucky drawls, and Steve laughs and pats his shoulder. 

“Yeah you are. So shut up and let her teach.”

Bucky grunts and shuts up. Steve looks to Mary for instruction. He can tell she’s uncomfortable, but she manages to hide it well and keep herself on track. The more he pays attention, the sooner she can get herself out of this and never have to do it again. “Ready to learn,” he tells her.

“Now when you’re doing this, you can get more leverage if you straddle his waist.” She says this like it’s a foregone assumption that she would never dare to sit on Bucky’s waist, and Steve is sure she doesn’t notice the grumpy huff of breath Bucky gives.

“Right,” Steve says, pained. “Okay, so where are the bad spots again?”

“Put your hand here.” She takes his hand again and places it just to the left of Bucky’s spine at the level of his shoulder blade. “Slide your fingers out. There. Feel that difference? Feel how it changes when you move out to just … there?” She guides his fingers, and Steve nods. 

“Y-yeah.” Mostly, he’s just thinking about how nice Mary’s warm, oiled, tiny hand feels guiding his hand around. “Yeah.”

“The trap’s on top, but there are other muscles underneath of this one, and that differentiation you feel is where the rhomboid is ending and the—”

She keeps talking, and Steve tries to pay attention and learn, he really does. But his mind is a veritable sieve, for how well he retains the information. It’s all in one ear and out the other, ninety percent of his attention stuck on Mary’s hands on him, guiding him, pressing on his fingers and gliding his touch over Bucky’s skin. Fuck, how did they wind up here? 

Eventually, having taught Steve the basics, Mary lets him go and works on Bucky’s shoulders for a little while more. For the most part it’s quiet, with Bucky making soft grunts of pain whenever she finds a new cluster of knotted muscle, and sighs of relief once she works them out. 

Her hands linger on Bucky’s mid back when she’s done. She doesn’t seem to know what to do. “Erm. Okay. I think … I think that’s it.”

When neither Bucky nor Steve says anything, she retreats on her own, getting off the bed and looking between Bucky’s prone form and Steve’s sorrowful expression. “So, kay. You can get up, if you want. Just move slowly.”

Bucky’s right hand gives her the thumbs up symbol, but the entire rest of his body doesn’t move. “Thanks Mare. Just give us a second. That was really good. Thank you. Thanks for teaching Steve.”

It’s the “Thanks for teaching Steve” that seems to do it. Mary’s expression firms up and she nods curtly, leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. Steve stays sitting on the bed next to Bucky in silence for a long minute, then says knowingly, “Got a boner?”

“Yep.”

*To anyone who's only ever had store bought, pre-packaged palmiers: I'm so sorry. Along with Madeleines, those should never be eaten more than a few hours max after they've been baked.

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Square N3: Body Swap

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[modeus-the-unbound]

MODEUS'S BETTER DLC PLOTLINE! (According to my own personal tastes.) Now I am going to order this from, Easiest/Simplest changes to make to the hardest/most complex changes to make.

Stage 1.

Replace Radahn being Miquella's consort with Godwyn. Yes, this makes Miquella, the Brother Lover, still canon. But Miquella has already tried so many ways to fully kill Godwyn in the base game that it comes across as a fixation, it would make sense that if he were in the land where all death resides, and decide, "Well, if killing him fully won't work. What about bringing him back? The only way to do it seems to be taking my own brother as my consort...but I wouldn't mind Godwyn as my consort. He was super nice and really strong." That keeps Miquella's established character motivation from the base game, but also extends it as the DLC did. Why would Freya be there? Make Radahn's body part of the ritual to bring back Godwyn the same as Mogh's was. Easy. I can fully believe that you would need two demigods to bring back someone's soul from the dead.

Yes this does mean a completely new bossfight. Don't care. The final boss of a damned 40$ dlc should not be a remixed or a recycled boss. Tough titties, Fromsoftware.

Stage 2.

Radahn's soul could have still played a factor in the story. Maybe he carried the mental scars from what the scarlet rot made him do into the afterlife, causing him to be nearly broken in spirit. Now he simply sits with his back against a massive tree/rock, in a small area cut off from the rest of the Lands of Shadow, depressed and mourning how he idolized Godfrey when this place and the eternal genocide occuring in it were part of his legacy.

Bonus points if you wanna get spicy with it. Have Malenia also be there if you killed her in the base game, now feeling abandoned by the twin she dedicated herself towards. She sits on the opposite side of the tree/stone to Radahn, in a similar sitting pose as him, as they talk about mundane things like the weather. Basically being two proud warriors who don't know how to apologize to eachother for their fight, both feeling guilty now that they know it was for such horrid or petty reasons.

Stage 3.

Almost all of the Demigods should have been NPC's you could interact with in the DLC. Morgott sitting at the top of the Suppresion Pillar trying to reconcile his faith in the Erdtree with the fact that in this culture he would have been practically worshipped for the traits he and his twin were shunned for. Placidusax lounging next to the Grand Altar of the Grand Altar of Dragon Communion, having forgiven you now that their body has been fully restored in death. Rykard back in human form with a suspiciously large serpent pet, enjoying the tranquility of the Cerulean coast. While obviously scheming to feed his serpent all the corpses inside of the massive Stone Coffins, but not knowing anyway to break them open.

Basically gimme a story that felt like it took two years to write. Cause while the gameplay, level design, and atmosphere are 11/10's. The story of this dlc in regards to Miquella, is TERRIBLE.

[sgiandubh]

@outlanderskin :"For those who have doubts: just research a little about Caitríona's dating history. See how she treated Dave and James and how she talked about them in interviews. See how she wrote about the Irish boyfriend she had in Paris in that article. Compare all of this to the impersonal way she treats or talks about Tony. Bingo🙃"

Good point 👌

Dear Good Point Anon,

You know, it's really serendipitous, as I have just finished a weeklong deep dive in very, very old press articles on (or at least mentioning) S and C, who clearly had a life before OL, thinking it would be nice to put some of my archive work skills to good service.

I think @outlanderskin was referring to C's New York Times article I reviewed and analyzed last summer, but I just found way better: a very long report in the Irish Independent's Sunday issue of July 11, 2004, focused on the next generation of Irish supermodels. Of which there could be only one, at that time: C, who dominates Roxanne Parker's 'Through Thick and Thin".

I am sorry, there is no link available to my knowledge, so we'll have to work with these very poor xerox scans:

I took the liberty of generously using my dreaded highlighter and, for the people who need to translate this post with Google, I am now taking my time to type what I find damn interesting in this almost twenty-year old article:

'If Ireland ever has a hope of having its own supermodel, then Caitriona Balfe is it. Sitting in the Pink Pony Café on Ludlow Street in New York, Caitriona swirls a wad of bread into her carrot and coriander soup while informing me that her musician boyfriend just brought her a breakfast-in-bed of cream eclairs and coffee a little over an hour ago. But that doesn't stop Caitriona from finishing her lunch and chasing it with a large cocoa-dusted cappuccino. Ebony-tressed and ivory-skinned, Caitriona clip-clops down the cobbled street after we leave the cafe, heading towards her apartment in Chinatown with Dave Mailone (sic!), the boyfriend, in tow.'

This reads, in 2024, like an interview with a more benevolent C clone from a totally different planet, indeed. A young, carefree, in love and hysterically funny C, who apparently had no problem heavily dishing out happy tidbits of her private life to her home country's press. A C also very much reminiscing anyone with a brain of the 2013-2018 bantering C, as this quote shows:

Again, you'll have to indulge me retyping it, Anon (tedious, I know - but helpful). She is remembering her real breakthrough, in November 2002, at the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show, in New York:

That was the most I've ever been paid for a show. I've got 18,000 euros for one day's work! They made me get a spray tan before the show, and I was still the whitest and the least well-endowed girl in the entire show! So what did she have to wear on the big day? `Not a whole lot! I think I described my outfit on the day as something Wilma Flintstone would wear on her honeymoon night. There wasn't a whole lot to it and it had bits of fur hanging off it.'

And, for good measure, we even have a (admittedly, awful) picture with the season's fiancé, with whom things did not end well:

I know, it looks like a Pravda pic, circa 1957 and I am honestly sorry. But it's still very clear. And, which is more important, very eloquent.

Anon and reader, you draw your own conclusions on this. I know where I stand. The only guy C has similar pics taken with and released in the press or on social media is the peasant some love to bash every single day in here. Their problem, not mine.

Yes, of course Mordor will yell and hiss. Of course they will throw rotten tomatoes at the blunt knife and scream THIS IS OLD. But hey, do you have any better than this poor (but oh, so endearingly authentic) picture or than any given S&C pic before the fucking EFH and IFH, when she gradually started to turn into today's Reclusive, Restrained and Rarefied Greta Garbo wannabe?

Oh, and please: don't give me the 'he's shy' or the paperwork crap again. Her public persona has drastically changed, and not for the better. It's plain to see and there are reasons for this.

Who's to blame? This question is so wrong, in so many ways.

The question should be 'what's to blame?'

I'll stop here, Anon and I hope it was somewhat useful. Thank you for dropping by.

[dreaisgrayte]

Hot and Tasty| Kyojuro Rengoku

Synopsis: Your best friend introduces you to one of her friends since you’re introverted and don’t get out much. The two of you hit it off and come to find out, this new friend is a lot closer to your heart than you previously thought. 

Warning/contains: cam!boy rengoku, blowjob, mature content, mature language, oral sex, fem and male receiving, maybe a little crush, vibrator on male, slight angst

word count: 7.4K

a/n: i’m finally back, thank goodness. Finals week and then Tears of the Kingdom took over my life. This fic is a small idea I had thinking about Rengoku’s moobies. Like how nice would it be for him to stream with those? Fr, he’d be the type to not understand why he got all the hype. So I dedicate this fic to Kyojuro’s perfect pectorals. 

If there was one thing you knew about yourself, it was that you were a visual person. You learned better visually, vision was your favorite sense. You used it constantly in your line of work, watching how people interact with one another, shows, and how words could come together to form a story. You wrote and you were damn good at it. Though, books hadn’t been flying off the shelves as you had hoped. So you used your skills of being an introvert and lack of a care to create a streaming channel. Fans suddenly started flocking to you and your following grew and grew until it was apparent you could make some good money off of this. You could combine your passion with something you were good at and get paid for it. 

So yeah, visuals made you pretty happy. So happy that even when you touched yourself you couldn’t do so without watching someone else enjoy themselves. Though you couldn’t think about that right now because you were supposed to be meeting up with your close friend Kanroji. She had invited you out to lunch last night and who were you to decline the loveable best friend you’d had for many years now? She’d even offered to pay for your food since she knew times were a little tough for you at the moment. You couldn’t tell her that you’d had a drunk night and accidentally (on purpose) made a big donation to a streamer you watched often. She’d start to ask questions and those questions would lead down a harsh road of embarrassment for you. It’s then that you feel your phone buzz almost as if you’d summoned Kanroji.

Kan_deez_nutsfitinyourmouth 

Great news! A friend I haven’t seen in a while is going to meet us there. He told me he just got a huge bonus from work so he’ll treat us to lunch! I can’t wait for you both to meet each other! I hope this is okay. ~11:37am

You read over the text for a few moments before thinking about what Kanroji’s friend would look like. She had a multitude of friends and they came in all different shapes and sizes. Surprisingly she thought of you as her best friend, out of everyone she was friends with she chose you. It meant a lot to you and even though it was narcissistic, being favored by Kanroji Mitsuri made you feel better about yourself. What if she liked this other friend more? That was something you couldn’t let happen. You’d have to make sure Kanroji didn’t abandon you. This fear was probably irrational and you might need to see a therapist about it. You shrug it off and move off your plush bed. You needed to find something nice to wear because you couldn’t show up wearing the same outfit you’d been in for the last 3 days or so. This old friend had to know you meant business. You decide on a short green floral dress that has a stretchy bust to help contain the gravity sacks. The skirt of the dress fell nicely around your stomach and covered enough of your thighs that you didn’t feel super insecure about them. You once yourself over in the mirror leaning against your wall. You looked cute, cute enough to kill. Which you were willing to do if it meant keeping Kanroji to yourself. You slip into some comfortable off-brand white tennis shoes and glance at your phone for the time. It was nearly noon, you should probably start the short journey to the quaint restaurant. 

You arrive a little past noon and spot Kanroji seated near the window. Your eyes instantly track the man sitting across from her. He has long blonde hair with red tips. It falls past his shoulders in spiky waves. His shoulders are…incredibly broad, and muscular, and you find yourself staring at the lines of his muscles through his shirt for longer than you would like to admit. You move shyly toward the pair and before you can appear fully in front of them Kanroji notices you. Her face lights up with an excited smile as she waves you over.

“Y/n you made it!” She beams. The man slowly turns and then he abruptly stands up. You slightly jump at the sudden movement but watch as he bows his head and then extends his hand. You look between his massive hand and his bright red and yellow eyes. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you y/n, my name is Kyojuro.” His eyes seem to glow as he grins warmly at you. You take his hand in yours and shake it. A pull of electricity courses through you once your skin makes contact with his. He motions for you to sit next to him with a friendly smile. You accept only because he smelt like delicious food and maybe expensive cologne. He wore a fitted black tee paired with simple blue jeans. You don’t know how he did it, but somehow he looked incredibly good-looking. Maybe it was because he was just that good-looking. How the hell were you supposed to feel confident when you sat next to two beautiful people?

Rengoku was nervous. He’d never seen someone as effortlessly breathtaking as you. He’d never known love before, but he was starting to understand what the phrase love at first sight meant. You were meadows kissed by the sun. You were birds soaring in the sky. You were melodies played by a symphony. Kanroji should’ve warned him that you were more than his type, you were perfect. Rengoku sends a glare toward Kanroji, who smirks his look off and turns her attention to you. 

“So what have you been up to this fine morning y/n?” Kanroji inquires. You glance at the man next to you who doesn’t seem too interested in the conversation, so you decide to tell the truth. 

“Well, I woke up pretty late, but once I cooked myself a nice breakfast I was pretty pumped to get some work done.” You reply, fiddling with the skin on your thumb. Kyojuro peers at you with an inquisitive look. 

“What do you do for work?” He asks, his eyes searching your face like they’ll reveal the answer before your mouth does. You smile kindly and gesture to yourself. 

“I’m a self-published author who also likes to stream on Twitch for some extra cash.” His eyes light up like a fire. 

“I like to stream too.” He exclaims. You feel your heart soar. For a moment you thought Kyojuro would ask you the same line of questions everyone else seems to. When will you get a real job?

“Really? What platform do you stream on? Maybe I know it?” You quiz. Kyojuro quickly looks away from you. You furrow your brows and observe a red tinge to his ears. 

“It’s…pretty unheard of. I don’t think you’d know it…” He trails off. Why did the mood change so suddenly? Did you say something wrong? All you wanted to do was support Kyojuro since it felt like the two of you were becoming friends. Anxiety thrums in your chest. Maybe you weren’t as likeable as you had originally thought. Kanroji’s favor had gotten to your head. 

“Well, I have an idea.” Kanroji pipes up, breaking the silence you had inevitably created. You turn to look at her, who had been silent strangely for a while. “Why don’t you both exchange numbers and then Rengoku can send you some of his content when you get to know each other better.” She smiles slyly and Kyojuro shares a strange look with her. He presses his full lips together and lets out a short breath. She pulls out a pad of paper from her bag and passes it to you with a pink pen. “Write down your number. I’m sure Kyojuro will contact you as soon as possible.” She grins, but you can see the mischief in your friend’s green eyes. What was she planning? You scribble down your number and tear out the page it’s on. You hesitate for a moment before sliding it over to Rengoku. His eyes are trained on the piece of paper like it holds the world's secrets. 

“Thank you…” He mumbles softly. You nod your head and look away from him. 

“No problem.” You respond not sure what just happened. You hear Kanroji giggle and look up to find her covering her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter. “What is it now?” You ask, frustration dripping from your tone. This only fuels her laughter more. 

“You both are just so…” She shakes her head and gestures to you and Kyojuro. “So cute. We have to hang out more.” 

“We haven’t even ordered our food Mitsuri. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves” Rengoku glares at her. She gains a shit-eating grin on her face. You stare at the shoes you had slipped on, doubt that you should’ve even came today seeping into your thoughts. Did he not want to hang out with you again? He didn’t owe you anything, but did he have to make it so obvious that he wanted to never do this again?

“Well by all means let’s eat because I’m starving.” She grins and clasps her hands together. You peer up at Kanroji, observing her beautiful hair and sharp face. She was the type of girl that people stopped to stare at. You were always the glance, never the double-take. The small lunch ends with mainly Kyojuro and Kanroji catching up about what they’d been up to lately. You sat watching the two interact, mostly entranced with the way Rengoku’s smile seemingly brightened up the dim restaurant. You wished you could watch his mouth all day. The way he formed words was somehow sexy. His whole face expressing his emotions without a filter or care how others would react to him. Kyojuro was beautiful. A ray of warmth in your somewhat cold life. The time ticked by in an instant, and suddenly you were standing to leave. Kyojuro had left to pay for the food and you stood waiting for Kanroji to gather her things. “So, do you like him?” She suddenly blurts. Kanroji had a sixth sense of matching people together. It was like she was a matchmaker in her past life. She just had these feelings when two people would click together in the type of love you hear about in the fictional world. Your eyes widen at her blatant question. 

“I just met him.” You hiss, narrowing your eyes at the obvious answer. Kanroji on the other hand sighs loudly and rolls her eyes. You weren’t even sure if he liked meeting you. 

“Y/n, I’m not asking if you want to have his children, just a simple ‘Do you think he’s a cool person’? What are your opinions on him at this moment?” She restates. You flush and look away from her prying eyes. 

“I…I mean he’s really cool…” You mutter. You know Kanroji is smirking even without looking at her. You can’t seem to stop the confessions, even though you knew she’d tease you about it later. “I think his smile is the most attractive thing I’ve seen on someone, besides his obvious muscular body. He feels safe, which sounds weird because I’ve only just met him, but I think I’d grow to trust him.” You rant, embarrassed that your mouth won’t seem to close. Kanroji pats you on the shoulder and her sly smirk changes to a smile of compassion and understanding. 

“I’m really glad it seems you want to be friends with him. My little introvert is growing her social circle.” She wipes away a fake tear and you shove her slightly. Her mischievous glow comes back as she pushes you back. “So you do want to have his babies?” She teases. You’re about to object because even if you want to be friends with him that doesn’t mean he wants to be friends with you, but you feel a presence and you know exactly who it has to be.

“Who’s babies?” Kyojuro’s deep voice asks from behind you. Your whole body freezes and then goes warm. Kanroji on the other hand starts to laugh. At times like this, you really hated your best friend. 

“Doesn’t matter.” You grumble and push past the both of them. “I’m leaving.” You don’t wait for either of them, just walk out the door and start the short walk to your apartment. What were you thinking? You got too comfortable with something you didn’t even have. It’s not like Kyojuro would ever look at you like that. You were stupid and… and insecure. Stupidly insecure about your body. What Rengoku lacked in body fat you surely made up for. He probably wanted someone built like himself, able to keep up. You’d just end up slowing him down. You feel a cold coil of anxiety and sorrow wrap around your body. It’s then that someone runs up behind you. You turn around expecting it to be Mitsuri, but Rengoku stands there panting slightly. He was a sight to see. The dimming light of the evening made him glow like an ember. In a way he reminded you of the sunset; once he left you’d be all alone in the dark with only the light from your monitor illuminating your face. He searches your face for some sort of sign that you were displeased. He was worried he’d said something that offended you. He didn’t want to admit it, but he wanted to get to know you enough that you might consider becoming intimate with him. He’d never met someone like you and he was damned if he let you go now. 

“Did I say something wrong?” He finally asks. Might as well get to the point. There was no need to dance around what he wanted to ask you. You raise your brows and shake your head slowly. Why would he think that? Was he being serious? Never the less, it wasn’t him who had sent your emotions necessarily into a frenzy. It was the pushiness of your best friend. 

“No Kyojuro, Kanroji just takes her jokes too far sometimes. I shouldn’t have stormed out like that…” You sigh and press your lips together. Kyojuro’s face relaxes and you are blessed with another one of his smiles. 

“Yeah, I know what you mean. Can I say something weird?” He rubs the back of his neck and looks off to the side. You tilt your head and shrug, but you can’t help the nervous butterflies the creep up to your sternum. You want to shove them down and tell them there’s no place for them here, but you almost enjoy the way they make you feel.

“I don’t have a problem with whatever you want to say. Go ahead.” You reply. He clears his throat and your eyes meet. 

“I’m glad I got to meet you today. You seem really cool and I look forward to getting to know you better.” He mumbles shyly. You can’t help but swoon at the adorable tone of his voice. All your anxietys melt away and are replaced with a steadily beating heart and throbbing lower region. This man had such a hold on you after a few hours of being next to one another. Your face contorts into an idiotic grin.

“Me as well.” You pause and you notice your heart pounding in your chest. You can’t tell if you are nervous talking to someone you want to be friends with… or if it’s the easy attraction you have for him. You decide it’s probably a mixture of both. You also decide to be bold. “Make sure to text me, I want to see your content sometime soon.” You bow your head and go to leave, but before you turn around you catch Rengoku’s face flushing a bright red. Hmm… what an interesting reaction. Maybe…just maybe you should give love another shot. If with anyone, surely Kyojuro would be an excellent choice. 

Kyojuro’s heart was nearly pounding out of his chest as you walked out of his view. He watched you until he couldn’t anymore. He stumbles toward the wall and braces himself against it. He attempts to catch his breath and places a hand over his heart. How was he supposed to show such an innocent person the type of content he made…? He couldn’t possibly share his deepest darkest secret with you. You would surely leave him behind if you learned of it. Maybe it was time for him to branch out into the gaming genre so he’d have something to show you. 

You got home around 5:30. It didn’t seem like you’d stayed out that long, but here you were nearly 5 hours later finally getting home. You’d somehow made a new friend. This was huge. A momentous occasion. You should celebrate. You look down at your phone and then remember the pounding of your heart earlier. You knew an excellent way to relieve some stress.

It’s not long before you’re in your room propped up on your bed. You grab your laptop from your bedside table and place it on a pillow in front of you. You type in the URL of one of your favorite sites. A horny smile curls the corners of your lips upwards as you search for one of your favored content creators. Yoro was a hunky man, with huge pecs. You could only imagine what they must feel like. His content was very straightforward, but he specialized in role-play, pillow talk, and was famous for his incredible whimpering. It…did things to a person. He always had his hair tied back into a low ponytail, so it had to be long. You wonder how much he’d beg for you if you pulled his hair…Needless to say, this man had you wrapped around his finger. If you ever got the chance to meet him… goodness you don’t even know what you’d do. Probably drop your pants to let the flood free. Yoro also wore a black mask and sometimes a black cap that he pulled over his eyes. It was a little disappointing that you couldn’t see his face, but the rest of him more than made up for it. His body was a work of art and you’d never seen a cock prettier than his. It had to be around 5 to 6 inches long and was so girthy. You wonder if he’d be able to fit inside you. In fact, he was the biggest expense in your life. He was the reason you had spent a lot of money when you were drunk. You had to be his number-one fan. Had to be. 

You pull up one of his recent videos and lean up against your headboard. Yoro’s setup was very simple; a view of his bed, which had deep red sheets on it, his gray walls, and a small view of his desk where he sat for Q and As at times. He starts off the video sitting at his desk and explaining that he’ll be trying out a new toy a fan had sent him. It was a small vibrator that could be wrapped around the penis. He looked excited from what you could tell and that made you horny for some reason. You shimmy out of your underwear and toss them on your floor. You spread your legs like you’re showing Yoro your pussy. He’s already strapped the toy onto his cock and has it turned on a low setting. 

“Fuck, this feels weird.” He chuckles in a deep voice. You bite down on your bottom lip as your fingers duck into your folds. “I’m going to turn it up higher.” He explains and presses the button a couple of times. You can hear the buzzing from here and your heart pounds with lust. You wanted to be there teasing him with the vibrator. Making him whimper and whine for you give him sweet release. Your eyes close slightly as you gaze at Yoro on your screen. His hair was tucked into his hat this time and you never desperately wished to see someone’s face as they were being pleasured as you do with his. Yoro doubles over on the bed and his legs start to shake. “Ngh. Fuck. It feels so good.” He whines. His eyes dart to look at the camera as he struggles to stay standing. You flutter your eyes closed as you massage your clit with your fingers. God this was so hot. “I think- ahh- close. I’m going to,” His breath shakes as he tries to talk. His muscular arm contracts as he grips the sheets of his bed. “F-fuck, holy shit.” He sputters out as cum spurts from his tip. You bite back a moan and fall off your climax with a shiver running up your spine. 

“Wow.” You pant as the video ends. Your eyes shut. You were worn out from everything you did today. Socializing and now this? You’d clean up tomorrow. Right now you were going to fall asleep. 

You wake up with a notification from an unknown number. You rub your eyes and read over what the number had said. 

‘Did you get home safe?’ 

It then clicks that this must be Kyojuro. You smile to yourself and save his name as apricot since that’s what his name and hair reminded you of. 

Yn

Yes, I got home safe and sound. I Fell asleep right after I got in the door.

Apricot

hahaha, did you fall asleep in the entryway?

Yn

Lmao, no I at least made it to my bed.

Apricot

damn, so I can’t bully you about being one of those people who sleep on the floor?

Yn

I’m afraid not 🙁

Apricot

dw, I’ll find something else to bully you about

Yn

jeez I thought we were friends, but now I find out you’re actually a horrible person

Apricot

yup, I’m a monster 👾

Yn

wtf emoji is that

Apricot

he’s a cute lil monster wdym?

Yn

oooh sure, ‘cute’

Apricot

>:( so now you’re bullying an inanimate object? Who’s the monster now? 

Yn

caught red-handed, I actually eat children in the night

Apricot

:0 how scandalous 

You shake your head and toss your phone to the side of your bed. How could one person be so damn adorable? You remember last night as your face flushes. You should probably clean up and then start planning out your next few streams. After donating nearly 1k to Yoro, you needed to pump out some streams to earn more money. 

Apricot

What’s your favorite color?

You bite your lip and think for a beat before typing a response. 

Yn

I’m partial to greens and pinks, but I can’t lie and exclude reds and purples 🙂

Apricot

I like red too, it was my mother’s favortie color

Yn

Is she…?

Apricot

Yeah…it happened when I was young so I’m mostly over it

Yn

You don’t have to be over it Kyojuro, grief doesn’t have a deadline

Rengoku doesn’t respond quickly so you set your phone to the side of your desk. You’d put in a load of laundry and starting scheduling streams for next week while texting him. You’ve barely begun to move some items around in your plans when you hear your phone go off. 

Apricot

You’re right, my father was never the same after she died and I think he took it out on me. Maybe that’s why I’ve made some of the rash decisions because I wanted to live up to the disappointment he thought I was. It didn’t help that my little brother watched as our father beat me down with his words nearly every day. That’s why I’m working so hard, so I can provide a better life for my brother…and for my father.

You stare at the message, tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes. The thought of anyone thinking Kyojuro Rengoku was a disappointment was practically unthinkable to you, and you just met him yesterday. You feel angry, sad, and sadistically happy that he felt comfortable enough to tell you this. 

Yn

Firstly, I want to tell you thank you for sharing. That was incredibly brave of you. 

Then there’s what you said, Kyojuro I don’t think you could ever be a disappointment. You’re a product of what happened to you and the environment that was pushed upon you. You grew up damn well, you’re kind, funny, and intelligent. Grief effect people in the strangest ways, I’m just sorry your father got the short end, I can’t imagine how it must of been for all of you. Your father lost the love of his life and you lost a mother. I hope you and your father can make up. 

Apricot

I will fight my whole life if it means I can see him. That’s what love is. Thanks for listening to my rambling. Sorry if I overwhelmed you with the sad boy vibes. 

Yn

No no no, it’s nice to know you’re human. When I met you yesterday I was convinced you were some sort of God

Your face flushes as you boldly send the last text. You flip your phone over and ignore the buzzing. You had to get back to work anyway. 

Rengoku was curious what you meant, but for some reason you weren’t reading his messages. He sighs loudly and presses his lips together. You were too cute for your own good. The beast inside of his chest was throbbing. Then there was the aching in the confines of his pants. He was a gentleman, but you were making him think of ungodly things to do to you. How cute your face would look high on pleasure, cumming for the 100th time for him. You’d be such a good fucking girl for him. Opening up your sweet legs and exposing your cunt for him to taste. You’d be absolutely delicious. Thats when he notices a text back from you.

Yn

I never thought I’d see a sunrise and sunset simultaneously. That’s what it’s like being with you. Is that weird? You’re a very warm person lmao

I feel like that’s weird.

Ignore that.

Kyojuro, don’t get the wrong idea

Fuck

He can’t possibly contain his smile. Delicious. 

It’s been about 3 months since you initially met Kyojuro Rengoku. The two of you had been messaging back and forth nearly everyday, hanging out occasionally, and it was apparent how attracted you were to him. He was intoxicatingly charming over text and when you’d see him in person his smile would wrap your body in a warm coat of giddiness. No longer were you controlled by the cold hands of anxiety. Rengoku’s presence and persisting nature made you realize that you simply shouldn’t give a fuck. You’re you and that’s priceless. Kanroji was ecstatic when you first told her Rengoku asked you to hang out alone. She was convinced you were in love with him, which… probably wasn’t far from the truth. You knew so much about him, but the one thing you were still curious about was the content he made. One part of you felt like it was too late to bring up that topic, but the other part was dying to know if he played games or was more of a talking streamer. What type of things did he do to entertain his viewers? As if summoning him a text message buzzes from him on your phone screen.

Apricot

You wanna come over and chill tonight? I got that new movie you were asking about 😎

Yn

Ahh sick, yeah I can be there by 4

Is that good?

I could come earlier but I have some work to finish up before I can make it

Apricot

Yeah that should work

I do have some things I’ll need to finish up in my office though, so if you’re fine just chilling by yourself for like an hour or so until I’m finished then we should be all set

Yn

Hell yeah man, I’ll take a nap on your comfortable ass couch

Apricot

Just don’t drool on my poor pillows like last time 🙁

Yn

Yeah sure, or I could just not come over

Apricot

FINE, at least hide the massive puddle from me instead of showing me like some proud child who just drew on my walls 😭😭😭😭

Yn

Sorry you give off daddy energy 🤷‍♀️

Apricot

It’s my daddy issues rubbing off on me 🚩😭

Yn

🚩🚩🚩🚩 problem child alert 

Apricot

Hey! You have no idea how evil Senjuro can be. He may look cute, but he uses that against you

Yn

Sounds like a child is able to outsmart you 

Apricot

Just hurry up and get your ass over here 

Yn

Yes sir 🙄

You grin to yourself and those happy butterflies fill your chest yet again. Over the past few months you’d gotten used to the wishy washy way they made you feel. Kind of like you were sinking through a cloud, but a big hunky man would catch you when you fell through. It’d been a while since you masturbated to Yoro since you mostly thought about Kyojuro now. In a way you felt bad, but not too much. You hum happily to yourself and finish up the last minute touches to a cover you were working on. You shut down your computer and glance at what you were wearing in your mirror. Oversized gray sweats and a knit blue tank with a heather gray cardigan loosely covering your shoulders. You looked incredibly sexy. A large grin overtakes your face as you make your way to leave for Kyojuro’s, who happens to live a small jaunt north of you. 

Rengoku paces nervously waiting for you to arrive. Tonight was the night he wanted to tell you that from the beginning he thought you were the most attractive person he’d ever met. How he would say that without sounding creepy…? He didn’t know. He just hoped you’d take it as a compliment. His breath was short and for a moment he thought he might pass out. He feels his phone buzz in his pocket and instantly reaches for it. When he realizes it’s a call from his manager he furrows his brows. He hesitantly answers. 

“Yoro, listen, I need you to stream sometime tonight. Views of your colleagues are down to I need you to fill in the donation gaps.” Before he can argue the phone goes silent. His eyes darken and he throws his phone against the couch. He’d planned on editing some videos, but now he had to stream by contract. 

“Fucking hell.” He curses lowly and clenches his fist. 

You arrive within 10 minutes of leaving, the wonderful air making you in an even better mood. Your smile hadn’t left your lips since your conversation with Kyojuro. You take the elevator and knock on his door around 4:33pm. He opens it briskly, his blonde and red hair in a mess around his face. His chin is scruffy and he wears a loose fitted white shirt with black sweats. He looks amazingly sexy. 

“Hello Kyojuro,” You sing and step into his apartment. You wander over to his plush couch and flop down into the cushions. “Don’t mind me, I’ll be here watching some videos while you busy yourself with important secretive content things.” You tease. Little beknownst to you this stikes a nerve in Rengoku. He grits his teeth together and stalks past you. 

“Just stay quiet. I’m going to lock the door.” He quips sternly, barley looking at you. You furrow your brows and watch as he stomps into the office and closes the door. You listen for the click of the lock but it never comes. 

“Who peed in his cheerios?” You whisper to yourself and sigh loudly. His grumpy demenour had certainly put a damper on your mood, but you were too excited to take another nap on his couch to really care. You were sure when you woke up he’d be back to his bright and cheery self. Not long after you lay your head down you fall asleep. 

Rengoku is in your dream, but so is Yoro. They’re both looking at each other and then Rengoku is shirtless and you don’t really care about Yoro anymore. 

You awaken from what seemed like a short dream to a loud noise coming from Kyojuro’s office. You grunt in response, upset that the real Kyojuro probably won’t become shirtless. Your eyes slowly adjust to light and you stretch out your legs and arms while making a silent screeching noise. Not sure why stretches felt so good while making a noise, but it had to be scientifically proven. You should probably check on Kyojuro. You glance at your phone and realize you’d been asleep for nearly an hour. How long does it take to become shirtless? You roll your eyes and smack your dry lips. You stand and stretch one more time before wandering over to the office door. You grab hold of the knob and knock softly.

“Kyojuro?” You whisper hesitantly and twist the knob. The door slowly opens into the office, or what you thought was the office. Your eyes first land on the bed over to the left of the room covered in red sheets. Your eyes flick to the gray walls and then to Kyojuro, who’s eyes are widely looking into yours. It’s then you realize this Kyojuro is in fact shirtless. And pantless. Dick out. Mask on. Hair tucked into a hat. Yoro. The man you touched yourself to and would do anything to fuck. Shame for watching Kyojuro’s content without his consent rushed through you for a moment. It wasn’t like you had purposefully sought out what he posted, but happened upon it before you even knew each other. As long as you never told him you were a fan, things would work out. You wanted to keep this between the both of you for as long as you could. You notice the camera flashing and scoot back toward the door, eyes still trained on the magnificent body in front of you. A wash of overwhelming feelings crash into you, but for the sake of whatever the fuck was happening, you stayed calm. 

“Sorry guys, my cat almost knocked over a plant.” Kyojuro laughs and turns back to his audience. You notice the vibrator strapped to his dick again and the hunger you had tried to keep calm all this time nearly bubbles out. You’d definitely have to talk this out later, but right now you didn’t want to leave the room. You observe him glance at you a couple of times, but he’s trying so hard to keep his cool. He must think you’re in shock. Appalled. Grossed out. Nope. You’re just really fucking horny. It’s taking all your being to not jump him in front of his camera right now. Everything seemingly clicks into place. Why he got so weird at the restaurant. He didn’t want to tell you he was a cam boy. Why he never shared his content with you. Why he was always so secretive with his office and planning. He also happened to be the one streamer you would do anything for. Which meant in a way you were double horny for him? Maybe after he was done you could convince him to give you a private show? Or was that weird? Maybe that was weird. No harm in asking though. “Yes yoroslut the donations are hooked up to the vibrator. If you send a certain amount it correlates with a certain power setting on it.” He smiles as he replies to a comment. Your heart beats faster in your chest as you watch the live show. You could have some fun with this…

You pull out your phone and notice Kyojuro tense. You smirk and sit down on the ground, back against the wall. He furrows his brows as he watches you, obviously confused on what’s happening. You pull up his stream on your phone and lick your lips with anticipation. You click the donation button and the small gift option. After a couple seconds a low buzzing can be heard from Kyojuro. He tenses and his eyes widen as he realizes what you’re doing. His cock stiffens and you can feel your pussy throb hungrily. He’s trying to pay attention to the stream in front of him, but you were distracting. You donate a medium gift. Louder buzzing and Kyojuro lets out a breathy moan, eyes trained on you. He was searching your face, his muscles tensed because of you. His chest is heaving and you enjoy the way his cock twitches because of the donations you’re sending. Next was the large gift. Incredibly loud buzzing fills the room and Kyojuro doubles over gripping his desk. He whimpers and it cracks into a loud moan. You can hear his breathing from where you sit on his floor. The buzzing continues and Kyojuro starts to shake, his muscles flexing like crazy as he tries to contain himself. You read some of the comments flying by. 

Great show. This is so hot!

This is why Yoro is my favorite!

So glad you decided to stream tonight!

Rengoku is letting out soft moans and his eyes squeeze shut. You can’t handle the hunger building in your chest and pussy so you crawl over on all fours to his chair. He’s already scooted out pretty far from trying to contain himself, so crawling under the desk is a simple task. Once you’re there you peer up at him. His blazing eyes meet yours and from the way he’s breathing you can tell he’s close to climaxing. 

“I want you to be a good boy and cum in my mouth.” You whisper ever so lightly. His eyes widen slightly but then they flutter shut and he gives you the tiniest nod. You rip off the vibrator from his throbbing and twitching cock. You wrap your hand around him, but since he’s so girthy your hand barley covers any space. You work him as best you can nevertheless. Kyojuro grunts softly and he tries to look back at the comments. You like the way his dick feels in your hand, theres a slight curve at the tip that helps him not slip out of your handjob. 

“I-I like,” He groans and his eyes shut again. “I enjoy ramen.” He pants. He must be answering a comment. It’s time for the finishing move. You smirk to yourself, even though you’re a little nervous. You were having fun now, but what about later when everyone had their clothes on and it got serious? You push those thoughts to the back of your head and kiss Kyojuro’s tip and make eye contact with him. You smooch it again and his body visibly shudders. You then take him in your mouth, lips curling around his length. “F-fuck.” He curses and you hear him hit the desk above you. “Sorry guys, I-I-I,” His eyes roll back into his head and without finishing you hear the end of the steam noise. You still bob your head up and down his cock. You can feel him tensing in your mouth. He tears off his mask and hat, watching you suck his pretty cock. He runs a hand through his hair and leans back in his chair, letting out a low rumbling moan. You hum against his dick and his hand is suddenly in your hair, tangled with the soft locks. He pulls your mouth off him and stares at you, breathless. “What the fuck are you doing princess?” He growls. The angry look on his face tells you that you should be scared, but the fact he called you princess in that tone makes you squirm with excitement. 

“Reciting the declaration of independence.” You reply like a smartass. Kyojuro looks you up and down, spit dripping down your chin and a bit of his precum smeared under your lip. You glance down at his erection and then meet his gaze again. “Are you going to let me continue…or?” You trail off moving closer to him on your knees. Kyojuro’s last bit of humanity is thrown out the window as he can smell your delicious scent. 

“No.” He replies in a raspy voice. You tilt your head as he stands from his chair and flops down on the bed. “Come over here y/n” He commands. Your eyes widen and heat crawls all over your body. Rengoku lays on the bed, putting a pillow underneath his head. His eyes track you as you slowly rise to your feet. You sheepishly drop the cardigan and step out of your sweats. Your tank top is easy to slip off over your head and your sports bra comes off with it. You then slowly shimmy out of your underwear. Rengoku’s eyes flit over every inch of your body. He looks away before glancing back. Taking a double take. You feel your whole body warm. “Now get over here princess.” His usual fiery eyes are dark and hungry. With the way your needy cunt pulses, you don’t waste any time. You crawl up on the bed with him and slowly start to position yourself over his chest. His eyes practically eat you up as you scoot a little closer. “Come on my love, you need to be on top for me to use my mouth.” He coos. You nervously bite your lip and sit down on his face. His nose to your clit and he doesn’t miss this oppurtunity to be smothered by your thick thighs. The tip of his nose rubbing against your clit and a soft moan slipping from your mouth. Before you have any time to react his tongue slips between your folds. A surprised yelp comes from your mouth as he continues to explore you with his tongue. It swirls against your clit, prodding the sensative spot like it was something stuck in his teeth he was trying to get out with his tongue. You try to find friction against his nose, biting your lip to contain your moans. Your breath becomes heavy and labored as Rengoku fucks you with his long tongue. You bring your finger to your mouth and bite down. 

“Ah, Kyojuro, oh my god.” You murmured. Your words must motivate him to not let up on nudging your clit with his nose and lapping up your juices. “F-fuck, ungh, yes, right t-there.” You can feel the pressure of an orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. You feel like you’re seeing stars as he continues. Your hands are suddenly tangled in his hair holding him to your pussy. Your legs start to jerk as you ride out the shockwaves of your orgasm. You let out a howling moan, finally not holding back the sounds you wanted to make. You slide off his face and flop down on next to him. Kyojuro pants and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He licks the juices off his hand and maintains eye contact with you. 

“Fucking tasty. Best thing I've ever ate.” He pants, looking you up and down. “Don’t hold back those beautiful noises from me my love.” A boyish grin replaces the serious look on his face as he props himself up on his elbow. “So I guess you know what I do for a living now.” His cheeks are red and your heart pounds in your chest. Yeah and you were his top donator. “I hope you don’t mind, I mean it seems like you didn’t because…you know…we…” He glances away and bites his bottom lip. “What I’m trying to say is…what are you thinking right now?” His eyes meet yours again looking for an answer.

What were you supposed to say? You knew about him before so the shock of finding out that Yoro and Kyojuro were the same person hadn’t phased you. What was bothering you was Rengoku finding out that you were a fan of his. You feel like that would cause problems between the both of you and all you wanted was to be able to fuck him as you pleased. Hell, maybe you’d even start to date. You didn’t know, but him figuring out that you’d watched him before wouldn’t be good news. 

“I think we should continue where we left off.” 

Yeah, this was for the best. 

[artfightdramaconfessions]

I'm really grateful for how artfight reminds me that I'm actually a pretty good artist despite barely having 700 followers on my main art social media which I've been posting on for eight years (I've been drawing properly for 11 years) and getting 0 traction, no comments, 5-20 likes on a post if I'm lucky. A quarter of my following is just my sibling's following because they're a professional. If I put an ounce of care into my social media responses, I'd probably end up quitting art. But I do it for me, and by jove I do it for Artfight. Every July, I draw like a feral creature. The rest of the year I make about half of what I make for artfight.. total.

On Artfight my ratio is always greater than 50%, and I've commented on EVERY drawing I've ever received (except two who ignored my permissions). Plus, I've made friends... who I DON'T feel obligated to draw for and they don't feel obligated to draw for me.

I actually fucking love artfight and I'm proud of how far I've come with it. I LOVE looking back on my shitty attacks from the year that I first started learning digital art. I LOVE comparing them to the attacks that I'm GLOWING PROUD of now - attacks that for once in my life I actually care to watermark. I've been on artfight for MANY years now. I have over 1000 followers, over 100 profile comments, just under 250 defenses and what makes me feel really good is that I have almost 280 attacks. i.e, more attacks than defenses, despite my art and my profile being fairly popular (on artfight) and my hitlists getting over 250 responses this year and 150 last year. I'm putting numbers to give actual benchmarks for where I'm sitting now, after 8 damn years of fighting for this.

Trust me, first years. I had the most toxic, bittersweet, love-hate relationship with artfight for my first three years. It was not fucking easy. I barely got attacked. Half my drawings never got commented on, my ratio was always over 80%, buffered by friends from my high school and some chads from Wattpad (back in the days). I hated getting to the end of a week of artfight and dwelling on how "I drew all this" and "no one wants to draw my characters" and "my art sucks" and "no one attacks me first".

It's hard, it can be disappointing, but it gets so much better and really becomes properly rewarding over time if you just put yourself out there and do it all for YOU and YOURSELF. Draw like crazy. Improve like crazy. Learn new things. Interact. Go crazy bananas and make the most of it, even when it feels like you're not being seen. Advertise yourself on the discord in MAY next year, when the real G's are hanging around and the server is still quiet enough that you aren't posted over all the time. Join hitlists, make hitlists and add a compulsory "which character of mine do you like" question to make people actually look at your page and see how much much they like you/your ocs/your art.

Artfight is pretty awesome. It's hard not to get bogged down by high ratios, but trust me... it gets better. You just gotta do it for you. :) <3 If you're struggling to get defenses, remember you aren't alone and that if you keep fighting... one day in another fight in another year you're going to struggle to keep up with revenges and you're going to anguish over your ratio dropping. I hope you get some art that makes you cry happy tears this year <3

.

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 20)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

“Soldier Abernathy,” Boggs’ voice is the one to finally break them apart.

Y/N moves to her feet, straightening out her gear. “Yes.”

“Civilian Abernathy.” Boggs also acknowledges the man on the floor.

“Yep.” Haymitch groans, pulling himself up.

“There’s been an incident.” Boggs squares his shoulders.

“What kind of incident?”

“Peeta attacked Katniss.”

“He what?” Y/N stammers.

“Our Peeta?” Haymitch is getting older, surely he’s heard wrong.

Boggs nods. “Follow me-”

Without another word, Boggs ushers them to Katniss’ room in medical. She is limp on the bed, being changed into a hospital gown. She looks the same as she had when Haymitch left her, save for the large angry bruise, blooming over the expanse of her neck.

“Damn it,” Haymitch murmurs.

“How could this happen?” Y/N turns to Boggs.

“I stepped outside to give them privacy. When I heard the commotion, I went straight in. He’d already put her through the medicine cabinets and had her on the floor. It happened fast.”

Y/N brings a hand to her throbbing temple. “Thank you for…” Y/N breaks off. “I should’ve stayed with him.”

“Not your fault, soldier.” Boggs says, immediately.

Haymitch passes a hand over her back. See, you stubborn thing? Not everything can be your fault.

“I’ll be right outside the door if you need me.” Boggs excuses himself.

The doctors trickle out, leaving Katniss in her neck brace, hooked up to a bunch of beeping monitors.

“She’ll be out for a while, by the sound of it. We should check on Peeta. Try to figure out what the hell’s going on.” Haymitch kisses Y/N’s temple. Watching his wife stroke dark hair away from Katniss’ face.

Y/N nods.

Peeta’s room is not much better. He is restrained, for his own safety. Unconscious after the attack, Boggs had to get him off somehow.

The results of the bloodwork returns without traces of any hallucinogenic drugs. The only abnormal thing found in his system is trackerjacker venom.

“So what does this mean? He thought Katniss was someone else?” Haymitch asks Dr. Aurelius, who’s come to deliver the news. He’s not a regular doctor, he’s a head doctor. Maybe he’s here to make sure they don’t lose their shit?

“Well…it’s hard to say. I’ll need to speak with him once he regains consciousness. For now, it seems a bit odd that he would remember Y/N in the hovercraft and in this room, only to not recognize Katniss a moment later.”

There must be something…something she’s missing. “So you think he knew it was Katniss and did that to her anyway?”

“I understand how difficult this may be for you to hear, but Peeta did attack Katniss with the intent to kill her.” Dr. Aurelius explains.

Haymitch shifts, meeting Y/N’s eyes.

“That’s why he’s restrained?” Y/N presses her lips together.

“This is for his own safety.“

“I don’t understand.” Y/N cuts him off. “He held my hand all the way home.” There’s just no way. “Peeta wouldn’t do that to Katniss.”

“I know it is painful for you to see them this way. But given your experience on the hovercraft, I have every reason to believe that we can help him work through this.”

“How?” Haymitch wonders.

“With the knowledge that he recognizes Y/N, we will be able to use a trusted source to sift through the information fed to him by the Capitol. In theory we will be able to reverse this fear conditioning.” Dr. Aurelius is already working up a plan.

“So that’s what you think this is? A response to fear conditioning?” Haymitch asks.

“He has lacerations, old and new. Evidence of shocks and beatings, that with the presence of trackerjacker venom suggests what one would consider brainwashing. A hijacking, if you will.”

“Have you ever treated a patient in his condition?” Y/N gnaws at the insides of her cheek.

“I have never seen anything like this, no.”

“We’ll do whatever we can,” Y/N says, immediately.

“For now there is nothing to be done. Katniss and Peeta are resting, which they both desperately need. I might suggest you do the same.”

“If it were your kids, could you rest?” Haymitch bites out, bitterly.

Aurelius nods, in understanding. “No.” He stares for a moment more. “As Peeta’s family is deceased, you are his next of kin. You will be involved in making medical decisions. If anything changes you will be the first to know.”

“Thank you.”

“There is one more thing, before you go.”

“And what might that be?” Haymitch retorts.

“Johanna Mason has requested that you also be listed as next of kin, until she is found to be of sound mind.”

“What about Finnick?” Y/N wonders, they’ve always been close.

“Finnick struggled during separation with Annie.”From what Aurelius can see, he’s still struggling. “He is in no position to make decisions about her medical care. Rather her be a ward of the district, she would have you.”

“Of course, we’ll take her.”

————————————————————————

Pollux is with Madge, when they return to the children, keeping all three entertained. There’s someone else, perched in the corner, quiet, just watching.

“Mom?” Y/N says, warily. She’s only seen her once since they’ve been here. The older woman was deep into detox and screamed at her to get out.

“Hi, honey.” As if nothing has happened. As if nothing is wrong.

“Mommy, look what we made for Peeta!” Arista holds up the off white paper banner, lined with drawings and colored flowers.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Y/N chokes down her despair. How can I explain this? “It’s beautiful, he’ll love it.”

“You’re sad,” Everest calls her bluff.

Haymitch steps closer, saving her, the way he always has. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

“Is it Peeta?”

“Yeah,” Haymitch breathes, perching himself at the end of Everest’s bed. “Come here.” He pats the space on either side for his children. I’ll take this one.

Y/N follows her mother out into the hallway.

“How are you holding up?” The older woman asks.

“I’m ok.”

“Good.”

“So you’re out of rehab?”

“If that’s what you want to call it, yes.”

“You look really…healthy.”

“Y/N I saw Finnick’s broadcast and I- I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you. That I couldn’t protect you. I know I wasn’t the best mother-”

“You did the best you could,” Y/N cuts her off. “As a mother, I understand that we can’t always be there the way we want to.”

“But you are there. Everyday and every night, you are there for those kids. They know that no matter what, their mom is coming home. They know that you will always be there. I’m sorry you didn’t have that.”

“It’s ok…I’m-” Y/N wraps her arms tightly around herself. “I’m ok.”

“When I lost Maysi, I lost myself. I tried to get it back, to get a grip, to keep pushing but I couldn’t. When you got reaped,” she breaks off. “When I saw my baby girl get taken from me I- I mourned you. I mourned you the second you got on that train and I never stopped mourning you. But you weren’t dead, you were alive and my mind, especially with the morphling, couldn’t comprehend that.”

“Mom, please, stop.”

“I know you must be angry with me.” Her mother tugs at Y/N’s hand. “But I need you to know that didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve any of this, you are so good. You are good and you are brave and you are strong. Better than I ever was or could be. And I’m going to be here for you now, if you’ll let me.”

Y/N nods, silently, brushing away tears. “Thank you.”

————————————————————————

The guilt grows, festering like a wound. Guilt over the strain on their marriage, guilt for their absence from their children. Guilt for Katniss, neck braced, in a coma. Guilt for Peeta, restrained, turned into a weapon meant to kill the only girl he’s ever loved. Guilt for Johanna, tortured and stripped of her dignity. Guilt for Cashmere, who lost her brother. Guilt for Madge who takes on so much burden that is not her own.

“He’s been asking for you.” One of the doctors from Peeta’s team catches Y/N in the hallway.

The voice is enough to snap Y/N back to the task at hand. Haymitch is with Katniss, such is their agreement, until Peeta feels more at ease in the presence of others. Triggering him is not worth the risk.

Through the observation window, she can see him struggling, tugging at the bonds. Two doctors are beside him, attempting to soothe him. Y/N enters the room without hesitation, fighting her way into his line of vision.

“Peeta.” She says softly, moving towards him.

His thrashing does not stop, but he registers that she is there.

“Can we clear the room?” Y/N asks.

���Of course.” The doctors nod, they too are at a loss.

Peeta’s breathing is so shallow and rapid, she fears he might be hyperventilating. His eyes searching her sadly, warily. “I thought you didn’t want to see me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Don’t you know what I did?”

Katniss. “I’m not upset with you, Peeta. I just want to help you.”

“You don’t know what it was like.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“But Snow did stuff to you too, didn’t he?”

“Nothing like this,” Y/N swallows the lump in her throat. “I brought you something, from the kids; my kids.”

“I remember…” Almost. Memories dancing near the surface of a frozen lake.

“They made you this,” Y/N unrolls the slightly crumpled paper. “Sorry I smushed it.”

Peeta’s eyes well up with tears. “Can I keep it?”

“Yeah, of course, we’ll find somewhere to hang it up.”

————————————————————————

“My colleague, Dr. Maes, informed me that the two of you had a rather…colorful conversation, at the bed side of her patient, Johanna Mason.” Dr. Aurelius says, during his later session with Y/N.

“She’s not a good fit for Johanna,” Y/N explains. “I’d rather you see her.”

“I couldn’t possibly take on Peeta, Katniss, Johanna, Haymitch and yourself.” Aurelius explains, “given her condition-”

“Take me off the list.”

“Are you sure that’s the best decision?”

“It’s the only option I have.” Y/N crosses one leg over the other.

“Tell me why.”

“What?”

“Tell me why that’s the only option and I’ll consider it.”

Y/N takes a steadying breath. “You’re the best they’ve got down here and we both know it. This isn’t about being a lost cause, or a martyr. It’s about people needing you more than I do.”

Dr. Aurelius sighs, “I’m sure Haymitch will follow your lead.”

“I didn’t mention it to him yet.” The longing pangs in her chest.

When she does tell Haymitch, later that night, he’s half asleep.

“Whatever you want, Angel.” He murmurs, pulling her closer.

They’ve hardly seen each other. She feels the strain on his heart, tugging at her own. Y/N fists a hand in his shirt. “You’re what I want.” More time with you.

“You have me by the balls,” he scoffs, “Stop torturing yourself. Everyone has to pay the piper and revolutions don’t come cheap. If we have to keep going like this; for however long, we’ll do that.”

“This is enough for you? Five minutes to ourselves before bed, after being apart all day?”

“You’re enough.” Haymitch breathes, “you’ll always be enough.”

Just you and me.

————————————————————————

Katniss wakes a day later, clawing at the brace around her neck and breathing hard. The monitors surrounding her beep frantically as Boggs tries to calm her.

“Hey, Katniss. You’re alright.”

Her hands move back to the brace.

“Don’t, you’re swollen.” Boggs stills her fingers.

Katniss leans back in defeat, her voice is but a broken whisper. “Peeta.”

Part 21

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @daisydaisybilly @misfits1a

[oliveisme533]

part one: a really good dad

You had Ellie when you were 18 years old and the father was not the greatest. Surprise surprise… he wanted nothing to do with you and this new baby once he found out you were pregnant. Flash forward 10 years and you enrolled Ellie in a local soccer legue where she meets Sarah. Sarah and Ellie quickly become thick as thieves and naturally want to have play dates. Of course this means getting to know Sarah’s dad . It’s not long until the very handsome Joel Miller asks you on a date. You date for 6 months before he pops the question. Everyone thought it was too fast, everyone except for Ellie and Sarah (and you two of course) but you didn’t care. This little family of 4 was everything to you. 6 years later you’re still happily married to your Joel, and you wouldn’t change a thing.

It was late when you got home from work. Joel’s truck was already in the driveway and the girls should both be at home at this point. You open the front door with a sigh. “Hey mama” Ellie calls from the couch. You walk over to kiss her head “Dad’s upstairs with Sarah” she said without looking away from the television. You set your bags down on the kitchen counter, slipped off your heels and carried them up the steps. You dragged your body towards your bedroom, but on your way there you passed Sarah’s room. Joel lay in bed with her, one hand gently rubbing her back as she rested her head on his chest. It looked like she had been crying. “Well hey baby girl” you said softly as you stepped into the room. You met your husband’s eyes trying to gain any sort of intel. He mouthed the word “cramps.” Truthfully, you should have guessed. All the women in this house had long since synced up and poor Sarah always struggled with very intense periods. “You need anything, bug?” You asked as you gently tucked a curl behind her ear. She shook her head. You turned your attention to your husband and bent down to peck his lips. “I’ll be in in a minute sweetheart.” He assured you“Okay, I’m going to shower” “Without me?” Joel called teasingly. “Joel!” You warned from across the hall. Sarah slapped her dad’s chest. “Don’t be gross, dad.” Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “You act like a damn 22 year old boy.” You often told him.

As promised, by the time you were out of the shower Joel was in your bedroom. “Is that girl still down there playing video games?” You asked. Joel shrugged and retreated to the top of the steps. “Ellie..” “what?” “TV needs to be off in 30 minutes.” “Yes sir.”

“Long day?” He asked from behind you as you brushed your teeth. You nodded “yeah…I’m so fucking tired. Girls have an okay day at school from what you can tell?” Joel, who was now putting toothpaste on his toothbrush responded. “Yeah ‘course baby. We got good girls.” You smiled to yourself. “Yeah. We sure do.” You put your hand on Joel’s ass “what about you? You behave today.” Joel shook his head. “Nahuh” he still made you laugh after all these years. “Well I’m sorry to hear that. I hope tomorrow will be better.” The two of you climbed into bed wordlessly on your respective sides. You wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head on his warm chest as his arms wrapped around you. This was your favorite part of your nighttime routine. Joel rubbed your back as you melted into the mattress. Your eyes fluttered shut and you were almost asleep- “no, I told you these are my shin guards I don’t know where yours are!” “I have a game in the morning just let me borrow them!” “We both have a game in the morning, Ellie! You need to find your own shit!” You and Joel both groaned. “Girls!” Joel called without moving from his current position. Moments later your bedroom door was opened by two grumpy teenagers. “Dad I told her- no I didn’t even try and take yours- that’s not what you said!” Joel held up his hand. “Enough! Both of you! Your game isn’t until 11 tomorrow. Ellie get up at a decent time tomorrow morning and find your shin guards and quit bickering with each other! Or if you’re going to do it, do it quietly.” You kicked Joel from under the blanket. “Never mind. Your mother says no fighting.” “You girls both need to get some rest, it’s been a long day. We love you.” You said to the girls. They muttered “good nights” and “we love you too” before closing the door again. Probably 20 minutes later you heard giggling coming from their rooms. You shook your head and smiled “sisters…You wouldn’t get it.” “You’re right. I certainly don’t get it” Joel responded. He resumed rubbing your back and you were asleep in minutes

————

Joe’s POV

In your slumber, the two of you had detangled and were now sleeping on your own sides of the bed. The door creaked open and in tiptoed a hyperventilating Ellie. Joel sat upright. He was always the first to wake up…his wife was an incredibly heavy sleeper. “Baby, breathe, breathe. Com’ere” he stretched out his hands to his beloved step daughter. He didn’t see her that way though, he saw her as his own just as much as he saw Sarah as his own. Ellie had been dealing with these panick attacks for a couple of years. Joel pulled her in squeezing her tightly. This was the only thing that calmed her down. Joel wrapped his arms around his Ellie as he cood “shh s’alright baby girl. I’ve got you.” he straightened out her pajama shirt and gently rubbed her back. Damn…every poor woman in this house is falling apart tonight. Joel thought to himself. Ellie’s breathes were slowing with the firm pressure from Joel’s arms. Joel sat there with the girl in his lap, rocking ever so slightly. She nuzzled her face into his shirt. “Ya know I used to do this with Sarah too” Joel whispered. “Really?” Ellie whispered back. “Yeah only difference is, she was 6 months old not 16.” “Heyy” Joel’s chuckle rumbled through his chest “you know I’m only teasin’ baby, if my girls still need to be rocked when they’re 26 I’ll do that too.” He kissed Ellie’s head. “Cmon let’s get you in bed. Your mamas had a long day and I don’t want to wake her.”

In Ellie’s room Joel turned on the fairy lights that were strung around her bed. After tucking her in he handed her one of the stuffed animals he had got her probably years ago. “Mr. Bunny is awfully sad that he hasn’t been snuggled in awhile” Ellie rolled her eyes. “Dad I’m not 5” she took the stuffy anyway and tucked it under her arm. “Goodnight baby girl” he gently kissed her forehead and tiptoed from the room. On hard nights like these he always left her door slightly opened. Back in their bedroom Joel sighed. Now he was fucking exhausted. He left their bedroom door open too, in case Ellie needed them again. He looked lovingly at his wife who was still passed out cold. She deserved a good nights sleep. Hell, he deserved one too!

I’m not sure how many chapters I’ll write of this. I plan on making them so they can be read as independent stories :)

[danieyells]

hi! any chance you'd be able to post some of kaito's voicelines? I would love to see them <33

Our wanna-be knight and pathetic little best friend! He's just such a good boy lol. . .once again, another one who just wants to go back to a normal life, poor thing. Kaito's very much your vanilla, sweet boyfriend character with no frills attached, aside from his cowardice and his gambling habit of course. And his terrible aim. . . .

Copying all of them over isn't hard now that I've done it twice. Let's do it again for Kaito!

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"{PC}! Over here! Hiya!"

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Hey, new message. Better check it out, yeah? Or are you the type who's got like a ton of of unread inbox messages?"

. . .shut up /absolutely that type (and a sincere apology to literally everyone i know for that my adhd doesn't let me read and respond to their messages--)

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"God, please don't make me go on any more missions... It's not like me being there is any help to anyone anyway..."

"Oh yeah, have you been on WickHive yet? Someone leaked next month's cafeteria menu! Oh wait... I-I already told you that, didn't I?!"

"Damn it... I could've taken {PC} to lunch with that money! God, why am I such a moron?!"

"Ask me anything you want to know! I'm pretty savvy when it comes to Darkwick!"

honestly the fact that he's a second year who doesn't wanna be here and doesn't wanna be doing all of this but he still knows like everything about the school is also kinda sus to me. . .surely he'd divest himself from as much of darkwick as possible if he didn't care

"Urgh... Limited time only, you are not my friend... Huh? Oh, I'm on TikTok. I really want this, but I'm pretty broke this month..."

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Ahem... Testing, testing... Morning! Heh, nailed it... Ack! How long've you been there, {PC}?!"

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Phew, should be safe here... EEEEEEEEEEK! Oh thank god, it's just a cat... I thought he found me..."

romeo oh romeo didn't you get into enough shit for this romeo? just make sure it's not Romeo cat. Because I'm sure it'll tell him somehow--

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Shit, it's Luca… Judging by the outfit he must be going to train. I better bail before he tries to rope me in too…"

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Eeeek?! Oh, it's just you... Geez, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

i know romeo is constantly on his ass, and I relate to the feeling of being scared the people you owe money will appear out of nowhere and get you, but. . .he's so jumpy lol

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Ugh, Romeo's texting me... Not gonna open that..."

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"So your father runs a company, huh? Who the hell leads with that?! This is why I hate talking to Frostheimers..."

so the wording here is wonky because he's quoting a Frostheimer, but there's no visual indication that he's quoting them. But lore drop! Kaito's father runs a company! But I thought he wasn't well off. . .? Maybe his parents are separated or his father doesn't spend any of their money on him. . .or the company isn't doing well. . .or gambling addiction runs in his family lol. . . .

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Argh, I want junk food! And I want to try all the new snack flavors!!"

my boy is so relateable--

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"All right, time to man up and bite the bullet... Nope, absolutely not, can't do it!"

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"How is Jin's skin so perfect? Fucking rich kids and their stupidly expensive fancy-ass toner!!!"

kaito really looking at jin like OH NO HE'S HOT

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"(yawn) Guess I'll go brush my teeth..."

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"Hey {PC}, you seem different somehow today. Did you change something? Or am I just imagining things?!"

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Noooo why does Tohma want to see me...? No way it's about something good! Could you come with me, {PC}?!"

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Crap, I fell asleep in class so I don't know what our homework is... Help me, {PC}!"

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"(yawn) Man, my bed's like a freaking marshmallow. I can never get any good sleep on that thing..."

lol the Frostheim beds are too comfortable lolol I NEED A FIRMER BED TOO KAITO I GET IT.

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Huh? Oh, my pendant! You're always wearing it? Does that mean you've actually been paying attention to me?!"

once again the wording here is wonk because it makes it sound like the pc is always wearing Kaito's pendant. I'm pretty sure he's quoting the pc, who's commented that "you're always wearing it". It would read better as something like "You noticed I'm always wearing it?"

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Hey {PC}, how 'bout we grab a bite?! I've got tons to splurge in winn... er, earnings, so it's all on me! Get whatever you want!"

your gambling addiction is really and truly going to get you in trouble. disregard that i play a gacha game.

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"...Huh?! Man, nearly fell sleep without putting my phone on the charger... 5%, that would've sucked tomorrow..."

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Ha ha ha! Have you seen this yet?! It's all over TikTok. Ah man, it's killing me..."

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Whoa, when did it get so late?! Sorry {PC}, I didn't mean to keep you up... What? You're still good?"

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"Morning! Hey, guess what? Luca's busy after class, so how about we hit up the diner? It's been ages!"

do you. . .do you really wanna go there. . .i mean the drinks seem to be fine but according to sho they can't make good food at all. . . .

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Sorry, I gotta stay after class today... (sniffle) This sucks, I really wanted to walk home with you..."

aw buddy. . .they could wait for you or come pick you up after your remedial lesson. . .!

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Hey I'm really sorry but do you mind if we stop by the campus store after class? I'm almost out of granulated sugar."

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Hey, do you like stars? Oh, um, I was just wondering 'cause there's this place where you can see them really well, so I thought maybe you'd want to go some time..."

he's overcoming his fears and being honest with himself and how he speaks and just. . .asking honestly, no bravado, no act. do it scared, kaito. do it scared, do it awkward, do it sure you're going to fail. as long as you do it. proud of you!

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Sure is dark. Reminds me of the closet where we first met. Remember?"

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"I know I'm weak, and a coward. But I really do want to become your knight in shining armor, {PC}."

I love how comfortable and honest he starts to get as his affinity goes up. Still shy here and there, still scared, but he's not as jumpy and he starts treating you like a real friend. laughs with you about stuff, talks a little about hobbies and struggles. doesn't try and look cool for you. and then the honesty--i'm a weak coward, but i wanna be better for you. i wanna spend time with you. just!!! he grows!!! he realizes you like him for who he is and how he is, even if that's a weak coward--and that that's exactly what he wants! and it's okay for him to be that way because you won't be put off by it, even if it's something he'd like to grow from so he can be better for you--but he wants to be better for you as himself and--idk. i have feelings about characterization lol.

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"(yawn) Man, I wanna sleep, but I can't fail, so I gotta show up for class... Oh! I have Professor Nicolas next! Naptime."

does that mean you're good in anomalous medicine class or. . . .

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Grr! All those girls in the hall were looking at Luca! I'm so pissed off now I'm not even sleepy anymore!"

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"It's finally warm out again, so I really want to go do something fun... Wish I could get an R&R permit..."

well maybe if you stopped sleeping in class and did good in class or went on a mission or something. . . . . .

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Mheheh... {PC}... You've got a petal in your hair... Zzz..."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Ugh, it's too hot to go outside... But I can sense a coming-of-age event on the horizon... All right, here I come!"

obligatory beach event? 👀

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Can't believe Professor Hyde still wears that blindfold in summer. Pfft, I bet it's really sweaty under— Eeeek! S-Sir?!"

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Hey {PC}, are you free after this? I was thinking of inviting Luca to let off some fireworks! I want to show him how we do summer here in Japan."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I can't believe I get to spend the whole summer hanging out with you {PC}... (sniffle) Homework? Uh y-yeah, I finished it already..."

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Is it just me, or is it really cold today?! Guess I better get my coat out soon..."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Have you had the chestnut rice from the cafeteria yet? They made it way too fancy. It's supposed to be comfort food..."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Tohma's always reading something. Maybe I should too... All right, let's go with this! 10 Ways To Become Popular Overnight!"

well. . .it's something to read. . .never a bad idea to read.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Apparently the moon is the most beautiful in fall since the air gets clearer. Want to go take a look?"

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"It's freezing out there! It's freezing in here! Frostheim sucks!!"

this makes me wonder what the warmest dorm is on average. . .probably jabberwock as long as towa's in a good mood? (or maybe warm jabberwock winters mean towa's in a bad mood. . .?)

(between 11am and 4pm)

"The cold can go to hell, but I guess there's outfits you can only wear this time of year..."

you can wear whatever you want whenever you want if you're brave enough. but this is kaito and he's not very brave. and it's also not very smart to wear winterwear in the summer.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"I really want to go to Starbucks for the new winter drink! But I really really don't want to go on any missions!! Guess I'll never get to try it."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Gram... No... No more mandarins... ...Huh?! Oh, it was just a dream... I haven't had a mandarin for ages..."

'gram' in this case is 'grandma' in case you couldn't figure it out haha and the mandarin(mikan)'s used to represent health and longevity and a long prosperous bloodline or something like that for new years. So i assume his grandmother would feed him a lot of mandarins every winter lolol

His birthday: (December 11th)

"Why did Jin, Tohma, and Luca give me all this high-end stuff?! It's freaking me out!! Thank you!?!?"

EVEN JIN AND TOHMA GAVE HIM GIFTS. . .FROSTHEIM FAM IS REAL. . . .

Your birthday:

"Happy birthday, {PC}! We'll make this the best one— Hey, give those back! Those are the cue cards I made yesterday!!"

ksjfkhesbfjh he made himself cue cards to give you a birthday speech with as little stuttering as possible. . . .

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year! Let's make it a good one! S-So hey, if, er, if you'd like, c-could we, um... could we make our first shrine visit together?"

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"C'mon Kaito, deep breaths. Girls aren't into guys with no chill. So stay cool... Stay— Are those chocolates for me?! I'll take them to my grave!"

everyone loves an enthusiastic boy lol

White Day: (March 13th)

"Do you like the cookies I made? Come on, no way they're that good, heh heh... Heh heh heh... Here, take them all!!"

god i bet he makes really good sweets too. like i bet he puts so much love and good spirit into them lolol

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"I'd never lie to a girl. Ah! That's not a lie, I swear! {PC}? Are you listening?!"

BAD THING TO SAY ON APRIL FOOL'S ABORT MISSION

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Trick or treat! See those carved pumpkins? I was actually the one who made them. What do you think?"

given his DIY skills i bet he's actually really good at carving too. i bet they look really good!

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Hey, uh, {PC}, do you, uh... Do you have any plans for Christmas? I'm actually totally free!"

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"Huh? {PC}? Am I being annoying?! I'm sorry! You're probably busy, right?!"

(13 affinity and above)

"{PC} seems kind of busy... I know! I'll find a video that'll help take her mind off things!"

this one replace the first one after you hit a certain affinity, so it's cute to see that he eventually decides 'i'm not being annoying, they're just busy. i wanna help them' after he gets closer to you. . . .

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"Ah...! Oh my god, you're back!! I'm so happy to see you!!!!  (sob) Please don't leave me again..."

he's so clingy. . .poor guy really missed you, considering you're one of the kindest and most normal people in Darkwick that he associates with. . . . also man 'please don't leave me again' with the whole loop theory stuff. . . .

I THINK I'VE SAID MOST OF MY THOUGHTS THROUGHOUT THIS BUT. He really is a sweetie. He really could have ended up a very plain and 'safe' character, but he's managed to be very charming and entertaining with his struggles and exaggerated behavior, while still being a simple and safe type. Really looking forward to seeing how he plays into the rest of the story, since it seems like his pendant may be kind of important. . . .