#a LOT of adjustments would have to be made

[aemondtargaryenonlyfans]

DRAGON DREAMS.

Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

Monthly nightmares have already plagued you way before your wedding, even though your grandfather has always addressed them as dragon dreams rather than nightmares. But you and your husband both know you’re not gifted with such abilities.

WARNINGS: canon typical incest/targcest (uncle/niece), nightmares, slight angst, fluff

WORDS: 625

NOTES: this was requested by @marthawrites. Hope you still like it! 💕

It’s impossible for you to run.

Your feet are firmly planted on the ground, not moving regardless of you tugging and pulling at them to lift them and escape the brown dragon in front of you. Even your voice catches in your throat, unable to scream when the large mouth of Sheepstealer snaps towards you, the sharp teeth appearing even more intimidating with the light of the moon reflecting from them.

You stir awake, beads of sweat forming along your hairline and in the valley between your breasts. A hand on your mouth is meant to stifle your screams and sobs, not wanting to wake up your husband. Your breathing is heavy, and it takes you a few moments to adjust to the darkness of your chambers as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

Still half asleep, Aemond rolls onto his side and snakes his arm around your waist to pull you into his embrace, your head resting against his chest as his nose nuzzles into your hair.

“Bad dream?” It’s more a statement than a question, because your husband knows the answer. Monthly nightmares have already plagued you way before your wedding, even though your grandfather has always addressed them as dragon dreams rather than nightmares.

But you and Aemond know you’re not gifted with such abilities, it’s just that your mind has a lot to process with the rising tension between both sides of your family.

His presence always works wonders, the warmth radiating off his body and his scent slowing your panicked breathing and the turmoil inside of your mind, allowing you to melt into him.

While Aemond’s hand cups the back of your neck, his fingers apply just a bit of pressure to your stiff muscles in order to release the pent up tension, and you find yourself being able to speak again.

“I—It‘s…,” you stammer, your breathing still causing you to stutter through a sentence. “Sheep…Sheepstealer,” you sigh, “he… he...”

A gentle nod reassures you to continue as you crane your neck to look up at him.

“We wanted to fly to Dragonstone,” you sniff, panic settling in your bones again at just remembering what has happened. “Vhagar was already high up in the sky, when… and when I wanted to mount him, h… he…”

Aemond brings his hand to the back of your head and holds you against his body to calm you down. “He ate you?” he finishes the sentence for you, and you just nod hurriedly, mumbling a ‘yes‘ against his chest.

Most people, including your parents, perceive Aemond as cold and ignorant, and the gods know he can be like that. You have thought that too for the longest time, or rather from the moment he has lost his eye to the moment your courtship has been made official, but you have learned to see the genuine intent behind the things he does, hear the subtle changes in his voice, and suddenly he was just as attentive as any other man around, if not even a bit more.

Aemond kisses the crown of your head before speaking, “Your bond is strong, my love, and you know he would never do that.” And he is right. Even before you’ve bonded with Sheepstealer, the dragon never showed any ill-will toward you. He always was curious, despite the many failed attempts of claiming him other people had tried before.

“Avy jorrāelan,” you mumble. I love you.

“Avy jorrāelan,” comes the reply.

That Aemond’s grip doesn’t loosen around you makes it easier to find sleep again, and while your soft snores already fill his ears, he nuzzles his nose into your hair to take in your scent, thinking about a way to put this misery to an end.

Aemond taglist: @persephonerinyes @dr-aegon @schniiipsel @thekinslayed @baizzhu @legitalicat @eponaartemisa @peachysunrize @blackswxnn @odairtrqsh @mfedits

[pinkflower2003]

Finding Our Way Back Home

Max Verstappen x Horner!Reader

Part 1

A/N - a lot of asks for a part two of this one! I hope i'm somewhat done this justice, i might do some more parts of Otto and Max bonding and Y/N and Max finding their way back to each other, let me know if that would be something you'd want to see!

Send in your submissions<3

Max watched you walk away, his heart in his throat. Otto Max Horner. The name echoed in his mind, a name he never knew he had a part in giving. He had wanted to reach out, to stop you, but the words got stuck, his emotions a tangled mess. He had spent years convincing himself that he had made the right choice, that focusing on his career was the best decision. But now, seeing his son, everything he believed seemed to crumble.

The race passed in a blur for Max. His usual precision and focus were off, but he managed to secure a podium finish. The crowd's cheers felt distant, muted by the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He couldn't stop thinking about Otto, about you. After the race, Max found himself back at the garage, desperate to find you.

Christian approached him, a stern look on his face. "You need to talk to her, Max. Really talk. She’s here for Otto, and he deserves to know his father. Don’t let your fear ruin this chance."

Max nodded, his resolve hardening. He needed to make things right, to at least try. He found you and Otto in a quiet corner of the paddock, away from the bustling activity. Otto was playing with a toy car, his giggles lighting up the space. You watched him, your face a mixture of love and sorrow.

"Y/N," Max began softly, not wanting to startle you. "Can we talk?"

You looked up, surprise flickering across your face before you nodded. Max sat down across from you, taking a deep breath.

"I messed up," he said, his voice filled with regret. "I was scared. I didn't know how to be a father, especially not with everything else. But that's no excuse. I should have been there for you, for Otto."

You remained silent, letting him continue.

"I want to be a part of his life, Y/N. I know I can't undo the past, but I want to try and make things right. Please, just give me a chance."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you wiped them away quickly. "Max, it's not just about me forgiving you. It's about Otto. He deserves stability, love, and to know his father. If you’re serious about this, you have to commit to it."

Max nodded, determination in his eyes. "I will. I promise. I’ll do whatever it takes."

For the next few days, Max stayed true to his word. He spent time with Otto, slowly building a bond with his son. They played with toy cars, watched cartoons, and Max even took Otto for a ride in a safe, controlled environment, showing him the magic of racing firsthand. Otto's eyes lit up with excitement, and Max felt a warmth he had never experienced before.

Seeing Max with Otto brought a mix of emotions for you. It was heartwarming to see them bond, but there was also a lingering fear of history repeating itself. Yet, as days turned into weeks, Max's dedication didn't waver. He attended every family dinner, showed up at every nursery event, and made an effort to learn about Otto's likes and dislikes.

Christian watched the developments closely. Despite his role as Max's boss, his primary concern was for you and Otto. One evening, after Otto had gone to bed, Christian sat down with Max in the living room.

"Max, I need to know you're serious about this," Christian began, his tone firm. "My daughter and grandson have been through enough. If you're in, you're in for the long haul. No half-measures."

Max met Christian's gaze, his resolve clear. "I understand, Christian. I know I have a lot to prove, and I'm ready to do whatever it takes."

Christian nodded, his expression softening slightly. "Good. Because Otto deserves the best, and so does Y/N."

The next few months were a period of adjustment and growth. Max moved back to England, finding a balance between his racing career and his newfound family life. You and Max worked through the past, rebuilding your relationship with honesty and patience. It wasn't always easy, but the love that had once drawn you together began to rekindle.

One sunny afternoon, Max took you and Otto to a quiet park. Otto ran ahead, his laughter filling the air as he chased after a butterfly. Max turned to you, a soft smile on his face.

"Y/N, I know things have been complicated," he began, taking your hand in his. "But I want you to know I'm here for you. For both of you. I want us to be a family, but I understand if we need to take things slow."

You nodded, tears brimming in your eyes. "I just want what's best for Otto, Max. And I hope that includes you."

Max squeezed your hand, his eyes filled with hope. "It does. And it includes you too. I've never stopped caring about you, Y/N. Let's take it one step at a time. For Otto, and for us."

Over the next few months, things began to change. Max continued to be a constant presence in Otto's life. He and Christian developed a mutual respect, working together to ensure the best for their family. Max's relationship with you grew stronger, built on a foundation of trust and shared love for Otto.

One evening, after Otto had fallen asleep, you and Max found yourselves alone in the living room. The air was filled with unspoken words, but Max broke the silence.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For giving me this chance. I know it's not easy, but I'm grateful."

You nodded, tears brimming in your eyes. "I just want what's best for Otto, Max. And I hope that includes you."

Max reached out, taking your hand in his. "It does. And it includes you too. I've never stopped caring about you, Y/N. I want us to be a family, if you'll have me."

The sincerity in his eyes was undeniable, and your heart ached with the weight of his words. Slowly, you nodded. "Let's take it one step at a time. For Otto, and for us."

Max smiled, a genuine, relieved smile that made your heart flutter. "One step at a time," he agreed.

The three of you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, a family united by love and a promise of a brighter future. Max had found his way back to you, and together, you would create a new beginning.

[pennylanefics]

Morning Light - Quinn Hughes

a/n: once again, not entirely happy with this, but i've been struggling lately so it's no surprise. but i hope you enjoy anyways :)

summary: you and quinn just moved into a house together and you are getting used to the new changes

word count: ~1k

Sunlight filters in through the new, rather thin curtains covering the large window in your bedroom. You could hear birds chirping and flittering around in the trees, landing on the feeder you put up on the outside of the window to entertain your cat.

As your eyes slowly open, adjusting to the bright, natural morning light, you take a moment to look at the man sleeping beside you. Or, well, the man awake beside you.

Quinn stares up at the ceiling in thought, his eyes still full of sleep, but deep in his own mind, his arm remaining underneath your head, his fingers toying with the ends of your messy hair. His eyelashes flutter against his cheek as he blinks, not noticing that you are awake just yet.

You take a moment to admire his features, his pink cheeks appearing slightly flushed so early in the morning, soaked in the sunlight that he chooses to ignore. The way his green eyes are glimmering in the light as well, seeming unbothered by the fact that he was practically being blinded. His teeth were chewing on his bottom lip, a nervous habit of his.

The two of you had just moved into your first home together, a nice rental in Vancouver, just outside of the city, a beautiful view of the mountains in your backyard, a peaceful setting that the both of you very much needed.

It was very a stressful time, having to move things out of your apartment and then into the new home, which thankfully wasn’t too much since you were getting new furniture delivered that would better suit the larger space. But boxes of personal items, such as trinkets, clothes, decorations, and other utilities all remained to transport.

His parents were a huge help, as well as Jack and Luke, offering their abilities to help clean the place and do some work in the backyard. It had gotten to the point now where things were starting to settle in, but there was still a lot to be done.

Last night was the first night you slept in a real bed rather than just a mattress on the ground, and it couldn’t have felt nicer to be curled up under the new comforter, falling asleep to the gentle wind blowing in through the open window.

You get lost in your own thoughts gazing at Quinn that you barely even register that he turned his head to look at you, until he’s kissing the tip of your nose gently. Giggling softly, you hide your face in his shoulder, breathing his scent in.

“Morning,” he mumbles, his voice rough with exhaustion. He continues to play with your hair, beginning to kiss along all along your forehead.

“Morning,” you whisper back, raising your head back up to ask for a kiss from him. He gladly plants one on your lips, sighing softly into it.

“I think our couches are going to be delivered today, sometime between one and three. We can go out and get some lunch and then come back.”

“That sounds good. What time is it now?” Quinn grabs his phone on the bedside table, clicking it on.

“Almost nine.”

“Wanna make some breakfast?” You wonder, reaching up to play with his messy hair that had gotten so long. He was wanting to grow it out a bit, and you were loving it so much, his curls were appearing often and you loved being able to run your fingers through it when he rests his head in your lap.

A few more minutes of laying in each other’s arms, you eventually get up and head to the kitchen to get a start on breakfast. Quinn wanted pancakes and you wanted toast and eggs, so you made it all, as it was a day to celebrate, with your home almost being finished.

You started your favorite shared playlist on the bluetooth speaker in the kitchen and got to preparing everything, pausing here and there while the pancakes cooked on one side to dance with Quinn, your laughs filling the house, one moment of many to come in the years spent here together.

After breakfast, you get some small stuff done around the house, putting away extra clothes, decorating the bathrooms, and organizing the closet in your room.

By the time lunch rolls around, you get dressed in some casual clothes, the weather feeling lovely today, and head to your favorite restaurant in town, quickly being seated. The two of you chat over your plans for the rest of the day, what else needs to get done, and how you are going to decorate the living room.

Soon, you find yourselves greeting the movers who are dropping your couch off and helping move it into your living room. An hour later, once everything is moved in and settled in the place you chose for it, you and Quinn flopped down onto the soft, dark brown velvet couch, Quinn throwing his arm around you.

“We did it,” he whispers, kissing your forehead. Giggling quietly, you look up at him and nod.

“Everything is almost done, finally.” 

“We have to finish decorating in here and I think there’s a few more boxes for the basement to unpack. But we can do that another time, I want to have our first movie night in here,” he replies, nuzzling his nose in your hair.

“Sounds perfect to me,” you grin.

So that’s exactly what you did. Later that night, once you finish dinner and after showering, you get dressed in the cozy pajamas that Quinn’s mom gifted you two with for Christmas, you get all snuggled up on the corner of the sectional couch, a queue of your favorite movies up and ready to go.

As the movie plays on, halfway through, you get a sudden sense of love filling your chest as you take in your surroundings. You sit in your home, with the love of your life by your side, realizing that you’d get to do this for the rest of your life.

You gaze up at Quinn and smile widely. He was lost in the movie, not realizing you were staring, until he finally breaks out of his concentration and looks down at you, chuckling when he sees you are already looking at him.

“Something wrong?” He wonders with a slight smirk. You shake your head and kiss him sweetly.

“Nothing at all. Just happy.”

taglist: @petite-potato4

[d3adlyromb3ar]

✧'. ݁₊ ♡∘⊹ so delicate, your touch

— pairing. inexperienced!choso x fem!reader

— synopsis. you help choso adapt to the world, teaching him about many things he doesn’t quite understand. although, you didn’t know helping him adapt would take this kind of turn.

— word count. 3.7k

— contents. fluff, smut, nipple play, titty worship, dry humping, handjobs (male receiving), blowjobs (male receiving)

— notes. dividers @saradika 💕

main masterlist

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | 18+ CONTENT

Days turned into months, and soon it was a routine to wander off with Choso. Showing him the wonders of the world, while teaching him things that were unknown to him. You answered all his questions, making sure he adapted thoroughly to this world that was new to him.

There was just so much that he didn’t understand, and after your offer to help him out— he leaned on you to guide him through everything he was confused on. He felt more comfortable having you around, not letting him stumble off into this odd world without guidance.

You liked spending time with him, finding him easy to talk to. Choso felt the same way, except he’d rather listen to you talk all day. You calmed him, made him feel normal. He thought you were incredibly kind, your huge heart something he adored about you. He found himself just wanting to be near you, even on the days he didn’t feel like exploring the world.

That’s where you found yourself with Choso, relaxed on your bed together as you showed him one of your favorite movies. Tangled.

“Her hair is so long, and magical?” He wondered, genuinely curious.

You found it adorable. You giggled.

“Yup, she got her powers from a magic flower her mother had to drink when she was sick and pregnant with her.” You explained.

Choso hummed, his eyes never leaving the screen. Watching intently as the girl so called Rapunzel, healed this man’s hand with her hair.

“Intriguing.” He whispered.

You giggled again, his interest in the disney movie endearing. You didn’t expect him to be so interested. The two of you sat in silence, only occasionally answering a question he had. Otherwise the movie played on.

You leaned back against the headboard, both your hands supporting your head as a specific scene started to play. The music started up as the two characters watched the lanterns from their boat.

It was quite a beautiful scene, and you found yourself getting lost in the moment. The way the man was so gentle towards the girl, it was so sweet— you had wished you could have something such as that.

Meanwhile, Choso wasn’t paying attention to the movie anymore. He glanced over to you when he saw you adjusting yourself and caught a look at your eyes. How they were practically shining as you were trapped in the scene. He couldn’t stop himself from staring, taking in your features— how ethereal you looked from the tv’s glow. His eyes danced over your brows, looking lower to the way your lashes hovered over your eyes, looking even lower to the curve of your nose. His eyes danced down to your cupids bow, steeping lower to your plump lips— his own mouth parting as your tongue poked out the wet them.

He let out a heavy breath watching you, studying every micro expression you made— he was captivated by you.

After a wave of warmth rushed through his body, he swallowed through the dryness in his throat and let his eyes dance lower, dropping from your chin and down your neck and collarbone— his eyes locking on your chest. He stared shamelessly at the steady rise and fall, the movement almost relaxing him into a sleepy state— that was until he looked a little lower.

His eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the two pebbled indents, poking through your shirt. A lot of unknown to him, but he had known basic human anatomy— at least a good portion of it.

He was licking his own lips, his eyes unable to stray away from your nipples begging to escape from your shirt. He felt like he should look away, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“(Y/n)? Why ar—” He trailed off, growing nervous when your eyes met with his, “Are you okay?”

You were confused with his sudden concern.

“What do you mean Cho? I’m fine.”

“Oh… um never mind then.” He mumbled bashfully.

Your gaze softened and the movie was suddenly forgotten in the background, despite it being one of your favorite scenes.

“Cho, hey. What’s wrong? You can ask me anything remember?”

He nodded but couldn’t seem to voice what he wanted to say in the first place, so he pointed instead towards your chest.

You were confused, following the tip of his finger and glancing down to your shirt.

“You like my shirt?” You wondered.

He shook his head.

“No…” He pointed again, this time his finger got closer and he misjudged how close he was to you, because before you could think twice— the tip of his finger had brushed against your hardened nipple through your shirt.

The action had you letting out a little gasp, warmth shooting straight to your core from it. Choso retracted his hand, but his eyes were dilated, your reaction intriguing him.

Your eyes shot down to your chest, noticing he was talking about your tits. Oh.

“Oh you mean my… boobs?” You asked, not feeling uncomfortable at all by his curiosity.

He nodded, his hand dropping to his side.

You tried your best to put the pieces together and assumed he was specifically referring to your nipples— which had your cheeks flushed.

“Uh, what about them?”

He turned his body towards you more, his eyes glancing down from time to time, but you could tell he was trying not to look. Although, you didn’t mind if he did.

“They are… hard.”

He was talking about your tits so casually, you knew you should be mature and answer his questions but you couldn’t ignore how flustered you felt.

“Yeah, I guess they are.” You laughed awkwardly, but it wasn’t that you felt uncomfortable. You were just flustered.

“Why?”

You bit your lip, Choso’s eyes followed, and you thought for a moment of how to answer.

“Well, sometimes they just get hard. Like, if I’m cold or… turned on.” You answered truthfully, although maybe you shouldn’t of added in that last part.

Choso’s eyes met with yours, breaking away from your lips as you spoke, and his eyes had darkened. Unbeknownst to him, he was turned on as well. Staring at your body so sensually had him spinning.

“Are you?” He wondered.

You tilted your head in innocent confusion, the action had Choso licking his lips.

“Am I what?”

“Are you turned on?”

His words had your core throbbing and you had to squeeze your thighs together, not missing the way his eyes shot down and caught the slight movement.

Truth was, yeah. You were turned on. Like really turned on, it was hard not to be when he was looking at you so intensely.

“Well, I wasn’t before but…” You trailed off, and Choso was hanging onto every word, “After you touched me accidentally, yeah.”

He swallowed nervously and lowered his gaze, he felt bad all of a sudden. Not meaning to make you uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry… I… I didn’t mea—”

“Cho it’s okay,” You stopped his apologies, noticing his distressed look, “It felt good actually.”

His expression switched from embarrassed to the same darkened look again. Like he was realizing now.

You couldn’t help your own curiosity.

“Have you never… touched someone like that?”

He shook his head, his mouth parted slightly— like breathing was becoming a hard task.

“Do you want to?” You asked, your voice lower.

Choso swallowed, scooting a little closer to you, his movements almost as if he was squirming a bit in his spot— like he couldn’t control himself.

He nodded, his pupils blown out.

“Go ahead.” You whispered, your eyes falling on your chest before meeting with his.

“A-are you sure?”

You smiled sweetly at him. Always trying to be so polite. You nodded.

“Yes.”

At those words, Choso let his eyes fall on your breasts. His focus on the hardened buds. His hand lifted slowly, his eyes meeting with yours one last time as if he was asking for permission again. At your nod, he focused back on your chest, his hand cupping one of your tits.

Even through your shirt, you could feel his palm warming your tit. You watched him, his eyes wide and staring at your chest. It was adorable how excited he was— no actually it was hot.

He lightly squeezed the mound before letting his thumb brush over your nipple, eliciting a gasp from you.

He eyes shot up to yours, pausing his movements as he took in your hooded eyes, the way your lips were parted. He kept his gaze on you, brushing this thumb over the bud again— this time watching your body jump, your mouth parting wider as another sweet sound escaped.

He liked the reactions from you, knowing he was the one causing it.

“It’s not the same for everyone but…” You trailed off, another brush of his thumb over your nipple making you take a deep breath in, “I’m really sensitive there.”

He licked his lips, his other hand coming up to give the other tit attention. He lightly squeezed and kept teasing the buds, until his mind wondered what they felt like without the shirt.

They already felt so soft through this material, but his mouth almost watered at how they’d feel bare.

“Go ahead Cho.” You whispered, almost like you read his mind.

His breathing was heavy, his hands dipping under the hem of your shirt, tracing his fingertips up the soft skin of your belly.

You shivered, his touch so delicate. Touching you like you were fragile and bound to break.

His fingers brushed the underside of your breast, the feeling causing you to shiver again, goosebumps covering your flesh. His cupped both tits as he had before, but this time he could finally feel your soft skin. He was right— so soft. He gently massaged your tits, before letting his thumb brush over your nipple again, this time no material in the way.

You whined at the sensation, eyes pinching shut as he played with your tits. It felt so good, and for someone who hadn’t touched anyone before like this— he was pretty damn good at it.

Choso’s eyes shot up at your noise, the sound only spurring him on as he used his pointer finger and thumb to roll the sensitive buds.

The throbbing in your core intensified, and you could feel a knot start to build up in your abdomen. If he kept playing with you like this, you might just end up coming.

“Cho… feels s’good…” You breathed out, “If you don’t stop… I might…”

Choso didn’t stop, he was hungry with desire. He was hungry for you— he needed to feel every inch of your body.

He lifted your shirt off quickly, leaving you bare and exposed to him. His mouth watered at the sit of your plump, perky tits— nipples rosy and swollen. You were one hell of a view.

“So… pretty.” Choso panted out, licking his lips before lowering himself to your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth.

Your back arched, pressing yourself further into him as he sucked on the sensitive bud, swirling his tongue around before flicking it.

“F-fuckk Cho…” Your voice was rough and scratchy, the sound making Choso growl into your skin. The vibrations on your nipple making you cry.

Choso kept his mouth locked around your bud, his hands dropping from your chest. His arms circled around you, picking you up with ease until you were straddling his lap, his hands pushing on your back so that your tits were smushed in his face.

This position had the throbbing in your core tripling, but with your core pressed over his, you relieved the ache in your center— grinding your hips down hard and slow over him.

Choso let go of your nipple with a pop, a pained whimper leaving his lips. You stopped your hips.

“What’s wrong Cho?” You cupped his jaw, tilting it up to see his glossy eyes.

“Do that again.” He begged.

You held him, stroking your thumb along his jawline as you grinding your hips over him once more. The friction was delicious to your clit, but not as satisfying as the sounds Choso was making.

One of his hands stayed pushed against the small of your back, keeping you close to him while the other shot down and gripped your hip.

“Again.” He growled.

You started up a slow and steady pace, your hips pressing down on his clothed member.

His face contorted up into a pained expression, biting his lip to try and stop the whines from escaping, but you heard every addicting sound.

“Has no one ever touched you like this?” You purred, running your fingers through his scalp.

He shook his head weakly, his own hips starting to jut up into you— needing more.

“Does it feel good?”

Choso gazed into your eyes, his own glossy with an almost drunk looking gaze.

“Feels s’good.”

You changed your pattern and started grinding little slow circles on him, his breathing getting heavier as his hand gripped your hip tighter.

“M-more, I need more please—!” He whimpered, burying his face into your chest again, licking and sucking on your already overstimulated tits.

You panted into his hairline, your nose resting there as you found the strength to speak.

“What do you want Cho?”

He flicked your nipple with his tongue, giving it a gentle kiss before releasing it once more, tilting his head up to meet your drunk gaze.

“More…” He whined, his hips jolting up into yours.

You giggled lowly, your voice strained and breathy. He was so needy and whiny, it had the throbbing in your core only getting more intense.

“I know Cho… but what do you want?” You cooed, brushing some of his fallen hairs back, “You want to keep touching me… or do you want me to touch you? Make you feel good, hm?”

His eyes were darting from eye to eye, his face scrunched up almost into a pained pout as he couldn’t answer. His facial expressions were an answer enough.

You circled harder onto him, his hands tightening around you.

“Is that it? Want me to make you feel good Cho?”

He swallowed, his eyes fluttering shut before opening back up— the sultry sound of your voice making him dizzy.

“Please.”

You smirked and leaned in, giving the tip of his nose a kiss.

“I’ll be good.” He whined.

You bit your lip, this strong massive man melting underneath you. It was incredibly sexy, and you just wanted to devour him.

You leaned forward and captured his lips in a gentle kiss, knowing he probably had never kissed anyone before. He was hesitant at first, letting you take lead while he just felt you. After you opened your mouth a bit, taking more of his lips into yours— he slowly started to move against you, he mouth parting and trapping your bottom lip in between his.

Choso was all new to this, but he really liked it. He especially liked that it was you he was doing it with.

Your hips moved in a delicious pace, one that had Choso going mad. The friction was succulent, and the mere idea of never having felt or experienced this feeling before had Choso wanting to cry. It was so good— too good.

“You’re so hard Cho,” You panted in between kisses, “So big.”

He thrusted up, the all too amazing friction not enough— he needed so much more.

One of his hands left your hip, relieving the flesh as he moved his hand up towards your breast. Your back arched into him as he squeezed the plump flesh, circling his thumb over the bud.

You lifted off of him, not missing the whine when you left him.

“Hold on Cho.” You giggled, stripping yourself of your shorts and panties. Choso watched with drunken glazed eyes, hungrily staring at your exposed center. “Is this okay?”

He swallowed hard, eyes raking up your beautiful nude body until he met your eyes.

“Yes… so beautiful.” He spoke breathlessly, never have seen someone— something so breathtaking.

You blushed from his words, crawling closer to him and sitting back on your knees in front of him. Straddling him, but careful to stay off his center. His eyes were dilated, wide with anticipation.

You rubbed your hands on his legs, running your hands over his knees and caressed his thighs through his pants. Your touch was so addicting, even the softest most innocent touches had him going wild. His skin tingled underneath his robes.

His breath hitched, his eyebrows pulling together when your hands stopped just before you could smooth a hand over his covered member.

You gazed up at him.

“Can I?”

He nodded, his own hands fisting the bedsheets below him.

You smoothed your palm over his dick, a gasp escaping his lips as his body shuttered. You bit your lip at the reaction before hooking your thumbs into his pants and sliding them down his legs.

Choso stayed still and patient. Although, he wouldn’t be able to keep that control for long.

Your core throbbed at the sight of his muscular legs, eyes trailing up from his calves and landing on his thick, bulging thighs.

Your hands ran along his exposed skin, the feeling of your fingertips scraping against his skin soothing. The burning in his skin calmed at your touch, his eyes closing at the pleasant sensation.

“(Y/n)… please…” He wasn’t even sure what he was begging for, but he just needed more of your touch. All of it.

“Patience Cho, m’gonna make you feel good.” You purred, your hand running over his tensing thigh and cupping his painfully hard member.

Choso couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting into your palm, whimpering as the touch of your skin against his most private part felt heavenly.

“F-fuck…” He whined, voice strained and breathy.

You wrapped your hand around the base of him, squeezing and sliding up his cock until you reached his rosy tip. You smoothed your thumb over his slit, smearing the precum that had built up there, taking your time to circle the pad of your thumb around his head— driving him insane.

His knuckles were white and strained as they fisted the bedsheets, his eyes clamped shut as the feeling was too much— it was too good.

He cried out, face scrunching up as you rubbed your palm over his head, collecting his juices and grabbing ahold of his cock again— this time beginning to stroke him with a delicious pace.

He felt so hard and huge in your hand, you were licking your lips and squeezing your thighs together— wanting to feel him inside your aching pussy.

“How’s that feel Cho?” You whispered, your other hand lightly scraping your fingernails all the way from his abs to his thigh.

He whined, hips thrusting up to meet your strokes.

“S’good… s’good… don’t stop… fuck…”

You smirked at his reaction, completely melting from your touch. You stroked him faster, making sure to rub your thumb all the way across his tip with every stroke.

Your other hand started playing with his balls, gently rolling them in your palm. That action had Choso growling, his eyes shooting open and gazing down at you.

His expression was dark, his eyes glazed over with some primal urge— one that had him wanting to devour you.

“You gonna cum for me Cho?”

His expression switched back to a pained, needy look. His eyebrows pulling together as his mouth hang open, panting as the sensation was building so perfectly.

He nodded lazily. “Yes… yes.”

You felt his hips thrusting into your hand quicker, a messy pace and you knew he was close. Without thinking, you lowered your mouth onto him, sucking on his tip, letting your tongue circle his head before flicking his slit. Choso watched with a drunken expression, as you sucked on his most private area. It wasn’t long before he was letting out a pained whimper, thrusting his dick into your mouth deeper and shooting his seed down your throat.

You kept playing with his balls, running your hand up and down his thigh soothingly as he lazily thrusted into your mouth, your tongue running along the underside of his dick as he worked through his high.

His vision slowly lost the black spots, his breath finally coming back to him. That sensation, it felt like he had died and had come back to life— it was indescribable.

You released him with a pop, giving the tip one last kiss, making him hiss as he was sensitive— but the gesture had him already getting hard again.

“How was that Cho?” You asked in a sweet, gentle voice.

Choso didn’t answer for awhile, pulling you up into his lap. Sitting you down in his already hard again member. It was supposed to be a sweet gesture, but the feeling of his dick throbbing against your abandoned core— god it took everything in you to not sink down onto his dick.

He hugged you close to him, just gazing at you and breathing— staring at you with a dangerously longing look in his eyes.

“That was amazing baby,” Your cheeks dusted pink at the nickname, making your pussy clench around nothing. “You’re… really good at that.”

You giggled, running your hands through his hair.

“Good Cho, I’m happy I could make you feel good.”

Choso gazed at you, his hooded eyes darkening as he realized how good your very wet pussy felt sitting on top of his dick. His hands snuck down from your back, landing on your ass and giving the flesh a squeeze— earning a jolt of your hips against his. The action made him growl.

You gasped, back arching into him as your aching clit got some relief.

“Can I return the favor?”

You were dazed, spacing out as he felt too good underneath you— and you stared at him with glossy eyes.

“W-what?” You asked breathlessly.

He smirked, his eyes soft but lust filled. He gave your ass another squeeze, addicted to the feel of them in his hands.

“Can I make you feel good?”

You grinded your wet heat over his dick, both of you letting out a hiss at the action. You gripped the back of his neck, leaning close and hovering your lips over his.

“Please.”

— ending notes. don’t be mad at that ending, i promise another part is coming 😏

[gracejh08]

Breaking the media

Chapter 5- the incident

CW- brief mention of SA please dont read if it a triggering subject

As the sun peeked through the corner of the blinds it wasnt the blaring sound of your alarm that woke you up it was the calling of your name from alexia "y/n come on you need to get up" she said from the kitchen. Half asleep you clambered out of bed and into the kitchen where a plate with pancakes on waited for you "goodmorning" you said letting your eyes adjust to the light in the room "morning to you too now eat up we can't be late for training" she said while pulling the chair back for you to sit in. After finishing the morning routine and climbing into the passenger seat of the car you made small talk in the car "so how are you enjoying barca" she asked "its good, a lot warmer then back home" you joked "just a question y/n" she asked you hummed in response "i don't want to pry but why are you here by yourself" she asked, you paused before answering "oh well my parents weren't the best for my career they didnt mind when i played at sunderland but when i moved to arsenal i lived with a foster home so when i came here i didn't really have anyone to bring with me" you said trying not to show the sadness on your face it was a sensitive topic for you "im sorry pequeña" she said and rested her hand on top of your leg.

Training was hard today you had been doing fitness tests all day unlike the other girls who had normal training due to being new. It was so they can determine your stamina compared to the others and see how much they can play you on the pitch. "Hey y/n are you going back to yours to pack the rest of your stuff or are you gonna do it later" alexia asked you it was if she had read your mind or if the tiredness had spread across your face "I think I'll do it later, im sorry im just really tired" you said packing your stuff in your bag. You had arrived back at alexias place when you had essentially passed out on her sofa of tiredness "hey pequeña is it okay if mapi and ingrid come over?" She asked bringing a cup of coffee to the table. You just stuck your thumbs up at her you had 0 energy to talk and you needed a shower.

It was friday when you had finally got around to collecting your things from your apartment, the remaining days you noticed how close alexia and mapi were considering as in 4 days you'd seen her and ingrid twice. "Call me when you're done packing and i will bring the car for you" she said as you began to leave the building. Normal you wore your sweats to leave but it was so hot you decided to keep your shorts on. Alexia would have come and helped you pack but unfortunately she had to stay back for media and so did some of the other girls. You began to walk to your apartment when after a couple minutes you had noticed a tall man in all black following close behind you, but before you got to panicked you decided to take a turn which was no where near your house but it was just to check if he was actually following you. Then he turned down the same street all of sudden you started to feel your heart beat to speed up and you did the only thing you could do and that was call alexia.

The call came halfway through media luckily it wasn't alexias shoot, she picked up her phone and saw your contact and had no problem to pick it up and she wandered out to the hall "ale..please help" your voice was quiet and filled with panic "pequeña whats wrong" she asked her voice filled with concern "someone is following me" you said almost in a whisper, the minute she heard this alexia was filled with concern and almost a sense of anger but she needed to stay strong for you "okay amor you need to listen to me, walk to the nearest bus stop the one near the town centre and I'll be on my way" she says "okay please hurry hes getting closer" you said following her instructions as you headed towards the bus stop. She hung up the phone and nearly sprinted to the door when she said that she needed to go but before she drove herself to you she was in no state to drive her hands clenched ready to knock out whoever this was she didn't care if he was 5 foot 4 or 6 foot 6 she would do it. "Mapi i need your help please can you drive me to the bus stop near the cafe y/n is being followed and i said i would get her there" she said frantically to mapi on the phone "yes of course me and ingrid are on the way now" mapi responded grabbing her keys and ingrid to come to the car.

You had made your way to the bus stop when you sat on the furthest seat away and the man sat on the other side of the bench glancing at you every minute or so. You pulled out you phone to try and see how close alexia was to you but from the corner of your eye you could see the man shifting more and more towards you. The text came through to alexias phone 'please hurry he's moving towards me' you practically begged if alexia was driving she would have definitely broke some speed laws and here she sat in the passenger seat of mapis car her leg shaking up and down and worry knitted across her face. As each passing second the man had now made his way beside you his leg pressed against yours, you were helpless there was no one to save you and you couldn't move almost frozen by fear and slowly preparing your self for the worst. "Hey gorgeous whats someone like you doing by yourself" he gritted through his teeth placing his hand on your thigh "none of your business now please leave me alone" you said trying to mask your anxiety through your voice but it didn't stop him. His hands moved further up you leg to your inner thigh just as they were about to reach the hem of your shorts you saw a car pull up. Alexia had seen the sight from a couple hundred metres away and she couldn't believe it she flung the car door open and started shouting in spanish. Mapi quickly followed to restrain alexia from knocking him out "calm down ale, we don't want to cause a scene" mapi said her hand firmly on alexia waist trying to calm her down.

Meanwhile it was ingrid who had come to you, she crouched down infront of you as you were fixated on staring at your thigh you could almost still feel his hand on you. That's when alexia had turned around to face you, you were as pale as a ghost and trembling she reached out to put a hand on your shoulder buf before she could reach ingrid had slapped it away "ale you cant just touch her after she has been touched without consent" ingrid said trying to hide the anger in her voice. Thats when it hit alexia you must be terrified something way worse could have happened if she didn't show up earlier "hey pequeña can i touch you" she said gently you just looked up at her your eyes dwelled with tears. You didn't respond you just launched yourself at alexia and cried into her shoulder " he was.. he was so close ale... i was so scared" you sobbed into her shoulder as she rubbed circles on your back "its okay now you're safe" she whispered into your ear "how about we go home" she said as you nodded in to her shoulder. This time it was alexia who sat in the back as you lay still surgically attached to her as she sat and brushed her hand through your ragged hair you had fallen asleep on her lap as your tears had exhausted you.

You had arrived back home where instead of waking you up she carried you to her bed not yours she wouldn't let you out of her sight not again. Then she turned to mapi and she let out the emotions she was hiding to stay strong you she cried into mapis shoulder "i was so worried about her.. she.. she.. its my fault. I told her to go" alexia said her voice raspy her thoughts could only bring herself to blame herself for what happened "no no ale it wasn't your fault no one could have predicted that it would've happened" mapi said soothing her besf friend. After 10 minutes alexia was ready for bed she was greatful of the catalan who had let her cry on her shoulder but now she only had one place to be and that was next to you. To make sure nothing like this will ever happen again not under her protection she wouldn't let it happen.

[tempobaekh]

Light in the darkness

Pairings: grumpy!bucky x sunshine!nurse!f!reader

Warnings: little bit of angst, a bit of asshole bucky, hurt to comfort, kind of enemies to lovers but it’s mostly buck, no reader physical description so can be read as any appearance, female reader

A/N: got inspired to write this one after i came across @apparentlytheproblem account and enemies to lovers prompt list. there is a lot of good stuff there so i thank her for motivating me to write this, I used some of the prompts from that list, they will be highlighted in the fic. also got the trope inspiration from @buckyalpine (I absolutely love your writing) this fic here I absolutely love it, with perfect amount of angst and cuteness please go read it!! anyways enough of my yapping, enjoy reading!!<3 (also please listen to these two in this order for more feels, I myself was listening to them while writing this and omfg it got me in the feeeels)

The infirmary of the Avengers compound is a well-lit, sterile environment, but you've managed to make it warm with your presence.

Cute little potted plants all over that were practically your babies, small fidgeting gadgets for anyone to fidget with (particularly for Bruce and Tony), small snacks placed in different containers scattered around the infirmary (frequently emptied by Tony), and a few stuffed animals placed here and there, all meant to make the space less intimidating.

You’ve always been a naturally optimistic person, someone who sees the best in everyone and everything. The Avengers compound, with its high-stakes missions and often tense atmosphere, was a perfect place for you to share your sunny disposition.

The team appreciated it—your laughter, your kindness, your unwavering positivity. They said you were a breath of fresh air, a light in the often dark world they navigated.

Every day, you greet the team with a cheerful smile, your laughter echoing through the corridors like a soothing melody. Everyone seems to love you—everyone except for Bucky Barnes.

From the moment Bucky set foot in the compound, he knew he was out of place. Haunted by his past, he kept his distance from everyone, preferring the silence and solitude of his own company, he mostly stuck to Steve and would occasionally have a Sam-sized problem hanging behind him.

He barely speaks to anyone, and when he does, it’s usually to snap or grumble. With you, he’s even worse. There’s an edge to his voice, a coldness in his eyes that seems to cut through your sunny disposition like a knife.

When he first saw you, with your bright smile and cheerful demeanor, he felt a strange pang in his chest—a mix of longing and irritation.

You were everything he felt he could never be again: light-hearted, carefree, a beacon of hope in a world that still felt foreign and hostile to him.

A world where he was still hated by some- or many.

Every time you laughed, it reminded him of what he had lost, of the darkness that had claimed his tortured and scarred soul. He hated that feeling, that reminder, and by extension, he hated that you were the one to evoke it.

From the moment you met him, he seemed determined to extinguish your light. His coldness was a stark contrast to your warmth, his gruff demeanor a perpetual challenge to your cheerful one.

At first, you chalked it up to his history, his need for time to adjust and heal. You were patient, giving him space while still trying to make him feel welcome.

Every day, you made small efforts to connect with him. You brought him coffee with extra sugar, hoping the gesture would soften his grumpy exterior. You cracked light-hearted jokes, trying to coax a smile out of him. You even complimented his metal arm, not out of pity, but genuine admiration. Yet, every attempt was met with indifference or a sharp retort.

Your jokes were often greeted with a curt nod or a dismissive grunt, and your compliments seemed to make him even more uncomfortable, his eyes narrowing as if questioning your sincerity.

Despite your efforts Bucky kept his distance and rejected. When you brought him coffee with extra sugar, he grumbled about preferring it black.

“I prefer my coffee black,” he would say, barely looking at you as he set the cup aside, not noticing the hurt look on your face.

When you made light-hearted jokes, he responded with curt nods or dismissive remarks. When you complimented his metal arm, he saw it as pity, a reminder of his brokenness. Your persistent cheerfulness was like a spotlight on his scars, and he resented you for it.

But deep down, Bucky knew that his anger wasn't really directed at you. It was aimed at himself, at the man he used to be and the man he thought he could never become again.

Your presence forced him to confront emotions he had buried deep within himself—emotions he didn't know how to handle. Every time you tried to break through his defenses, it was like a chisel chipping away at the walls he had built around his heart, and it terrified him.

Each brush-off, each cold response, chipped away at your resolve, leaving you more confused and hurt.

It wasn’t just the rejection that stung; it was the feeling that you were the only one he treated this way.

Everyone else seemed to get along with him fine, or at least, they didn’t bear the brunt of his sharp edges. You couldn’t understand why you were the exception, why he seemed to harbor a special kind of disdain just for you.

You tried not to let it show, maintaining your sunny facade for the sake of the team. But inside, every encounter with Bucky left a small, invisible wound.

You would smile through the pain, and laugh through the hurt, but the weight of his rejection grew heavier with each passing day.

Nights were the hardest, lying in bed replaying your interactions, wondering what you had done to earn his ire. Wondering and thinking where you went wrong, blaming everything on yourself.

And yet, despite the pain, you found yourself drawn to him. Maybe it was the challenge he represented, the mystery of his cold exterior, and the glimpses of vulnerability you occasionally saw.

There were moments, fleeting and rare, where you caught a glimpse of something softer in his eyes—a hint of sorrow, a flicker of regret. Those moments made you wonder about the man beneath the armor, the soul behind the scowl.

Gradually, your frustration and sadness turned into something more complex.

You began to care for him, despite his harshness.

You noticed the way his jaw clenched when he was upset, the way his eyes softened when he thought no one was watching, the way he fiddled with either his dog tags around his neck or his sleeve when he would get anxious, the way the sound of any whirring machine close to him would subtly make him jump.

You saw the pain he carried, the ghosts that haunted him, and your heart ached for him.

You wanted to reach out, to comfort him, to show him that he didn’t have to face his demons alone.

But every time you tried, he pushed you away, and it hurt more than you cared to admit.

Your feelings grew in the quiet moments, in the way you found yourself thinking about him even when he wasn’t around, in the way your heart raced at the sound of his voice, even when it was laced with irritation.

You realized you were falling for him, despite his best efforts to keep you at arm’s length.

You were falling for James Buchanan Barnes.

And he hated you.

One evening, after a particularly brutal mission, you’re restocking the infirmary when the door slams open. You jump, nearly dropping a box of gauze.

When Bucky stumbled into the infirmary, bleeding and in pain, he didn't want to admit to himself why he came to you. He could have gone to anyone else, but something—an instinct, a need—drove him to seek you out.

Bucky stumbles in, clutching his side, blood seeping through his fingers. His face is pale, eyes dark with pain and something else—frustration? Anger? It’s hard to tell.

“Barnes!” you exclaim, rushing to his side. “What happened?”

A strange mix of emotions flooded you. Concern for his well-being, of course, but also a glimmer of hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, this would be the moment he finally let you in.

He grunts, shaking his head as if to dismiss your concern. “Just patch me up.”

You guide him to a bed, your hands surprisingly steady given the state he’s in. You quickly gather the necessary supplies, your mind racing with questions.

Why did he come to you? He usually avoids you like the plague, very often going to Helen instead of you no matter the severity of the injury.

As you begin to clean his wound, he hisses, muscles tensing under your touch.

“Sorry,” you murmur, your tone soft.

He doesn’t respond, just watches you with those intense baby-blue eyes. It’s unnerving, but you refuse to let it shake you. Instead, you focus on your work, your movements gentle yet efficient.

Bucky watched you work with a mixture of frustration and awe. Your hands were gentle, your touch soothing, and for a moment, he allowed himself to feel vulnerable in your presence.

As you stitch him up, the silence between you grows heavier, filled with unspoken words and unexpressed emotions.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You wrap up the last of his wound and look him straight in the eye. “Bucky, why do you hate me so much?” your voice trembled with frustration and hurt.

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your question and his response took you by surprise. “I don’t hate you.”

You blink for a second and then scoff, shaking your head, trying to process his words. “You could’ve fooled me. You’ve been nothing but cold and an asshole since the day we met. I just don’t get it. Everyone else likes me, but you. You go out of your way to avoid me like I'm some plague! You always brush me off rudely and call me a bother when I try speaking to you only to speak with the others like it's nothing! You can't even give me the decency of respect, you pretend that I don't even exist!."

You stop, realizing you have almost gone to shouting, and take a deep breath in.

"Why?" your voice is quiet and broken, hurt and horse. Your eyes glazing with unshed tears,

Bucky felt a surge of conflicting emotions. He wanted to push you away, to keep you at a distance where you couldn't hurt him. Where he couldn't hurt you with his broken soul, and the demons from his past.

But the heart-shattering sadness on your usually lit-up face, made him also want to pull you closer, to let you in and see the parts of him he kept hidden. It was a battle between his fear and his longing, and for the first time, he felt the fear of losing.

Specifically, losing you.

“I’m not...used to feeling this way, okay?” he snaps, the admission seeming to cost him. His jaw clenches, and he looks away, refusing to meet your gaze.

For the first time, you saw something other than anger in his eyes.

Vulnerability.

Fear.

“Feeling what way?” you press, your voice shaking slightly, your frustration bubbling over. “What did I ever do to you?”

He’s silent for a long moment, the tension in the room almost suffocating. Finally, he lets out a long breath, his shoulders slumping, his emotions pressing down on him. “I feel the opposite of hate...towards you,” he admitted, his voice raw and honest.

The revelation left you breathless. All this time, you thought he despised you, but in reality, he was struggling with feelings he didn’t know how to handle. Your heart ached for him, for the battles he fought within himself.

He watched your eyes widen in surprise, your mind trying to process his words.

The words hang in the air, and you can hardly believe your ears. “You...what?” your voice barely a whisper.

Bucky turns to face you, his expression a mix of vulnerability and determination. “You heard me. I don’t hate you., far from it. You’re always so...bright and happy. It messes with my head. Makes me feel things I thought I’d forgotten how to feel. You make me realize that I can feel a romantic attraction towards someone, you make me realize that I can have some goodness in life. You make me feel want. To want something and not feel selfish.”

You blink, trying to process his confession. “You...want me?” you asked, hardly daring to believe it.

Without hesitation, he answers, “You know I do.”

A slow smile spread across your face, and for the first time in a long while, Bucky felt a glimmer of hope.

The weight of his confession settled over you, bringing with it a mixture of relief and tenderness. You smiled a slow, genuine smile that lit up your face. “Such a pretty liar, mhmm. And here I stressed over that you hated me.” you teased, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips, his usual gruff demeanor softening.

He grumbles, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Shut up and kiss me.”

You don’t need any more encouragement.

You leaned in, your lips meeting his in a sweet, tender kiss. It’s hesitant at first as if you’re both testing the waters, but it quickly deepens, the pent-up emotions of the past months pouring out in that one perfect moment. It was a kiss that spoke of all the unspoken words, the hidden feelings, the pain and hope intertwined.

When you leaned in and kissed him, it was like a dam breaking. All the emotions he had bottled up for so long—fear, longing, hope—flooded out in that one perfect moment.

Your lips were soft and warm against his, and for the first time since he could remember, he felt at peace.

As the kiss deepened, Bucky knew that things wouldn’t be easy. He still had a long way to go, and there were still demons he needed to face. But with you by his side, he felt a renewed strength, a reason to keep fighting.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and smiling, Bucky felt something he hadn’t felt in years: happiness. Maybe, just maybe, he could be more than the sum of his past mistakes. With you, he could be the man he once was—the man he wanted to be.

You pulled back, breathless and smiling, and a little dazed, you knew that this was just the beginning. It wouldn’t be easy, but for the first time, you felt like you had a chance to break through his walls, to reach the man behind the mask.

You can’t help but laugh softly. “Maybe you’re not such a grump after all.”

Bucky smirks, a rare but genuine smile lighting up his face. “Don’t push your luck.”

You giggle, the sound like music to his ears.

As you finish bandaging his wounds, the atmosphere between you has shifted. There’s a new understanding, a connection that wasn’t there before. Maybe things won’t be easy, and maybe Bucky will always be a bit of a grump, but you’re determined to be his sunshine, to bring light into his dark world.

And maybe, just maybe, he’ll let you.

Bucky's confession had changed everything. In the days following that night in the infirmary, his demeanor towards you began to shift.

The once icy wall he maintained seemed to melt slightly, and while he wasn't exactly warm, there was a newfound softness in his eyes when he looked at you.

Still, the past months of his coldness and hostility left a lingering tension between you, a wound that needed healing.

You knew that a kiss and a confession would not be enough to cure his long-standing hostility toward you; you knew you both needed to have a conversation.

One evening, you stayed late at the compound, finishing up some paperwork in the infirmary. The sun had long set, casting the room in a dim, serene glow from the soft lights overhead.

You were engrossed in your work when you heard a knock at the door. Looking up, you saw Bucky standing there, looking hesitant and unsure. Your heart skipped a beat, a mixture of anticipation and wariness flooding you.

“Hey,” he said quietly, stepping inside.

“Hey there you,” you replied softly, setting your pen down. “What’s up?”

He took a deep breath, his expression serious. “I need to talk to you.”

You nodded, gesturing for him to sit in the white chair, that currently had a cute Dumbo plush placed on it. Bucky grabbed the plush before sitting down and placed it in his lap, fidgeting with the ears, his large frame taking up more space than usual, his presence filling the room.

There was a moment of silence, and you could see he was struggling to find the right words.

“I’ve been an asshole,” he finally said, his voice low and earnest. “I’ve treated you terribly, and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

You watched him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. “Bucky-”

He held up a hand, stopping you. “Please, let me finish, I've been wanting to say this for a while because you deserve an apology. You’ve been nothing but kind and patient with me, and I repaid you with coldness and cruelty. I pushed you away because...because I was scared. Scared of what I was feeling, scared of getting close to someone again. I know my behavior is not to be excused but I'm being honest doll." he pleaded.

You swallowed hard, the raw honesty in his words touching something deep inside you. “I get it, Bucky. But it still hurt.”

“I know,” he said, his voice pained.

He stepped towards you, gently taking your gentle hands into his calloused ones and continuing to speak while tracing patterns on your skin with his thumb, the gesture comforting him. “And I’m so sorry for that. I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t. What I can do is promise to make it up to you. I want to show you that you won’t regret giving me a chance.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a tentative hope blooming within you. “How do you plan to do that?”

He looked at you with such intensity that it took your breath away. “By being there for you, by treating you the way you deserve to be treated. I want to make you happy, sweetness. I want to be the man you see in me, the man you’ve been so kind and patient with.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity and determination in his voice. “Oh Buck…”

“I crave you, doll,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I crave your touch, your smile, your laughter. Every part of you. I’ve tried to fight it, but I can’t anymore. I need you.”

The intensity of his confession left you breathless. You placed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“I need to know you mean it,” you whispered, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt.

He covered your hand with his, his grip firm and reassuring. “I mean it, Y/N. I’ll spend every day of my life proving it to you if I have to.”

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. More intense than the last one. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him. The kiss deepened, filled with all the pent-up emotions and longing that had been building between you.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily. You looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “You really want this? You really want me?”

“More than anything,” he said without hesitation. “You have no idea how much.”

A slow smile spread across your face, a mixture of relief and joy washing over you. “Well then, show me, Barnes.”

He grinned, a rare and genuine smile that made your heart soar. “With pleasure.”

He kissed you again, this time with even more passion and intensity. His hands roamed your back, pulling you impossibly closer, any distance in between being excruciating. You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you poured all your emotions into the kiss. It was a promise, a beginning, and for the first time in a long while, you felt truly hopeful.

As the kiss ended, Bucky rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. “You won’t regret this, doll. I promise.”

“I believe you,” you whispered, feeling the truth of his words in your heart.

The moment of intimacy is shattered by the sound of cheering and whooping from the doorway. Startled, you both turn to see Tony, Natasha, Steve, and Sam standing there, grinning like a bunch of mischievous teenagers who had just witnessed their friends’ first kiss.

“Finally!” Tony exclaims, clapping his hands together. “I thought I was going to have to script it out for you two. Turns out Terminator actually has the balls to confess." he snickered, seizing a snack packet of dried blueberries and munching on them.

Natasha smirks, crossing her arms over her chest. “Took you long enough, Barnes. We were beginning to think you’d never make a move.” the redhead pauses and winks at you.

Steve steps forward, a proud smile on his face. “About time, punk. I knew you had it in you.”

Sam laughs, shaking his head. “And here I was thinking the Winter Soldier was all cold and no heart. Looks like our sunshine melted the ice.”

You feel your face heat up, a mix of embarrassment and amusement washing over you. Bucky, on the other hand, rolls his eyes, his cheeks slightly flushed. “Do you guys mind?”

Tony steps forward, still grinning and munching on his snack. “Not at all. We’ve been waiting for this moment for months. I mean, the tension was practically killing us.”

Natasha nods in agreement. “It was like watching a bad rom-com where the leads are too stubborn to admit they like each other.”

Bucky sighs, shaking his head but there’s a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “Well, enjoy the show. It’s over now.”

Steve chuckles. “I don’t think it’s over. I think it’s just getting started.”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “Alright, alright. You’ve had your fun. Now, can we have a moment?”

Tony raises his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. We’ll leave you lovebirds alone. But don’t think we’re not going to talk about this later.”

He turns to you and points at the packet in his hand, "Also thanks for this sweets," and struts out.

As the group begins to disperse, Natasha gives you a wink. “We’re happy for you, babe. You deserve it.”

Steve pats Bucky on the shoulder. “Good job, Buck.”

Once they’re gone, you turn back to Bucky, who’s shaking his head, a look of exasperated affection on his face. “I swear, they’re worse than a bunch of kids.”

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I think it’s sweet. They care about us.”

He sighs, pulling you closer. “Yeah, well, as long as I get you to myself now.”

You lean in, brushing your lips against his. “You do. And I’m not going anywhere.”

As you kiss him again, the echoes of your friends’ teasing fade away, leaving just the two of you in the warm, comforting glow of newfound love.

With that, you knew that this was the start of something new, something beautiful. It wouldn’t be easy, but together, you felt ready to face whatever came your way. And with Bucky by your side, you knew you could handle anything.

Note: gifs, pictures, and header DOES NOT belong to me. CREDITS TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNERS!! Feedback and reblog is appreciated.<3

[sirfrogsworth]

The Curse of Artistic Vision

I think being an artist comes down to developing an image in your head and then feeling compelled to manifest it. Sometimes you are able to improve upon that image in your head. Or you end up with something different that you like better.

But sometimes, for various reasons, you can't quite make that image a reality. And I don't know if other artists feel this way, but it feels like heartbreak every time. Not quite on the level of an incident of human decoupling, but it definitely sticks with you for a long time.

Sometimes I am limited by the current state of my skillset. I just haven't learned enough and gained enough experience to take a photo like the one in my brain.

And sometimes I am limited by my body, which puts huge restrictions on the amount of energy I can dedicate to crafting a photo.

I feel my knowledge and experience has never been at the level I am currently at. I think I have the *potential* to shoot just about anything I can imagine. Which is a cool feeling. I also feel like my image editing and manipulation skills are at the highest they have ever been. Which means anything I can't do in-camera, I can achieve in Lightroom and Photoshop.

But I just don't have a lot of energy to capture photos right now. And I am very limited by how much physical effort I can dedicate to the photographic process. Which is very frustrating. I'm hoping if I build a new studio in the house that will help a lot.

In the meantime, I have this library of images I took before 2017. Many of them I was not able to achieve my artistic vision.

But... I came close.

Which means on many of these old images I can use my editing skills of today to achieve what I could not back then.

And so I have started a huge re-edit project where I go back and realize my images as I wanted them to be.

I had this idea for an image of someone in the middle of a dark forest in an open field reading a book and the only illumination was a lamp that seemed to be plugged into nothing. It popped into my head and it just seemed like a cool photo to create.

In July of 2016, my friend Ryan was visiting and we decided to try it. We even rented a big fancy 50 megapixel camera for a few days. I had never used a professional level camera and it was my birthday and I wanted that experience.

I even had this cool idea to hide a flash in the lamp so it would look like it was illuminated.

The resulting image was not anything like I had in my head. And for some reason, I edited it super bright, and you can barely even notice the cool lampshade flash trick. If you lower the exposure of the RAW file there is a well-defined circle of light in the grass, but it is hard to see in the 2016 edit.

Where is the dark background? Why didn't I underexpose the background to make it look like night or sunset? I knew how to do that back then. I totally could have crafted the photo in my head at that time.

But then I noticed I only took like 8 photos of this scene. And I *always* overshoot. I took 300 photos of a bridge recently.

Then I remembered what happened. We moved a giant rocking chair, a lamp, and lighting equipment to the middle of my neighbor's yard and by the time I was ready to take the photo, I was about to pass out. I believe it was very hot as well.

And so the above was the best I could do under that circumstance. My body limited my artistic vision. And this has been bothering me for years. Sometimes I will think back on this photo and how cool it looked in my head and I will feel that heartbreak again.

When I look at the RAW file... it is actually much better than my edited image.

Which makes me curious why I made it so damn bright. My best theory is I had a monitor that was slowly dying and I didn't realize how dim it got because our eyes are so good at adjusting, and it's possible all of my images from that era were overly bright because I was overcompensating for a dying display.

That fancy camera (Canon 5DS R) was a dream to work with. And having so many extra megapixels to play with is such a joy. People say you don't need more megapixels these days, but when you are doing high level image manipulation, having as much information as possible makes it a lot easier. Especially when making complex selections.

So, I've got a good start. I have a lot of pixels to play with. I was almost certain I could manifest my vision with modern knowledge and tools.

I'll start with the baseline edit in Lightroom. I'm not going to worry about the sky, as that will need to be swapped for my nighttime aesthetic.

The circle of light was there! It was just hiding in my bright exposure. So that's neat. And when you lower the exposure of the background, the lampshade trick presents itself as well.

At this point I was getting excited because I could see the potential. I just had to find the right sky. This one looks perfect.

Okay, it is time for the big reveal.

Did I finally get this image out of my brain and into reality?

I DID!

I don't know if people will like this or find it artistically interesting, but Ryan and I were both very happy with the new version.

Also, I think Ryan's purple shoes really steal the show.

Though I had one idea that was never in my head originally.

Should I try it?

I still haven't decided on the fireflies yet, but Ryan and Katrina like them.

I can't state how nice it was to work on a 50 megapixel photo from a full frame sensor coming from a 10 year old camera with 4 stops less dynamic range and 24 megapixels.

This is zoomed in to 100%!

And the image doesn't even get soft at 300%.

Sorry, I got caught up in the megapixels.

And there is one detail you'll probably never notice unless I point it out, but I completely rebuilt the lampshade because I overexposed it.

I always say small details add up to big results. Plus I had to use some creative problem solving to figure out how to recreate a lampshade and I always enjoy that part of the process—where you don't know how to do something and then you figure it out. Very satisfying.

In any case, my brain feels better now. I feel like I was able to settle something that has been bothering me for ages. And I am grateful I was able to realize my artistic vision—even if it took 8 years.

Here is the before and after. It's fun to switch back and forth.

On to the next photo. And it may involve a furry little orange friend.

[azzibuckets]

COMPLETE MESS [part one | paige bueckers]

paige bueckers x teacher!oc

summary: natasha meets one of her students’ sisters, and she’s enthralled

a/n: lmk if yall want me to make more parts!

word count: 3.3k

masterlist

I stretched out my back with a groan. I loved teaching; it had been my dream job since I was a kid, but sometimes it drained the life out of my bones. Third graders could be an absolute menace, especially on days like today where they’d figured out how to make paper airplanes and had started flying them across the room, sneakily giggling whenever my back was turned.

It didn’t help that later tonight would be open house, when the families of students would come to visit the school to see for themselves what their children have been learning and working on for the past few months. The parents were always nice enough, but it was a drag having to clean up the classroom, hang up everyone’s projects, and decorate the walls and desks.

I checked my watch. Half an hour to go. I knew some eager children hauling their parents along would start arriving soon, so I smoothed down my skirt. I had to make good impressions, considering the fact that a lot of parents didn’t take me seriously because of how young I was.

Wanting to greet parents in the hallway as they entered my classroom, I stepped outside, but there must have been someone waiting directly outside the door because I heard a thump and a little “Ow!” Panicking at the idea of having just sent a little kid sprawling to the fooor in front of their parents, I rushed around the door, breathing in relief when I only saw one of my students, Drew, with no parents in sight.

“Drew, buddy,” I laughed. “What’re you doing?”

Drew pouted, trying to collect the pieces of Legos that were now scattered across the floor. “I was waiting because the door was locked and you hit me!”

I bent down and started picking up Lego pieces. “What have I told you about standing there, Drew?” I reminded him. Drew was one of my favorite students - he was hyper and often forgot about things like not standing behind the door, but he was so cheerful and positive all the time that I couldn’t help but always smile at his mischievous antics.

“I know, I just got excited! My mom and dad are coming to see my Lego project and so is my big sister!”

I ruffled his hair. “Your big sister! Woah! I would love to meet her.” I couldn’t remember her name, I think it started with a P, but Drew talked about her all the time, and I could tell that he absolutely adored her. “Where are your parents, by the way? You’re very early.”

“I made them come early,” Drew explained, finally grabbing the last Lego and dumping all the pieces unceremoniously into his backpack. “But Paige had to pee, so they went to the bathroom. I think I was supposed to wait outside for them but I wanted to come here!”

“Alright.” I got up, offering a hand to Drew, who accepted but pulled so hard he almost dragged me down again. “Come inside and sit while you wait. But don’t mess around, alright?”

Much to my surprise, Drew stayed quiet in his seat, not making any noise. I busied myself with adjusting the posters on the wall for what seemed like the hundredth time. A piece of tape had gotten loose on one of the papers, and just as I reached to fix it, the entire poster came tumbling to the ground. Signing, I bent down to pick it up.

“Damn, I could study this,” a deep voice whistled from behind me.

I immediately straightened myself, mortified. Cheeks burning, I turned around to reprimand whoever had just made a ridiculously inappropriate joke in a classroom setting, with a student sitting just feet away.

Leaning against the doorway was a blonde woman, whose hair was pulled back into a clean ponytail with shockingly no flyaways. She looked young, but was intimidatingly tall. Although she wasn’t smiling, her deep blue eyes were dancing with amusement, her slightly cocked eyebrows showing intriguement. Both hands were stuffed into the pocket of her sweatpants, her stance nonchalant. Whoever she was, she was gorgeous, with one of those faces people would pause and look back at if they passed on the street.

My mouth opened, but all semblances of what was supposed to be a lecture on respecting women faded. I didn’t know why my throat was suddenly dry, my heart suddenly pounding against my chest so hard I feared my ribs would break.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to end up saying anything, because Drew jumped up from his seat and ran to the blonde. “Miss Natasha!” he exclaimed. “Meet Paige, my sister!”

My eyebrows shot up. This was Drew’s sister? All this time, you’d been imagining a timid and sweet girl, not someone who was dressed in basically pajamas but still looked like they stepped out of a magazine.

Paige stepped closer to me, a dangerous smirk playing on the edge of her lips. “I’m Paige Bueckers,” she introduced herself. “Very nice to meet you.”

My jaw tightened. I didn’t appreciate this girl’s cocky attitude. I’ve known girls like Paige before; sexy and alluring, but with egos up their asses, who thought that they could flirt with you and do whatever they wanted because they were drop dead gorgeous. Especially considering the treatment I often faced, with fathers of my students often making suggestive remarks and creepy innuendos, causing their wives to get angry at me as if it was my fault that their husbands couldn’t stop ogling at someone twenty years younger than them. So you finally gathered your courage. “I don’t know who you think you are,” you said lowly, trying not to let Drew hear, “but you don’t get to come into my classroom and start making unseemly advancements. Especially in front of my students.”

Paige’s eyes flitted down, tracing my face and dropping for a second to my lips before slowly dragging its way down my body. She was blatantly and unashamedly undressing me with her eyes, and I almost reached for my jacket.

“Unseemly,” she echoed, nodding to herself. “Yeah. Definitely a teacher.”

I rolled my eyes, already frustrated. “Drew,” you said sweetly, bending down to look him in the eye. “Where are your parents?”

“They ran into one of his friends’ parents,” Paige responded for him. “But I’m here. Why don’t you walk me through everything, teach?”

I loathed myself for the way my heart skipped a beat at her stupid nickname. “It’s hard to walk you through Drew’s progress this trimester if you’re constantly trying to flirt with me,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

“Paige, stop making Miss Natasha mad!” Drew intervened, giving his sister a little push and running to give you a hug. You smiled gratefully at the little boy, taking delight in the way Paige’s eyes narrowed with jealousy.

“Whatever, I can be chill. But I actually wanna see the projects Drew’s been talking about, so can we get started?” The blonde asked impatiently, as if she hadn’t been the one obnoxiously flirting.

So you started showing Drew’s works that he’d created the past few months. When you got to the Lego Fortnite set he’d built, he’d started rambling about the project and going into a detailed explanation of how he built it. You could see Paige attentively listening at first, but as Drew kept talking, her attention slowly shifted to you.

“Whenever we Facetime, Drew talks about his teacher a lot,” Paige mused quietly as Drew paused his tangent to look over the set and make sure all the pieces were intact. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.” Her eyes darted to you again, and you wondered at how anybody ever talked to this girl with how intense her stare was.

You bit your lip. It was always nice seeing the impact you made on your kids; it made all the hard work and tears worth it. It’s what you’ve always aimed to do - change their lives. “Thank you,” you said softly. “Same with you. Drew won’t ever shut up about you, especially at recess when the kids are playing basketball. You play, right?”

Paige’s eyes shined, a smile forming on her face. “I am. I play at UConn.”

You gaped at her. “Please don’t tell me you’re a freshman in college.” Although she had been the one making the innuendos, it still made you uncomfortable at the idea of an 18 year old even thinking about you this way.

Thankfully, Paige shook her head. “I’m 22. A senior. You?”

“I’m 24.”

Paige grinned again. “Perfect. Not too old for me then.”

You rolled your eyes, your annoyance returning. “Do you have no shame? I could have a significant other for all you’d know. I’m also your brother’s teacher.”

Paige tilted her head, studying me. “Do you have a significant other?” Her tone made it clear that she already knew the answer.

“That’s not important,” I said looking away. The corners of Paige’s lips turned upwards, and I wanted to punch the satisfaction off her face.

“I’ve actually always thought teachers were very attractive,” Paige murmured, her tone now husky. She leaned in closer to me, one hand stabilizing herself on the desk. “With their glasses and their skirts.” Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip.

“I’m not wearing glasses,” I stammered. Every cell in my body was screaming at myself to back away and create some distance between me and this random girl, but I couldn’t.

“Maybe not, but you’re wearing a skirt. Although to be honest, I’d like it better if there was nothing there at all,” she rasped. She leaned in closer, the atmosphere between us now charged, but at the same moment Drew’s parents walked in.

I immediately jumped up and stumbled backwards, humiliated at having been caught in such a position with their daughter. I chastised myself - how could I be acting so unprofessionally while on the job? We hadn’t done anything wrong, per se, but the proximity we’d been sitting in was definitely way beyond what was appropriate for a teacher and one of their students’ family members.

“Mr. and Mrs. Bueckers!” I squeaked, clearing my throat and ignoring the way Paige started smirking as she observed my awkwardness. “So nice to see you guys again!”

Bob Bueckers looked curiously between the two of us, but nonetheless he stuck out his hand and flashed a friendly smile. “Miss Natasha! How have you been?”

I re-explained to the Bueckers all of Drew’s activities and achieevments, but this time with Paige silently burning me with her relentless gaze from behind her dad and step-mom. Every time I glared at her in an effort to get her to stop, her intensity only increased. I hated how flustered she was able to make me without even saying a word, so as soon as I finished, I quickly excused myself to talk to other parents.

Somewhere in the midst of my conversations with other families, the Bueckers disappeared, and I assumed they went to visit Drew’s other teachers. I tried to get Paige out of my mind, but for the entire night her face was burned into the back of my mind, God knows why. It seemed like the longest night ever - an endless stream of parents all fighting for my attention so they could talk about their kid, combined with my short interactions from Paige earlier that night still nagging at me. Unsurprisingly, I was completely exhausted by the time open house night ended.

It was almost 10 PM when I finished cleaning and wrapping up for the night. I locked up my classroom and headed to the bathroom for a quick pit stop before leaving. As I walked past the gym, though, I swore I heard sounds filtering in from under the doors. I paused, unsure of what to do. The gym was definitely supposed to be closed by now; almost the entire school was empty and dark save a couple janitors and lingering teachers. But it was getting late, and I honestly didn’t want to have to deal with another issue. Besides, I wasn’t sure if I even heard a noise.

So I turned around and kept walking, until a loud giggle followed by a “Shhh!” turned my feet right back. Marching to the front entrance, I tried to open the doors, but was met with resistance. Huffing, I pushed harder, but whoever was on the other end was strong. I gave one last push before jogging to the side entrance. This time, the door opened with ease, showing a completely empty gym - except for a familiar blonde woman and one of your students leaning against the doors at the front entrance.

Heat flooded your cheeks, and this time it wasn’t from embarrassment, but from anger. “Are you serious right now?” I stomped aggressively towards the two culprits, both of whom looked like guilty children that’d just been caught eating chocolate in the middle of the night - except one was a 22 year old college student who definitely knew better. “I cannot believe this is real right now.” I ran your head through my hair, my voice shocked with disbelief. “How did you even get in here?” I looked around, realizing that there had to be at least 20 basketballs scattered across the floor of the gym. “And where did all these balls come from?”

Paige scratched the back of her neck, sheepishness on her face. “Uh, we might’ve found a way to get into the storage room.”

“How did you even get inside the gym in the first place?” You shrieked, trying not to lose full control over yourself.

Paige winced. “I might’ve taught Drew how to pick locks? And he was trying to show me how much he’s been practicing.” She looked over at her little brother in desperation, who in turn ran behind her and started hiding behind her legs. “I mean, I didn’t think he’d actually be able to unlock the gym when he started showing me!” Paige justified. “But then he unlocked it and then I saw the court and I couldn’t not get a few hoops in.” She trailed off at that last part, slowly realizing how ridiculous she sounded.

“Oh my god.” I started frantically running around, chucking basketballs into the cart. “Never in my two years of teaching have I seen such unapologetic inappropriate behavior.” I turned around and jabbed a finger in Paige’s direction, my chest heaving with exertment. “You are single handedly worse than my entire class of third graders combined.”

Paige’s mouth dropped open. “Hey! This was Drew’s idea!”

“Paigeeee!” Drew whined, cowering further behind his older sister.

After collecting several more balls, I gave up. I slumped down on the floor. “Unbelievable,” I uttered to myself. “Unbelievable. A 22 year old breaking into school property and blaming it on her 8 year old brother. Unbelievable!”

Paige hesitantly walked nearer to me, concern in her eyes. “Stop,” I threatened once she got within a few feet. “Or I might bite.”

Paige started to laugh, but the look I sent her was so menacing that she immediately shut up. “Hey,” she said softly. “Look, I’m sorry. But what’s the big deal? It’s not like you’re gonna get in trouble for anything.”

“I just wanted to go home,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “It’s 10 PM and today has been the longest day of my life.”

I startled when I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder. Looking up, I was surprised to see the face of Drew. “I’m sorry, Miss Nat,” he whispered, regret in his eyes. “But Paige hasn’t been home in forever and she said she would help me with basketball when she came back. We didn’t mean to make you mad.”

I knew it shouldn’t, but my heart melted at his words. This is why you’re weak, I cursed to myself. A pair of puppy dog eyes and you’re all bent up. Shaking my head slowly, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves.

“Hey,” Paige interrupted. “The damage is already done. This gym is unlocked and I’m pretty sure everyone else has left. Why don’t we show you what we’ve been working on so you know we haven’t been up to no good?”

I got up from my crumpled position on the floor, tightly gripping my purse. “No,” I said wearily. “I think I’m okay. I just wanna get some sleep at home.”

“Please,” Drew begged. “Can I show you just one of my shots? Paige said it looks a lot better from last time!”

“Just one!” Paige joined in. “One won’t hurt.”

I stared at the two of them, both of them with their hands interlocked as if they were praying, their eyes eager and hopeful. I couldn’t even believe myself, but the words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop it. “Fine. Just one.”

“Yessss!” The two siblings high fived each other and I fought back a smile, trying to maintain my serious demeanor.

“You aren’t ready for this,” Paige smirked, and you only rolled your eyes in response. “Alright, ready bud?”

“Ready!” Drew called back, bouncing excitedly up and down on the balls of his feet. He started sprinting down the court, and Paige quickly passed him a ball.

He dribbled between his legs, almost losing it but recovering as he made his way to the net. “Drew Bueckers on a breakaway!” Paige narrated, cupping her hands around her mouth as she mimicked a sports commentator. “Three seconds remaining on the shot clock!”

Drew started making his way closer to the net, dribbling behind his back and faking out ghost defenders.

“Three….”

Drew landed on his right foot and pivoted.

“Two….”

Drew spun on his foot and faced the basket.

“One….”

Right before Paige finished counting down, Drew cocked his arm and released, sending the ball flying up and then down, straight into the net for a perfect layup.

“And he scooooooreeees!” Paige howled, running towards her brother and wrapping him up in a hug. This time, I couldn’t help it. I found myself smiling the hardest I’d smiled all night as I watched Paige swing Drew around as his infectious giggles filled the room.

“See?” Paige yelled to me once she set him down. “Wasn’t that epic?”

“So epic.” I beamed at the boy, who was now looking at me shyly. I cleared my throat. “But now we gotta clean up before someone finds this and gets yall in trouble.”

“Ooh, so she’s on our side now!” Paige poked Drew in the ribs teasingly, and he scampered away, laughing as he started picking up balls on the other side of the gym.

Paige turned to you, her expression serious now. “I think it’s your turn.”

“What?” I took a step back. “No, I think I’m actually good.”

“You not up for a little challenge?” Paige picked up a ball and spun it on one of her fingers, and I couldn’t deny that she looked incredibly hot while doing it.

“I can shoot a ball,” I insisted, folding my arms. “I just don’t want to right now.”

“Bull.” Paige extended her arm, offering the ball to you. “I bet you can’t make it from here.”

“Are you serious? We’re like three feet from the net!” I scoffed. I haven’t really shot many basketballs in my life, but how hard could it be? The net was right there.

“Alright, then shoot it.” When I stared at her blankly, still refusing to take the ball, Paige tossed it to me so that I was forced to catch it. “We’re not leaving till you shoot.”

Sighing, I bounced the ball once. Praying that the ball would land somewhere around the net, I launched it. The ball hit the backboard, slowly rolling around the rim of the net before falling to the side. I rolled my eyes. “That basically counts.”

Paige stifled a laugh. “If that basically counted, I’d be the all time leading scorer in the NCAA by now.” I pushed her, unamused. “Hey, now.” Paige picked up another ball. “I’ll teach you.”

I backed up, about to protest, but Paige stepped closer to me, so close that I could feel her breath hitting my skin, and I suddenly lost all ability to move. The blonde swallowed, her eyes darting to my lips for barely a moment before she refocused on the ball. Gently, she placed the ball in my hands, then stepped behind me. I felt hands grab my waist and pull me to her. When my hips suddenly collided with hers, I let out a gasp of surprise.

“Relax,” she murmured into my ear, her warm breath fanning my cheek. “You’re so tense.”

Her hands let go of my hips, and my body ached for the loss of her warmth until her arms wrapped around my own and guided them to the position she wanted. After my arms were in the right form, she positioned my legs and feet with her hands. Every time she touched me, her fingers lingering, I felt light headed, as if my blood sugar was about to crash.

“Okay,” she breathed, stepping back to take a look. “Beautiful.” I had a feeling she wasn’t only talking about my shooting form, and my heart lurched.

“Shoot.”

This time when I let the ball go, it reached the net, sliding through with a satisfying swoosh. I let out a little shout and turned around, giving Paige a bright smile. She chuckled at my excitement. “Good, huh?” she teased.

“You’re not bad,” I responded as nonchalantly as I could. A little flirting never hurt anyone.

She raised an eyebrow. “Not bad, huh? You should come to one of my games. You’ll see how ‘not bad’ I really am.”

“Go to one of your games?” I smiled suggestively, closing the distance between us until we were closer than we’d been before. I licked my lips. “You’re moving a little fast, Bueckers.”

“Fast,” Paige repeated, her voice throaty. “That’s how I roll.” I finally let my eyes fall to her lips, finally noticing how pink and soft they looked.

My hands somehow landed on her chest. Her fingers touched my chin, tilting it upward. Before I knew it, her lips were on mine, and I was on fire. I grazed her cheeks with my fingertips, her skin hot and flushed under my touch. She’d barely brushed her lips against mine though, when a basketball suddenly dropped, pulling me into my senses.

I jumped back, staring in disbelief at the blonde. Her hair was slightly mussed up, her eyes darkened as she watched me. “Oh my god,” I whispered to myself. “Oh my god, you just kissed your student’s sister.” I brought my fingers to my lips.

“That was barely a kiss,” Paige complained. “How about you c’mere and I’ll show you how it’s really done?”

“Fucking hell, no!” You steppped back from Paige, glancing over at Drew to see if he’d saw us. Thankfully, he was still preoccupied putting the basketballs away.

“You guys need to hurry and clean up. I gotta go tell the janitors to lock up the gym. You need to be gone from here before they come.” You turned around, frantically looking around for your purse. Once you spotted it, you grabbed it and started rushing out.

“Hey!” Paige yelled out, her hands to her side. “Where are you going?”

I swallowed hard, not responding as the doors of the gym slammed behind me. Ice traveled through my veins. How could I have gotten mixed up in that? If I’d gotten caught by one of my coworkers kissing one of my student’s family members in a gym that was broken into, I’d be fired on the spot. Getting this job had been hard enough - no one wanted a 24 year old female fresh out of college. I could not be participating in risky behavior like this.

Paige was attractive, no doubt. But she was also cocky, and arrogant, and Drew’s sister. She also lived in Connecticut. This would never work out, I reminded yourself. So when I went home and jumped in the shower, I tried to scrub off any memory of Paige’s tantalizing lips.

[oblonger]

@sincerely-sofie I will try and make some more Shadow Virus or Body Swap AU chapters after this one. I promise. (Unless I have another good idea lol)

Grovyle is Tired

Keeping track of infinity is pretty difficult when the most formative years of your life were defined by finite things.

Grovyle walked through the ever-shifting, halls of the space between time. Yawning so hard that it made him feel light-headed.

Grovyle pulled out his notes from the satchel he wore. And yawned again. He irately pulled out a chesto berry to eat as well.

He stared at the notes while taking bites out of the berry. His vision was blurred from sleepiness, but it quickly dissipated as he took more bites of the disgusting, overripe fruit.

Ugh, he remembered a time when those were his favorites. But now he felt like puking whenever he even thought of the taste.

Still better than Lum berries.

He briefly reminisced of a time when his notes were much more specific. Diving into excruciating detail of when and ‘where’ timelines were located. Taking note of every possible danger he might face.

Nowadays, it was just a few, hastily written bullet points.

He figured he didn't need to write down the ‘where’ of the timelines, he only messed up one other time. And that also led to another timeline being fixed, so whatever.

This timeline had something written down about an apocalypse that turns mortals into mindless monsters? He didn't really care that much. It's just another job.

It's not something Grovyle likes. Far from it. He hates it.

It's rotten work, but it needs to be done.

Grovyle yawned again as he approximated where the timeline was. His thoughts briefly shifted to wondering if he could take a nap with how all the timelines in danger of crumbling have a while before he needed to fix them.

The passage between times opened. Grovyle stepped in, briefly thinking of sleep and of how Twig would take naps near him. Back when he wasn't a legend.

*********

Grovyle stepped out. Late at night. His eyes took a moment to adjust.

He's standing near the entrance to Sharpedo Bluff. Right on the edge of Treasure Town.

But, things weren't what he expected. The town looked a lot bigger than what he would have expected from a timeline plunged into an apocalypse.

The passage closed behind him. The lack of a light source from it lent better to his vision.

In fact, from this far away, he could see lights in some of the windows.

He'd learned a long time ago to never assume anything, but seeing Treasure Town in a similar state to how it was when he left his original timeline, in a timeline that had supposedly been ruined beyond repair…

It didn't make any sense-

“Clover?” A soft, shaking voice asked behind him.

Grovyle's heart leapt in his chest. He spun around and was face-to-face with a mega Charizard.

Why was she mega evolved? Was she wanting to fight him? Why was her tail flame a dark maroon color? Were those spikes around her neck?

… Why were there tears in her eyes?

“Clover? Is- is that really you?” She asked. Her voice shaking, tears started streaming down her face.

Ah.

He'd recognize her voice anywhere.

This is Twig. Or someone with Twig's voice at least.

Why did she look like this?

… On second thought that's not any of his business.

“Look. I'm-”

Grovyle barely got started when she bolted forward and wrapped him in a tight hug.

“Oh Arceus! I've missed you so much!" She sobbed.

Grovyle stood there for a moment, letting her hug him. Before he pushed her away.

Grovyle stared at the ground, even though he knew the way she was looking at him.

“Clover?”

Grovyle folded his arms and sighed. “I hate explaining this.” He muttered under his breath.

He looked at her.

“Twig, right?” He asked.

She blinked in surprise. Then nodded.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. Of course you are.” He whispered under his breath.

He hated how she flinched. Grovyle looked back up. Sighing deeply.

“Look. I'm not your C- Grovyle. I'm from a different timeline.”

Twig pulled her head back in surprise. “But. Celebi told me that she can't move people to and from different timelines.”

Grovyle huffed. “I’m an exception.”

Twig's eyes widened. The two stared at each other for several seconds. Grovyle then sighed, and turned so his side faced her.

“Now with that out of the way, I realize that I came to the wrong timeline. So leave me alone for about ten minutes to recharge, then I can leave and you'll never have to see me again.”

The two stood in silence. A growing sense of worry rose in Grovyle's chest the longer he looked at Twig's expression through the corner of his eye.

Eventually, he looked at her. “Do you have any questions?”

Twig pursed her lips. “Did you-... Did you kill your Celebi?”

Grovyle flinched so hard he stumbled backwards. “How did you- Did Celebi tell you? ” He breathlessly asked.

Twig closed her eyes, a few tears escaping, and shook her head.

“No. I just- I figured it out myself, just now.”

Grovyle stared at her like she had just grown a second head, before his brow furrowed. “Why on earth would you assume something like that about me?” He growled.

Twig paused for a moment, then huffed. She lifted her arms and motioned to herself. “Have you ever heard of a legend named Darkrai?” She asked.

Grovyle's eyes widened as he pieced together what had happened to her. His vision fell to the ground.

“Oh.” He voiced.

The two stood in an awkward, mournful silence.

“Do you… Do you want to talk about it?” Twig asked.

Grovyle pursed his lip. “Not really, no.” He responded.

Twig stood there and stared at him. “Then… Do you just want to like, hang out?” She asked. Her voice shook slightly.

“No.” He said. Turning around so his back was facing her.

Twig's breath caught on itself briefly. Sending a pang of guilt through Grovyle.

“Clover. Please. I-”

“Can you stop calling me Clover?! I'm not Clover!” He snapped.

Twig paused for a moment. “Right. Sorry…It's just-” She hyperventilated. “It's been so long since I've seen you- um, Clover. That I- I just-.” She choked up on her tears and couldn't finish.

Grovyle bit down on the inside of lip. Then sighed.

Curiosity got the better of him.

“How long has it been since you've seen him?” He asked.

Twig took in a shaky breath. “I think like, a hundred years?”

Grovyle pinched down on his arm.

“I'm sorry.” He said gently.

Twig sighed. “It's okay. I'm sorry for assuming you were him.”

Grovyle felt a bitter anger well up inside him. Not unfamiliar, but different from what has been driving him for so long.

The two went back to standing in silence. One that he was more uncomfortable with the more time that passed between them.

Grovyle's arms dropped to his side, and he sighed. Then walked past Twig to the entrance of Sharpedo Bluff.

He turned back to look at her after stepping down a stair. “Are you coming?” He asked.

Twig flinched a bit. “I thought… I thought you didn't want to talk to me?” She asked innocently.

Grovyle bit down on the inside of his lip again.

“Frankly I don't really want to. But I need to wait to recharge so I can open another passage between times. Not a whole lot else I can do…”

Twig stared at him, and then nodded. Following him inside.

*********

Gosh, when was the last time she'd cleaned in here? It was a mess of old decorations and mystery dungeon gear. He could see dust gathered on just about everything, save for the couch cushions, and a clean path, one that was noticeably smoother than the rest of the floor, in straight lines between the couch, kitchen and exit.

“Sorry it's such a mess. I haven't had guests for a while.”

Grovyle looked at her. “Why? Aren't you friends with Celebi?”

Twig shook her head and forced a smile. “Oh no! We are friends! I just, visit her, and not have her visit me. You know?”

The two stared at each other for a moment.

“Uh-” Twig started. “Why don't you have a seat? I'll go make us some tea.” She briskly trudged into the kitchen.

Grovyle slowly walked towards the couch. Looking through the various piles of stuff strewn about. Some corners had pots of dirt that were so dehydrated, that no weeds were growing from them. Even in Grovyle's presence.

He sat down on one end of the couch and was startled by just how far he sunk down. It had a noticeable dip near the middle seats, but he didn't think it would sink down this far.

How many years has she been sleeping on this thing?

Wait, if she took on Darkrai's powers, then she can't sleep.

If that's the case then does she just, lay on it?

Grovyle glanced around in silence as he could hear the clattering of dishes in the other room. He spotted a glass frame with several lunar feathers inside. He counted four. Maybe five?

He sat on the couch and waited for several seconds. Tension grew with each moment as he thought about just how much time he was wasting by being here.

He repeatedly tapped a claw against the armrest.

He'd experienced a small eternity before, but this felt even longer.

Eventually, Twig stepped out from the kitchen.

“Sorry it took so long! I had to clean the dust off the kettle… and the cups and tea leaves. You don't mind Oran leaf tea right?”

Dust on the leaves??? Well now he doesn't want to take it.

“I don't mind.” He responded. She nodded and handed him his cup as she sat down on the opposite side of the couch. The wood inside it creaked in such a way that he was worried it would fall apart.

The two sat there and sipped on their tea in silence.

Well the tea was better than that berry he ate.

Not much better, it still tasted awful, but it didn't make him want to vomit so that's a positive.

They finished their drinks.

And then continued sitting in silence.

Deafening silence.

The only sounds being their breathing, and the distant crashing of waves on Sharpedo Bluff.

Grovyle glanced over at her multiple times.

He wasn't sure what her expression was.

The silence continued. Dragging on and on.

Were it not for the occasional crackling of Twig's tail flame, and the rhythm-less sound of waves outside, he would have assumed they were somehow put in a loop.

Grovyle's thoughts start to run in their own loop. Thoughts of how this won't amount to anything. How doing this is so much less important than going and helping other timelines get fixed.

“So… Uh… You wanted to talk?” Twig finally broke the silence. Her eyes continued to stay locked to the floor.

Grovyle sighed. Right.

“I'm sorry for getting angry at you.” Grovyle responded, then paused. Deliberating over what to say next. “I… know how you feel.”

Twig huffed. “Right… How long has it been? Since, uh. You know…”

Grovyle rubbed his eyes. That Chesto berry was starting to wear off.

“I dunno.” He mumbled. “A couple of centuries at least. I think. Too long.”

Twig sadly hummed in acknowledgement.

The silence fell between them again.

It was starting to get infuriating.

Like, what is he supposed to say!? He hated it. It's been so ridiculously long since he's talked to anyone, much less any Twigs, like this that he didn't even know if he could talk to her.

Should he be talking to her? It's not like he can fix her. His whole thing is fixing timelines. Not other people's problems.

Then what about other you's that were about to commit to what you did?

Grovyle killed the thought. That wasn't just his problem. It would be everyone’s. That's an exception.

Grovyle's thoughts swirled in spirals. It's a good reason.

“So… um…” Twig voiced. Grovyle glanced at her. Her lips pursed, brows furrowed, and her eyes looking in every direction except towards him.

Grovyle waited for a few seconds then sighed. “Say it.” He grumbled.

Twig paused for a moment. “What's it like? Looking ahead in the timeline I mean.”

Grovyle shot her an angry look, one he was hoping she was looking away for.

She wasn't. Their eyes locked. Her's widened.

Grovyle sighed and leaned back before she could apologize. He then began.

“It's… Hmm. It's like you're given a…”

He pondered for a moment. Trying to think of a way to conceptualize this. He briefly thought of a Human Twig he had adopted once, and how she explained her math homework to him…

Until she grew up, and then…

A wretched feeling twisted in his gut. He pushed the thoughts away.

“Number line of sorts.” Twig looked at him with a strange sort of surprise.

“There aren't any kind of markings on it, but you can see yourself moving along it.” He continued. “But you can like, zoom into it. And then it branches out from that point, and you're given a list of things that can happen.”

He paused again. “I guess it's more like a combination of a sideways family tree and a list, than a number line.” He paused again. “What about you?”

Twig pulled back a bit. She forced a grin and raised her hands. “Oh, I never really tried to use my powers. Those lunar feathers Celebi gave me, meant I didn't need too! So, it's fine, really.”

Grovyle narrowed his eyes on her. He's met Darkrais from before they tried to end the world. He knows for a fact that what she's referring to is that nightmare aura.

So, it's fine, really.

He was thoroughly convinced at this point that Twig is a terrible liar in every timeline.

He was about to call her out on that when she hurriedly spoke.

“Well, if it shows you every possibility all at once? Doesn't that get super overwhelming?”

Grovyle shelved the thought. It's not like he was going to see this Twig again after this anyway. He was just waiting to leave.

“Well, not really.” He responded. Twig tilted her head in confusion.

“It's like… how to phrase this…” he mumbled. “Like, you pick a specific thing to think about. Then you can see a list, I guess? Sorted from most likely to least likely. In other words, we only see the two or three most likely possibilities and their consequences at any point. Significant ones that split the timeline being 'highlighted' so to speak."

“Ohhh. Okay. That actually makes a lot of sense…” Twig's somewhat satisfied expression fell. “So is that how it works for you?”

Grovyle nodded. “Not the first time. But yeah. It is.”

Twig flinched a bit. “What… What was it like the first time?”

Grovyle shrugged. He leaned back in his seat and folded a leg, to rest his foot on his knee. He stared at the wall to his side.

“I didn't know about all that stuff about lists and branching timelines and stuff. Turns out that's more of a rule that Celebis’ follow than how it works. So the first time I did it, I saw everything.” He casually mentioned.

“... wwwhat was it about?” Twig asked.

Grovyle sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “I wanted to see what would happen to my Twig. So I tried looking ahead. I watched her live long, fulfilling lives, and die peacefully in her sleep. And watched her die from a random heart attack milliseconds from when I did that. I watched her die countless times in countless ways. All in the span of a few seconds.” Grovyle stopped for a moment and took in a breath. Twig was silent.

Grovyle shrugged again. “Obviously I'm okay now. In fact, it's better that I did that since I do it all the time now. It's a whole lot faster than cherry picking which branches to look down. I got used to the flood of information. So, yeah. It's fine, really.”

The silence returned. Grovyle continued staring at the wall as his skin started to prickle.

The tension felt absurd. Why was the air so heavy?

“Twig?” Grovyle asked. He turned his head to face her. “Are you oka-”

He stopped when he saw her face. Her eyes wide, and her mouth hung open in complete and utter horror. Tears silently ran down her face and fell onto the couch.

Twig stood up off the couch and stepped towards him, and then wrapped Grovyle in a tight hug, as she repeatedly took in shaky breaths.

He then realized he just told her what he'd never told anyone before.

Grovyle felt wrath rising in his chest

He tried to push her away. Her arms tightened.

“Twig!? What are you doing!? Let me go! I need to leave!” He demanded.

He kept trying to push her away. He even tried using his legs. It didn't work. She was shockingly strong.

Grovyle stopped struggling after nearly a minute of this.

“Twig?” He asked.

“I'm so sorry that happened to you.” Twig sobbed.

Grovyle felt a bolt of shock run through his heart.

To hear her say what he knew the Celebi would say if he told them. He dreaded hearing them say it.

But her?

Twigs arms wrapped tighter.

“W-what happened to you wasn't okay.” She choked out.

Grovyle froze. Then he returned her hug.

It felt so nice.

He was finally hugging Twig again.

What happened wasn't okay.

The phrase repeated itself in his mind over and over.

He was barely holding back tears.

It wasn't okay.

And then the tears started running down his face.

Grovyle was choking back his sobbing. He would allow tears. But not sobbing. He won't cry like that in front of her.

It wasn't okay.

It's not okay.

None of what happened, should have happened to you.

A sob escaped Grovyle's mouth.

You're not okay.

In an instant, all of the walls Grovyle had standing for hundreds of years came crashing down.

Then he sobbed some more.

And then he sobbed and wept and wailed and screamed.

That ugly, bloody viscera that had been pulsing, filling him with a dull ache for so long had just been torn out of his chest for her to see.

And despite that, she was holding him in her arms like a crying child.

The way he would comfort the abandoned Twigs he used to search for.

He clutched at her. Pulling her closer to him crying even harder at the thought.

He cried for hours. Releasing centuries of pent up sorrow out for her to hear.

You're not okay.

But, maybe you will be.

*********

Grovyle's eyes stung badly as he tried to open them. The sun shining across his eyes was what woke him up. His stomach ached with sharp pain.

The memories of what happened last night returned as he pushed himself into sitting upright. Groaning at the effort it takes. His entire body has never felt so heavy.

He barely remembers anything after crying for so long. Did he pass out?

“Hungry?”

He glanced up to see Twig holding a plate of food. Smiling at him.

Grovyle pursed his lips, tears once again filling in his eyes as he nodded.

Tears silently ran down his face as he ravenously ate this, his second, and his third servings of this food. He didn't know what was in it, but it tasted greater than anything he could imagine.

He almost started sobbing again when he realized he truly did forget just how good real food can be. Not that grimy food or the chesto berries or the occasional apples.

Real, genuine, cooked food.

Twig began talking after he finally told her that he wasn't hungry anymore.

“Gosh Grovyle. When was the last time you ate or slept? You've slept for an entire day.”

Grovyle tilted his head, and glanced backwards into the timeline.

It was morning, but the day after. He'd slept for nearly twenty-seven hours straight.

Grovyle weakly chuckled. “I dunno. I've been going this long just by eating Chesto berries.”

He tried to chuckle again, and it sounded like it was mixed with a sob.

He glanced around to avoid Twig's gaze, and saw that most of the clutter in the room was missing. It was far from perfect, but it actually looked like a living space now.

Twig sat down on the couch next to him. It creaked, but didn't seem like it would give up the ghost just yet.

The two sat in silence for several minutes.

This time, he didn't want to leave. It wasn't uncomfortable. He wanted to stay here forever…

But he had work that needed to be done.

“Twig.” He started.

“I know.” She responded. “I wish you could stay here too.”

He pursed his lips again. That wasn't what he was going to say. But it was what he wanted to say.

She gently pulled him towards her, and he leaned towards her. Resting his body on hers. She slowly rubbed her hand in circles between his shoulder blades.

“I'm going to miss you Grovyle.” She broke the silence eventually.

He glanced up at her eyes, then looked at the ground.

A few tears escaped his eyes as he choked out; “Can you… Can you call me Clover?”

Twig leaned towards him and pulled him into a hug. “Of course I can, Clover.” She responded.

He hugged her back, and they stayed like that for a few minutes.

Clover eventually spoke. “I'll miss you Twig.”

Twig sighed. “I will miss you too, Clover. Promise you will come and visit me?”

Clover pulled her in tighter. Tears fell down their faces.

“I promise.”

[mxi-88]

Amy Kiriwo redemption is real and here's why (an analysis/speculation)

Ok. I don't normally make posts like these but since I've posted Iruma-kun art on this blog a few times some of you may be aware that I really really REALLY like Amy Kiriwo. I really adore Mairuma in general but Amy specifically makes me go fucking coconuts as a fan of that type of character (obsessive, desire-driven, yandere, whatever)—and also because Amy has a certain unique charm about him, whether that be the gap between his twisted personality and his ditzy demeanor or the unique setting, so on and so forth. But I also tend to like villainous characters in general, because they're so unhinged and fun and interesting to think about!

Usually I hate when characters like these get redeemed because the whole appeal of them is how unpredictable and outrageous they are in their villainy, and more often than not, a redemption gets rid of (or at least severely dampens) these characteristics!

HOWEVER. I just caught up with the manga for the first time more or less since Deviculum last year and I just cannot help but feel absolutely insane about how much a "redemption" (heavy quotes here) for Amy is being built towards, and yet I rarely see much discussion about this in fan buzz. This is both in terms of general narrative structure as well as a certain scene in the recent Battler Party arc.

Disclaimer: I have terminal brainrot and some of this might be confirmation bias. But maybe it will still give you some food for thought. It's cool if you hate Amy and don't agree with my interpretation just be nice ok guys?

Part1: Iruma's Belief

I think a good jumping off point for this argument would be addressing a point of contention I've seen floating around in this fandom sometimes: Why does Iruma still believe in Amy?

I actually understand why some people might be confused about this. After all, Amy has done nothing but hurt Iruma and the people he cares about, and he has every right to feel upset, angry, and betrayed after he found out the senpai who he'd related to and looked up to so much was nothing but a facade.

Putting his reasons aside for a second, this scene in Deviculum isn't actually the first time Iruma has acted like this toward Amy. It's easy to miss or forget about, but even after everything that happened at the Battler Party, Iruma never shows any hostility, even retroactively, toward Amy.

He kept what happened with Amy a secret from even Asmodeus and Clara—but he doesn't fret over it like he does hiding the fact that he's human. Iruma just doesn't think it was pressing enough that Asmodeus and Clara needed to know about it. Of course, keep in mind that Iruma doesn't interact with Amy at all from the Battler Party all the way until Deviculum, so he doesn't know the extent of the danger he's actually in.

I think Iruma believes in that weak but ambitious demon he met during the Rookie Hunt. Even if Amy revealed himself to have that perverted obsession with despair, even if he tried to kill his classmates and cause chaos, I think to Iruma it doesn't change the fact that Amy is still weak, just like him.

I think a lot of people forget just how much impact Amy had on Iruma when he was first adjusting to the demon world: he didn't have much of a real ambition until he saw that there were demons like Amy who (seemingly) wanted to make the world a more equal place for those without magic—those like Iruma. (A side note, but I imagine this made the part of Amy's speech during Deviculum saying there would be no place for him particularly hard for Iruma to hear from him specifically).

The thing is though—Iruma isn't being entirely naive here. It's true that no matter what Amy does, evil or otherwise, he cannot change the fact that he was born with weak magic.

It's constantly pointed out that Amy relies on magic that's not his own.

It's pointed out so consistently every time he makes an appearance that for a while I thought there was gonna be some weird twist where it wasn't actually Amy? I'm still not confident in how to pin this obvious foreshadowing but for now I firmly believe it's meant to remind the reader that Amy is dependent on his borrowed magic, most likely from Baal—physically, and maybe even emotionally? (It seems possible from the way Asmodeus's narration in this panel is framed that there could be something more insidious at play like experimentation or something, but that's just speculation)

Amy is dependent on most likely Baal's magic just like Iruma is with Sullivan's magic. They may be gaining more and more power to the naked eye, but the moment the "tool" to express that power is stripped of them, they're helpless again. There's a reason Nishi highlighted the direct parallel of both of their magic devices being ring-shaped.

Iruma believes (or wants to believe) that the facade Amy showed him had a glimmer of truth to it because of how strongly it affected him. Of course, it's also because Iruma is an inherently kind and also selfish person. In my opinion, he wants to have the Amy who he looked up to so much, even if he barely ever actually existed. This is why what he declares to Amy at Deviculum is framed as a desire. This is a strong theme of the series and it's something I'll touch on again in another section.

I feel like I should mention after all of that talk that I don't think Amy is actually secretly tortured about his weakness/abandonment or some sadboy schtick like that. We'll get into this more in the next section, but any self-pity or anger he once harbored was something that was flushed out of him quite thoroughly. Right now, he is very much narrow-mindedly concerned with his obsession with eating Iruma, his goals are aligned with Baal and the 6 Fingers, and his lack of magic is solved by his collar, so it's natural he doesn't really care.

I feel like any discussion of Amy's motivations or themes gets shut down a lot with accusations of "making a villain character sympathetic for no reason" when really I only care about villains being interesting. Like I said at the start, the last thing I wanna do is take Amy's unhingedness or autonomy away, because it makes for a really enjoyable villain. I just genuinely believe that Amy is being framed this way deliberately, and I think it opens some fascinating avenues for his character development other than just "Iruma realizes Amy is actually evil after all because unconditional belief is for naive WEENIES and they defeat him".

Anyway, that leads me to the next section, which I admit, is a bit heavier on the interpretative side, hence my disclaimer.

Part 2: Baal

Listen, I know it's a shounen manga and all, but keep in mind Amy is still a 17-18 year old teen. He doesn't have much life experience. He had a hell of a shit childhood even if he did have a weird sadism thing going on. All of these things don't excuse his evil deeds—obviously. But I do think taking these factors into account is absolutely necessary if we're going to try and understand why he is the way he is.

I'm not gonna recount it beat by beat, but as a kid Amy was not only shunned by his family and peers for his lack of magic, but also by his only friend for something that

"Grooming" is a term with very heavy connotations that I'd like to avoid, but at the very least the way Baal takes Amy "under his wing" is very reminiscent of cult conditioning. Members of cults are often recruited in strained or distorted emotional states in which they have a greater desire for acceptance. This tactic is successful in maintaining loyalty in cults because the members are convinced that no one else will accept them besides the cult figurehead or leader—the result is usually a hostility for the world outside of the cult, paranoia about leaving the cult, or both.

Amy, a young child at this point, says outright that he's being ostracized for his behavior, but Baal validates it, and thereby earns his loyalty. Amy is a child at this point; even if Baal claims he's more "twisted" inherently, I think it's unreasonable to characterize them as equals in this relationship, especially when Amy depends on his magic. I think the Amy we know could be very different if he joined Baal when he was older and less impressionable.

You could say Baal didn't validate Amy with the active intent of emotionally manipulating him, it was just a declaration of his honest beliefs—and I honestly half agree with you. Functionally, however, I do still believe that a conditioning process is what happened. In this same scene Amy seemed to still be at least a little bit troubled about how gifting his horn to his friend troubled her and reflected on his abnormalcy, but by the time he reveals all to Iruma, he shows no reservations at all. He doesn't really reflect on the hierarchy which caused him so much suffering outside of how it contributes to more chaos, more despair.

This interpretation (which I've held for quite a while) brings me to a certain scene in the recent Battler Party arc that was eerily reminiscent of this dynamic. It was what spurred me to type all of this out at 5am on a Monday night.

Humor me for a minute, because I realize the comparisons between Palome/Galna and Amy/Baal are not 1:1, but I feel like there are enough similarities that it's worth talking about.

The idea of a demon with twisted perversions which were encouraged by a sibling figure with an ulterior motive is already a pretty compelling parallel to me, but the fact that it was specifically the story behind the Magitool's Battler Party exhibition makes me think that, just maybe, the parallel might have actually been an intentional allusion.

In particular, the line about Palome "facing her desires earnestly" caught my attention. Quite honestly it seems like Amy's fixation on Iruma has become his #1 priority—and although he certainly has returned to origins (strongly associated with base desires) in my opinion his obsession with Iruma, as twisted as it is, is probably the strongest desire he's felt that exists somewhat removed from Baal's direct encouragement. It's personal. It doesn't serve a greater purpose in Baal's plan. Remember the cult analogy I loosely used for comparison earlier? Cult mentality punishes individuality. Food for thought.

There's this great comic by gigausagi on Twitter (it's 🤏shippy so only click if you're cool with that) that explores the idea of Amy's obsession with Iruma conflicting with the will of Baal/the 6 Fingers—I think this is one perfectly natural way his character could develop. I'll get into more detailed hopes/hunches about this later, though.

If the Palome/Galna parallel is an intentional parallel, I think it's really interesting how much it emphasizes the lack of empathy Galna has for her sister because of how it would in turn highlight that feature in Baal, something that I previously had to desperately piece together from subtext. On the other hand, for all the familial fondness Amy seems to have for Baal, at least on some level however shallow, it's already pretty obvious Baal does not care much about Amy outside of how useful he is to his cause.

It might seem silly of me to clarify this considering he's, y'know... the villain, and their thing isn't exactly friendship and rainbows especially considering their beliefs. None of the 6 Fingers display any real fondness for each other—Amy is just the exception here, albeit small.

And Baal does actually have belief in Amy—he believes in Amy's "messed up head". He believes that Amy will prove useful; he believes in Amy's potential for evil. It's a transactional belief, benefitting the cause that they both align themselves with—and which, notably, ends with him in power. Iruma's belief in Amy is largely the opposite. He believes that Amy is capable of good, and his belief in him is founded in the bond they formed.

I also wanna make it clear again that this isn't me scapegoating Baal for everything Amy does because that's lazy and boring and they make it pretty damn clear Amy is all-in on their plans together. However... I don't think it's unreasonable to think this contrast could be a set-up for something in the future.

How could this manifest? Who knows. Right now Baal is more of a passive villain, so it's hard to predict the kind of drastic actions he could take before he does them. Maybe Amy will outlive his usefulness, or maybe there'll be some internal conflict within the group that will strain their allyship. Or maybe Amy's personal desires will conflict with the goals of the 6 Fingers like I mentioned earlier.

Ultimately I'm more concerned with the thematic implications of a conflict like this, which brings us to...

Part 3: Desire

(Spoilers for 2nd Year Battler Party Arc)

I find it veeery interesting the way the protagonists keep aligning themselves with demons like Beem.

They are extremely desire and thrill-driven, I would argue more than any other non-returned to origins demon we've met so far—their parents even suspected they could be returning to origins as a child.

Mairuma has such an overwhelming theme of desire. Mairuma wants you to chase your most private, most shameful, most visceral and selfish desires. Sylvia even went through her evil cycle she was so desperate to fulfill her desire to paint Galna. Mairuma again and again seeks to tell us that there is nothing wrong with being selfish and reaching for what we want.

So far I've talked about two desires that are relevant to the future of Amy's character.

And yeah... it's pretty much spelled out for us here. So, if Amy is still latched onto the idea of eating Iruma, and Iruma is still latched onto the idea of his relatable senpai, how would that conflict be resolved? Well... We've basically been talking about it this entire time. Indulge me for a bit and let me spin the scenario that plagues my mind for you.

I briefly alluded to the possibility of Amy being subjected to some kind of experimentation, presumably to enhance his magical ability. It doesn't have to be this exactly, but nevertheless Amy ends up doing something drastic in order to fulfill his desire of eating Iruma—and in the process either gets used by Baal and the 6 Fingers and thrown away, or intervenes, inadvertently throwing off their plan enough to have him meet a similar fate. It's important here that his magic is taken away somehow—maybe the ring in his collar gets crushed or something. I think it could also be interesting if during this conflict Iruma also lost his ring, or even took it off willingly, to level their footing.

The point is that Amy follows his desire to the point of veering off the path of outright villainy, and onto that personal desire I spoke of earlier.

However, one thing I'm absolutely sure of is that Iruma's desire will be granted. I don't have as much of a concrete picture of this, but I would be extremely shocked if Suzuki "I want to pick everything up" Iruma ever goes back on his desire—especially when it was that first confrontation with Amy that he realized that was his desire in the first place. This, combined with the ominous ass dialogue "It's too late for me, Iruma-kun..." from the panel at the start make me absolutely certain that some sort of Amy redemption is coming—I only wanted to lay out some of my thoughts about it.

I don't think any redemption he gets will cause him to be watered down—Nishi writes way too many unnecessarily insane scenes with Amy for her to just stop cold turkey in my opinion. And even if it ends up incorporating none of the talking points I delved into in this post, I'm still sure that she could do an outstanding job with the task.

And lest we forget how Amy saved him from falling to his death. I think this desire to keep Iruma from dying meaninglessly (or being harvested for his magic or whatever crazy shit 6 Fingers are doing) is also quite a likely point of conflict that could come into play.

What do you all think? Have I gone coconuts? Is anyone else overthinking this the way I am? Is it not that deep? To tell you the truth I probably could have written even more but it's now 8am and I need a power nap. Might edit it up some more when I wake up. Let me know...

[jodiellie]

Week 1 Evaluation

It's been a week since I've started this journey, so let's reflect on how the first week has been!

First of all, let's have a refresher on what my GOALS for this 30 days initially is~

Fixing my sleep schedule

Incorporate more physical activities (doesn't have to be exercising, can be stretches or walks!)

Drawing more often for practice

Sleep:

I'd say sleep wise, I'm slowly getting better at it. Though, there are moments where I couldn't get myself to sleep and ended up getting worse. But in general, I think I've made good progress than before I started on this journey, so good job me! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

Physical activities:

I'm pretty proud of my progress for this! So far, I've managed to do something everyday for the past week to get my body moving! Whether it be actually following along exercising videos on Youtube or some stretching to ease some tension on muscles! Again, good job to myself uwu

Drawing:

Now this. I did NOT meet this goal at all during this entire week, which is a shame. I think I was focusing a lot on taking better care of my own body that the thought of taking care of my skill set kinda slipped my mind? Which, to be fair, is kind of expected since even trying to remind myself to do certain basic self care task is difficult in itself. So, it's okay, we'll just have to do better during the following week~

Extras:

Other extra stuff for my health that I think would I've done well is also finally taking my meds and vitamins. Though it's not consistent yet, I'm glad I finally was able to take them more than I was before. This goes for my water intake as well! Sometimes I would go on days without drinking any water at all, which is quite bad... But now that I'm trying to actively record down my days and what I've done to better my body, it serves as a reminder in itself to drink more water, so yayyy another great job done for me °ʚ(´꒳`)ɞ°

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Things I need to improve/add for the following week:

After a week into this journey, I think I'd like to adjust some of my goals and be a little more specific in what I want to achieve for hopefully the next week! This will help me be a little clearer with what I need to do and help myself feel good in the future >:)

Try to sleep 30 mins earlier than the last, but the latest time for me to go to bed would be 3am. I have been doing quite okay with only a few slips here and there on this. So hopefully by the end of the next week, I can somehow sleep around 12am instead.

Still moving my body every single day, but let's try to exercise 3 times this week for at least 30 minutes! It's been a long time since I've exercised that I forgot how good I always feel afterwards both physically and mentally. So yes, I'd like to challenge myself to actually do some exercise more often! ( *` • ω •´)ゝ

Since I have 0 progress on my drawing, I want to start slow and easy myself into it. Since it feels daunting (for some reason), let's try achieving at least 30 minutes per day for 3 days of art practice. Can be anything, like anatomy, color study, or even just my own personal art. As long as it reaches the goal I set, then it's good :>

[phoenixyfriend]

This was on a reblog of a fic concept someone added one of my posts but I decided it was risking backlash against the person, and also it ended up half vent post, so just tucking it into its own little post here instead.

I'm glad you're enjoying this, but... Okay, actually, I'm really sorry but this goes against what I was thinking with this post in a lot of ways. I know you didn't intend any malice, but I just. I cannot not talk about this right now. I need people to know to just... not do this to my posts. Because it keeps happening.

I do know which "the younger person should be the sugar daddy, like they made an app or something" post you're thinking about, and i'ts a good post, but that is 100% an Obikin plot. Cody is not a guy to make a super successful app. That is an Anakin thing. In that respect, this is an Obikin fic in Cod*Wan clothing. I mean, I've talked about wanting people to do more Obikin plots in Cod*Wan, but that's about exploring the age difference and power dynamics, not Cody Is A Tech Whiz.

A billion is too much. The only, only ethical ways to get to billionaire status are 'lottery' and 'relative I never heard of just died and left me everything.' In both cases, the only ethical way to proceed is to invest enough to live off of comfortably, and donate the rest. If an app makes that much money? The app is screwing someone over.

I also cannot imagine Obi-Wan in the financial industries sector unless he absolutely loathes his job or is an auditor who delights in making Rich People's Lives Miserable. Better option would be that Obi-Wan is the president of a charity that Cody partners with, like the CEO of a Free Housing For The Homeless initiative or a big name lawyer in an activist lobby for environmentalism or something. This might just be my "I am a business major who hates the business major norms" and look at financial services industry types with uhhhh distaste. If he's a financial advisor, it is for a nonprofit. At most, he is part of a company that specializes in helping rich people funnel their money into charitable ventures.

This also just doesn't fight my envisioning of either Obi-Wan or Cody.

I do need to throw in that my first thought reading this was my Codakin version where Cody wins the lottery and Anakin is the sugar baby. It's not that similar, but the vibes were there (for me).

Finally, it's just... the point of this post is that I find it frustrating when people make Cody the same age because I find it disingenuous to flatten the power dynamic. Some people do it fine, are multi-shippers who are as honest about Cod*Wan as they are with something like Obikin. If they have one fic where Cod*Wan are the same age with no power diff, and another where the power dynamic is flipped, and a third where the power dynamic is as in canon and just explored as necessary, that's fine.

But with the number of Cod*wan (and Barr*ssoka, which is full on NOTP for me as a direct result of this behavior, despite having a canon age diff of 4yrs) folk that have talked shit to and about me and mine for doing something similar with ships like Rexsoka or Obikin... The amount of shit I've had to deal with for shipping Rexsoka for adjusting ages in a modern AU, coming from people who do the same thing with Cod*Wan, is the driving force of this post. It's basically this: If I don't get to change the ages a bit to make things palatable, then neither does anyone else.

This is not just about the age difference. It's about looking at canon and going 'if you guys are going to give me shit for my ship, then play it straight on your end. What does it look like when you're honest about the power dynamic?

There is a reason my first suggestion is Cody having a crush on his boss.

The intent was always that Obi-Wan is the sugar daddy, because Obi-Wan is the General. Because Obi-Wan is the one with power. Because Obi-Wan is the one with control.

Because this post was about "if I don't get to change my ships to make them less problematic, then neither does anyone else."

Also because I just find a lot of Cod*Wan fics to be OOC, and not in the fun way.

[wrongdodo]

DoL DnD AU Part 1: Roll For Initiative

DoL DnD AU: inspired by this post

Genre: Fluff. Preciousness. Enid Blyton-style snacking scenes. Wholesome sappiness.

Characters: Wizard!Robin, Rogue!Kylar, Cleric!Faithful!Sydney, Barbarian!Whitney and DM!Reader (All written as gender neutral so you can live your fantasy)

Word count: 2534

Summary: It’s the first Dungeons and Dragons session with a brand new group, and you’ve graciously offered to be Dungeon Master. What could go wrong?

A/N: Look what you made me do! I’m writing FLUFF now! 2534 words of it! JK I loved this, hope you do too.

Hope the everyone-being-gn thing is okay – you’re a smart cookie, you’ll figure out who’s who, I believe in you <3

Credits: Thanks to @fungus-no69 and @yourfuckeduptherapistfriend who helped me out with some characterisation queries - plus anyone that's shared ideas. This is a team effort - love you!

“Our story begins in a small, picturesque village called Coxhollow… which sits on the edge of a deep, dark forest…" you check your notes, steadying your voice. "The village elders have summoned you to the… they’ve summoned you to… Uh, Kylar… Kylar? You can’t really be so close to me while we do this…”

You take a deep breath to steady your nerves. It’s showtime.

“Oh, s-sorry…” Kylar mumbles, noisily shuffling their chair back across the creaking floorboards and coming to rest a more suitable distance away. The sound made you wince - Bailey was sure to hear it. The group gazed on, eagerly awaiting the rest of your description. It was too late though - you’d lost your train of thought.

In real life, our heroes sit at a rickety table in the Orphanage loft. Cobwebs criss-cross the rafters above, and a stark bulb flickers, casting eerie shadows as wind howls through the joists. It wasn’t ideal, but it was cosier than it might have been. Robin had helped you add a little comfort to the space; threadbare cushions had been slung on rusted folding chairs, and a modest selection of snacks and drinks formed a small but cheerful centrepiece.  Despite your reservations, the excited look on Robin’s face was already making it feel worthwhile. They grinned on the opposite side of the table, unable to suppress a giddy bounce that made the brim of their home-made wizard hat wiggle.

Robin had been through a lot lately. So, offering to organize and lead a short campaign felt like the least you could do to lift their spirits.  They were a massive nerd, of course - you’d seen them running short adventures for the younger orphans, and had seen how the game provided them with some welcome escapism. Robin was a fantastic DM - but they bemoaned the fact that they rarely had the chance to play. So, you’d offered to try running a bit of something yourself – Robin made it look straightforward, and they’d promised to step in if you needed any help. How hard could it be?

Sydney was an obvious candidate for the group - you only had to show them the giant rulebooks filled with beautiful illustrations to pique their interest. Although they seemed a little nervous about making it to sessions with their busy schedule, you had no doubt they’d enjoy the game.

Including Kylar made a lot of sense too – it definitely felt like something they’d be into. They practically snapped your hand off when you brought it up during English class – but were slightly less enthused when they realised other people would be involved.

Noticing your daydreaming, Robin gently coaxes you back on track. “Don’t worry, you’re doing great,” they beam from under the floppy brim of their hat. “Maybe now’s a good time to hand out character sheets? We thought it’d make things quicker for our first session…”

You nod, grateful for the assistance. As Robin handed pre-rolled character sheets to Syd and Kylar, you took a moment to check through your notes and go over how the session should progress. Breathe.

Adjusting their glasses and peering to see in the dim light, Sydney reads through their character. They hum with interest. “Half-elf cleric…” They tap the page with one finger, turning towards Robin. “That’s a healer, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Robin nods, impressed that Sydney had already done their research. “But you can do plenty of damage, with spells like Sacred Flame. And Inflict Wounds.” Sydney looks pleased, unzipping their pencil case and immediately starting to make a few notes in the margin.

“I- I already have a character…” Kylar stutters, producing a crumpled, stained sheet from their bag and handing it to you expectantly. It was a little damp. You scan the sheet – it didn’t entirely make sense. There were a few lines of scrawled description, some abilities you’d never heard of, and some numbers which seemed way too high for what you had planned. A smudged sketch dominates most of the paper, and you notice it’s not too dissimilar to the one you’d seen in Kylar’s locker. When you spot the character’s name, your eyes roll.

“This is… me, Kylar,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “That’s my name… and this is clearly a drawing of me…” you thrust the creased page back into their hand.

“N-no, it’s… it’s my half-drow-half-kitsune vampire… aren’t they beautiful?” Kylar protests, eyes glassy. You’re not sure how to respond.

“Sorry Kylar… I don’t think we should allow homebrew races…” Robin offers gently, attempting to reduce the tension. You’re thankful for the backup. Kylar dejectedly stuffs the sheet back in their bag and looks over their assigned character - a halfling rogue. They don’t look completely disappointed.

“I hope you like what we picked,” Robin smiles – you’d spent a lot of time together choosing the best fit for the party, and felt like you’d gotten it right. “I’m a human wizard, by the way - you can probably tell by the hat,” they nod for effect, the brim wobbling comedically.

You smile too – it was sweet seeing Robin so excited about something. Theatrically tenting your fingers to regain the party’s attention, you muster your best Dungeon Master voice and set the scene for your adventurers. As if on cue, wind howls and groans through the loft, adding to the atmosphere. You have to admit, it’s pretty cool.

“Right, as I was saying… The elders have summoned you because some of the villagers have been going missing…” You glance over to Robin, who gives you a discrete thumbs up. Apparently, you’re doing okay.

Kylar has clearly played before – or has some knowledge of the process, at least. They’re the first to suggest asking the villagers for clues – although their chosen method of interrogation is a little… questionable. Sydney’s a natural – something about the strict rules of the game seem to appeal to them, and they’re a very fast learner. And Robin… they’re just so excited to play – a little fun and fantasy was clearly just what they needed.

Gradually, you settle into the swing of things. Robin opens a packet of fruit pastilles and offers them around the table. Sydney seems particularly invested in your vivid descriptions, listening intently as they nibble a sweet. Kylar leans over the table and gently picks out a can of pop – slowly, so as not to disturb your flow. Everyone seems to be getting more comfortable - especially you.

Suddenly a loud metallic thud startles you into silence. The can had slipped from Kylar’s flimsy grasp and had already rolled off the table with a loud thud. Everyone listens, spellbound as the can rolls, rattling over the uneven floor before coming to rest somewhere out of sight with a thunk.

You look at Robin, feeling hairs prickle on the back of your neck, not daring to move a muscle. Robin stares back, eyes wide. That racket was sure to have alerted Bailey, and it was only a matter of time before the caretaker yanked open the hatch and gave your guests a rude insight into what life at the orphanage was truly like.

“S-sorry…” whispered Kylar – but even that felt too loud, earning a hissed shush from Robin. Sydney’s amber eyes flickered from person to person, trying to gauge the severity of the situation. Already, you could hear footsteps. It’s been fun, you think to yourself. Shame it had to end before you even got started.

The loft hatch descends with a creak, flooding a little extra light into the dim loft from the landing. Everyone watches breathlessly – except Robin, who’d covered their face with their hands.

But it isn’t Bailey’s furious face that glares up into the loft – it’s Whitney.

“Found you, slut!” they grin triumphantly, hoisting themselves through the hatch and rising deftly to their feet. They pull it closed with a loud click. Robin isn’t sure if this development is better or worse than they’d expected.

“Whitney…” you level your voice, trying your best to sound pleased to see them. In truth, your heart is still racing from the shock. They were the last person you’d expect to be crashing the party.

“Don’t act surprised,” Whitney revels in your dumbstruck expression as they stride over, reaching over Kylar and helping themselves to a packet of sweets. Kylar shrinks against the table like a defenceless animal. “You begged me to come play your stupid game. Now you owe me, slut.”

While that wasn’t exactly how you remembered the conversation going during Maths, you know it’s not worth arguing. Kylar looks like they want the floorboards to swallow them up, and Sydney shoots you a genuine look of concern - the expected response. But Robin was beginning to look genuinely… hopeful at the prospect of another player. “You want to play?” they ask.

Whitney leans over the set-up, eyeing Robin’s collection of hand-painted miniatures. They chew one end of strawberry cable while the other end dangles limply from their mouth. “Maybe… looks shit though.”

“You might like it,” you offer, jumping on the hint of curiosity in the bully’s voice. Whitney loved a bit of drama, although they’d never admit to it. Thumbing through the stack of leftover character sheets, you carefully select one and pass it to Whitney, who snatches it abruptly.

Their blue eyes narrow, straining in the low light to read the page. You’d picked a bard, theorising that a charismatic character might appeal to their more charming side. It would be nice for the others to see that aspect of Whitney’s personality, too.

“Fuck no, slut,” they scoff, the now crumpled page hitting you directly on the forehead. It was worth a try. “If I’m gonna play, I wanna wreck shit. Pick another,” they hold out a hand, waggling their fingers impatiently. At least they seemed interested.

Robin picks through the stack of papers now, selecting a new character and passing it towards Whitney’s outstretched hand. “Okay, what about an Orc barbarian? You get a big axe, and you fly into a furious rage in combat. Sound good?”

Whitney nibbles their sweet, eyeing the paper and considering Robin’s suggestion. There’s a long pause. “… Fine. But none of that dice shit. I’m improvising.”

It was probably the best you could hope for – it was getting late, and you just wanted to get on with things. Robin sets up another chair, which Whitney drags next to you. Kylar eyes the new addition sullenly, and Whitney stares right back - making a show of squeezing your thigh. You huff out a breath - this is fine.

You’re grateful when Robin attempts to get things back on track once more. “Okay, you’re just in time anyway. We’ve been summoned to the village of…”

“… Coxhollow…” Sydney checks their diligent notes. They blush, suddenly understanding how it sounds.

“… yeah, that’s right. We’re about to enter the goblin lair, right?” Robin looks to you with an encouraging smile.

“Yeah, um…” you clear your throat, sitting up and beginning to describe the goblin lair in grim detail – all dripping stalactites, mossy walls and bone-strewn floor. Even Whitney seems a little impressed by your description, and it leaves you feeling pretty proud.

As you detail the party’s approach, Sydney raises their hand, “I think… I want to make a perception check.”

You smile – it’s exactly what you’d hoped would happen. With a roll of 16, Sydney’s cleric can hear a small group of goblins approaching – which gives the party an advantage.

Robin sits up excitedly. “Okay, team – let’s roll initiative!” The orphan tumbles a brightly coloured dice across the table. Kylar and Sydney follow suit – it’s beginning to feel like a real game now. The party’s first encounter is slow and a little bumpy – it’s challenging managing everybody’s turns, especially with Whitney jabbing you in the arm with a pencil. But by the time the goblins are defeated, you feel it’s gone well – not the most thrilling battle, but a good start.

Kylar’s rogue silently dispatches the next guard – despite their initial protests, they make an excellent halfling rogue. Sure, they’re quiet – big groups had never been Kylar’s idea of fun. But as time passes, they seem to be getting a little more confident. With Kylar’s help, the group disarm several traps that have been laid throughout the tunnels. There are even the beginnings of actual teamwork emerging between the group – well, less so for Whitney, but they’re more engaged than you expected. When it’s time to storm the final chamber and free the hostages, everyone carefully discusses tactics.

“I’m happy to take on a support role,” Sydney offers. They’d done an excellent job so far keeping everyone’s health in top condition, which wasn’t surprising– Sydney cared a lot about others, and was very attentive to the needs of the party. But it was clear they enjoyed casting offensive spells just as much – between them, Syd and Robin had become a dangerous, spellcasting duo whom goblins feared.

“I cast… Big Fucking Axe,” Whitney states with confidence – you can’t tell if they’re serious, but are surprised when they snatch one of Robin’s dice and skim it across the table. It’s a pretty decent roll, so you decide it’s best to allow it - describing how the barbarian cleaves the goblin’s skull in half, with plenty of gory detail.

The final battle is much smoother and cooler than the first and it takes much less time that you’d budgeted for – you were getting good at this. Kylar the Rogue deals the final, stealthy blow to the enemy– a vicious stab wound to the neck. They clearly relish describing how the blood sprays from the foe’s jugular, covering everyone in sticky goblin gore. It might be the most Kylar’s said all night. With the Goblin King defeated, the room falls silent. and everyone leans forward, eyeing you expectantly.

“Um… that’s it,” you smile, shoulders dipping into a shrug. They look surprised.

“That’s it? Feels like we’re just getting started…” Sydney’s yawn belies their words – but it’s clear they would have happily played another hour.

Kylar looks reignited – you notice they’ve sketched their halfling rogue at some point during the session. The character peers out from under a dark hood, licking an ornate dagger and displaying a crazed look that’s not unfamiliar. It’s a very decent drawing.

As the rest of the group helps tidy up, they discus their favourite parts of the session – it leaves you feeling very proud.  Whitney scrolls on their phone; when you manage to steal a glance – the words “what is a bard” had been typed into a search engine on their phone screen. You smirk – typical.

 Robin packs away the snacks and drinks for next time, stashing them in the cleanest looking box the attic can provide. And there would be a next time – the group had made you promise before agreeing to leave. When your visitors finally depart, you feel a pair of arms wrap you from behind – the wide brim of a wizard hat bumping the back of your head. “Thank you,” Robin says sincerely, giving you another squeeze for good measure. “I had fun. You’re the best.”

[kimbapisnotsushi]

me, chanting: hq lemonade mouth hq lemonade mouth hq lemonade mouth hq lemonade mou-

[penisbutterjellytime]

super old rdr oc

[rockethorse]

Should I be allowed to include Sims 2 Store/preorder/exchange content in Calcinidae Bay

There are several reasons why I'm keeping Calcinidae Bay CC-free but first and foremost it's to see "how far can I get with only TS2 Maxis content?" and so there's always this nagging voice in the back of my head saying "but this is TS2 Maxis content".

Lots that I share will remain CC-free, and I'm not including Stories conversions. Only things made by EA, for TS2.