#it cannot be explained; it can only be felt

[pomegranate-eater]

WHAT A FOOL CANNOT KNOW ABOUT ﾉ YANDERE DR. RATIO

Summary: Trying to break up with Veritas proves to be impossible to accomplish. You provide sound arguments, but he knows how to shoot them down. Unfortunately, he needs you, just as much as you need him — whether you have yet to discover this truth or not.

cw: gn!reader, controlling relationship, dubcon-esque touch, manipulation and coercion, coddling and overprotectiveness, possessiveness, love bombing, diet restrictions, suggestiveness. word count: 5.5k.

Note:  Divider by @/saradika-graphics.

“You ought to do what?” Veritas’s stern voice expresses derision, as if scolding you for yet another idiotic idea of yours.

“I want to break up with you, Veritas,” you repeat yourself grimly. Your arms are crossed as you try to keep yourself standing, feet firmly glued to the floor to demonstrate your oath to your decision and avoid susceptibility to his upcoming counterarguments. The light colors of your living room, carefully designed to be a peaceful mood maker, are also incapable of soothing your ‘wrath.’

He knows what you’re doing – spilling on the floor in front of you are packed bags, you have your shoes on, those two things meant to signal you are supposedly unswerving in your conviction about leaving. All because of one suggestion your closest friend has made: something about your genius boyfriend Veritas Ratio being controlling. He finds your delusions to be laughable, but also in need of being eradicated by a firm hand.

“Well, in such predicaments, one usually provides enough arguments explaining their decision. Care to elaborate?” the taunt in his voice is sufficient enough to amplify your angry fervent.

You inhale deeply through your nose; you are well aware of the obligation to argue your case well enough for it to be taken seriously, based upon logic — not foolish. Your first thought is to make an (objectively reasonable) accusation, but you know better than make yourself appear hasty. “I’ve been concerned about the way you treat me. I cannot help but fee—notice that you tend to make a lot of choices for me or question my own. It feels like I am deprived of autonomy and am being patronized. I recognize your good intentions,” no, you don’t, “but there’s still limits of mine, that if they are being crossed, they will make your behavior unhealthy.”

His behaviour is pretty confusing to your person who’s supposed to know him well as his partner. It is pretty much the antithesis of his persona — the real Dr. Ratio doesn’t serve answers on the silver platter. He’s used to steering people towards right directions by putting them through challenges so they can actually digest their situation, derive conclusions, and learn.

With you, it’s as if he views your independence differently — you stubbornly stick to your ideas, have your own ways of dealing with issues, faulty or not, as they make you, so there’s not much hope for your improvement. You don’t want to be perfect or participate in some unspoken race — and so he makes ideal choices for you, so as to not let his ‘ignorant’ partner lose on any opportunity, or even hurt themselves. 

(From what you eat, and wear for the weather; through checking your locations and asking overly intimate questions; to speaking for you during bigger decisions and choosing which activities are better for your brain.)

This ‘guidance’ is a form of benevolence in his dictionary, as he’d typically judge any other individual like you a lost cause, and unworthy of his patronage. To you, it’s only about being in the palm of his hand, and you’ve suffered enough from his iron grip in the last couple of months — you felt trapped, caged, and so out of control it made you claustrophobic.

Veritas sighs with exasperation; it’s evident he doesn’t share your precarious sentiment, and while you don’t know that, needs to breathe the same air you do. “When I take the wheel, it is not inaugurated with the intention to control you, as you probably assume. The blame about you needing it so often is not to be placed on me, but your disinclination to self-realization, and tendency to risk taking and sacrificing your health. And when I debate the choices you’ve made, it’s out of worry and care. I can shape the delineation of the consequences of your decisions before they’re even made,” he informs you with a rather… chiding tone. 

“Oh, so you think you always know better than me, about you?” you finally snap with indignation. This is all so… humiliating and infantilizing to hear — perhaps he can’t accept you for who you are, or is overprotective — as you can’t possibly be such a failure of a person! You make no more mistakes than others, and not willing to incessantly think about a better life is you saving yourself from the stressful pressure; you’re just being a human.

“Statistically, I’ve managed to reach safer conclusions in the past than you would,” he smiles a little as he says that. He sits down on the couch, subtly showing you he’s still in control, as he’s not scared of putting himself in a vulnerable spot. You wouldn’t be surprised if he were to pull out some sheet with such statistics right now and put his doctorates to a good use.

You have enough of his murky righteousness, walking to be in front of him and shove your accusatory finger in his face. “You can’t know me better than I know myself! And regardless of your supposedly caring intentions, are you going to ignore the unhealthy part? How all of this is coddling, patronizing, dehumanizing about basic freedom?! Because even if I make bad choices and mistakes, this is how I learn!” 

You’ve been feeling so suffocated in this relationship, and you find his treatment detestable; if there’s anyone ignorant, it’s him not acknowledging your suffering and anxiety.

He scoffs. “You are also no child. You had your entire life frame to ponder over your mistakes and align yourself to do better. If you still make minor and, frankly speaking, blunders on a daily basis, I’m afraid you might be the problem, and so it becomes my responsibility as your boyfriend to safekeep you from such.

You put yourself in unnecessary stressful situations, make choices that are bad for your health, and refuse to see outside of your stubborn scope, obstructing better opportunities — all which I help you avoid when I lead you.” 

You are no child yet he treats you like one.

You decide to trail off of the wagon of logic. This isn’t even logic. OF COURSE you are not a perfect human with no fault, yet so is anyone else! Perhaps you do create mishaps and cling to what’s not good sometimes; however, you doubt this ever justifies the controlling and coddling dynamic he’s been serving you for the duration of your entire relationship, foretelling you reaching anti-mundane, anti-ignorant magnificence, in a safe environment. That’s why the universe allows you to operate every right to unleash your dissatisfaction — simply cut him off and leave.

“I’m leaving. I have enough of you, of your reign, of your superiority—” you seethe when you turn around to pick up your bags and march out of the living room on your way to the new life, but then arms wrap around your torso and draw you close to the autonomy sucking ghoul’s chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?” surprisingly, your theoretically ex-boyfriend doesn’t sound angry when he murmurs that into your ear — it’s more like a velvet, comforting whisper of a peaceful sea. Your back is pressed against his chest and he keeps you caged to him.

“Let me go, Veritas!” you exclaim all ardent with panic, struggling in his arms.

“I’m afraid my lover isn’t in the right headspace to be using their mind with dexterity. You’re making a big decision when you’re upset at me — not to mention addled with the agitation — whilst without trying to resolve the issue first… even you can admit it’s not the wisest idea, hm?” his voice speaks egregiously for him softly, the juxtaposition to his previous spitfire-scholar manner and vernacular vocabulary. 

You don’t like where this farce is heading — he’s not usually this lenient, even if he’s not necessarily cold like a bad boyfriend would be (he does realize the inclination to be affectionate), and his temper eager to prove you wrong is gone…

“Veri, this decision has been made based on many accumulated memories, not just now,” you deflect, the craving to indulge in his warmth keeping you somewhat calmer. You still squirm in his arms but he doesn’t budge.

“Yes, but even those moments you recall have been potent with big emotions. Since you came to me to express your issue with me only just now, about the break up, I had never seen a chance to fix it. I don’t think such an omission is fair.”

As you stare at the spacious window facing the darkening evening sky busying itself with lighting on the awful neons only overstimulating your muzzy mind, you think he’s partially correct — you haven’t been most straightforward about his overwhelming behavior, but what was there to discuss? If he proclaims to know you well, so you possess knowledge about his game: as long as you wouldn’t try to leave him, he’d do nothing about your complaints, only hold a clincher over your head to say you’re ungrateful. 

If someone is willing to control you for all there is about you, grabbing your stems to make you grow towards completely different directions, you doubt this gardener can ever change. His feelings about how you live come first, ignoring your angst that comes from the dehumanization and your relationship’s enclosure of control has been bringing.

“There’s nothing to fix! You’re just stuck up on being as much in control of my life as possible! I don’t care whether choices I make are more or less stupid than the ones I’d make! You can’t take away my autonomy because you’re bothered by me not being perfect! Do you know how suffocating and overbearing you were to me lately!” the volume of your voice is raised to almost deafening decibels. You trash in his arms again, finally hitting his body with yours so hard that he trips and falls back onto the couch… with you — a mishandled move, as you’re now trapped again, on his lap.

Veritas is momentarily taken aback by the new position, but he then proceeds to take advantage of it, also soaking in your misapprehension of his character. “Being perfect?” his arms tighten around your midriff, and one of his hands cups your throat, not yet squeezing. If he was angry before, he’s raging now. 

Your interpretation of his intentions, whether objectively correct or not, feels like the biggest insult to his feelings and ambitions. He’s assured he hasn’t been trying to make you perfect or control you — instead, his goal was to protect you from your own stupidity and to take care of you and your health… if it helps you reach the best of your potentials, that’s only a bonus. “What you claim is utterly disrespectful, and for how shameful it makes you, expresses your lack of gratitude,” he hisses, as his fingers are beginning to dig into your neck a bit too hard to be considered safe. No, you’re not allowed to leave—

He realizes his mistake when you stiffen up under him and from the angle of his eyes, he can observe some fear — his mind tells himself how asinine he is to let his emotions control him, even if he’s actually afraid of losing you. He lets go of your throat and cups your face instead, the other hand soothing your waist, this time opting for a more gentle voice again, “Look at me.” 

He delicately cranes your head to the side, until you’re meeting with a sight of his face and are resting the back of your head on his shoulder — he peers at you with something pensive yet intense dirty lover’s ownership it’s unsettling to witness. His breath is grazing your skin and you feel inappropriate (involuntary included) for this situation’s arousal. 

“What do you want from me? I have told you, your intentions don’t conceal or fix the unhealthy effects your leadership causes,” you heave a sigh, suddenly feeling exhausted, to the point where you no longer are trying to leave his unwelcome hold — you’re assuming he’ll get weary eventually as well. You really wish you could just grab your things that are now taunting you by lying just a few feet away, but are so unreachable in your position. “You’re too damn pushy. I can’t even eat what I want.” You know you’ll binge on nice snacks once you’re gone.

“Have I ever hurt you?” he asks smoothly, the husky voice spreading vibrations down your torso. You don’t like how the forced proximity is built with the suave tone falling straight into your ear canal. His thumb moves from your jaw to stroke your lower lip, causing it to tremble against your good conscience.

The question still manages to throw you off, and is not incentivizing you when he’s ignoring your main concern. “Not in the most straightforward way. You haven’t physically or verbally abused me; however, this doesn’t mean I feel comfortable or happy with what you do to me,” you say hesitantly, staying vigilant.

“I see. Does your unhappiness imply you weren’t content with me for our entire relationship?” there’s an odd sadness in his tone and eyes. It’s something you haven’t seen in him before, even in his rare but happening moments of failure; you have to dig your feet hard into the floor to not let it sway your perception and make you pity him.

Unlike him, you’re not heartless.

“Of course not,” you scoff, not realizing you’re subconsciously resting your body on his with less tension in your muscles. “I’m not saying you were a bad or neglectful partner. But it wasn’t rainbows and unicorns in the moments I highlighted!”

Your words seem to create something even more wistful in him, a force powerful enough he glides your hair back with a gentle hand. His voice gets even quieter, “I never intended them to feel that way. However, can anyone postulate about their relationship out there having its moments be one hundred percent idyllic?”

You can’t gauge if his proposed perspective is manipulative or he genuinely feels sorry. The question makes you assess your previously stated claims again for a second, but you’re still not giving up. “No, that’d be an utopian dream. Still… if there’s behavior that can be described as unhealthy, it should be taken care of. For me to stay with you, you’d have to leave my own choices for me. You should be allowed to go no further than to counsel me.”

There’s an almost indistinguishable twitch in his eye, but he doesn’t let go of his disposition. He finally grants his hand a fall back onto your waist again, and you look ahead of yourself, not willing to strain your neck. It is when you try to pry off his arms once more, wanting to at once face him properly.

He stops you, infuriating as he ignores your lack of consent to be held for nth momentum; this time it’s worse, as his hands wander across your hips and stroke them, as if possessively. If you could see his face, you’d notice the slightly obsessive hunger for not much of your body, if not keeping you — he really can’t let you get away from him, for he might lose his mind.

(Emotional disturbances due to breaking up would affect his work anyway.)

Your body stills, and you curse him when his action spills sensitivity in that lower area, an unthinking sparkle of something pleasant you are familiar with — he’s always been skilled and dedicated in making you feel good, physically. He also knows how to notice you, all the good parts others can’t, and what sort of worship to indulge them with. Not to mention, his immerse knowledge gives him enough of bargaining chips to manoeuvre your life, body, and mind with ease. “Let me go—” your demand comes with a quiver.

“Haven’t you noticed something?” Veritas interrupts your bewilderment with an inquiry, and his right hand dips under your shirt, teasing the soft skin of your stomach, while the other goes up from your hip till the dip of your waist. Both the touch and question stops you in your tracks, as your skin is ignited and screaming for more.

“N-noticed what?” your tone is of a squeak, embarrassingly highly enough. You force yourself to cover his hands with yours, pausing their work.

He doesn’t swat your hands away; he moves his with yours, slyly forcing you to map your own body. “That the quality of your life has significantly improved after you entered the relationship with me, not degraded. Your health included. That speaks for itself, doesn’t it?”

You realize that he is right, as your life indeed is now technically better than it had been before — you score better opportunities, you have someone you can depend on, your life is quite comfortable financially, you feel good physically, and you are loved. He doesn’t do worse things than those occasional instances of dictating. For a moment, your motivation wavers; but then you remember how he’s made you feel for past months, and also, your friend’s words.

(“Some men are like this. They lure you in with affection, undivided attention, and luxuries, so once they know you’re too attached to leave, they can do anything to you.”)

Right, his suggestive touch — it has no place to exist when you’re having such an important conversation! You trash with all the vigor you could muster. “You’re just manipulating me! You’re suddenly being all soft and groping me when I’m trying to talk to you seriously!”

Veritas only sighs, exasperated, muttering, “It was to help you relax, so you can take a more conscious approach. But if you insist…” Surprisingly, he lets you go — even that is up to be questioned, if him respecting your boundaries isn’t some scheme either.

You quickly stand up back on your feet and turn around, not hiding that you’re fuming again. He stands up too and your heart skips a beat. What he says next throws you off.

“Please, give me your hand,” Veritas requests politely, using proper etiquette. So unusual. Typically, his requests are orders, as he finds them to be absolute in their vital importance.

Is he trying to be nicer to you, for you? Is he finally regretting his treatment, once you scared him with the possibility of leaving?

“For what?” you ask with suspicion, tapping your foot with impatience. Perhaps you should just make a run for the door and leave, even if it wouldn’t be most mature-sounding. You’re further dissatisfied at the thought of running into him as your ex at your workplace.

“I want to show you something. It might clear any false conjectures that you seemingly have about me,” he informs curtly. It raises your interest just as he anticipated — of course curiosity can be a strong force, that is, a useful tool for his grasp over you.

He thrives with satisfaction when you submit by raising your hand in the air. He cups it in his, gently as if it’s a brittle porcelain (affectionately like he knows you secretly crave him to be), and places it over his heart — it’s a horse running a race, thrumming and threatening to escape his chest. “Can you palpate how fast my heart is under your fingers? Does that sound like the heart of a man indifferent to you or your misery?”

Your stance on accusing him of malicious conduct has been slightly faltering the entire conversation, as you can’t deny that Veritas is a good debater, knowing how to make you look at things from a different angle — his proof is extremely flattering to you especially. Or rather not as much flattering, as romantically gratifying — to be loved is a most wonderful feeling. The little show is made to be even better when you’re the only person he ever becomes vulnerable with — starting with something simple as you having a chance to see him without his plaster head on, daily at that.

Your friend’s words still ring in your head, however. Your almost-ex is still a genius and he’d definitely know all about what heart tempo expresses what; therefore, maybe know how to adjust its pace to the perfect tune… “You… could be faking it. To make me forgive you.” Yet your fingers twitch on his chest, desperate to give him some pleasure too. 

You want to touch him. It is easy to dream of being back in his arms, safe and loved, saved and loving, be the fool indifferent to his misbehaving — it’s the only way a heart knows how to protect itself from being shattered.

It is only just now that you realize how scared you are to be on your own in the wild again — the truth about how he had made you dependent on him for choosing the safest and most convenient life is terrifying and disturbing. You were forcefully ripped away from the feeling of danger or bigger perturbation in your daily situations, it is easy to feel out of tune with the rhythm of the world. It’s as if you need to go back to baby steps to know how to function properly again. 

Going to work, you can handle it. Shopping, you can handle it. But what if one day, you’ll somehow mess up filling the tax form, and you’ll be accused of fraud, and then thrown into jail— you need him to keep you protected. Or something happens at the guild, and you need him to vouch for you. 

You don’t even think it’s his fault you feel that way — you’ve been manipulated into thinking you were simply living in the dark, your back turned against those dangers, and he has opened your eyes to notice what could have happened due to your irresponsible choices.

Veritas’s eagle eyes notice your discernment and irrationality; still, he only lets out a sigh for what feels like a thousandth time, knowing admitting he has this advantage over you will further frighten you. His hand squeezes on your and actually trembles, unused to being so open, and afraid to let it go should you choose to walk away from his life. “What will it take for you to believe me? Should I ask another genius, maybe Ruan Mei, to prepare a truth serum for me to confess, no matter how… embarrassing it could be for me? Because a lie detector certainly is faulty.”

Your face scrunches and you barely hit his chest as a protest. Lower in the hierarchy of the Intelligentsia Guild, you still had a (dis)pleasure of working with that shady woman too many  times. “I wouldn’t trust that woman, so I would have no guarantee you’re not making some deal behind my back,” you rebut.

“Then Screwllum. You find that man to be trustworthy, no?” his fingers steeple together with yours and your heart jumps — it’s such a feeble and shaky movement you cannot believe he’s being soft. And him willing to make himself exposed in his proposed method…

You do trust Screwllum. He’s strict but fair. 

“You… you’re serious, aren’t you? You would go that far in order to prove your affections for me?” you can no longer hide your hopes in your voice. Amid your anger and wanting to leave, it was easy for not-at-all-old feelings to resurface, mixing into poison with your fear of dealing with things on your own — new for you separation anxiety. Leaving is easy, but dealing with the sadness and paranoia after isn’t. While his questionable behavior is not making you happy, you can’t say the latter of the two is worse.

Maybe, you really have been too harsh on him. Maybe he can compromise about his control, if he does care.

“Yes. If this is the only way, I won’t hesitate to do it, no matter how hard it could be for me to attempt something so… hazardous,” he claims with determination.

You exhale out a shaky and overly carbonated with the previous concerns breath; if he would subject himself to being under the influence of some truth substance, your logic tells you there’s no reason to doubt his love, especially with his heart’s behavior around you. If he wanted you trapped, wouldn’t he have done so easily a long time ago? 

“No… you don’t need to. I believe you, Veritas,” you admit with a forced smile. There’s still something that feels off about the situation, the lingering intensity of his gaze, pushiness, and aversion to acknowledging less healthy monuments of your relationship; but you also have more arguments towards pro than against, and assume he’s willing to ease on his tendencies, as he did admit he didn’t mean to be controlling. A man who loves you, would he really want to hurt you so much? He’s never outright hurt you — and what made you uncomfortable can be negotiated.

You see a tension disappear in his shoulders and he lets go of your hand in pursuit of your face. With that, it’s clear he doesn’t want to say anything else that’s embarrassing, assuming you’re back in his arm — or rather, have never left. But as he’s leaning in for a kiss to seal the deal and let it speak for him and his vulnerable soul, you stop him, “But can you promise me you’ll interfere with my decisions less from now on? It’s still overwhelming.”

Your voice sounds awfully positive, as if you think you’ve got him wrapped around your fingers now, enough for him to regret his actions; it irks him. “Love, we have just discussed that. I’m not doing this to control you nor patronize you. The issue instead is you not being used to being taken care of and stubbornly clinging to your independence,” his voice becomes stern again, but he’s making sure to maintain understanding and some warmth in it. You’re much more volatile now.

“What? No! It’s not a matter of independence but you stealing my autonomy,” you’re up in arms again and he knows he has to soothe you. “I could be more dependent on you and I’d still want you to let me choose. It’s about the principle, a basic human right—”

“Which one of your friends has filled your head with such crafty and repugnant designs?” he suddenly asks and your eyes widen.

“Huh? It’s my own conclusion…” you say defensively. It’s true that it was your friend’s bystander perspective that allowed you to perceive  the mistakes of his you failed to see on your own; however, after this one conversation you had, you couldn’t help but agree. “If others notice that you’re wrong, there must be something true about it…” Sure, some of the choices he’s made for you have improved your life, but it’s about lack of consent here. Not to mention, not allowing you to make errors like any other human is surprisingly more negative than the modus operandi of perfect life, as it takes away from the human experience.

“And I think your friend is just jealous that you are lucky enough to be dating a handsome genius and they aren’t,” he states bluntly.

The suggestion immediately brings up different memories where your friend would have passively joked about how lucky you are, or complaining how there's little of charming, interesting, and intelligent men like Veritas… which contradicts them warning you about him not so much after. Have they been naive at first too, or have they been making you doubt your own partner so they can snatch him for themselves? Sabotaging your relationship?

“I— they wouldn’t do that—” you stutter, desperately chasing to defend your friend’s honor.

“Be honest with me. How many times in our relationship have you truly felt uncomfortable?” he takes a step forward and you instinctively take a step back, overwhelmed by the intensity of his question.

“Well, there were a few instances, and you even control my diet—” you take a few more steps, creating sounds too loud with your shoes for your ears now buzzing with trepidation, not realizing you’re about to hit a wall of the living room behind you.

“A few instances. When no one is devoid of being made to be uncomfortable every so often, me included. What you eat is both nutritious and still tasty. Are you seriously going to let these few, inconsequential moments dim many more positive ones?” You get the message that you are starting to sound ungrateful and spoiled, a bit naive too — yes, him deciding for you doesn’t feel nice, but some sacrifice is necessary for your wellbeing or stability. Relationships aren’t black and white — not every rule will cooperate in every relationship, and not every partner will be perfect. You mustn't create unrealistic standards you’d see only on social media.

As Veritas moves forward again, your back finally hits the wall of the living room, and your only support is with your palms against it. Your breathing rattles when he places his hands on the sides of your head, towering over you and trapping you. It’s the birth of night now, and with no artificial lights yet turned on, you see his irises shine like a molten metal.

His roseate eyes cause you to freeze and turn into a stone as if he’s some god possessing such power, their intensity undeniable — he needs you with him and he’ll have you. For his and your sake.

“Don’t let one fool take away everything from us. You matter to me,” he exclaims his promise with a destructive love and your name, and before you register such, he grabs you by your nape and thigh he slightly lifts, and kisses you to convey and solidify his words.

You don’t reciprocate at first, having your own doubts linger, and you’re further flustered when he steps between your legs; but when his finger rubs that one spot on your neck and his hand wanders up your thigh, it’s easy to sink into his wonders.

You whimper against his lips when his palm on your leg wanders dangerously high, almost seeking out the most pleasurable and sensitive areas. His lips move on yours with undeniable practice, pecking and teasing with a tongue, sucking on your lips; and when you open your mouth to inhale starved air, he inserts his tongue in. 

One squeeze on your leg is enough for your arms to finally wrap around his shoulders and your eyes close; although, it’s still him who has to do the most work, as you remain overwhelmed by the entire discussion.

The kiss lasts for what feels like infinity and yet it’s not enough.

When he lets go of your nape and watches your face painted in yearning, he knows that he now has you. He strokes your cheek, letting the magic of his touch deceive your defenses once more. “Will you stay with me? I’m sure we can reach some compromise; albeit, don’t expect me to let you get loose and undisciplined,” he warns calmly, finding difficulty in not sounding giddy.

When you nod, he thinks how much he hates the way you make him feel — this obsession — as instead of feeling just victorious over you, he also feels his own longing. He’s not against the idea of love as a whole — it’s only human and he can’t judge others for being in love, therefore only human — but he’s not a big fan of it participating in his life, messing up with his head, logic, and perfect schedule.

Regardless, he’s also most elated, naturally. His relationship’s end with you has been rescinded, and he can spend his days with you again. The vivid imagery of you with someone else is upmost abhorrent and should be condemned. Not that he’d let you go; he’s smart enough to bring you back, but wouldn’t it create a peril of losing your trust and love.

“Good, excellent even. Go unpack your things and I’ll make us dinner. Perhaps some wine indulgence won’t hurt today…” he murmurs the latter, thinking of rewarding you for being so compliant and saving him from depression. He helps you stand up properly, knowing you’re putty in his arms after the kiss.

You don’t even have time to whine about how his meal will be all healthy and chosen for you again. (He’d tell you it’s about your wellbeing anyway, and is he wrong, when you’ve been feeling more energized lately?)

As you leave, Veritas pulls out his phone. Through the spyware he has installed on his phone (only a safety concern about you, of course), he watches a new message appear in the log. You accusing your friend and blocking them the next second, as you threaten them so they won’t get in your relationship’s business, is nothing but satisfying to witness.

For the foolish you make him, you also make him feel alive and closer to what being human means, living by your own rules. Stronger than a real fool like you should be, contradicting all he knows about rigorous discipline and logic. You’re the challenge and risk he thrives on and wants to watch develop in real time, the forbidden fruit to feast on; this notion is in some ways also liberating. 

Believe it or not, he does care for you — he just cannot see a beloved person’s potential go to waste, any menace and harm to come, or let your health degrade, as he’d feel a failure of a lover. He also can’t deny the inherent, selfish need to possess you, and keep you away from the world, as if only he can truly appreciate you properly — if he needs you, who is to deny him? 

He’s not letting you go, even if it’s destined to ruin you both.

[respectthepetty]

I'm showing up to My Golden Blood for one reason, and one reason only, and that reason is to see Fluke Gawin be babygirl.

Gonna put that 6'1" man in my pocket for 10 episodes and give him little treats whenever he wants.

The show has the same director as Shadow, so I know Ark knows his way around a cross and darkness. Good for him.

And "The Service" name tag is already sending me, so I know I'm going to have a good time.

Plus Mond is here.

Being crazy.

Which if anyone watched Midnight Motel, we know Mond is his best when he is crazy and murderous.

So hot.

So all I really need is this grown ass man to be put into situations every single episode, and I'll be thrilled.

All the situations.

All the time.

Babygirl.

[bisexualseraphim]

Also, I refuse to entertain the discourse as to whether acespec people are “oppressed” or not, but I will say it’s really fucking lonely — especially if you fall somewhere on the spectrum that’s a little more unconventional.

I’ve discussed many times before how I feel absolutely no attraction whatsoever except towards my lovely partner. I went through the phases queer men tend to: exploring many types of pornography and cruising on Grindr. I really tried, and none of it has ever done anything for me. It wasn’t until I started having sex with my partner that I realised, ohhh, so that’s how most people feel. And even then, enjoying sex with him is far more of an intimacy thing than the actual physical sensations. I do not fantasise about other people or consume porn. There is only him.

And yet when I’ve spoken about this in acespec spaces, I’m still treated as some sort of weirdo who doesn’t belong. I’ve literally been told many times that I can’t be demisexual because demis will still fantasise and consume porn (although that doesn’t line up with my understanding that demis require a close bond to feel sexual attraction, but never mind), and I’ve even been accused of having some weird internalised Christian puritan shit going on because I genuinely cannot comprehend ever looking at or thinking about someone in that way who isn’t my man. As if anything about this is a choice for me and it is offensive to them somehow. As if only feeling attraction to one person is like… “worse” than never feeling any attraction at all. I’ve never once shamed others for how they experience sex and sexual attraction and never would, yet people act like that’s what I’m inherently doing just by speaking about my own experiences.

So no, I won’t say whether acespec people are “oppressed” or not because honestly, when is this shit ever going to come up in conversation and ever be that relevant? But the fact I don’t feel I can talk about it even amongst other queer people, even amongst others in the acespec community, kind of speaks for itself.

Being a queer man who can’t relate to all the stereotypes and anecdotes about enjoying casual sex is one type of loneliness. Being a queer acespec man who can’t even relate to most others in the acespec community is another. I can never win, and either way I do not fit in.

[starryluminary]

“John decided I didn’t have to die over an honest mistake” WHAT.

[butchlesbiannero]

finished dmc4 tonight and maybe i’ll have better more articulated thoughts later bc it’s late and also i’m quite drunk rn buttt i’ll say that i don’t have much original to say about it bc i pretty much agree with the general consensus on it despite thinking (or hoping?) i wouldn’t. i still think that its writing and art direction are some of my faves in the series, it has such a warm, nostalgic feeling to it despite it not being a game i grew up with. in terms of aesthetics and tone it feels very cozy and comforting to me—the ps3-era graphics have an almost hazy. soft feeling to them that really contribute to this effect, especially in terms of lighting. all of that said, its gameplay, to me, is a pretty significant downgrade in terms of complexity and feel, as well as just in terms of design itself (not gonna go in depth about the repetition throughout the game bc it’s been said a million times but yeah. you know). 4 has held a special place in my heart since getting into the series but now having actually played it i can say that conceptually it is very important to me but it is definitely not the title i’d return to by default

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

one thing abt being disabled/chronically ill that some people don’t get is that sometimes body maintenance that ensures you have the absolute minimum amount of function can also be something that takes away a lot of control and autonomy. you can argue till the cows come home that making those decisions to try and help yourself (or realistically to try to make sure things aren’t worse than they already are) is something that exhibits control and autonomy and stuff, but they can be so limiting in practice because they’re things that take up so much time but have to be done to do anything else

[canislupusangelus]

"Just go over and ask to join a group, it's as simple as that!" Actually no it isn't I've been crying about it for like 2 hours.

[autisticlee]

do allistics ever listen to a song on repeat for several hours a day and only listen to that one song for a week or 2 straight....or is that really just an exclusively autism thing?

[elftwink]

related to my last post about my writing habit of trying to hide things i didnt want to figure out by having a character not think about, notice, forget, or dismiss it, i was forced to confront it constantly while writing precipice because i would not want to look something up about the show or whatever and i'd start to be like "well it's fine he'll just be fuzzy on the details—"

then i would remember. about caleb's keen mind trait and therefore near perfect memory. this was the biggest pain in my entire ass i tell you. many scene revisions because i was relying on him to not know something only to start writing and realize how obvious it was that he would Definitely Fucking Know That. redoing the entire scene and/or having to go look into something and just fuming. now, am i a better writer for not being allowed to take this admittedly lazy shortcut? well yes of course. but i dont see why i cant complain about it all the same

[cr2032powered]

The "advice" screen for masters' Victory Road's Boss is made out of malice and wanting to screw the player

[mintaikkcorpse]

Okay, so, we're all freaking out bcuz this is the first time a beast has used the word "love" to describe what they feel for their ancient, right?

The other beasts all have some kind of obsession with their ancient, bcuz they have the other half of their soul jam, which would make them soulmates in some fucked-up way. But, obsession is still a form of love. So, I really want to go over how the Beasts "love" their ancients, even if it is kinda (EXTREMELY) fucked up.

Also, before I go on with this, don't spam my replies and reblogs with, "But it's toxic-" I KNOW! THAT'S THE POINT! IM EXPLAINING THE WAY THE BEASTS HAVE SUCH A TOXIC, TWISTED LOVE FOR THEIR ANCIENTS.

(This is going to be such a rambly mess, and I'm sorry)

Burning Spice

Burning Spice is obsessed with Golden Cheese because he's bored (he's actually depressed bcuz history is just a cycle of evil people hurting each other and innocent people only for the civilizations to all crumble in the end because of those evil people, but saying he's bored is easier than saying all of that), and he believes that Golden Cheese will make him feel alive again (by hunting her and having both of them fight each other to the death but you know-).

His kind of obsession torwards Golden Cheese is the (literal) destructive kind. He wants to kill her, but he also wants her to try and kill him.

The first time he meets her in person, he congratulates her for beating up Nutmeg Tiger Cookie and says, "Yes, excellent! I like my prey to have a little bit of fight in them!" He literally gets DISSAPOINTED when she was easy to defeat, but he doesn't kill her, nor fuse their soul jams, because he wants to keep her alive so she's angry enough to try and actually kill him, because he believes that it will be "electrifiying" to fight her (his words, not mine). He speaks of hunting her like it's all some fun game, because he believes that she is exciting, and he hasn't felt excited in a long, long time. He even gives her nicknames when he talks to her such as "Little bird", and he even calls her "his" and "his prey." And, I'm sorry to say this, but you could read their battle dialogue as some version of flirting-

Burning Spice: "Oooh! I see you still can channel the power of your Soul Jam! Good... I'm glad I didn't make it mine yet!"

Golden Cheese: "Hmpf... Yes. Yes, that might just be your greatest achievement! Know that I do not give praise lightly. You really should be thankful!"

Burning Spice: "Ha ha ha ha! Ahhh, lovely! Keep going, I'm thoroughly enjoying our little dance!"

He gets excited when he realizes that she isn't weak and can still fight him. He literally compliments her by calling her, "lovely", and then refers to their fight as a dance. That's flirting. That's literally flirting.

Anyways. Back to destruction as love.

I know, I know, I've said he's completely obsessed with destroying her multiple times in this post, but, for the person reading this who doesn't play the game or keep up with the lore (why are you reading this then???? Like, I'm happy, but huh???), I cannot stress enough that when I say "obsessed", I REALLY DO MEAN IT

SHE DEFEATED HIM. I THOUGHT SHE KILLED HIM WHEN SHE DID! SHE DROPPED A WHOLE AS BUILDING ON HIS HEAD.

And this motherfucker LAUGHED, when she did.

This mf is down bad, and NOT in a healthy way.

Tldr: Burning Spice loves in a incredibly destructive way, since he believes that fighting and killing Golden Cheese will make him feel alive again.

Mystic Flour

Mystic Flour has an obsession with Dark Cacao bcuz she wants to show him apathy, though, I honestly don't see them in a twisted romantic kind of way. More honestly a fucked up, misguided person trying to teach another person. She even mentions that she's old, and she talks to him as if she's a teacher. But, don't think that just because her care for him isn't romantic that it isn't interesting.

The thing about Mystic Flour Cookie is the fact that she believes that everyone embracing apathy and turning into flour is the only way the world can be at peace. She wants the other half of Dark Cacao's souljam so she can gain the power to do so, and, the easiest way to do that is for him to embrace apathy himself and give her the souljam.

But, despite her being apathetic (though she is definelty not beating the "Igaf" allegations. I see you being sweet to Cloud Haetae, girl), there is some sort of care when she talks to Dark Cacao. After all, even though she says she feels nothing, what she wants to do to the cookie world, she does because she cares. She just goes the wrong way about it. She believes that Dark Cacao's resolution and determination are only weighing him down, and she wants to help rid him of it.

Throughout the entire story, Mystic Flour guides him like a teacher would to a student. She takes him down the path of apathy; telling him the story of how she came to her conclusion, turning his soldiers into flour, waiting atop the mountain as a sort of test to see if he still had his resolution, and telling him about how everything suffers for no reason and apathy is the only way you can stop it. And, when those don't work, she keeps showing him and teaching him and trying to get him to return to flour. She goes so far as to show an illusion (I think it's an illusion? Could be an alternate timeline or smthn) of his son, Dark Choco, ruling the Dark Cacao Kingdom, and how, if he crumbled here, no one would miss him. She says that his kingdom is a moment in time, and that with time, he will be forgotten, and all of his efforts in his kingdom will be forgotten as well. And, for a brief moment, Dark Cacao accepted apathy. But, that's when she took his soul jam.

The thing is, if this was all a ploy to take his souljam, Mystic Flour would've stopped there. But she didn't. When the Dragon's escape, and he no longer has his souljam, nor his sword, Mystic Flour asks him how it feels to finally see the world of white. She then explains to him her plan of how she wants to guide everyone into Enlightenment.

This is the scene where she gently cups his face, and says this to him:

"Would I not be doing you a favor by relieving you of the burden you have carried your whole life? Now, there is nothing holding you back. Live the rest of your life free from any burdens, sorrows, and responsibilities."

She believes she is doing him a favor. She wouldn't go through so much to explain what she is doing to him and to comfort him in (what she thinks are) his last moments if she didn't care about him.

Tldr: Mystic Flour Cookie cares for Dark Cacao in the way a teacher would care for a student. She takes the time to teach him about apathy, even after she got ahold of the souljam, and even tells him that she believes she is doing him a favor. She wants him to turn the flour, just like she wants the rest of the world to turn to Flour, because she doesn't want him to be burdened in his life anymore. If he is flour, he no longer feels pain.

...Fucking. Shadow. Milk. Cookie

Oh God, where do I even begin with this-

Okay, so Shadow Milk's obsession with Pure Vanilla DEFINETLY goes beyond the simple "I want my soul jam back", no matter how hard he tries to make it seem that way. If that was the case, he wouldn't trap PV in his spire and play games with him and give him his own room which he made sure looks EXACTLY like his room in his kingdom and being all happy and giggly when PV says the he is his forever-

Yeah, it's a lot.

Shadow Milk Cookie is lonely. Once the Fount of Knowledge, forced to hold the horrifying truths of the world and realizing that the cookies would much prefer a nice lie over a bitter truth. He fell to deceit because of that realization. And throughout all of it, he was alone. He never had a normal life, because he was baked as an adult and immediately thrusted into a world to be the Fount of Knowledge. He never got that choice. He was always a god, with everyone else being below him, whether he liked it or not. It's difficult to make regular connections when everyone Worships you.

And this obviously had an effect on him. Shadow Milk is incredibly lonely (one of the devs even said that himself), so when he saw Pure Vanilla Cookie with his soul jam, someone who was like him all those years ago, who is worshipped as "the perfect hero" and only wants to seek the truth, his mind was filled with the emotions of rage, jealousy, but also hope. Pure Vanilla Cookie is just like him, after all. He can finally find someone who understands him.

Except his version of "You're the only one who understands me", is making Pure Vanilla Cookie suffer, telling PV that he'll just end up like Shadow Milk (a beast who sees no meaning in truth and who just wants to watch the world fall into chaos), and taking away everything he once loved. #justgirlthings🥰🥰🥰

But that doesn't stop the fact that Shmilk still yearned for someone to understand him, and Pure Vanilla is the closest thing he'll get to that, bcuz they have lived very similar lives, and now, they share their soul jam as well. And trust me when I say that his obsession with Pure Vanilla goes beyond the soul jam. Shadow Milk really wanted them to fuse their souls, and knowing that makes a lot of his dialogue make much more sense.

"You and I are bound..."

"Why, you've said it yourself! We are like the two sides of the same Coin!"

"Oh but it's inevitable. In the end, you will become... me! And it's gonna feel good!"

And, while Burning Spice and Mystic Flour wanted to destroy their ancients, Shadow Milk doesn't. He wants to keep Pure Vanilla alive, and have him stay with him in the spire. ("Why don't you stay for another day? Or FOREVER")

Since a lot of showing that him and PV are the same, he also took great pleasure in psychologically torturing PV and deceiving him. He tortures PV because he wants to know how far he can push him before he snaps, so, while he relishes in the game, he also is excited for when PV finally admits that Shmilk was right. It's why he was so damn excited when PV became Truthless Recluse, and started using his own deceiving tactics.

To survive the Yogurt River of Rebirth, one has to embrace deceit, he congratulates Pure Vanilla Cookie for surviving it and coming out on the other side, even though, if he died, he could take his soul jam back

When Pure Vanilla tricks him in the game of Chess and cheats, using his own methods against him, he is ESTATIC! He is laughing, and his sprite is blushing, and he talks about how he "wants to keep playing with his new favorite toy." Even Black Sapphire is surprised because, according to him, "He doesn't give multiple second chances." So, obviously, PV is a special Cookie to him

Shadow Milk also has an obsession with Pure Vanilla being "his." For Burning Spice, he meant like, "his to destroy", but Shadow Milk's version of it has a lot more romantic-coded undertones.

"Indeed, all this time, you've been my most treasured marionette!" (I think it's doll in KR, which I think is better. You control your marionettes, but you hold dolls close to you)

"Ah, there you are! My long-lost other half!"

"YES! YES! YOU ARE MINE!"

Anyways, to the point that made everyone lose their shit: fusing their damn souljams.

"Pure Vanilla: "Is this what you wanted? or is it even better? Instead of one Soul Jam of Knowledge, you will have two Soul Jams of Deceit. And me, forever by your side"

Shadow Milk: "You would do that, after what I just did to your friends?"

Pure Vanilla: Hah! It's no longer important. Now it's clear as day. There simply is no point in denying it... You and I... We are meant to be together.

Shadow Milk: Ah ha... Ah ha ha...! HA HA HA HA HA!

Shadow Milk: "Yes, YES! Now, you are mine!"

They fuse their souljams together. Shadow Milk didn't just want the soul jam; he wanted Pure Vanilla along with him. But then, in the ultimate deceitful betrayal, PV tricked him, and takes back the soul jam, separating their souls, and becoming even more powerful. Shmilk is completely heartbroken and tries to dearroy PV (and the souljam in the kr dub), but of course, PV defeats him. But, instead of going away after that, PV says that he felt how lonely Shadow Milk was, and that he's the only one who can understand him, something that Shadow Milk hws been looking for for a long, long time, and asks if he wants to be his friend. The worst part is that, with the way Shmilk's voice softened, he actually thought about it.

He then proceeds to crash out and try to destroy him again, but we still saw what we saw. Shadow Milk really just wanted someone who could understand him.snd be by his side so he wouldn't have to feel lonely anymore...

Also, I feel the need to point out that this is the only time in the story where Shmilk gets upset at PV for deceiving him, and that's bcuz it was emotional. The other times were a fun game to show that he is becoming him, but this time, he lied to him about being by his side forever, only to leave.

And then, other things I couldn't put in here that alludes to a romantic kind of love

Candy Apple Cookie is jealous of Pure Vanilla Cookie, and she canonically has a crush on Shadow Milk

Shadow Milk gave PV a plushie of him in his room

The story for Shmilk's special cakehound is that he is a wolf who fell in love with the cream sheep, and just wants to be closer to it. All I'm saying is that Shadow Milk already has multiple "wolf in sheep's clothing" things in his story, and Pure Vanilla is associated with cream sheep

The KR voice actors for them doing a duet together as their characters????

Anyways, I truly do not have the energy to talk about Shadowvanilla for millionth time. I'm moving on now.

Tldr: Shadow Milk loves Pure Vanilla like how someone would love their favorite doll, so he constantly dotes on him and plays games with him, but, as you own a doll, you control whatever it does and stop it before it gets out of line. A doll is also what helps someone feel less lonely (why do you think traumatized kids are always given dolls in therapy?), so there's that as well.

ETERNAL GOD-DAMN SUGAR COOKIE

Oh, baby, you thought that Shadow Milk was bad? WAIT TILL YOU SEE ETERNAL SUGAR COOKIE!

But, out of all of the Ancients, Sugar's love for Hollyberry is probably the most obviously romantic one out of all of them. She constantly dotes on Hollyberry, is really sweet to her (even if a bit twisted), looks at her through her crystal ball and smiles, calls her "her other half" (just like shmilk), and "my love", is constantly in her personal space, talks a out how she just wants Hollyberry to be happy, makes a song which she says "is just for you (Hollyberry) alone," etc, etc. Yes, she wants her soul jam back, but why not just take the soul jam and be done with her? Yet, Sugar asks for Hollyberry to "stay by her side", which isn't something you ask someone you supposedly hate and see as your enemy to do.

__________________________

Okay, so like, I wrote all that BEFORE the other half of ET'S update came out. And now it's confirmed she has feelings for Hollyberry so....

I think Eternal Sugar Cookie has BPD, and that VERY much affects how she loves. If you're curious, here's the full BPD symptoms list. I'm going to make a post that goes over how these symptoms apply to her, so look forward to that ig.

But anyways! Eternal Sugar's story shows that she is INCREDIBLY lonely and has an INTENSE fear of abandonment. She didn't want the other half of her soul jam; she even let Hollyberry leave without it. She gently just wanted Hollyberry by her side forever.

I think she has this toxic, romanticized view of Hollyberry. I've said it before, but the Beasts and the Ancients are LITERAL soulmates because their souls are both tied to the souljams. Sugar must've also seen it like that, because she constantly refers to Hollyberry as "her other half", and again, didn't even wanna take the damn souljam away from her. She says that she felt like her soul was "missing something", and, now that Hollyberry is here, "everything feels complete!" She doesn't need her souljam to feel complete, because Hollyberry Cookie, her other half and the one who wields the other half of their soul jam, is right there beside her.

All she knows is that Hollyberry Cookie makes her feel complete. Combine this with her genuine want to make a paradise for cookies, and this leaves the belief that Hollyberry can only find happiness if she's with Eternal Sugar, and that creates the belief of, "She doesn't know what she wants. If she stays here with me, both of us will be happy! But if she leaves, both of us will be miserable."

And, because she's a god whose gone insane, anytime Hollyberry tries to escape, she always does something that she thinks is helpful, but she knows will make her stay.

Giving her and her teammates a scent that will attract monsters so they come back to her garden for safety

Harming Wildberry Cookie via the monsters so she has an even bigger reason to stay

Showing how happy that Hollyberry Soldiers are in the garden

Attending to her every want and need

Bringing the Hollyberry Kingdom to the garden so she won't leave, and then giving them something that will make them happy to show that they would be miserable if they go back

Trapping her teammates in jars, because she knows that she will not leave without them.

One thing I love about Eternal Sugar is that she isn't manipulating out of malice. She isn't thinking, "Hehehee, I'm going to manipulate this cookie for funsies." She's doing it because she genuinely believes this is what will make both of them happy, and because she does love Hollyberry in some fucked-way. Her mind is probably going, "Hollyberry Cookie is misguided in what she believes in. I will do all those to show her she is wrong, and that she can only find true happiness if she stays here with me."

Because that's how a lot of abusers work. A lot of abusers do love their victims. But, the love they feel is so, so incredibly toxic and not the way someone deserves to be loved. Eternal Sugar's love for Hollyberry feels like how an obsessive abuser would feel about their partner, and I love it.

So, when I go over this scene, please know that I don't think that ET is doing this because it's fun. She's doing this because she believes it will make Hollyberry stay with her. Even Shadow Milk did that to an extent. While yes, he did enjoy torturing PV, it was all so he could get him to embrace deceit and stay by his side. For most abuse cases, there's always another reason.

(Not defending abusers, I'm explaining things. You don't have to sympathize with your abuser AT ALL. And I'm not just saying that to say that. This is the bitch who still holds grudges from the assholes in middle school who made her feel like her body was an object meant to be ridiculed, judged, and to be eyecandy for horny men who dont understand consent. YOU DONT HAVE TO FORGIVE YOUR ABUSERS).

______________________________

At the end of their story, Eternal Sugar says that she will let her leave with the cookies she holds dear, as long as she sees what will happen if she does, and if she takes a bite from the Golden apple. Sugar then shows Hollyberry a world where Dark Enchantress Cookie takes over her kingdom, with all of her friends and family dying trying to protect her. This, obviously, horrifies Hollyberry and she feels conflicted about leaving, and Sugar tries to convince her to stay, by reminding her of her past emotions and how awful she felt, and saying she won't have to feel those in her Garden.

What she did is a manipulation tactic. She made it seem like she gave Hollyberry a fair choice, but in reality, what she did was manipulating Hollyberry's emotions because she knows that most cookies would refuse to after seeing that, and then she tells her that, to make that go away, she can stay here. What she showed her probably wasn't even real (GingerBrave would NEVER let that happen), so she purposely gave Hollyberry a false idea, which she thought would make her stay.

So, when Hollyberry STILL chooses to leave, and Sugar's begging and pleading don't work (she also pulls the "no one understands you like I do" card while doing though, and I do think that she genuinely believes that), she crashes out. HARD

(I showed this to my sister who doesn't play crk, and she went on a rant about how "any yuri that toxic should just end in a join suicide" and "what the fuck? Is this supposed to make me want to play the game?" But, you know)

When she realizes that Hollyberry doesn't want to be with her, she starts flooding the entire Garden with jam, and only stops after they defeat her. Even then, she keeps repeating, "Don't leave. Don't leave", because she is so, INCREDIBLY hurt at the thought of being abandoned.

And that's another thing. Eternal Sugad has a MAJOR fear of abandonment (BPD symptom as well) and will do anything to keep those she loves from abandoning her.

Sugar says that she cares about everyone in her garden, and I really don't think that she's lying. But, it's because she cares about them that she keeps them trapped in her garden because she believes that if she doesn't, they will leave her and go into a world of pain and suffering.

And now, someone who she loved so much to call her her love and other half, has left her. After she tried so, so hard to make her stay.

But, lucky for her (or unlucky depending on how you see it), Hollyberry has still given her hope when she decided to save her.

Instead of being mad, Sugar is overjoyed that he other half decided to save her. She asks Hollyberry if she changed her mind for her, and, even though Hollyberry doesn't answer her, she tells Sugar to think about her advice (waking up and understanding that this isn't healthy), and, to my surprise, Sugar said that she would! She even lets Hollyberry go, without any of that weird monster scent stuff!

I think it's because, in that convo, Hollyberry said that she would come back. Eternal Sugar now knows that Holly isn't leaving her forever, and she will come back at some point. So, she wants to focus on making the perfect place for her when she returns.

Tldr; Sugar's love is obsessive and tied to her belief that what she is doing is right, her major fear of abandonment, romanticization of Hollyberry, and the fact that she's incredibly lonely.

_____________________________

Has it ever occurred to you that, with each update, it appears as if the beasts wanna fuck their ancients more and more? Atp, I'm half expecting White Lily and Silent Salt to just nasty fuck on screen...

[inkskinned]

it's because the bear wouldn't kill me just for being a woman. the bear doesn't kill me for fun. the bear can be shouted at, and will leave me alone. the bear won't make a tiktok complaining about how i crossed to the other side of the path when i saw him coming. if a bear kills me, it's just being a bear: it cannot understand logic. it is not acting out of malice - just fear or hunger.

bell hooks once wrote about how porches might be the only outside space left for women - it is still the domain of the house while it is also outside-but-safe. when i am in the woods, i am in the bear's home, and he has a right to defend his property. outside spaces - anywhere at night, certain parks in the day - those are often implicitly "owned" by men. i cannot explain the feeling of knowing when you have entered a man's "territory." you walk into a place and just know you are in their space. you get a sick sense - you're in danger.

the other day a group of about 8 men were fooling around in the woods while i walked my dog. i had to go around, take the extra 3 miles just to avoid them. it's okay, i like walking. this wasn't even a #feminism moment. it was just a tuesday.

what a plain and easy question. only one of the situations is seen as a tragic accident. i would rather die and have a park bench erected in my honor rather than have my family questioned about why they let me, an adult, walk in the woods in the first place when i should really be at home in the kitchen.

i worked in retail and food service. i have had women say and do absolutely heinous and abusive things to me - not because i was a woman, but because i was there, and they were angry. the way men treated me when angry was different - it was because i was a woman. you can always feel the difference, how there's an undertone of i'd hurt you worse if i could get away with it. i keep seeing people try to cite stupid statistics. why is there always a strange rage whenever women agree on things? like men can argue their way out of our lived experiences? it isn't a buzzfeed quiz - which of these traumas are you? 10 super cute ways not to fear strange men.

i have actually (thrice!) seen a bear in the wild, by the way. i died each time, obviously, and am a ghost writing to you. (it was scary but completely and utterly fine). the second encounter was a black bear with her cub. she looked at me like - do we have to do this or are we good? my dog was busy sniffing a bush, completely nonreactive. i felt like i was in a sitcom: feminist poet reacts - does she actually mean she'd choose the bear? my only thought was - she's so beautiful. her paws are massive.

and there's a part of me that feels the rage spinning out in a corner. why do we have to come up with quippy little comments in order to teach men empathy. would you rather die in a car accident or due to a mugging? and would you rather your house burn down due to an electrical fire or due to arson? gee willikers - it's almost like we're human people, and want to risk the accident versus the intention.

i would rather my last thought be oh shit, a bear rather than i'm a person too. why doesn't that matter? why don't you care?

[viaxslz]

▦ ﹒ ☆ CALLING THEM BY THIER REAL NAME ⸒ 별 ꜝ ﹫

享受 ! .°. ݁₊ 𐙚 gn!reader, cw: pet names, fluff, nothing much not proofread :P

CHAN

Pet name norm: Normally you call him everything but "Christopher" baby, babe, Channie, cuddlekoala™. he’s used to being absolutely babied. So the first time you go, “Christopher, can you pass me the remote?” His entire system reboots. He blinks at you like you just called him “Mr. Bang” in a courtroom. “Christopher…?” he repeats, slowly, suspiciously. “Are you mad at me? Did I forget an anniversary? Did I leave the fridge open again? Be honest.” 100% thinks he’s in trouble. Starts checking his calendar for any missed events, already texting Jisung like “DID I MESS UP BRO.” You’re just chilling, eating chips. “No? I just felt like it.” He softens like a microwaved marshmallow. “Oh. Okay. Just checking. But also… never do that again.” Gets dramatic: “Calling me Christopher feels like you’re about to divorce me and take the kids I don’t have.” Then pouts for 30 minutes until you call him “baby” again. Suddenly his tail is wagging. “THERE we go.” Lowkey likes it, though. Won’t admit it, but the next time you call him “Christopher” by accident, he gets a little blushy. Bonus: will use it against you if he’s being sulky. “Fine. I guess Christopher isn’t worthy of cuddles tonight.” You: “…what is wrong with you.”

MINHO

Normally, you call him things like: “babe,” “honey,” “min-min,” “grumpy cat,” or something chaotic like “my little menace.” So when you suddenly go, “Minho, can you help me with this?” He freezes. Turns to you slowly, squints. “Who’s Minho. Never met him.” Immediately acts like you just signed his death certificate. “Are we breaking up? Just tell me. I can take it.” (He cannot take it.) “Minho?” he repeats, mock-offended. “What’s next, you calling me Mr. Lee?” You: “I just… felt like using your real name?” Minho: “Well I just felt like dying a little inside.” Tries to act cool and unaffected, but he’s so dramatic behind the scenes. Lays facedown on the couch like a Victorian wife who just heard her husband say “We’re out of tea.” “You’ve been watching dramas again, haven’t you? That’s what this is. You're turning on me. Betrayal. Treachery. This is my villain origin arc.” The next day, calls you by your full government name just to “restore balance.” “Sure, [Full Name], I’ll take out the trash.” Eventually admits (grudgingly, while cuddling you under a blanket burrito) that hearing his real name from you is kinda… cute. “Just don’t make it a habit. I’m used to you being annoying and clingy.” Five minutes later, you whisper “Minho” again. Him, whispering back: “That’s it. We’re fighting. Pillow war. No survivors.”

CHANGBIN

Usually you call him stuff like “binnie,” “baby,” “cutie buff guy,” or something feral like “my gym rat prince.” So when you casually go, “Seo Changbin, can you hand me the charger?” He physically flinches. “What did you just say?” He’s staring at you like you just called him a disappointment in front of his mom. Instantly thinks he’s in trouble. “Wait wait wait, did I do something? Did I breathe wrong? Are you about to lecture me?” You: “No? I just said your name?” Changbin: “My government name?? In this house??” Dramatically clutches his chest. “You only call me Seo Changbin when you’re mad, confessing to a murder, or turning into a villain.” Starts spiraling for no reason. “Is this about the snacks I hid behind the rice cooker? Because I can explain.” Then gets all sulky. “You don’t love me anymore. It’s fine. I’ll move on. Tell the boys I died bravely.” You: “Binnie—” He perks up instantly. “Yes, that’s me. I’m Binnie. Your favorite. Your small strong man.” Pretends he’s joking, but lowkey sensitive about it. Will side-eye you for the rest of the day like a kicked puppy. “You used to call me sunshine… now I’m just Changbin…” Later that night, burrows into your neck like a koala and mumbles, “Don’t say my real name unless we’re getting married or I’m winning an award. It’s scary.” Next morning you wake up to a sticky note on the fridge: “Pet names only 😤 — Binnie ❤️💪🐻”

HYUNJIN

You're normally hitting him with the extra stuff like “angel,” “pretty prince,” “Hyunie,” “dramatic swan,” or “Michelangelo reincarnated.” So when you suddenly go, “Hyunjin, can you pass me the remote?” He goes dead silent. Eyes narrow. Jaw clenches. Paintbrush stops mid-stroke. “Excuse me?” he says like you just slapped him with a Shakespearean glove. “What happened to ‘baby’? ‘Love of my life’? ‘Muse of my soul’? Am I not your walking masterpiece anymore?” You: “I just wanted to say your name.” Hyunjin: “YOU SAY MY NAME WHEN YOU’RE CRYING INTO MY ARMS DURING A MOVIE, NOT TO ASK FOR THE REMOTE.” Paces dramatically like he’s in a K-drama about to turn evil. “I should’ve known this day would come. You’ve grown tired of me.” Actually gets quiet after that. Not sad just way too in his head. “...Do I need a new nickname? Have I lost my sparkle? Is my forehead too big today?” Ten minutes later, comes back with a list. “So I brainstormed some new pet names in case ‘Hyunjin’ is your new thing. Options include: ‘my gorgeous chaos,’ ‘hot disaster,’ or just ‘🌹.’ Thoughts?” You: “Hyunie, please chill.” He immediately melts. “THERE IT IS. I forgive you. Come cuddle me.” Bonus: if you call him “Hwang Hyunjin” he’ll drop to the floor like he’s been shot. “DON’T USE MY FULL NAME UNLESS I’M GRADUATING OR GETTING ARRESTED.”

HAN

Usually, you call him things like “baby,” “sungie,” “gremlin boy,” “my tiny chaos,” or whatever weird affectionate name pops into your head at 3 a.m. So when you go, “Jisung, can you help me with this?” He turns his head so fast it’s a miracle he doesn’t sprain something. He squints at you like you just betrayed him in a Mafia game. “Who? Who’s that? Never heard of him. Sounds like a loser.” You: “It’s literally your name.” Han: “Yeah but why would you use it? Did a demon possess you?” Immediately starts being weird about it. “Jisung? What’s next? You gonna call me ‘sir’? Should I put on a suit?” Then it hits him. He gasps. “Wait. Are we roleplaying? Is this serious? Do I need a fake backstory? I’m ready. I’m a barista who secretly writes music and you’re my mysterious customer with a tragic past.” You: “I just wanted the scissors.” Han: “Oh. Right.” Pretends he’s fine but keeps dramatically sighing and dropping hints. “Remember when you used to call me your little peanut butter cup? Good times.” Later you call him “babe” like normal and he immediately clings to you like a koala. “Thank god. I thought we were over. I was already writing a breakup mixtape in my head.” But now that you know it messes with his head, you start using “Jisung” just to be chaotic. He falls for it every time. One serious "Jisung" and he’s spiraling again. “What did I do now? I swear I didn’t eat your leftovers. That was Seungmin. Probably. Maybe.” Bonus: If you ever hit him with “Han Jisung,” he will crawl under the blanket and refuse to come out. “I’m not coming out until you say ‘gremlin baby boy of my heart’ again.” “You’re weird.”

FELIX

Normally, you call him sweet things like “Lixie,” “baby,” “sunshine,” “my little brownie,” or “deep-voiced angel from heaven.” So when you go, “Yongbok, can you grab my water bottle?” He freezes mid-step like someone just paused his simulation. Turns around slowly with those wide sparkly eyes “Did you just... call me Yongbok?” You: “Yeah?” Felix: “Did I do something wrong? Are you about to fight me? Should I sit down?” Genuinely concerned because no one uses his birth name unless it’s a government form, a relative, or someone trying to guilt trip him with childhood stories. Dramatically puts a hand on his chest “Are you mad at me? Was the hug I gave you earlier not good enough? Do you want a new hug? A deluxe hug?” You: “Felix, I’m literally just dehydrated.” Felix: “Then why are you dehydrating our relationship with this sudden formality?” He walks away muttering “Yongbok… unbelievable…” like you just told him Santa isn't real. Later shows up with your water bottle, two cookies, and a sticker he found “In case you’re mad at me. Even though I don’t know why. But I forgive you.” You: “I’m not mad, I swear.” Felix: “You called me Yongbok. I’ve been emotionally compromised.” The moment you go back to calling him “Lixie,” he lights up like a Christmas tree “There she is. My favorite person. I missed you. Please never disappear again.” Bonus: you try it again the next day just to mess with him. He clutches your arm dramatically “If you say Yongbok one more time, I’m changing your contact name to Tax Collector.”

SEUNGMIN

Usually you call him “minnie,” “puppy,” “smartass,” “grumpy cutie,” or “my favorite hater” depending on the mood. So when you hit him with a straight-faced “Kim Seungmin, can you pass me the charger?” He doesn’t even look up. Just goes, “Who died?” You: “What?” Seungmin: “You’re using my full name like we’re in court and I’m about to be sentenced. What happened. Be honest.” You: “Nothing happened, I just used your name?” Seungmin: “Okay. Well I’m scared now. And slightly offended.” Side-eyes you for a full ten minutes like you insulted his entire bloodline. “First of all, only my mom and my enemies call me Kim Seungmin. Which one are you trying to be right now.” Acts cool but he’s definitely being petty about it. “Sure. Here’s your charger, [Full Name]. Would you like anything else, ma’am?” Pretends he’s fine but starts purposely avoiding your pet names just to throw you off. “Okay, y/n. Cool shirt, y/n. Want some water, y/n?” You: “Are you okay?” Seungmin: “I was until I got government named in my own home.” Eventually you break and call him “puppy” again. He smiles, victorious, smug as hell “That’s what I thought. Now come cuddle me or I’ll start calling you by your email username.” Bonus: next time you say “Kim Seungmin,” he responds with “Present,” like he’s taking attendance “Kim Seungmin?” “Here. Emotionally wounded, but physically present.”

JEONGIN

Normally you call him stuff like “innie,” “baby,” “cutie,” or something unhinged like “my little menace in a hoodie” So when you go, “Yang Jeongin, can you help me with this?” He blinks at you like you just threatened him. “Excuse me. I know you didn’t just first-middle-last name me with your eyes like that.” You: “That’s literally just your name” Jeongin: “That’s a form of violence and I’m calling the authorities” Immediately grabs his phone “Hello, yes, I’d like to report emotional damage. Cause? My partner called me by my birth certificate name with no warning.” Stares at you in disbelief. “What happened to ‘baby’? What happened to ‘my sweet Innie who I adore more than anything’?” Starts dramatically narrating his downfall. “It all started on a rainy Tuesday when she called me Yang Jeongin. My world was never the same.” You: “You’re so dramatic.”Jeongin: “You’re so heartless.” Tries to pretend he’s joking but secretly keeps checking if you’re mad at him for real. “You’re not breaking up with me, right? Because if you are I need at least a week’s notice so I can emotionally prepare and eat ten tubs of ice cream.” You laugh and call him “innie” again. He instantly grins like a puppy and tackles you into a hug. “Okay good. I forgive you. But don’t ever scare me like that again. My heart is fragile.” Bonus: if you call him “Yang Jeongin” again just to mess with him, he’ll start responding with “Yes, [ Full Name], do you need assistance?” and bow like a waiter at a fancy restaurant

PERM TAGLIST 📌🔖 ──── @the-sea-called-history02 @oc3anfloor @queenofdumbfuckery @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @my-neurodivergent-world @bookswillfindyouaway @beal-o @velvetmoonlght @straystar-8 @myhwnghynjin

[wwinterwitch]

safe haven – bucky barnes

summary: bucky goes back to you after the void incident pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 3.7k tags: thunderbolts* spoilers!, vague void experience on purpose (for the full x reader experience), sam is back and he's pissed, fluff and fluff and more fluff (love is in the air people!), comfort, kissing, things get heated at the end but no actual smut is included (i think i'll make another part exclusively for the smut lovers, so the people that don't read smut can still enjoy this part)

please reblog and/or comment in you enjoy!

all masterlists | marvel masterlist | previous part

You gasp, snapping back to reality after...whatever the fuck just happened, trying to catch your breath in hopes of easing your headache and slow your heart rate. The broom you were using to clean up your apartment lays on the floor next to you, everything looking the exact same as it was when you left.

It cannot possibly be another Thanos situation, right? That time it felt like you just blinked, but now it feels like you've been gone for long tortuous hours. That time your roommate almost had a heart attack when you knocked on the door of your shared apartment because she thought she’d never see you again. And you certainly don't remember anything about experiencing the blip. Now...now you wish you could forget what you saw back there.

You were forced to experience the most traumatizing memories playing in a loop over and over again until all you could do is sit in a corner and cry as you beg for the images to go away. A horrifying display of the darkest moments of your life. The times you felt more unhappy and hopeless. And every time you thought you’d managed to escape, you’d just end up in yet another memory.

But somehow you're back in your apartment now. Everything looks the exact same and it seems like no time has passed.

Still, even when it seemingly feels like you're safe, you can't help but feel uneasy. The thought of what you saw is still very much present in the back of your mind, replaying over and over again, taking over your senses and clouding your judgement. 

What if this is just another trick and you’re about to experience another horrible memory? You look around your apartment, too afraid to move, expecting to see something that confirms that you’re still stuck in this never-ending nightmare. That you’ll have to stay in this place for the rest of your life.

The unexpected buzzing of your phone makes you jump, snapping you back to reality as you frantically search for it. Quickly spotting it on top of your dinner table, you keep wondering what the hell is happening as you read Sam's name on your screen.

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN? I'VE BEEN TEXTING YOU LIKE CRAZY,” you hear him shout on the other line as soon as you picked up, sounding incredibly agitated.

“I'm sorry, I...I don't exactly know what happened,” you mutter, staring outside the window in hopes of seeing something out there that might give you any clues of what is going on. To your surprise, you can see a few ambulances speeding past your street and you can spot a large cloud of smoke in the distance. 

Bucky and the others are most likely involved in that commotion. You can only hope that they’re okay, still having no updates. You can’t really tell how much time has passed since they left, so you can’t know for sure when Bucky is going to show up.

“The entirety of New York just went black,” he explains. “It just looked like darkness.”

“What?” you ask in disbelief. “I don't remember anything about it. I was just cleaning up my apartment and then somehow I was in...I don't even know what it was. It was like purgatory or something.”

“What do you mean?”

You sigh, not really wanting to go into too much detail about the stuff you had to witness. Honestly, you wish you could just forget it. “It was like being tortured, Sam. I don't know what it was, just that it was awful. I was cleaning my apartment and that's pretty much the last thing I remember before waking up in that place.”

There's a brief silence and for a second you thought perhaps the call was disconnected, but you suddenly hear Sam's voice again. “Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me!”

“What happened?” you say, evidently confused.

“Put on the news,” he sighs, muttering something else under his breath you can't quite hear correctly. “I gotta go, but I'll talk to you later, okay?” he says in a ruther rushed voice, sounding both pissed and worried. “Take care.”

“Sure. Bye, Sam.”

You hang up the phone as you sit on your couch, TV remote in your hand as you search for any news broadcast that's on. As soon as you find one, you stare at it in disbelief. There, in the middle of a street, is Valentina giving some bullshit speech you don't really care to pay attention to, and behind her stands the entire group of people that were in your apartment just seconds (or minutes? Hours?) ago, joined by a blonde guy you have never seen before.

They look exhausted and visibly confused to be in front of so many cameras. Bucky and Yelena look particularly pissed. But what matters the most to you is that they're all alive.

The next thing that really catches your attention is the text on the banner beneath the image. 'Introducing the New Avengers'.

What the hell is really going on right now?

The broadcast finally ended, and it doesn't take Bucky that long to arrive. All he wanted to do was to get away from Valentina and all the press that just kept taking pictures of him and the others. He barely even acknowledged the rest of the group, leaving as soon as possible. All he wants right now is to see you and make sure you're okay. He knows you're probably safe– of course you are, but he won't be calm until he's standing before you to make sure you really are unharmed.

He walks inside your apartment and immediately walks towards you, grabbing your face with both of his hands as soon as he's standing in front of you, frantically scanning your face for any sight of hurt or discomfort. It's almost as if you were the one out there fighting.

“Are you okay?” he asks, slightly out of breath, still not letting you go.

“Yes, I'm okay,” you reply with a reassuring smile, and he immediately pulls you in for a hug. “How are you?”

“Uh...as good as I can be.” 

His arms are still tightly wrapped around you, not wanting to let you go any time soon. Yes, he’s holding onto you because it’s a huge relief to confirm that you’re safe, but it also brings him an enormous amount of comfort, which is what he was craving ever since he stepped foot into the void.

“What kind of answer is that?”

“I don't know. It's been a lot. I was so worried about you.”

“I was so worried about you!”

He pulls away just enough, and you almost want to roll your eyes at the playful smirk on his face. “Don't try to make this a competition.”

“I won't make it a competition because I would obviously win,” you reply, exasperated. “I wasn't the one who was out there fighting...what was the guy's name again?”

“Sentry.” There’s a brief pause, his expression hardening considerably. “Were you there too?”

You get even more exasperated because you still don't understand shit. “Where?”

“The void.”

Realization hits you right there. The entirety of New York being consumed by darkness as Sam explained over the phone, the horrible things you had to see...of course a place like that would have such a fitting name. It felt exactly like it. You just felt empty and alone.

“So that's what it was. And the entire city was experiencing the same thing?” you ask, still in complete disbelief at the idea of one person having that much power. It certainly is a terrifying and dangerous ability to have. 

Then, after a quick pause, you realize Bucky had to experience that too, immediately hating the idea of him having to endure that. "Were you...?"

Bucky notices the shift in your expression, offering you a weak smile. “Yeah, we were all there.”

You don't know what to say at first. If you thought you had a hard time in there, you can't even begin to imagine the horrors Bucky was forced to watch over and over again. It breaks your heart to think about it. Even when he has made a lot of progress when it comes to healing from his past and learning to forgive himself, it doesn't mean the pain and guilt are not there.

“I'm so sorry,” is all you can say, feeling completely useless at that moment. Sorry doesn't make it better in any way.

“It's okay. It's not like this is the first time I've been there.”

His last statement absolutely crushes you. If you could find a way to take all of that burden off his shoulders, you'll do it in a heartbeat. Still feeling completely useless, you decide to pull him in for another hug, because at least that’s doing a little more than just saying you’re sorry.

“I wish I could do more to make you feel better,” you whisper, feeling his fingers gently running through your hair in an affectionate manner, kissing the top of your head.

“Being here with you is more than enough,” he whispers back. “You are more than enough."

“Oh, please don't make me cry now,” you warm him with a soft giggle, feeling like a few tears might actually come out any second now.

The sound of Bucky's laugh makes you feel just a hundred times better about the entire situation involving that stupid void, loving to hear it under such circumstances. It's impossible not to feel overwhelmed right now. That place really left you feeling like an emotional mess.

You move back from the hug just enough and Bucky takes that as his opportunity to pull you in for a kiss. The type of kiss that makes your knees weak and leaves your mind completely blank. A kiss you see in a movie with fireworks adorning the night sky, right before the end credits roll. One that feels like he's been dying to give you a kiss since he closed the door of your apartment before New York was consumed by darkness.

A kiss that shows you he really does mean it when he says you are more than enough.

“I'm really happy you're okay,” he mutters right after the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

I love you. That's all you can think of in this moment, and it takes everything in you not to say it out loud because how fucking insane would that be? To not even be an official couple and already say such a thing? Perhaps it wouldn't be so crazy given you've been best friends for so many years (and you've had a crush on him for most of them), but still. It's just too soon. Too weird. Too intense.

The fucking void really did numbers on you. Just get it together, please!

“I'm happy you're okay too,” is what you say instead, which sounds appropriate. And not weird. And not intense at all.

You offer to make him a snack after all that happened, forcing him to take a seat when he said he could do it himself. As you prepared a few sandwiches, he tried to explain as much as possible about everything that's been going on.

“So Bob doesn't remember anything?” you ask once he's done, just as you're handing him a plate with two grilled cheese sandwiches.

“Apparently,” he replies, right before leaning over the counter to give you a quick kiss as a way of thanking you for the food.

“Well, that's probably for the best, right? I mean if the Sentry part returns, it's only a matter of time until the Void part wants to have a bit of fun again too.”

He practically devours one of the sandwiches, looking like he hasn't eaten in centuries. “Probably,” he says nonchalantly, clearly more focused on eating. It's impossible to blame him for it, especially considering everything he's been through today.

You can't help but smile at the image of him eating the sandwiches like he's been deprived of food his entire life. So much so that he can barely hold a conversation.

I love you. It's like you just couldn't hold yourself back from wanting to blurt those three little words once again. Like it's physically impossible to hold them in. It doesn’t matter if he’s saying cute things to you or if he’s eating like a caveman. You love both sides of him. 

But you can't say it. You can't be weird.

Instead, you try a much more appropriate approach once again. “You're so cute,” you say with a smile, moving closer to run a hand through his hair affectionately. Then, you suddenly remember something that you two haven't discussed yet, and your 'I'm-so-down-bad' smile turns into a 'just-thought-of-the-best-joke-ever' smirk. “Might as well start calling you the cutest Avenger, huh?”

He turns to look at you with a soft grin on his face, immediately shaking his head. “Please, tell me you didn't see that.”

“Oh, but of course I did!” You take a seat next to him on your kitchen counter, getting more comfortable to continue teasing him. “The news called you ‘The New Avengers’. Who would’ve thought!”

“It was all Valentina's plan to save her ass.”

“So you guys are not going to accept the title?”

“We are, but we still need to have a few meetings to set some rules if we plan on working together…and boundaries.”

“Oh, don’t act like you’re so irritated by the idea! I can tell you’re starting to feel more comfortable around them.”

He’s completely silent for a few seconds, knowing he can’t lie without you noticing. “Okay. They might be growing on me.”

“Awwh,” you reply, but not with the intention of making fun of him. “I thought they were very nice. And I'm glad you're making new friends.”

“You're never gonna stop teasing me about any of these, aren't you?”

“Well...yeah, but I actually mean it when I say I like seeing you meeting new people,” you reply, changing your tone and demeanor to let him know you're serious. “And yes, I'll tease you about the whole Avengers thing, but that doesn't mean I'm not excited to witness this new chapter in your life.”

You begin gently caressing his arm as you offer him a sincere smile. “You deserve it. You deserve to be recognized for your kind heart and your willingness to help others,” you continue. “I'm so proud of how far you've come. And I'm sure Steve is proud of you too.”

The mention of his childhood friend brings a melancholy to his expression that is both sad and beautiful to see. It shows he still deeply misses him, but has learned to think of him without breaking down. It's the type of expression you have when you've finally found peace with the fact that someone you love is not around anymore...not entirely around, at least. He'll always carry a part of Steve Rogers with him.

"Thank you," he says, genuinely meaning it. 

I love you. Those three words threaten to make their way into your conversation again, but this time it's not you the one fighting back the urge to say them.

But It's just a little too soon, right? Last thing he wants is to make things awkward between the two of you. So he decides not to say anything, just like you have decided twice already.

You smile, standing up from your seat. “Finish eating, okay? I have to clean the mess the New Avengers left in my living room earlier.”

“Yeah, you'll have to get used to that, unfortunately.”

“Like I haven't had to deal with that before,” you joke, hinting back at all the times you had people like Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton randomly showing up at your place.

Bucky stays in your kitchen while you finish brooming until you’re sure the floor of your living room is impeccable, familiarity slowly setting in after everything that happened today. You could faintly hear Bucky having a phone call with someone, but you couldn't quite make the words out over the music you had playing on your own phone to make the cleaning much more entertaining.

You go back to your kitchen to throw away the dirt and dust you collected from the living room, just in time to see Bucky standing up to wash the dish he used, sandwiches long gone.

“I just got a call from Sam,” Bucky says as soon as he notices you, his tone letting you know it wasn't exactly a pleasant conversation.

“What did he want?”

“For us to immediately backtrack and not go through with the whole Avengers thing.”

“Yeah, he called me just as it was airing and he didn't sound too happy about it. What are you going to do?”

Bucky sighs, exhaustion visible in his demeanor. “I'll talk to him later. I don't think anyone in the team feels like backtracking right now. Most of them looked pretty excited actually.” You can't help but smile, which makes him let out a soft chuckle. “What?”

“You said 'the team'. I just thought it was cute,” you shrug, crossing your arms across your chest. “I should invite them for a pizza night or something. Get to know them a little better. And meet this Bob guy too.”

“You'll invite John?” he asks, half-joking.

“Please don't call him John,” you immediately reply, squinting your nose in disgust. “I'll have to warm up to him...very slowly. I still feel like punching him in the face when I see him.”

“That's fair,” he agrees with you, perfectly understanding where your discomfort with John Walker's presence comes from. Perhaps that might explain some of the reasons as to why Sam seems so against the idea of this team being a thing.

You notice Bucky walks towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Even when the possible pizza night sounds exciting, I kind of just want to think about the two of us spending time together alone,” he says, grinning mischievously. 

A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his fingers near your neck, gently pulling the fabric of your hoodie to the side, exposing more of your collarbone. He places a few kisses there. Slow and careful.

“Perhaps I can stay here with you for a few more days?” he suggests, right before leaving another kiss on your skin, using his other hand that’s firmly placed on your lower back to bring your body closer to his.

“Of course you can stay,” you reply in a soft voice, trying not to let it show just how much his actions are affecting you.

He practically hums against your skin. “Do you want me to stay?” he whispers, definitely making you shiver now that his metal fingers are tracing lazy patterns on your skin, underneath your hoodie. What a teasing piece of shit.

It’s almost impossible to speak now. “Yes.”

His fingers trail further up your spine, but not that much higher. Just enough to allow you to feel his touch in a slightly different place, making you crave for more. A silent reminder that he can just move his fingers wherever he pleases, but he deliberately chooses not to grant you that pleasure.

“Then say it properly.”

It’s not a suggestion or a plea. It’s straight up an instruction. And he sounds like he’s absolutely certain that you’ll do exactly as he says. 

And you do. “I want you to stay here with me.”

The kisses on your neck continue and it feels like a reward, so you just stand there and enjoy it, allowing him to worship your skin with his lips until you're practically trapped between his body and the counter.

You can feel your cheeks burning red, the warmth spreading to the rest of your body with each kiss. “Don't you want to take a shower?” you try being a voice of reason, your brain just doing whatever it can to help you feel less nervous.

“Why? You're thinking about joining me?” he whispers against your skin, which immediately makes you regret ever opening your mouth because what the fuck is wrong with him and how does he dare to say something like that?

Okay. To justify your growing nerves, you've technically never been fully intimate with Bucky yet. You've been pretty close because a girl can only hold back for so long, but the two of you have been mainly focusing on your emotional connection and that one is just so mind-blowingly special that there hasn't been a need to immediately jump to the physical aspects of your relationship.

But oh, is he tasting your limits right now...

“How you even have the energy right now is beyond me,” you comment again. You're not against the idea of something happening, but your nervous brain gets the best of you so you find yourself blurting out random things yet again.

Finally, Bucky moves away just enough, a playful smile adorning his lips. “I'll always have the energy for you,” he replies, and the implication behind his words has you blushing even harder.

You immediately hide your face in his chest while he wraps his arms around you, laughing at your reaction. “I hate you,” you mutter.

“No, you don't.”

That's true. You really don't hate him at all. It's actually quite the opposite, but you can already picture him walking out the front door if he hears you say how you truly feel about him. The thought of daring to confess you love him is a thousand times more terrifying than the idea of having sex with him for the first time.

You look up, smiling up at him when he kisses your forehead. “No, I don't.”

“Glad to see you're agreeing with me for once in your life,” he comments playfully.

“Don't push it,” you warn him, making him laugh once again.

“How about I take a shower like you suggested and then we take a nap together,” he suggests casually, still keeping his arms around you. “I think we can both use a little sleep.”

“Yeah, a nap sounds good.”

“Wow, two in a row! What has gotten into you?” he jokes yet again, trying to get you to stay in his arms when you start to push him away after that little comment, but he doesn't put up that much resistance, so you're eventually getting away from him.

“You're insufferable,” you comment in an obviously fake tone of annoyance, right before leaving the kitchen to head towards your bedroom.

“And you're beautiful,” he replies with a genuine smile, following after you.

[esote-rika]

to talk is to bare | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: hurt/comfort, fluff Summary: three times you've never felt enough for Spencer Reid—and the three times he rectified it immediately Content: insecure reader, written with early s2 Spencer in mind (glasses!Spencer rawr), reader wears makeup, implied bad relationships in the past, Spencer is just a sweetheart Word count: 2.4k A/N: entry for #lovers1kevent (congrats @mggslover muah) - the lyric prompt for this is “And I knew how you took your coffee and your favorite songs by heart, I read all of your (self help) books so you'd think that I was smart” from enough for you by Olivia Rodrigo. This was supposed to just be pure angst but apparently, I can't write this man as anything other than the perfect boyfriend.

“Well, actually, Dostoevsky intended the book to be a critique on certain schools of thoughts and ideologies, namely...”

You stare at your boyfriend, nodding along as he explains the intricacies and historical context of Notes from the Underground to you. His smile is kind and excited when he stops, looking at you expectantly.

“Right.” the smile on your face isn't forced, per se, but neither does it reach your eyes. How many times has it happened this month? It isn’t that you’re keeping count of all the times he’s corrected you—truthfully, you can’t, because you’ve lost count. And that’s the crux of the issue, isn’t it? The fact that you can’t even keep track of his corrections anymore, because he does it all the time. 

You remind yourself he's not doing this to deliberately make you feel stupid, your memory immediately calling forth all the times you've seen him correct other people — his teammates, the cashier at your favorite bookstore, a random person in the park. It's never pointed, nor is the act laced with anything but genuine, loving desire to share his knowledge. He's not like the men you've had to deal with in the past, the ones who jump at every opportunity to show off that they know more than you, that they're correct and you're wrong.

But this is Spencer. Sweet, wholly inexperienced, awkward. Half the time, he doesn't know how he comes across, and you've been dating him long enough to understand that. 

No, his corrections aren’t the crux of the issue. In fact, it isn’t even him. It’s you, and all the treacherous thoughts running through your mind. This damn book you’d read because you saw a dog eared copy in his satchel one day, pushing through pages upon pages of dense material just to catch up and relate with him, only to still come up short and have yourself be corrected.

The sting is still there, lingering and acrid in the back of your tongue. You cannot pinpoint it yet, this But it's Spencer Reid, so you grit your teeth and remind yourself not to take it personally. The words slip out easily. You could almost believe they aren’t lies. “Thank you for letting me know.”

The beam on his face is a reminder that not everyone is as patient, that he's come to expect looks that range from baffled to downright annoyed. Nobody else allows him free reign to talk like this, long winded rambles that get nipped at the bud with a sharp Reid. He smiles, beams at you, and this time the smile on your lips finally reaches your eyes.

“So what did I get wrong?”

“You weren’t wrong,” he’s pulling you in as he answers, lips finding the underside of your jaw and the bitterness dissipates, sweetens into something that makes your toes curl, “Just a little inaccurate.”

Your body melts into him easily. “You don't have to sugarcoat with me.”

“I'm not, it's literature. You can interpret it however you want, I just thought knowing the rest of the context would help you with your opinion.” he's kissing down your neck, breaths ghosting over your skin as he continues to talk, and you sink into his arms, forgetting why you were even feeling annoyed in the first place.

You’re not sure if you like the color you’ve put to make your cheeks flush. It's always been a point of contention in the past, your exes saying you don't put enough effort in, so this time with Spencer, you try. Even though you're not the best at it, even though you feel a little foolish because it seems a little too bright despite all of your hurried attempts to blend it a little more. But it’s too late to change now. You don’t want to go through the whole deal of reapplying your makeup because that would mean running late, so you ignore it and head to the cafe quickly. 

Spencer isn't there yet. You order your drinks, his black and into which you dump an exorbitant amount of sugar. Memorization is his thing, but you've come to learn a thing or two about him in the time you two are dating.

He's a few minutes late, and when he arrives, Spencer’s eyes lock on you. Or, more specifically, your cheeks.

“That bad?” you tease, standing from your seat and leaning over for a kiss. 

“You don’t have the coloring for that shade of red.”

Your brow knits as you pull away. Attempting to hide the flood of insecurity that swept through your chest, you let out a chuckle. Soft, shaky, and accompanied with a confused, “What?”

“It makes your cheeks look a little inflamed.”

“Oh.” 

Regret fills your chest, settling in your lungs until it’s difficult to breathe. You should have trusted your instincts and scrubbed the makeup off. Shouldn’t have tried something new on the one day the two of you can go out. He’s probably embarrassed by you. How silly, being a full grown woman wearing makeup bordering on clownish. 

He must have caught the hurt in your voice, the way your body deflates because he’s quick to remedy. “Hey, what’s that look for?”

It should embarrass you, the speed at which he picks up on your emotions. But he’s a profiler after all, he’s specifically trained for this, but sometimes you wish he doesn’t use it against you. Gentle hands cup your face. Cold hands, perpetually so until you’ve started keeping them between yours. They tilt your head up. 

“Talk to me.” 

“It’s stupid.”

“Nothing you say is ever stupid.”

You smile, “No, I think we both know that’s a lie.”

He relents. He knows you’re right; there are moments where you don’t make sense. “Not stupid, just…” his eyes roam your face while he searches for the word to use as compromise, as though he’ll find it tucked somewhere in your pretty features, “Lapses in discernment.”

You roll your eyes at his fancy vernacular, the attempt to soothe his mistake. “I think I prefer the layman’s term.” 

Spencer laughs sheepishly, then presses his lips to your forehead, “I’m never using that to describe you.” he murmurs against your skin, and then, “I'm sorry.”

Antarctica could melt from the warmth in your chest.  “You don't even know what you're apologizing for.”

“I upset you. That's reason enough.”

You sigh, pulling him to join you on the plush booth seat you'd managed to secure for your date. “Well, there's nothing to forgive.”

He accepts the coffee you hand him, corners of his mouth curved in a gentle smile. He sips, and you stew in silence, knowing that you shouldn't be leaving him guessing like this. He'd want to know, you can tell by the way he's studying you, the way he wants to examine and turn over your thoughts and reactions like he does with everything else in his life. But he waits, lets you open up if you so wish.

God, he's perfect.

“I was just having second thoughts about my makeup,” you murmur finally, “And you kind of confirmed it. I told you it's stupid.”

“Not stupid at all. I'm sorry,” you wonder if he takes his coffee sweet to match his personality, this asshole, “It was an insensitive comment. And for what it's worth, you look beautiful regardless.”

“Inflamed cheeks and all?” 

He laughs, pulling you to his side, lips firmly planted on your cheek “Inflamed cheeks and all.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have worn the blush after all; you're sure he's making you flush scarlet just by being such a sweetheart.

“Oh Spencer knows her.” the teasing tone in Derek Morgan’s voice normally makes you smile, but something about his tone makes you pause. You stare at the TV, where a new show is running, eyes zeroed in on the blonde actress.

“Spencer knows her?”

“Knew,” your boyfriend supplies, “Very briefly.”

Derek Morgan gives him a knowing smirk that has your stomach churning all the way to the end of the night, when you’re getting ready for bed.

You're in his apartment, in an old pair of his plaid pajamas and a t-shirt that fits you surprisingly well. It always makes you smile, his slight frame, the way you could easily steal his clothes and they wouldn't dwarf you too much. But tonight, Derek's words ring over and over again, bringing forth the image of her—Lila Archer, dazzling, perfectly curvy, an actress on a popular TV series… and apparently, a friend of his. You aren't really sure where this jealousy is coming from. He’s a trustworthy man, and you know he loves you. Still, the image of the beautiful actress persists, even as you climb into bed with him.

He's reading as he usually is, the low lamplight casting shadows over the sharp planes of his face. Without even looking, he shifts the book to his other hand, freeing up an arm to draw you to his body. It's easy, quiet, his heartbeat fluttering beneath your ear as you rest your head on his chest. The exact opposite of your own heartbeat right now.

“What's on your mind?” 

“Nothing.” It should be a sin, the way you keep denying your feelings. But it's just so silly, and you're a grown woman. Jealousy and insecurity shouldn't be consuming you like this, and yet…

“Please don't lie to me,” his fingers are in your hair, tangling deep into the strands and seeking for your scalp. They’re soothing and rhythmic upon contact, lulling your body into a sense of relaxation even though your heart still hammers at your chest.

“Why do you say that?”

“You usually remind me to use the overhead lights when I read.” fingers putting pressure on your scalp, traveling to your temple. He has you in the palm of his hands, “You didn't do that tonight. And your heartbeat's going at an abnormally high rate, even though I'm quite certain you didn't do anything strenuous before coming to bed. What's going on?” 

Damn him and his attention to detail, and the way he’'s learned your little quirks and oddities. He puts down his book and you turn your face to hide into his chest.

You chew on your bottom lip, reminding youself that this is Spencer, he wouldn't judge. “How’d you know her?” your voice is muffled against his shirt, “Lila.”

“We had a case in Los Angeles.” he pauses, as if considering if he should say more. Right. Confidentiality. You nod, accepting his answer.

“Must have been a high profile one then,” you muse, “Or were you just hanging around Hollywood studios with Derek?” It’s an unfair statement, but you can’t help it.

“No, no, it wasn’t like that.” You look back up at him and oh there’s guilt swimming in pools of honey eyes. “I mean, we kissed once, but I swear, nothing beyond that.”

You exhale. A kiss. He's kissed a TV starlet. 

This shouldn’t even be an issue. This is before you were even in the picture after all. It’s not fair to uphold him to some weird standard. You certainly had relationships before him. But none of them had been as stunning as Lila Archer. And if he could have Lila Archer, then what is he doing with you? 

“Hey,” his other hand comes to stroke your cheek, the soft pad of his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles, “Talk to me.”

It's a difficult thing, being mature and communicating when you just want to stew, but god he's so good, you can't punish him for this, for anything. “I thought you said I was your first girlfriend?” you say instead, teasing him.

“You are, but you know, I’ve kissed before, and been on dates—”

“With Lila?”

“No, with JJ.”

Oh.

“JJ?”

JJ? His lovely, warm spring day beauty coworker JJ? He went on a date with her? And kissed Lila Archer. It’s almost ridiculous, thinking about the type of women he's had dalliances with—lithe, blonde, perfect, before he settled with you. 

“Yeah, I took her to a Redskins game,” he says, his hold on your face still light. There's room to move if you want to, space to pull away should you need it and god he's just so perfect.

“You have a type, huh?” it comes out unbidden, sharp but dulled by a bitter laugh.

“What do you mean?”

“With women,” you reply, trying to temper the snappy tone of your voice. It's not fair to lash out at him like this, you know that, yet you can't help it. It's habit at this point, a form of defense that your exes have all been too happy to participate, “I'm the outlier.”

And apparently, he's an outlier too because his voice grows even softer, eyes searching your face with an anxiety that fills you with guilt. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” you sigh, arm draping over his waist and hugging him tight. 

He returns the favor, tangling your legs together until you're a mess of limbs under his sheets. “Then what's wrong?”

“Sometimes I just feel like—like I'm not good enough to be dating you.” there it is, whispered into his chest, striking straight to his heart. “And now, knowing that you could have had all of these — these women who could pass for models—”

“Angel,” the way he says the nickname makes you hide even further into his chest. He closes his arms around you, holding you so tightly it's difficult to breathe, but that's okay. Let him fuse your bodies together, let his breaths be yours too, “That's not true, you know that's not true.”

“Isn't it? You're so — you. Intelligent, well decorated in academia, an an elite FBI unit…”

He laughs, “I’m also an endlessly annoying know it all, I failed my gun license exam more than once, I don't have abs—”

“You don't need abs,” you counter, fingers clutching on his shirt.

“Wouldn't you rather be with a guy with a six pack?”

“I'd rather be with you.”

He gently moves away from you, hands finding your face to make you look at him. “And I'd rather be with you.”

You pout, “You can't use my words against me, ‘s not fair.” 

He laughs again, leaning to capture your lips in the gentlest of kisses, “I want you, I chose you, and I adore you,” he's murmuring between each kiss, hands cradling your face, “And if you have these thoughts again, tell me, so I can keep reminding you just how much I love you.” 

➺ My masterlist | Event masterlist

➺ thank you so much for reading <3

[loveemagicpeace]

Astrology Observations

Capricorn Rising has a Taurus in the 5th house. Which mean they don't like to waste time in dating. They have a very serious approach to this and have values ​​that people have to approach to. They usually prefer someone who values ​​themselves and knows their worth. Especially when it comes to intimacy, they don't like people who are intimate with every person. They like privacy in their relationship.

Pisces Rising has a Aquarius in 12th house. Which means that things they do are actually very unique. People often cannot explain their personality because it is intertwined and different - mystical. They have gemini in 4th house which can mean that they could be the target of gossip many times within the family. Their circumstances were always changing. They have Leo in the 6th house, so the only time they feel seen is when they do something for others or get sick.

Sagittarius Rising has Aquarius in 3rd house. Which mean that they have very unique way of how they think and say things. Their thinking can sometimes be quite different from most people and they can often philosophize for a long time. In their 4th house is Pisces which means they grew up in a family where they may have felt alienated or unseen. They have Capricorn in 2nd house so they are good at calculating finances and have a healthy attitude towards money.

Libra Rising has a Pisces in 6th house. Therefore, at work, they can often feel that their talents are not seen and appreciated as they should be. You have a lot of knowledge that others can benefit from, it's a good idea not to tell people what you're doing because others can steal your ideas. They may feel misunderstood and sometimes even exploited at work. But they can handle a lot of pressure and usually have very good health because their mentality is not so burdened they can quickly switch off.

Leo Rising has Virgo in 2nd house. They have a very analytical approach to money and tend to work multiple jobs at once or their attitude towards money can change a lot. In 3rd house they have Libra therefore, they usually always want to express their opinions calmly and often see other people's views as well. Gemini in 11th house shows that they have many friends who are different and can change over the years. They can appear very smart in society and can quickly integrate into society. With Aquarius in 7th house they tend to choose a partner who is innovative, resourceful, different.

Mercury in 12th house-You tend to be a contemplative, self-absorbed, insightful thinker who works things out for yourself, alone or in secret. You worry over trifles and inconsequentials, and may be very shy. You will want to keep things for yourself. Neptune in 12th house- You are deep and sensitive and likely to possess a strong artistic bent. You prefer to work and live in a quiet atmosphere where you can create or meditate. There may be a mysterious or otherworldly quality to your personality. Pluto in 12th house-You have a compelling desire to understand, to see deeply into philosophical questions. There may be a secret sex involvement in your life. You are a private person and do not share your emotions easily. You might not talk openly about sex or desire, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t important to you. On the contrary — it’s often something sacred, intense, and tied to transformation.

Mars in 8th house- You are passionate about life and have a strong sex drive. You are attracted to the occult, also to medicine and the healing arts. There may be conflicts in your family over wills or legacies. You are very intense but don't show it outwardly. You really want to have a lot of things under control, even if it doesn't seem like it. Intimacy and being able to express your energy with someone is important to you. Sex is very important to you, but you only share it with those with whom you feel a real and genuine connection.

Venus in Taurus- Venus emphasizes the social side of Taurus. Although basically shy and reserved with strangers, you can be a wonderful host or hostess. You like to entertain those you are fond of. You may not indulge as freely in frivolous pleasures as, say, Leo or Libra natives, but you are renowned for enjoying good food and good wine in plush surroundings. You believe in pampering yourself with the comforts of the good life.

The difference between Taurus & Scorpio: Scorpio are secretive, they don't want to reveal things but wait for the right moment. But their intensity is visible and felt. Scorpio likes to show ugly things and likes to show their true side. Over time, they will show the person their true colors. They are not afraid of ugly things and if they want to, they will show all their sides. Taurus want control and stability and everything they do is calculated and they don't like it when things get out of control. They like emotional stability and they will always think things through before they do it.  If something is wrong or they are jealous they won't show it or say it but will withdraw. Their control is shown silently. They want things to go their way and to be in control.

Scorpios are not really that obsessed with control, they are obsessed with the truth and secrets of other people, they want to know everything about the person. They want to be prepared for anything if someone cheats on them and they want to be one step ahead of them. Taurus is obsessed with how they come out and obsessed with being able to control their emotions and actions. Scorpio will give things  and go all-or-nothing, but will use the things they know about you against you if you hurt them. Taurus has a hard time letting go until they are absolutely sure they have everything under control and that things are exactly as they imagined. With taurus in your chart  you need order in your life—you get anxious when things are out of control. And because the unfamiliar makes you feel insecure, you tend to cut yourself off from fresh experiences.

Sun energy is the energy that everyone has and where you shine and get attention because you do something that everyone loves or everyone likes. It's something that everyone wants. Classic energy. Where do you get people's attention and where are you most visible. Something you embody that people would also want you to embody or have. It is the brightest energy. Sometimes the sun's energy represents a point in you where you want to be seen and you want others to notice that you have it. So you can try harder to show it.

Uranus energy is an energy that not everyone has and is more unique and special. Not everyone understands it either. Because you do something that makes you stand out from the crowd. This is where individualism shows. How you are on inside and in what way you are different from others. People who have a lot of this energy are often misunderstood because people do not understand their energy. Because the energy is sudden and striking in a way that attracts attention. Uranus energy shows itself in the way you are special, unique in yourself in some area of ​​your life. You speak and express a language that others may never understand, but it is important that you do.

-Rebekah🧜🏻‍♀️🌙💍