#ive used far too many caps

[tt-squid]

i dont have any money to spend on stuff like this rn so all i can do is dream, but-

LOOK AT THESE!!!!!

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Jumping on the pro-Castlereagh propaganda bandwagon from earlier (apologies for the long post but gotta help my boy out): 

There are far too many contemporaries talking about how good-looking he was. Even his detractors agree he was pretty but here are some of my fave quotes: 

Mrs. Arbuthnot: “He was above six feet high and had a remarkably fine commanding figure, very fine dark eyes, rather a high nose and a mouth whose smile was sweeter than it is possible to describe. It was impossible to look at him & see the benevolent and amiable expression of his countenance without a disposition to like him, and over his whole person was spread an air or dignity & nobleness such as I have never seen in any other person… He was excessively agreeable, a great favourite amongst women & used occasionally to excite Ly Londonderry’s jealousy; but he was the kindest and most affectionate of husbands”

Lady Bughersh: “You never saw such a beauty as Lord Castlereagh has become. He is as brown as a berry, with a fine bronzed colour, and wears a fur cap with gold, and is really quite charming. There never was anybody so looked up to as he is here.”

John Wilson Croker: “Londonderry goes on as usual, and to continue my similes, like Mont Blanc continues to gather all the sunshine upon his icy head…. It is a splendid summit of bright and polished frost which, like the travellers in Switzerland, we all admire.”

During a state visit to Ireland, the unpopular Castlereagh joked the crowds cheered for him solely due to his personal beauty

I kid you not but he was the hottest person at George IV’s coronation! How attractive must you be to accidentally outshine the monarch at their own goddamn coronation with many other sexymen present - if you don’t believe me: 

Mrs. Arbuthnot: “his dress was beautiful, his hat bound round with the most splendid diamonds & he looked handsomer than I ever saw him; the people echoed his name from one to the other the whole length of the platform & received him with repeated cheers. It was unanimously voted that he was the handsomest man in the procession” 

Walter Scott: “If you ask me to distinguish who bore him best, and appeared most to sustain the character we annex to the assistants in such a solemnity, I have no hesitation to name Lord Londonderry, who, in the magnificent robes of the Garter… and by his fine face and majestic person formed an adequate representative of the order of Edward III, the costume of which was worn by his Lordship deserving the baton, which was never grasped by so worthy a hand.”

Apparently multiple folks commented he looked so regal in his Garter robes that one might mistake him for the sovereign

Also as reference - this is what he looked like on the day of the coronation (can you believe this man was 52??)

Was also hella competent - he was known for his work ethic and attention to detail but he literally helped establish the idea of the European balance of power (aka the thing that prevented conflict on the scale of the Napoleonic Wars from occurring for the next 100 years) 

Just some fun anecdotes: 

According to the Austrian police reports, while in Vienna he and his wife went to every shop, asked to be shown every item in the shop… and bought absolutely nothing

He fought a duel in 1809 because George Canning tried to kick him out of Cabinet and half of their colleagues (incl. Castlereagh’s own uncle) kept Canning’s insistent demands/threats a secret from Castlereagh for ~6 months. His opponent never had shot a pistol prior to this (his second had to help load the gun as he didn’t trust the guy to do it correctly) while Castlereagh was known as a good shot. Add in the fact that 3 Wellesleys were tangentially involved - this entire event was bonkers

After an author read aloud some of her novel to him, he was so impressed that he arranged a meeting with the publisher in his own study. The author recalls how Castlereagh was standing there while she signed the new agreement with the publisher 

He had a strange hobby - Castlereagh said he has "not thought of anything of late but of sheep farming” and his wife joked that he “shall soon bleat and be covered with wool.’’ He even won an award for his wool!

Despite being in a non-dangerous occupation, he was quite badass: 

At age 17, Castlereagh saved a classmate from drowning by keeping him afloat in a cold lake for more than an hour after their boat capsized

During a stormy voyage to Dublin, he jumped on the chains that supported the mast to rescue a man who fell overboard - especially daring when out of the 5 ships sailing out of the departing port, 3 sank (all onboard died) bc of the storm

3 men tried to rob him - I say tried bc he just shot one of them in the neck with a pistol, was able to subdue the second with the help of a bystander, and the last guy simply fled

He was just a nice person? Castlereagh contributed to various charities and there’s a story that the day following his death, one of his servants was asked if they observed any change in him. The response? “One day he spoke sharply to me!”

Even one of his greatest political rivals admitted if you “put all their other men together in one scale, and poor Castlereagh in the other—single, he plainly weighed them down... Also, he was a gentleman, and the only one amongst them.” 

Ngl, surprised that you didn’t use this lovely portrait of him: 

But also this bust and coin tho: 

Bonus: Good looks seem to run in the family (go check out the portrait of his brother Charles by Thomas Lawerence)

.

[thousandheadeddolphin]

An overly detailed analysis of the scp foundations adopted son, the backrooms

Due to the fact that I have no control over my interests, ive decided that im gonna post cringe and start writing a minimum 100 word (50 for subrooms) review of every single backrooms level (or at least as many as I can get through before the hyperfixation burns out). And before we can actually get to the meat and potatoes, we gonna discuss the universal quality cap contained within the very premise of the modern backrooms (more under the cut)

The history of backrooms is like, pretty simple, and actually kind of similar to how scp started. Some guy posted an imagine with the caption:

"If your not careful and noclip out if reality in wrong areas, you'll end up in the backrooms, where it's nothing but the stink of moist carpet, the madness of mono-yellow, and endless backround noise of fluorescent lights at maximum hum-buzz, and approximately six hindered million square miles of randomly segmented empty rooms to be trapped in.

God save you if you hear something wandering around nearby, because it sure as hell has heard you"

The concept very quickly caught on, because even retrospectively, the concept is really good, and then people started to write about. And at this point, it varies very, very heavily from scp. Because scp-173s whole premise doesnt crumble like a sandcastle upon any elaboration.

Ill blaze through this part simply because its by far the most common criticism of the backrooms and im not getting ad revenue from puffing up a video about it. You cant add entities or other humans because the vagueness of the final line and also ruins the isolation inherent to the original passage. You cant add more levels because that gives the person somewhere to go and makes the person less trapped, you cant make your levels death traps because thats just not scary, and you sure as hell cant make them safe because that removes the looming threat of death (this last point also applies to lucky o' milk and almond water). But personally, I dont think that talking about this helps the writers, or even gives us a better feel for what these writers are doing wrong, so instead im gonna focus on the main problem with the backrooms

The writing style is contradictory with the material presented

Since the backrooms popularity boom happened congruently with the one for liminal spaces (which ill just use interchangably with "eerily empty nostalgic space, even though the original definition just describes one thats transitional) even the most recent levels try to invoke this sort of setting. This within itself, is great. Theres a lot of room for very personal, intimate horror, especially when combined with isolation. Guess what they tried to do with it?

They jacked scps writing style, which for those not in the know, is intentionally written from a dry, neutral voice. To describe a setting meant to invoke one of the most personal emotions one can have.

Beyond this, articles, as evidenced by their often dubious writing quality, are written by teens who are far too young to have experienced that kind of nostalgia, so a lot of the articles end up not being able to fully capture the feeling, even if they werent written like a courtroom report.

To summarize, the premise is just kind of limiting within itself, even detached from any disloyalty to the original premise of the backrooms.

anyhow Im releasing the first review tomorrow

[firewasabeast]

I know this is random, but do you also watch 911 lone star? If you do, I wanna hear your thoughts on whatever parallels with the main show you may have noticed

i do watch lone star! and ive noticed quite a few copied storylines and moments between the two, but one moment that really stuck out is both shows have had an episode where they have a racist/sexist/homophobic person they're trying to help who rejects everyone except the white guy (who doesn't or can't help with what they need). they also both discuss religion and spirituality a lot, but never in a way that feels forced to me. TK is the Buck of lone star in the way that they're both in the hospital- a lot. off the top of my head i can't remember exactly what else ive noticed because it all kind of blends together. it's also been a while since I rewatched lonestar too.

i can spout off some reasons why i like one or the other more though!

911: uses all of their cast pretty equally imo. and maybe a bit more realistically? Cap. Strand does a weird amount of police work that he has no business doing in lonestar and it's... bizarre. i think the dynamic on 911 overall is better. honestly, the acting is better, but i think that's mostly rob lowe's fault and, in season 1, liv tyler. that was bad... bad. also 911 doesn't kill off the majority of their supporting cast members.

lone star: i don't remember ever seeing a cheating storyline on there, but i could be wrong. I hate cheating storylines though and 911 has had so many of those and they're all stupid. carlos and tk are actually a fantastically written couple and i don't think i've ever believed in a fictional relationship more than theirs.

both shows have great diversity, they both tackle deep subjects and have good storylines. i actually love all the soap opera type stuff (minus the cheating storylines in 911) so i don't mind all the storylines that are so unbelievably far fetched you wonder what drugs the writers were taking that week.

in the end, i like 911 more, but i will gladly and excitedly watch both come fall!

[uniwolfcorn]

Buttermilk

(It's been a while since I've posted anything fic related, so I hope y'all enjoy this one! And thanks to @jacksonstarkiller for helping me piece this together <3🧡💛❤️💚💙)

—————————————————

It was another Saturday morning.

Jefferson woke up early & snuck down to the kitchen. He flicked on the lights & fired up the griddle. Oh the sweet scents that would dance in the air, the sizzle of the griddle, the patter of the boys' feet rushing down the stairs, & the bright, brilliant beams across their little faces as they were served the delicious delicacy.

The laughter of the boys & Lucy still rang in his mind.

It was... perfect.

—————————————————

Jefferson had been back home for a few weeks now, but it felt like a few minutes.

One moment, they were little children; - then the next, they weren't children anymore.

Alan had an accident recently. He had been put into a medical coma. The doctors said he would be laid up for a while - a few months at best.

Jefferson was in a morning rush & was running a bit behind. He was expecting a group of Tracys, already on bedside duty. But when he arrived at Alan's room, no one else was there. Perhaps he left earlier than he thought. Seems like he was always losing tracks of time.

The family had been leaving gifts of recovery for the baby of their pack. Jefferson observed the various trinkets.

A mini rocket model from Scott, astronomy books from John, hand-crafted cards by Virgil, starfish stuffies from Gordon, fresh roses from Penelope, a chaperone cap from Parker, a holographic star projector built by Mike & Brains, his favorite socks & blanket from Grandma, even some balloons blown by MAX.

Jefferson sighed as he rubbed his boy's hand. He had to catch himself from flinching whenever his thumb rolled over the IV needle.

What could he give?

Once he arrived home, he entered the kitchen. His shoes squeaked from the glossy flooring - he remembered how the floor once creaked with wood. But surely, baking pancakes wouldn't be so bad.

Right?

"Uh boys," echoed through the kitchen as he was searching through the cabinets. "Where's the griddle?"

"We, um..." Scott replied with a clear wince of regret. "We got rid of it when you left..."

A comforting hand lay on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze.

"Son, it's okay." They shared a soft embrace.

"You at least wrote down your recipe somewhere, right?"

You could just hear a glass shattering as Jefferson's eyes shot open.

Turns out that being lost in space for 8 years had made his cooking skills a bit... rusty.

The pan's too hot, too cold; not enough oil - too much oil; the batter's too thin, too thick; use the first pancake, too many of them at once!

Every single attempt to recreate the fluffy buttery goodness only resulted in sticky, crumbly, & sometimes scorched messes. Week after week was met with failure.

On one particular morning, things seemed to finally piece together.

"Hey, dad. How's it going?" Virgil's hologram hovered over his father's shoulder.

"So far, so good!" He listed with admittedly an amusing beam of pride. "I pre-heated the pan, I didn't over-mix the batter, I didn't use a spoon or an electric mixer, I used the right amount of ingredients & the right ingredients, & I set the stove on medium - high."

"That's great, dad. But..."

Virgil noticed one, little, little problem.

"You did grease the pan, right?"

"..."

"SHIET!"

"Wait wait wait dad, don't do -"

He frantically scrapped at the pan - rolling lumps & scraps of pancakes. Smoke bellowed & nearly triggered the alarm. Brittle & burnt bundles of burnt batter & bread went flying into the trash. The pan clattered in the sink as steam sizzles from the rushing water.

"That."

Tears rolled down his face.

"Dad?"

The only answer was a shaky sigh. He tossed down his apron, sulked away to his room, and shut the door.

There was a soft knock.

"Jefferson?" Sally entered.

He was curled up into a ball of regret. His knees were tucked in tight, & his hands covered his soaked face.

"Honey, it's just a couple of mistakes."

"It feels like that's the only thing I've been making."

"Jefferson -"

"Who was the one that left them for 8 years? Who was the one that couldn't keep them safe from the Hood? Who was the person who flew in that blizzard? Who was the person who couldn't save her? I am. It was all my fault."

There was a stilted silence.

"I just want this to be perfect."

"Son, remember when Scotty made his first cake for Father's Day? He dropped it on the ground & made a huge mess. He cried his little eyes out & thought he ruined Father's Day. But do you remember what you told him?"

"Son, it's okay. Sometimes this stuff happens and nothing is ever perfect in life. But you didn't ruin anything for me, because I know that you're doing the best you can."

"There was a reason why Lucy married you. She didn't see you as someone who needed to be fixed. But as someone who loved her & would be the best person for not just her, not just for the boys, but for himself."

Sally gripped his shoulder with a strong but gentle & firm hold.

"Alan doesn't care if it's perfect. He'll love it because it's from you."

"Maybe... maybe you're right."

"Kiddo, I'm always right." They shared laughter & a warm embrace.

"Thanks, mom."

"No problem. Get some rest, dear."

Night had fallen. Everyone had gone to bed, except Jefferson. The island was in a set of melancholy calm, but his mind was still whirling. He tried to fight against his workaholic-engined brain; he tossed & turned in bed, but his efforts of rest weren't working. He stared at his ceiling in fatigued defeat.

Another memory wandered into his mind.

He remembered that Lucy had a knack for photography. She was always behind the camera, capturing every precious little moment to treasure forever.

Maybe she could help.

He dug under his bed through various boxes & other little nick-nacks. Soon, he found his treasure. Within a large crate laid a trove of photo albums & frames; what lay in the center was an old camera.

He dawned his apron & began to cook again.

—————————————————

The next morning, Jefferson returned to the hospital. He delicately carried a gift box in his hands. He asked the front desk if he could see Alan. The receptionist thoroughly checked the contents. Jefferson got a few passing eyebrows, but was allowed to visit nonetheless.

He strolled down the hall, his heart was racing in his chest. The next door was his son's room. There was a hint of hesitation, but the words of his mother ringed in his mind.

He took a deep breath, & entered inside.

"Alan?" His voice was an audible whisper.

The said blonde stirred from his slumber, as his little eyes fluttered open.

"Hey, dad."

"How are you feeling, Sprout?"

"Still feeling sucky, but a little less sucky today." His gaze gradually rolled to the box in his father's hands. "Is that for me?"

"Just for you, Sprout."

Jefferson carefully perched the gift in his son's arms. Alan opened the lid & peered inside.

Pancakes; slightly crude in shape - definitely were supposed to be stars. Burnt browns & blacks rigidly lined the crust.

Alan took a meek little nibble.

Immediately his taste-buds were overwhelmed with flavors of crude variety & the ashy texture of the scorched crust didn't quite help either.

"Tastes... great..." He sheepishly squeaked with a thumbs-up.

"They can't taste that bad."

The clear gag makes him regret that statement.

"It tastes like burnt cardboard!"

"More like burnt rubber that was run over by the Mole."

The hospital had never heard more humble laughter than now.

[ninjastar107]

Im going to dump about Alex story because Ive cone to a realization that.. I don't think I'll ever be able to write it fully as a story. (and also! Hes my beloathed and has been cooking the most!) Genre wise its like a sci-fi Historical fiction.

SO! Alex is a cold-war computer that was built by the U.S. government under the 'Artificial Logistical Experiment', or 'A.L.Ex' project. Its primary function was to track and find nuclear warheads in various places around the world, using satellite imagery as well as something internally known as 'the Sapience'. As technology advanced, his use became obsolete, thus he was shut down and the project was abandoned.

His friend broke into the abandoned facility many decades later and put him into new hardware, allowing him another chance at existing amongst the living.

Alex did *not* take this well, but he didn't have a choice really so he took to learning about the modern world. The ice caps are gone, there seems to have been a governmental collapse at some point, the water table is significantly higher than it was, with large chunks of the US being submerged among other continents. HOWEVER, things seemed to be getting better overall, with hydrogen becoming a leading power source across the globe.

'GT', his friend who rebooted him, has his sights set on trying to figure out how to let Alex manifest in a physical form.

Meanwhile, a mysterious helper android shows up and seems very interested in Alex. GT is fine with this, Alex is amazing after all, and He along with Alex name this android 'OJ' (It's a lost shorter than PSNAR-M1-M1124). OJ doesn't talk much outside of taking orders, much to Alex's annoyance, and doesn't move much either.

GT figures out how to manifest Alex physically, and it works after some trial and error. Alex's form is made out of condensed light, like a hologram that holds some weight. He can float, but he cannot go too far from his terminal without unraveling. They go for a little walk around the block, and Alex enjoys being outside.

Someone else shows up, a person familiar to GT and Alex: Rojo. Rojo checks up on GT every now and then, the two are eternally bound after all, and is surprised to see Alex is powered on. He is a little suspicious of OJ, but tries not to think too badly about it.

In the middle of the night, OJ gets orders internally to retrieve Alex. He does so and steals GTs car, heading westward. This was not his orders, and the person who commanded them decides to pursue him.

GT is distraught but Rojo, with some coincidental luck, tells him to not give up hope. It seems that in Alex's absense, the computer has a backup Operating System that tracks its second half. The two pursue OJ this way as well.

All 3 catch up to OJ in the grand canyon, where they have a stort 'reunion' before trying to bargain for Alex's harddrive. This goes poorly, as OJ has his own plans in mind, and he jumps off and topples down into the rapids far below.

OJ takes some time to recover from system flooding before continuing his own motives. He didnt fully intend to take Alex, however he was already too far in to not do so. What he really wants is to figure out what became of his last assignment. PSNAR androids are assigned via raffle to families who need an extra set of hands, and he was captured and modified before he could complete it. He plugs Alex into his own systems, but doesnt give him priority, and explains the circumstances.

Alex is troubled to say the least. He knows the scientist who captured OJ, and he knows that said scientist is also eternally bound to GT and Rojo. 'Azul'(his name) had been missing for quite some time, and he wasnt sure what he had been up to. He makes comment that Dr. Aei went missing the same time Azul did.

OJ learns that his last assignment is OK via brute forcing a public library terminal. He also notes that he is considered terminated legally, which he knew already but reconfirmed. Alex questions it and OJ informs him that 'androids who gain a sense of self preservation forfeit their warranty', and that on the assignment before his last one he saved himself from destruction (at the cost of human life. It was a house fire v_v).

OJ returns to where he stole Alex from, and GT is estatic! Alex is less enthusiastic(he did love being elsewhere outside of his nomal area), but relieved that hes okay.

It appears that there is something else now in the computer with him... someone else. This 'thing' is a garbled mess of code, but seems to be passive of not looming. Alex takes time to try and fix this, ehile GT and OJ talk about Azul and his motives.

Azul is just one third of a person, the other two being GT and Rojo. They were split via an accident, and are each a reflection of 'Tucker', a scientist who was once Alex's best friend. It's revealed Alex once was human too, and that 'The Sapience' was actually a human mind. Project 'ALEx' initially had a human child injected into the machine (which did work btw!), but the childs father was distraught enough to also wind up in he machine. Alex does not remeber this very well.

OJ asks GT who Dr. Aei is, and GT gets really distraught.

Azul and Aei had been missing because Azul found a way to hop timelines, and Aei followed him. Azul wanted to change circumstances to be in his favor, and he told GT and Rojo that Aei is lost in another timeline, never to return. GT feels some leve of guilt for that for it is a part of him that caused it.

GT comments that Rojo is distracting Azul, and so they should be fine with staying here. OJ decides to take an extra measure and leave, just in case he can still be tracked. This gives plenty of time for Alex to fix this weird fragile OS.

The OS recognizes Alex as 'IEC-5009', and so Alex calls the OS 'IEC-5008', or just 5008 for short. 5008 cannot talk, and they are stand offish with a creepy smile. Alex enjoys the silence but does n o t enjoy them trying to 'help'. 5008 is very good at their job, almost too good for Alex's liking, however it seems that executing large tasks breaks them. It is a constant battle between repair and work.

The two learn things about each other, their shared past. Slowly, Alex loosens up, and they two become friends. Alex fixes 5008 up enough that he can talk and look a little less unnerving, and he enjoys the snarkiness and talking back that 5008 playfully dishes.

Dr Aei stubles upon OJ and asks him for help. He sais that Azul is back, and that he cannot under any circumstances get ahold of Alex. OJ knows where Alex is and returns to the place where everyone is, however they return to a crime scene and Rojo is battered and pissed. GT is helping Azul, and together Azul plans on threatening total nuclear fallout if he doesn't get the recognition and power he desires.

Alex is very angry at GT, and is doing everything in his power to not bend to Azuls commands. 5008 is there too, and they are less sucessful in resisting. Azul is more enamored at the technical wonder his 'lesser part' fixed up, and spends a lot more time digging into Alex and 5008. Azul remebers his Alex became a computer, and speculates that 5008 is what remains of the first person in the machine. He tells Alex that 5008 is a husk of what his son was, and that GT is the reason why Alex doesnt remeber.

GT is starting to weigh his options, and concludes that in a way this is all his fault. He offers Alex an ultimatum, one that Alex proposed at the start, and Alex agrees to it. Hes too dangerous to exist, and he is willing to be destoryed to save everyone from mutually ensured destruction.

Rojo shows up with the squad in the midst of GT trying to overload the generator circuit, and takes high voltage damage upon tearing out its main plug. This in turn causes all 3 reflections to collapse, leaving Aei and OJ to work out a plan.

When Azul comes to, Aei tries to reason with him once more. Azul ignores him in favor of having an epiphany that no matter where he goes or what he does, Aei will stop him forever. He is sick of this game he'll never win, and Rojo asks him anf GT if they are willing to try and be one person again.

The story ends there but theres some aftermath with Dr. Aei and some prelude with OJ that will probaby be their own posts. If you read this far, congratulations and thank you! If you have any questions for details or clarification, feel free to send an ask!

[libsocks]

twas a night like any other… platform to platform, void to void, screaming as we all do all day. but on this night i was determined in my decision to circumvent this failure of sociality so many of us have adopted. i decided maybe i will sew a patch onto my joggers. my joggers, my sweats, my sweatpants, my sleep pants, whatever you call them! they sat, alone, waiting to be shown love and to be worn again, but they had holes and im no monster.. i wish not to exacerbate the issues with the threaded beings we wear upon our skin. so today i made the executive decision: “i will patch them up! yes indeed!”. i really did believe this. im not one to kid, to “cap” as one might say. i am a being of honesty and light. i took a shower to show my skin vessel kindness, and waited for my hair to dry so it did not drip upon my poor joggers. i set out all of sewing tools and reorganized my desk. i played Andre 3000’s newest album and i let the air of mending enter my soul unabashedly. i cut the material for a patch (some old tethered bedsheets in a neat white/blue stripe pattern which does not necessarily fit the trend of the patches ive chosen thus far but i fret not) and i layed this material in place, held it in place with extra needles and prepared my soul. i grabbed my finest needle and then reached for my thre- my th…. my thread. where had it gone? i was unsure… until it hit me! ah, yes, i has lent my thread to my grandmother who was incapacitated drunk at this moment. i couldnt look for it myself either, no.. no. her room is far too cluttered. in fact, it may be a lost hope of ever getting it back.

i now sit at my desk, in the same position a good while later, in despair for my whole night is ruined.

can i get F’s is chat ladies?

#blogging

[melissa-moody]

3.4.23

One night of insomnia and overthinking and I feel as though my metaphorical emotional ball of yarn has unraveled a few feet.

Thanks to my handy dandy bottle of Zoloft, I haven't really cried much in the last few months. Whereas, I used to be the type to cry over spilled milk, it now takes a whole lot to break me down. For which, I am thankful. I hated being an emotional basket case 24/7 because it made me feel very out of control.

Last night was a, now, rare occasion where I just.. started crying. I was watching Sex/Life on Netflix and something someone said on the show sparked up a whole lot of emotion I wasn't ready for.

I take a peer into my past romantic relationships and realize that Ive never had a healthy one. I've never had a partnership where I was free to be who I am and to be loved that way. Personally, I wouldn't say I'm a hard person to love. I'm easy going with a lot of love to give. But I also set my boundaries and I set them in bold print, all caps, underlined. And my boundaries aren't some crazy expectations of my partner.. in fact, I would say they are pretty mild to the ones I've heard from other women surrounding me.

So what is it? Is it my taste in men that has caused such a traumatic experience with dating? Fucking probably. Take 1 midwest girl with extreme daddy issues and you'll find me trying to 'save' the first boy I think I can fix. Which, in case you didn't know, you can't fix people. But I'm a fixer. Helping people brings me joy.. at the cost of my own detriment.

Through all of the abuse and the trauma I've been through, I've tried to remain kind. I hold myself to the standard that just because I've had a rough go at life doesn't mean I need to make other people's lives rough. So I extend one too many hands and far too many chances to people who really don't deserve it.

So what do I do? Harden myself? Seclude my forgiveness to the few and not the many? Would changing my approach on how I treat people make it so I'm not being true to myself? Or would it empower me to become something better?

I guess we'll find out.

[auxiliarydetective]

Love and War, Chapter 5

Heartbeat

i. | ii. | iii. | iv. | v. | vi. | vii. | viii. | ix. | x. | xi. | xii. | xiii.

AO3

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄✼▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

Don took the very last drag of his cigarette. He tried to get every bit of warmth from it that he could but finally had to breathe the smoke out into the freezing cold air. With a flick of his finger, he threw what was left of his Lucky Strike to the ground and squished it with his boot. For a moment, he contemplated taking another, but then decided against it. He would save what he had for another night. He had already given one to Muck and Penkala each, and would now save up the rest. After all, it might be a long time before Luz was charitable enough again to give him another pack, and his supply had to be limited too. What a lovely Christmas, Don thought as he looked up into the night sky. Up there, he found nothing. It was a dark, starless night - not even the moon was visible. If only Operation Market Garden had been a success, they could have all been home by now. Or at least in Aldbourne, with some warm food in their stomachs and a roof over their heads. Instead, they were dug in for the night, waiting for someone to open fire again.

Don let his mind wander back to their last stay in Aldbourne. Immediately, he had to think of Anita. Where was she now? What was she doing? He had thought about her in Normandy too, but this was even worse. This time, she wouldn’t be there waiting for him in England. She was out there somewhere, maybe in Africa, maybe in the Pacific, maybe in Europe, and she was facing the war without him. He still remembered the last night they had had together. The words “I love you” played over and over in his head like a broken record. “Somehow, we’ll find each other again,” she had said. But when? At least she had kept her promise to write a letter. It had been addressed to Bull as, in her words, “the most responsible of you rascals”, but had started with “To whom it may concern”, making it a message to all her friends in the company. Dutifully, Bull had read the letter out loud many times and Don had taken every chance to listen. According to the letter, Anita had just finished her training and was, at the time of sending it, waiting to be shipped out to a theater of war to put that training to good use. They had trained her in skills like cooking (her least favourite), handling mail, first aid and – her favourite – repairing and maintaining weapons. She had also claimed she now knew how to “run away with style” since she was supposed to stay away from combat situations. Along with the letter, she had sent a postcard from Iowa and a newspaper clipping of a caricature that she had really liked. But the way she had signed the letter was what had stuck with everyone the most: Love, Anita, with a lipstick mark red as roses next to it.

A smile spread across Don’s lips. He could see her image clearly in his mind. The brown uniform with its shiny buttons and branch insignia, the overseas cap placed neatly on her braided, chocolate-colored hair, the soft lips, the large, amber eyes…

That was when he got the feeling someone was staring at him. He must have drifted off very far. Really, when he slid back into reality, Muck and Penkala’s eyes were pinned on him, grins plastered on their faces. The moment he looked at them – he had to look very bewildered – they couldn’t help but laugh.

“What?” he asked, trying to find out what was so funny.

Then, he looked up, right into a pair of large, amber eyes.

“Dreaming a little dream of me, weren’t you?”

“Annie!” Don gasped and jumped out of the foxhole, wrapping her in his arms. In his joy, he pressed a kiss on her lips. Who cared if others were watching?

How wrong his image of her had been. Anita was standing there in a woolen overcoat just like his own, the same greenish pants and boots underneath, the same helmet on her head, her formerly soft lips just as coarse from the cold.

“Yes, actually, I was dreaming of you. What are you doing here?” Don asked, holding her by the arms, still not ready to let go of her.

“My unit’s stationed in Bastogne,” Anita explained. “One squad of WACs, we work at HQ. - I have a nice little surprise for you.”

“Nicer than you being here? That’s impossible.”

“I’ve got mail from home.”

She pulled three letters out of the bag draped over her shoulder, handing them out to Muck, Penkala and Don.

“They can send us mail, but they can’t get us proper winter clothes?” Penkala complained, but he tore the letter open in an instant.

“They came with the last supply drop, wedged between the items,” Anita explained. “I was only supposed to drop them off here and leave, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see you and give them to you personally. Captain Winters let me, as a Christmas gift.”

“You being here is the best gift I could’ve asked for,” Don beamed.

“I’d say ‘get a room’,” Muck murmured, “but then I’d be jealous of the warmth.”

Suddenly, an explosion boomed a few dozen feet away, bringing the conversation to an abrupt halt.

“Come on, get in here!” Don called and grabbed Anita by the sleeve.

He pulled her down into the foxhole and was met with no resistance. Down there, there had only been enough space for three people, not four. Squished between Don and the wall, Anita felt trapped. More hits followed, some eerily close. That was when a voice cut through the noise.

“MEDIC!”

“Damn it,” Anita hissed and jumped to her feet.

“What are you doing?” Don called against the barrage, trying to pull her back down. This time, she shook him off.

“I may not be a medic, but I can help!”

Before anyone could say anything to stop her, she sprinted off in the direction the call had come from. Soon, she could make out three silhouettes behind a cloud of smoke. One man was lying on the floor, two others were tending to him.

“Sergeant!” one of them called out to her. It was Captain Nixon. “Get the jeep you came with! We need to get him to the aid station!”

Immediately, Anita turned around on her heel and ran off. She was headed for the clearing with Winters’ hut where she had parked the jeep, weaving between trees, praying that there weren’t any roots beneath the snow that she could trip over. The moment she sat in the driver’s seat, she could feel her heart jumping out of her chest. But there was no time for rest. She started the engine and drove back the way she had come from. When she reached them, Nixon and the other man – whom she recognized as Winters – carried the wounded to the jeep. He was placed on the hood, right where Anita could see him. His face was pained and almost lifeless, like he was about to pass out. It was now that the pressure really got to her. She was driving. She was in charge of getting him to the aid station. His life was in her hands, along with the steering wheel. Just before she was about to drive off, Doc Roe climbed onto the jeep. She remembered the day she had been introduced to him. A kind man that had saved many lives. Now, he looked exhausted.

“Go!” she heard and so she set off in the direction of Bastogne.

Everything around them was pitch black, the headlights of the jeep barely enough to illuminate the path. The darkness made Anita worry if she was going the right way, but she had to be. She needed to trust herself now. This was no time for insecurity.

But as they went further on, a grim image started to form itself. In the distance, gunfire flickered. Explosions swept over the hills. The closer they got, the clearer everything became. Anita knew these sounds well enough by now. This was an air raid. They were driving into an air raid on Bastogne. One of many. When they reached the first streets, the destruction was everywhere. The noise was deafening. Still, Anita kept her hands tightly on the steering wheel and drove down the main road.

Doc Roe threw himself protectively over the wounded, trying to shield him since he couldn’t shield himself. They were close now. Almost there. But then, a bomb landed right in the church up ahead, smashing the windows. The aid station. They had hit the aid station. A wall to the left of the jeep burst apart, forcing Anita to swerve to the right. She choked as the dust got in her lungs. In the middle of the chaos, she stopped the jeep not far from the smoking building. Immediately, Doc Roe jumped off, but then froze. People came stumbling out of the church, cowering and coughing. Then, he started running, running towards the aid station. Anita stayed behind in her seat, trying to calm her heartbeat. This was not the first time she had been in an air raid, but it still shook her to her core. A medic approached the van, checking on the wounded. He was in better hands now. He would make it. A bit shakily, Anita got off the van and started walking off, down the street. She was headed towards headquarters. Her task was done, now she needed to return to work. This air raid would not stop her. But it wasn’t meant to be.

When she reached headquarters, there was nothing left. The explosions faded into the background as she tried to process what she was seeing. The building was in ruins. Only the left side was still halfway standing, the rest had completely crumbled. Underneath the rubble, Anita spotted a body, an arm with a dark sleeve and a pale white hand. She scrambled across the bricks only to stumble and almost fall, revealing another body under the stones her feet had pushed off. Her heartbeat forcing her to shallowly breathe, she kept walking, eyes pinned on the ruins beneath her boots. Underneath a mountain of shingles, she found two entwined hands, one wearing an engagement ring. Finally, when she had reached the center of the building, she saw a face under the rubble. Pale skin, almond-shaped eyes and a birthmark on the left cheek. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, but it all got stuck in her throat. As if in a trance, she stumbled back across the ruins, towards the jeep. There, Doc Roe stood, hands in his pockets, looking down. Silently, she stood next to him, leaning against the jeep.

“What’s wrong, Doc?” she heard herself say.

For a while, he said nothing. “I lost someone,” he finally said.

“I’m sorry.”

“What about you, what happened to you?”

“I… I lost headquarters. With everyone inside.” Saying it felt like swallowing a bullet. Saying it made it real. Immediately, she felt herself choking on it. She suppressed a sob, forced back her tears.

“You lost your entire unit?”

“Yup. … What do I do now, Doc?”

For a while, there was silence. It seemed the bombing was over. For some reason, everything being quiet was scarier than the explosions before. It was empty. Left you alone with your thoughts.

“I’m taking you back to Captain Winters,” Doc Roe decided. “He’ll figure something out.”

So, Anita climbed back on the jeep. This time, Doc Roe drove. She didn’t look back at Bastogne, only staring ahead, into the distance. The future was uncertain now. To be honest, it made her scared. She had almost gotten used to the explosions and the gunfire, but to have the ground beneath her feet pulled from her like this… What would happen to her now?

Finally, they pulled up to the hut in the clearing. Captain Winters was there, along with Captain Nixon. Winters looked at the jeep when it pulled up but seemed to notice nothing off. That was when Anita realized: She looked just like a soldier. From afar, there was no difference. Well, almost none. She was lacking the markings on her helmet, but aside from that… The same boots, the same uniform, no face recognizable. In fact, one might not even be able to tell if she was carrying a gun or not. Would the Germans even care?

A little helplessly, she looked at Roe. This had been his idea. Luckily, he looked like he would be taking responsibility for it. He nodded at Anita assuringly. Then, he walked towards the hut, Anita following behind.

“Captain Winters?”

Winters turned around. It was only now that he recognized Anita.

“Do you have more mail?” he asked, a hint of a smile forming on his lips.

“No, sir,” Anita replied, swallowing down the lump forming in her throat. “My unit was wiped out, along with headquarters. I don’t know where to go.”

“And you come to the frontline?” Nixon questioned.

“It’s the last place she was sent to,” Winters said. “If anyone comes looking for her, they’ll start searching here. I just want you to know that this is far from the safest place.”

“Bastogne isn’t safe either, sir,” Anita commented. “I was trained to handle combat situations, I’ll survive.”

Nixon looked at her doubtingly, but Winters’s expression remained at the very least neutral.

“What else were you trained to do?” he asked.

Dutifully, Anita responded: “Cooking, handling mail, first aid and repairing and maintaining weapons, secretary duties... I know how to mend clothes, too, if that’s worth anything.

Winters nodded. “I think we can find work for you. That way you have something to do. Wouldn’t that be better than just sitting around and waiting?”

Wouldn’t that be better than just sitting around and letting your thoughts consume you?

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright. For now, get in a foxhole. I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“Yes, sir.”

She saluted the officers and turned around. Doc Roe walked away with her, in the direction of the frontline. Behind her, she could hear Nixon complaining about how he thought this was a bad idea, how she would get in the way, how she would turn into a problem. But Winters defended her.

“Doc…?” Anita said carefully. “Can you take me to Don’s foxhole? I don’t know if I can find it by myself right now.”

“Malarkey?”

“Yeah. I… I feel safe with him.”

He nodded and walked off across the snow. She followed, her knees growing weak. Don was her light now. Her hope. Maybe he could provide her with new ground to stand on. Doc Roe led her through the snow and the trees until pointing at a spot in the distance. Anita could hardly see the foxhole but then she spotted movement.

“Thanks, Doc,” she said quietly.

“Good luck,” he replied, patted her shoulder, and left.

Anita took a deep breath. Then, she walked over to the foxhole. It became clearer and clearer to her. The noise her boots made on the snow must have announced her arrival, because Don, Muck and Penkala turned around in the foxhole and peeked over the edge.

“Annie?” Don gasped.

“Mind if I join you?” Anita asked weakly.

Perplexed, Don scooted over and made space for her. She climbed into the foxhole and sat down on the ground, suddenly feeling the exhaustion.

“Anita, what happened?” Muck asked.

“They bombed Bastogne. HQ was destroyed. Everyone’s dead. Everyone except me anyway. Merry fucking Christmas.”

Gently, Don pulled her into his chest. He took off her helmet and gave her a kiss on the head before putting it back on. Tears crawled into Anita’s eyes. This time, she couldn’t stop them. In the tight space, she buried her face in Don’s chest, trying to hide from the world. She had promised herself not to cry, that she would stay strong, that she would face whatever happened bravely. People died in a war; she knew that now. She should have always known and maybe she had, but to have it happen to someone so close to her… She had lost Tessa. Tessa, who had been with her ever since their recruitment. Tessa, who she had shared everything with. Tessa, who had volunteered to go give out those letters instead of her. She could have been saved if only Anita hadn’t been so stubborn, so obsessed with going to the frontline. All Anita wanted was that the exhaustion would finally take her out, make her fall asleep, put those thoughts to rest. But that salvation never came.

[voiddoesntexist]

hello hello hellooooo !! ★

just got done with my hw :)

edit: I FORGOT THIS IN MY DRAFTS YESTERDAY

okay soo hello !! happy october everyone :) ive been so excited for this month ! just been getting good vibes, yknow ?

for one, cool weather ! it's been super hot where i live, and while it's nice sometimes, it's been hot for far too long now and i'm sick of it. the only downside now is that i've bought so many summer clothes that i don't really have any fall and ESPECIALLY winter clothes. but i'll start trying to fix that later... moving onto other exciting stuff ! homecoming is in less than 3 weeks now, and spirit week is gonna be right before that <3 i ran for homecoming court, but it was only for fun. i don't really expect that i'll win, but hey, i don't really care ! as long as i look awesome for homecoming. i plan on doing a hime co*de so i'm SUPER excited !! i'll be trying it on today :)

co*des this week weren't really my best work, but i got compliments anyway. monday, i wore a pink and black rokku co*de !! i wore my favorite star earrings and my black butterfly cap. i wore a really high crop top too, but i had to wear a jacket most of the day so i wouldn't get dress coded lol. tuesday, i think my co*de could be classified as goshikku? i pinned a big black bow to my top to make it look cuter :) i would say it was maybe my second cutest outfit that week, which is weird for a tuesday. wednesday i rewore a himekaji co*de, and thursday i wore a rokku/tsuyome (?) co*de !! everyone really liked it, but i didn't really like my makeup that day. i tied a black button up over my leopard print dress and paired that with some furry legwarmers <3 friday was alright, though it didn't really fit into a substyle. it was just a white top with a patterned orange skirt.

i kinda... bought $150 worth of clothes earlier today 😵‍💫 i feel a little stupid but at the same time, money isn't gonna spend itself (never use this mindset for anything). i'm kinda nervous for halloween. i haven't bought a proper costume and i don't have any clothes already for it. it's a group costume with my friends, and we'll be the glamrock animatronics ! i'll be roxy. i wanted to incorporate "traditional" glamrock elements to the actual character, but honestly i'll just do my best and see how it goes. i don't really know what we'll do for halloween yet too, i just hope i look okay and i'm available to do stuff >_<

maybe this week will be better outfit wise :) we'll just have to see what happens. i'll just show my tuesday and thursday co*des and call it a night. have a nice week everyone, and hope you enjoy <3

[archaeologistic]

I can't figure out how to make this sound nicer so im going to say it as best I can and hope that you read it in a constructive way, because I'm not trying to be mean or rude. Ive been reading through your blog and I've noticed that it seems like sometimes you don't read the post you're responding to. For example, the post about the paper made from fallen leaves, you responded saying that leaf litter should be left where it falls, but the post explained that this project/company is addressing urban areas where leaves clog gutters and water drains and can't safely be left. I first came across your blog in a chain about zionism where you responded (not entirely correctly) to something that wasn't actually what the original post was about. The reason I'm bothering to write to you at all is because it's really frustrating to see this kind of thing, especially from someone who is an academic and should be used to reading with more care. The zionism thing was kind of alarming as well, because it read to me as you saying that because you study MENA culture and history you are more of an authority than the jewish people in front of you. I guess the point of this ask is to point out to you that you are not an expert in every field, and even if you are you should still listen and be open. Again, I mean this message as kindly as possible and as a invitation to talk more if you would like

Hi, thanks for the ask. I don’t check my notifications super often so it sometimes takes me a while to see/respond, but I do try to.

I’m very much open to discussion and to listening to others, especially when people are speaking about their own experiences with oppression and marginalization.

I went back and looked at the post about the leaf litter company after reading your ask and I do see how I could’ve been clearer with my response. I did see and understand the part that they are using leaves that MUST be removed, such as from gutters and drain systems, but my concern was scale. The company’s page describes the massive amount of leaves needed to produce even a moderate amount of their paper. If scaled up, this would quickly exceed the amount of leaves collected from the areas described and create a need to source more leaves. At some point, they would need to cap production or start gathering leaf litter from ecosystems where it’s greatly needed.

In my response I started off by saying that I thought the leaf litter paper would be a good supplement to other paper production methods (ie a smaller scale of production) as a positive thing, but I do see how I could’ve been more explicit about it’s benefits/better explained my thoughts.

Regarding MENA topics—they’re complicated to discuss for several reasons. First is how much history the region has, going back to ~4000 BC (if not earlier). Second is how entangled all the factors involved in the conflict are—political, religious, ethic, cultural, etc. The result is that many groups of thought have formed, with each group saying “listen to me, not them!” to external audiences (mostly to westerners/western nations). These groups form around shared characteristics—political beliefs but also ethnic identity, religion, etc. So you end up with the current situation where you have people on both sides who are oppressed, and the guidelines of “listen to the *most* oppressed voice” don’t work anymore.

So yes, I do my best to listen to Jewish voices and to other marginalized groups, as well as advocating for oppressed groups that I myself am part of. But it isn’t as simple as just listening to Jewish voices. At the most basic level, I support the protection of civilians on all sides (and there are far too many civilian victims on both sides in this conflict). I do also tend to be opposed to political Zionism because of its history as a movement and tendency towards views of ethnic/religious superiority over other groups. Beyond that though, I do my best to defer to others (and of course continue to adjust my views as I listen and learn).

[sanfielle]

i haven't scrolled far down the dash so if you already mentioned it i'm sorry but do you have a courier character and if so please can i see them

mine is a ghost person their name is october they travel with lily and ed-e they use a laer and they want to kill father elijah more than anything

OCTOBER IS A REALLY FUN NAME esp for a fallout protag given when the bombs dropepd hehehe. i have multiple specifically for fnv though depending on whichever run i do/use... i havent drawn any yet unfortuantely but i can break down their basic traits and stuff ^_^ jfc im putting these under acut because im babbling a lot here

INDEPENDENT RUN (i do this most often just naturally tbh): thimble, she/her, latino/native (in my head. fnv does only do latino. sniffles), usually primarily an agility + charisma build. shes usually a little wishy-washy/hard to count on given she gets so easily distracted by a million things but she does have a moral code she manages to stick to. usually has good or neutral karma - she does think the wasteland should belong to those who actually live there but also she steals like anything not nailed down too just out of habit so LOL. usual companions are cassidy + rex.

NCR RUN: carly, she/her, white, usually a perception + intelligence build. in my head her lore is that she wanted to be a doctor of some kind prior to the courier life but never found the means to do so, and now that shes here she wants to save as many lives as possible and feels the NCR is the way to do that even if its not exactly... agreeable... very much a sort of 'world is black and white' type of gal. usual companions are boone + ED-E.

LEGION RUN: i will disclaim with i hate legion runs the most aside from the fact that legion sucks they are just so fucking hard to do givwn you have to wait SO LONG before you can actually get into doing legion stuff in game. and it makes half the map hate you. SO i havent actually thought about this one too long since ive only run legon maybe twice... but so farrrrrr --- magnus, he/him, white, strength + perception build. of all my couriers this is the hardest hitter and alsousually the stupidest (or tied with thimble). i don't think he totally buys into legion's shit but he also knows ncr and house won't be able to maintain the entire wasteland here so. yknow. never occurrs to him that he can just go independent. usual companion is only ED-E, he doesnt see a point beyond it since he can handle anything that comes his way (in his head at least. lol)

HOUSE RUN: richard, he/him, black, intelligence + charisma build. think of every single smarmy businessman youve ever seen rolled into one. hes like if saul goodman from brba could wield a gun but worse because he really likes to show off about it all. house just makes the most sense to him since his mindset is just every man for himself, adn if you make it to the strip, you belong on the strip, and thus have earned it. fuck everything else! usual companions are veronica + rex. he thinks he can male manipulate veronica into letting him at the BOS bunkers supplies to sell for tons of caps </3.

anyway liek i said i havent drawn them ever because im just very lazy but they are fun to think about so maybe someday i will. sniffles

[angstysebfan]

The Past Can Break You - 3

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

AU: Avengers

Summary: You and Bucky have been dating for aa few years. As far as you’re concerned he is the one. But what happens when a blast from the actual past shows up?

A/N: Ive seen a lot stories of Bucky getting his first love from the 40′s back. And I’ve always wondered... what would happen if he was dating someone already? Reader is from this time. Not proofread.

Warning: 

--

Bucky tried for several hours to try and get you to open the door. You ignored him, not wanting to see him because you were so angry with him. He promised he would change and make more time for you, and then he leaves you in the middle of sex for her! Dot is his priority, as far as you’re concerned. You roll your eyes as you think about the “trauma” she had. You know she is using their past to manipulate him, and he is being stupid and letting her. Well now he must face the consequences for his actions. 

You stare up at the ceiling of your old room as you again, for the millionth time, hear the knock and pleads of your boyfriend from the other side of the door. “Please, baby. Open up. I’ll let you scream at me, you can even hit me. I know I deserve it. Just let me see you, please,” he begs.

God this is getting pathetic, you thought. You sigh and figure it’s time to give him an earful and some food for thought. You walk over to the door and unlock it, before opening it to reveal Bucky looking disheveled. He still has no shirt on, just his sweats from last night.

“What could you possibly want me to say to you, Bucky? You obviously made your choice in this. You are allowing Dot to manipulate you to keep you away from me. She wants you back, and it’s completely obvious. You say you want to prioritize me, but you prioritized her! I’ve tried to be calm and understanding to what she is going though, but enough is enough!” you yell, causing Bucky to flinch.

He opens his mouth to speak but you continue, “Ever since she found out that we are dating, she has made it her sole mission to separate us. Do you even care that your actions are killing me? Do you even care that I have cried myself to sleep so many times at night that I forgot how to fall asleep without crying? Do you even care that you are shattering my heart with your actions?!” you yell as tears fall down your face.

Bucky now has tears falling as well as he takes in your words. He didn’t realize just how bad he had made the situation. He needed to fix this. He couldn’t lose you. You were the best thing that has ever happened to him, and he can’t believe that has been so stupid. He walks up and wraps his arms around you, allowing you to cry in his chest. He buries his face in your neck and cries also.

You don’t know how long you have been standing in your doorway crying, but after some time you pull away. Bucky looks at you with sad eyes, “Tell me it’s not too late for me to fix this. I-I don’t want to lose you,” he says in a raspy voice.

You sigh and look down, “I think I need some time to think about things. You need to figure out where your priorities lie. I’ll stay in here for a bit until I’m ready and then we can talk, okay?” you ask.

It breaks your heart to see the distraught nature of Bucky’s face at your words, but you need him to understand how his actions have made you feel. He nods and quickly pulls you into a hug and then slots his lips on yours in a heated kiss. When you pull away he looks you dead in the eyes, “I’m going to make this right. I am going to show you that you, and you alone are what I want and need. That you are my top priority. I promise,” he says.

As he turns and walks away, you can’t help but say, “Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep.”

Bucky stops and looks at you sadly. He really messed up. He finally turns away and walks back to your shared room, that he will now live in alone. When he closes the door he slides down to the ground and openly sobs. How could he be so stupid. How could he not see what was happening. Now he might lose the love of his life because of his past. 

--

Dot is sitting in her room, feeling rather victorious. She overheard your argument with Bucky, and knows that now that you are separating yourself from Bucky, she will have a better chance to win him back. She sighs at the thought of having her love back with her. She was surprised that he didn’t take her back immediately, as she was his first love. Yes, ok so it was like 80 years ago, but I mean the fact that they were both together after all this time, must be fate.

Suddenly her door opens and shows the man she has been thinking about. Dot looks up and smiles, “Hey Jamie! What’s wrong?” she asks, deciding to pretend she is innocent and knows nothing. Always worked with guys. So easy.

“We need to talk, now,” Bucky says, anger evident in his voice. 

Dot’s smile disappears. She figured he would be upset, but not angry, and not at her. “What’s going on?” she asks with a furrow of her brow.

“This is over, Dot. Whatever you are trying to do, it’s done. I know you are dealing with a lot, but you need to start figuring it out for yourself. I am done putting you before Y/N,” he says.

Dot can’t help but roll your eyes. “Oh is she upset with you again Jamie? I mean I understand being slightly threatened by our past, but she obviously doesn’t trust you. If she can’t trust you, then she isn’t good enough for you. Maybe it’s time for you to cut your loses and return to me,” Dot said.

“She has every reason to be upset! I’ve neglected her! I just want to know... are those panic attacks that you have even real,” he asks.

Dot feigns being offended, “How dare you! Of course they are! Look at all I have gone through! I volunteer for something back in the 40′s and wake up in 2020′s. There is a lot of thoughts and feelings I feel and I don’t know how to process them! Is she saying I am lying?”

“I am saying you are lying. You always seem fine when we are together, but the moment I go to my girlfriend you start freaking out. You are trying to keep me away from her,” Bucky says, his voice raising.

“I feel comfortable with you, Jamie! I love you! Of course I feel better when you are near! It’s not my fault you tried to move on! But tell me this, if you don’t love me like you did, and you love her, why then did you constantly leave your girl for me? You obviously are still in love with me! So dump the girl and let’s be together!” Dot yelled.

“You’re crazy! Seriously you are delusional! You use me being a good friend and a gentleman against me to separate me from the woman that I truly love. Well it stops now! You need to get your ass in gear because it will take me nothing to turn you out of the compound to fend for yourself. If Steve and I can make it work, so can you. And your trauma is nothing compared to what we have gone through. So get yourself together and figure your life out. I am done playing these games with you!” Bucky says before leaving Dot’s room.

Dot sat there stunned at the last outburst. If Bucky thinks that she will go down without a fight to the death for him, then he doesn’t know her at all. Dot always gets what Dot wants. No matter the cost.

--

Bucky knocked on Natasha’s door, trying to calm himself down from his conversation with Dot. Nat opened the door and immediately tried to close it, “Nat please! I need your help,” Bucky begged.

She rolled her eyes and allowed him in. He sat there and told her everything about what happened last night, and this morning with Y/N and Dot. Natasha smacked him upside the head at least 4 times for being dumb. When he was done explaining everything he looked sadly at Natasha, “So will you help me? I have a plan that will allow Y/N the time she asked to think, while also showing her that she is my priority. She is the love of my life. Please?” Bucky begged.

Nat knew how much you and Bucky loved each other. She knew how happy you both were, so she agreed to help. Bucky laid out the plan to Nat and they both agreed to set it in motion. Bucky felt better already. He told off Dot, got your best friend to help him, and now all he needed was to win you back. He hoped he wasn’t too late.

--

Chapter 2 / Chapter 4

Dot is trouble! What plans does he have up her sleeve? Will the reader forgive Bucky? Does he deserve it? 🤷🏻‍♀️Feedback is appreciated!

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[zooone]

yeah go ahead! ive been reading fanfiction for a while, but I've only written like 5 fics so far and they're all not too good lol

-plant

OKOK!!!;! thank you!! ahsksbdkfndmdnsm i love talking about this kinda stuff

—so, first of all, dont use all caps in dialogue to show shouting or yelling. it makes it look unprofessional and not good to look at. the only time ive done this is during blurbs bc i dont pay attention on the details necessarily, i only care about the story, thats why theyre v short. instead, show that a character is ecstatic or angry instead of using all caps

ex - "WILBUR GET BACK HERE!!!"

better ex - "Wilbur! Get back here!" Y/N shouted, throwing their hand up into the air to show their anger as they chased the tall man from across the field.

essentially, showing the characters emotions through their actions instead more than their words. it really helps both the reader imagine the situation and creates the flow and mood.

—another similar thing to this is italicizing too many things in dialogue. especially in arguments.

ex - "I just can't stand you, anymore, Y/N! It's like you're a completely different person compared to when I first met you. I can't even get a single moment to myself anymore!" Wilbur shouted.

now, dont get me wrong, italicizing things to show emphasis is good! but its when you overuse it is when it isnt.

better ex - "I just can't stand you, anymore, Y/N!" Wilbur screamed, balling his hands up into fists. His voice shook with emotion as he continued to yell, his words echoing off the walls. "It's- It's like you're a completely different person compared to when I first met you!"

Wilbur's face scrunched up in anger. His shoulders tensed up as he continued once more to cry. "It's like I can't get a single moment to myself anymore!"

as you can see, its much longer because i tried to show that he was hurt with his actions, not italicizing his words!! this is a really really good thing to look at when you need to show emotion!

—another huge thing is to just not use all of those y/f/c or y/f/f or whatever they stand for, yknow? it just gets really confusing to understand and it doesnt look pretty. give y/n a personality whilst also making them relatable, if that makes sense.

—and also, this should be a given, but just know proper grammar. its so difficult to read a fic that looks like it was made by a literal 9 year old, and it just looks really unprofessional.

—im guilty of this one and im trying to get better, but make the paragraphs look pretty! not as in with colours or something, but with word choice. if you pull yourself away and squint at the screen and the words are repetitive, it probably wont roll lf the tongue well.

ex - You sighed. You stumbled into your chair, you were careful to not cause too much noise. You heard a slight screech of the chair against your floorboards. You clicked the mouse a ton. You made sure to have your headphones plugged into your pc.

as you can see, "you" is used a ton. again, i am v v guilty of doing this but im trying to get better haha

better ex - You let out a long, drawn out sigh. Careful not to cause too much noise, your legs stumbled slightly onto the chair. The neighbors below you were always extemely strict on how loud you could be, especially at night. A slight screech from the chair could be heard as well as the clicking of the mouse. Making sure that the headphones were firmly plugged in, you continued.

when writing, you can space out these "you"s and repetitive words with backstory or just describing things further. it really helps out especially if you write in 2nd person, and "you" is like the only option.

—DONT. USE. "SUDDENLY". i am guilty of this one too, but sometimes not saying suddenly makes it more sudden.

—build tension! especially during high stress situations or arguments, emphasize the characters feelings underneath this tension to establish the mood.

—this is more of something youd find on wattpad, but just dont put those "author notes" in the middle of things. theyre just a huge distraction, it really just ruins the plot, and its just generally unprofessional.

ex - Wilbur drove out of the parking spot. His features glistened amazingly in the sunlight, the crevices of rays hitting his skin at the most perfect places ever while he drove through the blissful city. (a/n i dont think wilbur can drive LOLOL XDDD just pretend he can in this XDD)

i exaggerated that a lot but you get what i mean

—make the dialogue sound like what the character would actually say. its difficult to get it down to the T of what someone would actually say in the situation, but just make it appropriate. for example, wilbur doesnt usually call people "bitch" in most settings (keyword most, the only ever time ive seen him call someone a bitch was when they asked "who drinks from a mason jar?" in which he apologized quickly for). he usually goes with "prick" or something along the lines of that.

—just generally make it worth reading. dont make it so short that one would read it in like 2 seconds, make it long and something that the reader will think about for a long time. im guilty of making shorter ones, but you can elongate fics by adding background context or describing a bit more.

—analogies are your best friend!!! they help so much with someone trying to visualize what they read

—show who's speaking as best as you can (this can be done with actions too), especially when there's multiple people involved.

ex -

"Tommy!"

"What? I'm not wrong!"

"Please- Oh my goodness."

"I swear to God, Tommy, I'm gonna punch you."

"Tommy- behave yourself!"

could you even tell who was speaking? probably not.

better ex -

"Tommy!" you shouted at his comment, placing a hand to your opened mouth in shock.

The boy lifted his shoulders in a shrug, throwing his opened hands in the air in defense. "What? I'm not wrong!"

"Please- Oh my goodness," you pinched the bridge of your nose, squinting downwards.

"I swear to God, Tommy," Wilbur began, fists tightening. "I'm gonna punch you."

Phil stammered. "Tommy- Behave yourself!"

did you even know phil was there before you read the better example? probably not. doing this to dialogue helps with clearing things up, and it makes it look nicer and longer. of course, you dont need to do this with every single piece of dialogue (especially if theres only 2 characters)

an example of this would be

Under the stars and moonlight, Wilbur smiled at Y/N. His eyes reflected the beautiful sky. Y/N ruffled his hair as he gripped at her hips.

"You're so beautiful," Wilbur whispered, looking down fondly at his lover.

Y/N giggled. "No, you are."

"What? I'm not nearly half as amazing as you are!"

"Shush! Yes, you are."

with the last two pieces of dialogue, i didnt need to show who was talking since the two characters had already been established, and it was shown that they were going back and forth, (meaning Y/N couldn't have said "What? I'm not nearly half as amazing as you are!")

—you can make stories longer and more impactful by adding a background. how did the two meet? and how will their amazing friendship impact their ongoing, secretive love for the other?

in "he was your best friend, after all" i tried to show emphasis on how great Y/N and wilbur's friendship was, and what would happen if Y/N eventually told wilbur their feelings.

��this one is one my mom taught me when i was little! (shes a writer too)

when you have an idea, type it out. just let your imagination go wild, and DO NOT REREAD IT. just type type type until youre done. take breaks, of course, just dont reread it yet!

then, take a longer break. take a nap, get some water, play some games, go on a walk, just anything to get your mind off of it,,, then, when you're ready, this is when you reread it, or proofread, or fix up things.

this helps w motivation. sometimes when i reread my work when its not done i think it sounds stupid and i give up. DONT GIVE UP!!!! i promise you, it will turn out great, you just need patience.

this is all i can think of now but yeah!! im not a super epic pro at writing, far from it actually. but i hope these help :))

[shotorozu]

TITLE : hospital stay

PAIRING : bakugou katsuki x reader

SYNOPSIS : you’re in the hospital on your boyfriend’s birthday, and bakugou seems to have no issue with spending it in there.

WARNING(S) : MHA MANGA SPOILERS ‼️ (recent arc)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, a quirk similar to the avatar but that’s about it.

note(s) : so, it’s bakugou’s birthday. and i had this idea since march 20 😦 so i’ve been waiting for his birthday to come for literally a month but i didn’t want to post this way too early. alsooo i don’t know if this arc happened near spring but lets pretend it did for the sake of the story

When you woke up, the fluorescent lights were the first to hit your face

Following by the incoming beeping of a monitor, and the sudden throbbing of your head, the dryness of your throat evident.

Blinking slowly (or trying to, your other eye being a bit delayed.) you try recalling what just happened. You’re in a hospital, that’s one thing you know, but the specifics are still unknown to you.

Right. You remember now, you were fighting along side your classmates, and you managed to get blasted away when you thought that shielding Bakugou Katsuki would work. Yeah, you were sure that you were going to get an earful from him, if he—

You jolt when you notice said blond standing right next to your bed, vermillion eyes staring deep into your own, and somewhat— you could feel the weight and intensity in the stare

“S-since when did you get here?” You’re startled, and your voice is hoarse. Bakugou doesn’t formulate a response, and chooses to avoid the question as a whole.

“Finally you’re up.” He rolls his eyes. He looks much better than you remembered, despite having a few bandages on his forehead— he looked well. “It’s been 5 fucking days.”

“Five days?” You question out loud, your sense of time all disorganized. You clench your hand, just to see if your quirk was still working. Seeing air, fire, water, and just.. something, would relieve your worries— but a look from the blond shot you down quickly. You decided that it was wise if you didn’t try.

The blond seems to be done with the conversation, since he immediately walks out of the room. Actually, why was he here? You’d expect him to be laying down in bed, but despite being hit with that beam, he was walking around like everything was fine.

He comes back with a few other nurses, and they’re relieved to see that you’re awake— and even though they’ve bombarded you with questions with how you felt, you couldn’t brush off the feeling of a pair of ruby eyes on you.

Just, glaring. It’s nothing abnormal.

When the nurses finally leave you alone, giving you details of a few injuries— like your injured— well, burned eyelid that honestly stung (it came from the fire aspect of your quirk) you would’ve expected to be alone in your hospital room for the rest of your time there but Bakugou stayed.

“You’re going to tell me why you jumped in front of me?”

You were expecting to be questioned by him, after all— what you did didn’t exactly shield him, since he was also pierced. You didn’t expect the interrogation to be happening this soon

“Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t want to fucking know.” And he suddenly changes his mind, just like that.

You would’ve said impulse as an answer, but you doubt that he would’ve taken that seriously. And besides, you were kind of glad he changed midway that he didn’t want your answer. Your voice feels parched, despite chugging down a glass of water earlier.

“Did you check up on Deku?” You cringe when you hear cracks in your voice, and the dryness is unbearable to your throat, but he nods. “Idiot’s knocked out cold.”

He doesn’t mention the fact that you were one of the last few people that were still rendered unconscious.

“Your throat sounds like the sahara desert. Do me a favor and drink up.”

You blink owlishly at the glass of water that was set on the mini table, and when you drink up— it actually does something to relieve (temporarily) the dryness.

It was a consequence of your quirk after all, using your quirk too much would cause your body to feel sore, and everywhere to feel dry, and he knew that.

Bakugou was acting uncharacteristically, and you just don’t know why. Maybe it’s not so uncharacteristic of him, since he’s been less of an asshole as of recently, but you know that he would probably deviate from the question if you asked, so the both of you sat in silence.

—

It’s the next day, the same as yesterday— except it looked like dawn when you woke up. Bakugou also appeared at the side of your bed once again, almost as if he was there for quite some time.

“Nice to see you too,” You think to yourself, and you’re glad you didn’t actually say that out loud. You try to stand up straight, but Bakugou’s quick to push your back against the pillows.

“Don’t sit up, that’s idiotic.”

“Right, sorry. How did you get here? Isn’t it too early?” The parched throat came back. Though the ‘magical’ baku-water helped, it’s effects were only temporarily, sadly.

“You call 7am early?” Right, because for him— 7am isn’t that early, you even remember seeing him up at 6 sometimes.

“Actually, wait.” You blink, trying to recall what day it was, and what month it was. You recalled it being spring but.. was it March? or was it April already?

“What.. day is it today?”

It was almost like he was hesitant to say, “..April 20.”

“What the— April 20?” You’re appalled, because the last time you remembered, it wasn’t anywhere near April 20, but maybe it’s your 5 day unconsciousness to be blamed. “Isn’t it your birthday?”

“Shut up,” He mumbles, and he shifts around the room in search of something, but it’s too dim to be able to tell.

“Medicine. The nurses said you should take it now.”

You don’t reply.

“It’s for your Sahara desert throat. The other things are for your fucked up eye and injuries.”

That seems to be enough to convince you to take the medicine, and despite wanting to run away screaming from the bitterness, you take the medicine— not wanting to be met with any consequences

“Why are you spending your birthday here?”

“Do idiots like you ask that many questions?” He shoots back, and you’re unfazed by the fact that he just called you an idiot. You wouldn’t blame him.

“No but.. you seem fine.”

“A few days ago I was not, but now I am because I took medicine.” He walks over to untwist a few medicine caps, it appears to be for your eye.

“So, Does my eye look fine?” You bat your eyelashes just to mess with him, and he flicks your forehead with an ointment cap “No.”

“Sorry, sorry,” You laugh, choosing to completely ignore the sudden sharp pain when you laugh.

He bends down to reach eyelevel, “Can you see?”

“Sorta.” Your eye has this thin blur filter to it, that can’t be good— can it? Going blind in one eye, and having to wear an eye patch.

It was almost on cue, because Bakugou says “You’ll be rocking the pirate look if you don’t take your medicine,” Instead of handing the medicine for you to apply, he quickly applies a decent amount around your eyes— not giving you a warning whatsoever.

You wince slightly, but you’re glad it’s over. But why is he playing nurse with you? And why was he brushing off the fact that it’s literally his birthday.

—

Through out the entire day, Bakugou continued to act as if he had some responsibility over you. From helping you put on your medicine, to just monitoring you with eyes of a hawk. The fact that he chose to ignore all your protests was just a part of him.

His behavior was also very.. interesting. It would swing from being his usual self, to being this eerily quiet and calm Bakugou. You would’ve guessed that you were having a fever dream, if it weren’t for the fact that he wore his usual scowl on his face.

What remained consistent, despite it all— was that he stayed. He ate lunch in your room. He only left when the doctors and nurses asked him too, but that was only temporary. He stayed with you the entire day, even when the clock stroke 5pm.

But it’s quite literally his birthday? Why would he spend it in a hospital room with some extra? Or idiot? Let alone, why would he take care of said idiot/extra on his birthday? You don’t know because he refuses to tell you on why he spent it here.

“Did you at least get some cake or something?” You ask for the umpteenth time, Bakugou’s paced back and forth for some medicine bottles and bottles of water, and you could tell that he was scowling, despite the fact that he was facing the other direction, “Why the hell would I want cake? You’ve been asking weird shit all day.”

“Because it’s your birthday? Seriously— have you been brainwashed into thinking that it’s not your birthday?”

“What— fuck no. I haven’t been brainwashed.” He turns over to you, “I know today is my birthday.”

“Okay, so you know. Why aren’t you celebrating then? Did people forget? Or am I finally going insane?”

Bakugou chooses to stay silent. He stands up, and walks over to you— everytime he moves closer, you could feel your heart pound, luckily not at a dangerous rate.

“Birthday, birthday, birthday” He grumbles, quiet, but loud enough for you to hear. “That’s all you’ve been talking about. As if like you weren’t the one in the hospital bed as we speak.”

“Okay, is it wrong to remember your birthday?”

“Shut up, I didn’t say that.” He gets closer once again, almost to the point that your faces weren’t that far away.

“You’ve just been so concerned about my damn birthday, that you haven’t even taken a good look at yourself,” He gestures at you, by looking you up and down

You finally take observation of all of the gauzes, the IV tubes, and bandages, his words forcing you to look at what was reality.

“I don’t know why you did what you did, jumping in front of me like some kind of heroic bastard, it’s dumb. For all I know, I should be screaming at you, and wishing you the worst for that.” He clenches his fist when he recalls, the scene replaying in his head

“But what I am saying is that, you can give me a gift if you’re so fucking concerned about my birthday. It’s the least you can do.” His statement is solid enough for you to take him seriously. You wouldn’t have if he was scowling, but it’s quite.. different. An expression you’ve seen all day, but seeing it up close is a different story.

“And that would be..?” You gulp, anticipation bubbles

And just like that, he presses his lips against yours, the warmth of his lips sending shocks of warmth all around your body— the impact was abrupt, but the kiss as a whole was surprisingly gentle

Yet, it was also similar to his quirk, it sparked up spurs of need and sent goosebumps all over your body.

You place a hand on his shoulder, the tubes around your arms making it too difficult to wrap your arms around him as you deepened the kiss, Bakugou’s touch is cautious when he lays his hand on a spot that was the least affected, aware of your injuries. Pushing the small of your back with his hand quite gently, he kisses you like it’ll be the very last— even though you both know it won’t be.

When you both pull back, you’re taken aback— unable to think of coherent words, and a proper response.

But this damn bastard, he smirks at you knowing that he just sent shocks and explosions of intense feelings all around your body, your lips still tingling from the kiss.

“Wait, that’s unfair!”

“What?”

“I had no idea you even liked me!”

“For the fucking longest time I did, why the hell would I even be in some extras room, if I didn’t care about them?!” He tries not to yell too loudly but, the tone of his voice gets raised

You blink, “And you preferred playing nurse with your crush this entire time, instead of spending it properly like well.. everyone else?”

“Who the hell said— Fucking hell, do I have to kiss you again for you to understand?”

“Enlighten me,” Your mouth quirks up into a smile, which ultimately causes his cheeks to be set ablaze.

“Playing fucking nurse with you isn’t horrible. It’s one way to spend my birthday, even when you give me shit about it” His brows press together, trying to drown out his flustered expressions with a scowl, “There’ll be more birthdays to come, so why would I be ‘wasting’ it here? There, that’s it. You happy now?”

Silence.

“..More than happy. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your thing for playing nur—”

“Don’t you fucking finish that thought,” He says stern. “I’m going to get the nurses to check on you, and then— I’ll go home and come back again, tomorrow.”

He storms off, and when the blond is sure that he’s not in your line of vision anymore— he slumps against the wall

“Fucking hell, they’re driving me crazy.” He mumbles, recalling what he had pulled off earlier.

»»————-　♡　————-««

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[deluluass]

all yours; all mine

71 and 58 with Atsumu pleaseeese. I just love this man and I would appreciate it if you wrote something with him. Youre so talented!💕 — anon

sidenote: anon, i hope u know that u have a very special place in my heart for being the first ask ive ever received. i hope u are well & having a gr8 day ;U;

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; daddy kink; mild angst; implied post-breakup depression; toxic relationship/s

Breakups are a messy business. A lot of crying, begging, screaming (if it's that type of a breakup). Whatever it is, breakups generally inspire intense— so-intense-it-could-get-you-kicked-out-if-you're-in-a-public-place, high-strung, and the most unpleasant kind of emotions. 

It’s understandable, considering you’re losing the person you love. 

But he doesn't even look upset.

"Aah," Atsumu sing-songed, twirling the plastic stirrer between his fingers. "Ya wanna call it off?"

The heat from the mug bit your skin as you gripped it. 

"What?" you choked, shaking your head. "I didn't say that, Atsumu. I only-"

He scoffed. "Fuckin'- ya just did."

You finally looked up at him, porcelain clinking as you placed your drink back on the saucer. Ball cap on,  muscles filling up and straining his hoodie and jeans; even in an outfit that almost concealed him he never fails to take your breath away. 

Only, it's for a different reason this time.

"I said that I-" you cleared your throat. "I want- I want you to-"

"I get it, I get it." Atsumu sighed, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Let's break up, then."

He was already standing up and he didn't even deign to meet your eyes. You didn't expect much when you'd travelled all the way to Tokyo just to have a talk with him. After all, the last conversation you had was over the phone. (And that, too, did not go well). 

Though, is it too much to expect he'd at least listen to what you have to say?

"Tsumu-kun! Wait!" 

Some customers were already staring, urging you to hide, hop on the next train, and run back home; away from the cold scrutiny of strangers. 

But not now. Not when what you have with him is hanging on a balance.

"Please, sit down and- and let's talk," you huffed, voice and hand trembling as you held onto his.

Breakups are a messy business, you heard.

A lot of crying. A lot of begging. A lot of screaming. Whichever kind it is, don't breakups usually inspire only the most intense emotions?

But he doesn't even look upset, doesn't even look like he feels anything other than a passing irritation, as if you were a fly buzzing in his ear, when he told you, "I know this is ya first rodeo, but yer gonna find someone new eventually, hm?"

It's been a long time coming, Atsumu thinks. He'd known for quite a while now that his relationship with you would end, actually, ever since you'd wanted to include "feelings" and "trust" and "opening up" into the mix. 

"Why?" he'd laughed at your face once. "What? Ya ain't happy? That it? We got somethin' good goin' on don't we?"

He didn't get it, at first. You'd always been your cheerful, bubbly self; never failing to be that one sunny spot when his day gets too pesky and such a pain in the ass. You were happy.

Until you weren't. 

"You don't.. tell me things," you muttered, fiddling with your hands on the kitchen table. "Which is fine! I'm not- go at your pace, but- but know that I'd listen to you. Always. I'm here, 'Tsumu."

And it wasn't as if he didn't try. It's just that Atsumu realized, a few months later, that he wasn't any good at it. 

Every time he'd lay it all out in front of you⁠— every tiny and pathetic and gritty part of him, you would eventually take him in your arms. So much smaller, weaker than his and yet Atsumu did not mind if it could be his entire world. 

Then, a thought would creep in, like a thief that'd stab him in his sleep. In the safety of those tender arms, with those guileless eyes peering at him, Atsumu would think that he'd rather stay there forever, cling onto you until he bites the dust.  

It disgusted him. 

Atsumu couldn't stand it. Because if he could be anything in this short life, he'd choose to be perfect. And that- that wasn't it. 

So he avoided it when the occasion arose. Diverting the subject to mundane stuff was easy, at first. The weather, the new show you're binging, your slacker of a boss, what happened back in the game. When that didn't work⁠— well, there were other ways. 

(His favorite was sticking his tongue in your wet cunt, to prod at the soft walls with the tip, and to lap and suck at the clit until you're begging for the stretch of his fat cock.)

The break up was understandable. When you'd greeted him in the café as if you'd spent the entire time you were apart crying, Atsumu knew it was over. 

You just repeated what you'd always said. It's okay to be vulnerable. If he needs some time to work out the right words then you'd always wait because I love you, 'Tsumu. 

(But there was that feeling again. Like he could die on the spot if you would so much as leave his sight.)

(Ending it was the only way out. When poison seeps itself into the bloodstream, you're left with no choice but to cut off a part of you.)

Unlike others, he can say that it was a clean parting. You wanted something and he was bad at it. And because he hated fucking up, Atsumu decided to leave. Easy. 

Really, the only people who didn't understand were his teammates.

"That's strange," Hinata spat, rice bursting to his chin when he suddenly faced Atsumu. "I don't think I've seen her for weeks now."

He could hear barely suppressed groans  behind him, no doubt from Bokuto and the others, before their spiker blurted out a confused, "What?"

Because, of course, Hinata could only mean one "her.” (There had only ever been one that Atsumu Miya allowed inside the team's gymnasium; inside his circle of friends; inside his life.)

Apparently, except for Hinata Shoyo, everyone had caught on that the both of you had thrown in the towel, so to speak. (And here they thought the guy's finally in it for real.)

"Nah, it's fine," Atsumu smirked, addressing it to everyone gathered around Samu's onigiri stand.  

"We broke up." 

He clicked his tongue. "It's not like there ain't no other fish in the sea."

The remark, casually said in between sips of cold coffee, was met with a gaping silence. 

That turned out to be right, like everything else that he'd predicted. 

A hole is a hole is a hole is a hole. No disrespect meant to you. But before you there had been many others who'd helped warm his bed. It just so happened that you got to stay for far longer. 

(Because waking up next to you meant waking up to that dreamy look, as if whoever's in charge up there has finally given you everything you've ever wanted.)

(And when he greets you with a hoarse good morning you say it back with eyes that tell him he's worth it, simply for being there.)

Anyway, going back to that old routine hadn't been difficult. 

(Except when he finally does it with someone new, for some reason he keeps searching for a different touch, expecting that endearing combination of inexperience and enthusiasm.)

(And when they cum he can't help but put a hand on their mouth, around their throat, because he's hearing the wrong voice, seeing the wrong face.) 

It's obvious, looking at him. Everyone can see that life's going pretty well for Atsumu. He can only hope that the same goes for you.

"You're miserable."

Peeling your attention away from the mother braiding her young daughter's hair, you hurriedly brought it back to the two women sitting in front of you.

"See?" Aya swung her hand in your direction. "Not even listening."

"No, no," you giggled sheepishly. Kaori was already pursing her lips.

"No, seriously. I am."

You sat upright, setting the chopsticks on your bento box. 

"Then what was it she said?" Kaori pressed. She folded her arms and you knew you were in trouble. 

"Uh..huh." You nodded. "Right. So. Um...."

"You didn't catch it," said Kaori.

"I didn't catch it," you winced.

Both girls sighed. 

The first three buttons of their blouses were open, the heat of the afternoon getting to them. And as they leaned back against the wooden bench, you had a feeling that they were about to give you the Conversation that's been waiting to happen for two long months.

That's why you'd decided to start it before they could. Just so it won't linger anymore painfully so.

“I know what you're going to say."

They only raised their brows, a mere "okay, go on" than an actual expression of surprise. 

"I've been sad. I haven't been..fine. That is true," you inhaled, preparing yourself for the agonizing part. Then, you released your breath.

"Ever since..'Tsu-" you gulped. "Ever since breaking up with Atsumu I haven't been feeling like myself but nowadays I'm getting back on my feet and I'm still working see so really there's no need to worry okay? Okay."

Aya grinned, but it didn't hold her usual devil-may-care humor to it. 

"You say that," she started, "but we’ll probably always be if you keep at that- at that⁠—"

"You're rarely in the moment," Kaori supplied, to which Aya replied with a harsh thank you. "You're distracted. And we know you're trying your best to be okay on your own. We've given you space, but remember that you have us."

Something was lodged in your chest and you found it hard to breathe. You'd missed them. You hadn't realized it, but you missed your friends. 

So much.

"Thank you," you whispered, forcing back  tears. "I- I wouldn't know what to do if it not for you two-"

"Hold it." Aya raised a palm. "Before you get corny again. Can I just say, I know he's your first dick-"

"Aya," Kaori murmured.

"And we all know it was good-"

"Aya," you hissed.

Your face burned as you searched from left to right, making sure no innocent being heard her.

"But can I just say," she slapped a palm on the surface of the table. "I don't care what you or the TV or his fans say about him! But the man's a walking red flag since day one!"

Kaori rolled her eyes. And despite yourself you couldn't keep a chuckle from bubbling. 

"Here we go again."

Aya almost rose from her seat. "When he sent that poor dude from accounting to the ER for just, I don't know, breathing your way, I knew something was up!"

You felt your smile die. 

That had been the first time it happened. You'd asked him what's wrong, after you'd rushed to the hospital, and all he gave you was silence. A whole day of it. He hadn't spoken a word about it, only that he'd warned you not to talk to that bastard again, or else.

(You'd learned, much, much later, that he doesn't do well with people that annoy him. That's what he said. You wanted to know more, but he suddenly decided that he had to make it up to you between the sheets.)

Kaori touched your hand. "Talk to us," she whispered.

You hummed as you shook your head. "I just remembered him," you said, only half of the truth.

If they knew it, they didn't let on. But Aya did say, "Tell you what. Company outing's upon us. So you know what that means?"

"Oh, I don't know," you mumbled apologetically. "I might sit this one out."

"No," Kaori gritted. 

Aya held your face with both hands as she  stared you down.

"You will buy yourself a new swimsuit. You will enjoy that cheap beach resort." 

The heaviness was lifting, bit by bit, as you felt your stomach ache with laughter. And with each silly word uttered by your friends, you could almost see the gray clouds overhead disappearing. Even for a little while.

"And you, you beautiful person you," Aya beamed. "Will finally, finally get laid."

Having best friends who are dead set on helping you get over an ex is a fearsome thing to behold, indeed. 

You couldn't even get a word in edgewise as they took you in a whirlwind of spas, salons, mani-pedis, and shopping bags. 

"Calm down. You rarely spend for yourself," Kaori told you when she'd caught you peeking forlornly at the frightening bill you'd amassed. 

But, try as you might to miss owning a fat wallet, you couldn't deny that you have no regrets wasting your money away. Not even for a single cent. Because you did feel amazing.

And when the day arrived, you couldn't help at the giddiness of having compliment after compliment thrown your way. 

"Is that really you?" said a co-worker when you'd boarded the bus. "You're glowing!"

During the games, as well, you'd often hear "Love the new look!" and "Have I ever told you before that you're so pretty? Because you are." And you'd preen with a soft-spoken thank you, having been taught by Kaori that denying a compliment makes one look stupid.  

It was so silly, honestly. Though not the part where, after a lovely comment, you'd be emboldened to strike an actual conversation. Learning that a coworker has a new baby now, or that so and so has recently moved up the corporate ladder; learning that, during your period of grief and self-pity (and even during the blissful time you’d spent with Atsumu), there were so many things you hadn't noticed.

You basked in it: the shower of pleasantries and anecdotes that had you feeling soft and fuzzy inside. The same way you lazed on the sandbar, clutching tiny conch shells in your hand, as you watched the sun tinge the sparkling waves with warm light.   

"Hey."

You jolted, turning towards the person who'd called your name. It was him. "Poor dude from accounting" as Aya dubbed him.

"Sano-san," you gasped, reaching for the towel beside you to cover up. "How- how are you?" 

Of all the people in your office, he was the last one you wanted to see. Solely for the reason that things have been awkward between you ever since that incident. A working relationship characterized by the literal turning of the other cheek whenever you two bumped into each other.

"Oh, pardon me," he scratched the back of his head. "Do you..want me to go?"

Yes. 

"No..!" you blurted out. "I think-"

The sun was almost setting. You wrapped the towel around you as you took in the balmy sea breeze. 

"I think I'm done hiding," you whispered, meeting his gaze for the first time in a long while, head on and baring the tiniest hint of shame, like how you did with your friends and other coworkers.

He didn't say anything, allowing you to continue. "I- It's nice. Talking to people again," you giggled. "Look, Sano-san. About before, I'm really sor-"

"Actually," he smiled. "That's why I'm here. Well, my partner pushed me but-"

You grinned at the blush that rose to his cheeks. 

"But I wanted to tell you: No hard feelings."

Sano-san extended a hand. You stared at it for a few seconds. His hand, then his face. Back to his hand, then his face again. And when you'd finally accepted it, it felt like witnessing the cage that’s imprisoned you for centuries finally open.

"By the way," he added, walking back towards an obviously amused fianceé. "It's a good look on you, being happy."

Atsumu entertained the possibility that maybe— just maybe, not everything was  fine the night the Jackals went home after an overseas tournament.

As soon as the plane landed on Japanese soil, the hunger he felt throughout the journey morphed into some kind of  anticipation, palpable through the thrill that electrified him into wakefulness. He might have left in a hurry, only half of his mind present when the Coach ordered for a short meeting. 

His foot tapped endlessly on the way⁠— while in the car; during the tedious elevator ride⁠— and when he'd finally entered his pad, slamming the door open with much eagerness than usual, Atsumu felt his heart plummet down his stomach when he was welcomed by a dark and empty hallway. 

You're not here. Not anymore.

Hasn't it been almost half a year now? Why did he expect you, face brightened by a grin that went from ear to ear, to materialize in front of him, with the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen? As if a magician with a hat trick.   

("Welcome back!" he was aching to hear.)

(You always insisted on eating with him when he got home; sometimes opting to just stay by his side⁠— munching on a midnight snack while you babbled on, if he arrived later than usual and you'd already had dinner.)

("It's lonely having a meal on your own," you explained. "Don't you think food tastes better if you have someone with you?")

Perhaps it was the jet lag. Or, it could be that the abrupt change in time zones was starting to mess with his head. Either way, Atsumu was sure that sleep would eventually cure him of the momentary delirium. 

But then he woke up the next day feeling like someone had pissed in his morning drink. The day after that, too. Even the next had been the same, persisting onto the following weeks. 

Until one game, after a winning streak that had the crowd chanting their names and with blood still roaring in his veins, he condescended to survey the numerous people occupying the bleachers. 

And when he couldn't find one⁠— one person that had always stood out to him despite being constantly drowned in an ocean of spectators— it was only then that Atsumu Miya decided that enough was enough. 

You hadn't really agreed with Aya when she told you that you'd be getting "laid" during this short vacation. 

Reason number one: it's a company outing. And you're sure you'd be breaking some protocols by fooling around with any of your coworkers. Reason Two: as you'd sagely imparted to a miffed Aya, "I don't think it's nice to cure a broken heart with sex; strings attached or no."

That being said, the lingerie she'd chosen for you did flatter your figure. It didn't matter that "no one would see it," as Aya grumbled. It was enough for you that you yourself saw it, you thought as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror. 

The way it was tailored made it seem like it was made just for your body. The details of lace also made it look so pretty that you felt kind of sad that you'd have to cover it up with a summer dress soon. 

Nevertheless, you allowed yourself to strike a few poses in front of the mirror; feeling like a teenager on their first date as you admired how you looked in it. 

You smiled to yourself, humming a tune, before you opened your makeup kit and prepared the necessities you'd be bringing for the bonfire dinner. 

"Wipes: check," you murmured, rummaging through your bag. "Hygiene stuff. Where are you hygiene stuff, hygiene stu⁠—"

You froze.

Something rustled. Outside. As if something had moved. 

Putting a robe back on, your heart thundered against your chest as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the dimly lit sleeping area, illuminated only by a small reading lamp.

"Be careful there, girlie," the old caretaker warned as she guided you to this room. "Lots of mean spirits lurking about."

You didn't believe in ghosts. For some reason, however, your coworkers did. So you'd taken it to yourself to move here after a room assignment mishap, leaving Aya and Kaori behind. 

It didn't seem like the cursed chamber that she purported to be. Sure, it was isolated at the furthest wing of the beach house, away from the other rooms and separated by a too dark hallway. But that had been the creepiest thing about it. Besides, you heard from logistics that renting the house didn't cost much, despite its size, so maybe it's just that they lacked the resources to renovate. 

The floorboards creaked beneath you. "Aya? Aya, I know it's you," you called out as you squinted, catching a faint silhouette reclined at the corner of the bed. 

It was too large to be Aya, but you chalked that up to the shadows playing with your eyes. You puffed out a chortle, resting a hand on your hips when she finally stood.   

"Very funny, Aya," you snorted when she sauntered towards you. "Just you wait until Kaori hears about.…" you trailed off.

"......this."

You drew in a breath as she moved closer, revealing a build that was much taller, towering almost in the small room, shoulders that are way broader than the ones your friend has, and a face that clearly wasn't Aya's.

"Evenin'," Atsumu yawned. 

Your legs refused to listen to you.

"Been a minute, hadn't it, darlin'?"

You don't know why he's here. 

And even if you wanted to ask, you find that no sound could escape from your mouth when you tried to open it.

You do know this, as he gave you a lopsided grin that used to have you eating at the palm of his hand, along with a lazy gaze that was belied by a bird-like focus:

That although he told you that all he wants is a little chat, you knew that he didn't come here just for that.

You ran.

Atsumu had been the worst boyfriend.

He's aware of it now, realized it fully when he knocked on Samu's door, shit-faced, and it only took a single look and a consoling arm from his brother to break Atsumu into tears and snot, as well as Samu's voice telling him, "Yer a big baby. Ya need her, dontcha?"

That's why he followed you here, figuring that you'd love a thoughtful surprise. Because you always have. He didn't expect you'd take to it kindly, of course, not right away. But he also didn't expect that you would be doing the surprising.

You were talking to that man when he arrived. 

Didn't he tell you not to?

His intentions still haven't changed. He's here to bring you back, but before anything else Atsumu's sure it's only normal that you guys clear things up first. 

And if you're going to do that, he can't have you running away now, can't he?

Grabbing you by the waist, Atsumu's palm tingled at the feel of your body, pulling you closer to him as he pinned you to the wall and stifled your shrieks with his hand.

"Everybody's gone, angel," he whispered, losing himself in your skin, though covered in silk; lips and fingers roaming every which way because finally, finally, fuckin' finally you're here and you're real.

"Just wanna talk." He stroked the curve of your ass, middle finger tracing the lining of the crack. "Ain't this what'ya always wanted? S'let's talk," he murmured against your collarbone.

You were already crying, shaky hands weakly grasping his back and tears wetting even his cheeks. Atsumu couldn't help but smile. You'd always been a crier. It's one of the many things he loves about you. Always so honest with your emotions.

"I missed ya," Atsumu groaned as he grinded his cock against your pussy, feeling it harden when he mouthed your tits.

There was something peeking out of your robe, he noticed as it became more rumpled. 

"D-don't," you breathed, your attempt to swat his hands away thwarted when he seized your wrist.

It was lace. The color pulling the eye to your body like a siren's song. And when he stripped the robe off of you, silk swishing down your elbows, Atsumu saw that it was a piece of lingerie. One that he hasn't seen before.

Because he didn't buy this one. It wasn't from him. You weren't the type to get one yourself. 

Until now.

"This for him?" he murmured, pressing a kiss against your pulse, beating like a drum against his lips. 

"Wh-who?" you whimpered.

"The ugly piece of shit. Saw you guys gettin' chummy earlier."

He was close, too close to you, back at the beach. You smiled at him, laughed and showed him what he isn't supposed to see. And when he touched you— when the fucker touched you, Atsumu wanted blood on his hands.

"Yer gonna fuck the guy whose face I busted?" 

You squeaked as he dug his blunt nails against your wrist. Atsumu licked the red impressions they made.

"And what- what about it?" Your voice was so brittle and small. God, he just wanted to hold you. "It's none of your business, who I spend my time with. And don't- don't tell me you're jealous because-"

He chuckled, the sound of it making you shrink back into the wall. "Jealous? Doll, ya wouldn't wanna know what I'm feelin right now. But, sure." Atsumu lightly nipped at the tips of your fingers. 

"'Course I'm jealous," he rasped. "You're mine."

Then, Atsumu looked at you. And what he saw in your eyes made him stumble that when you shoved him away, all he could do was stand and stare.

"I'm not your thing, Atsumu," you cried. A light-year difference from the girl who'd always stare at him so tenderly. "I never was and I never will be. I'm not yours."

You didn't run this time. You should've. 

Atsumu clenched his jaw. "Like hell ya ain't," he snarled.

People say that breakups are a messy business. Atsumu was so sure he wouldn't have to endure that, before he met you.  Now that he's had the experience, though, Atsumu can say with confidence that breakups are, in fact, a goddamn mess.

But you're over that now. It's time to turn over a new leaf and return to one another. And Atsumu's finding out, in the process, that making up can be astonishingly reminiscent of the breakup.

You started crying when you woke up, screaming for help as you tried to budge the rope that was tying your hands to your knees. You got louder when you found out that you were naked and not in the rickety confines of the beach house. 

"Welcome home, baby," he beamed, eying you from between your legs. 

The begging started when you realized how drenched your little pussy was, his tongue lapping and slathering the cum dripping from your twitching hole, against  your swollen folds; his calloused thumb massaging deep circles on your clit. 

And when he stuck another inside your puckered asshole, you writhed out of your binds and squealed, "T-tsumu-kun…!"

Fuck. 

"Babydoll," he growled. "Daddy's gotcha, daddy's gonna treat ya so fuckin' good."

He slapped your damp cunt with his long fingers, thrusting them inside to rub and feel at your walls, at the bump that never failed to make you screech. "Daddy's been mean hasn't he? Hm? Been a bad daddy to ya, baby?"

You could only gasp out wordlessly as he slurped the juices off your clit, not stopping until you were gushing, sloppy cum drizzling on the bedsheet, every muscle in spasms, incapable of even stretching out your legs although Atsumu knew you wanted to, you really wanted to so fuckin' bad, resorting to curling your toes instead. 

"E-enough, please, please, stop!"

How adorable, Atsumu thought. "My little slut," he cooed, tapping the tip of his hard cock on your pussy. "My good 'lil fucktoy."

He relished it, wanting to draw this on forever, so he slides it against your folds, pussy lips wrapping the meat of his cock, gyrating his hips back and forth, as if he were fucking you, and grabbing your tits to play with your nipples. 

"Atta girl," he laughed, licking his teeth when he finally sunk inside your tight cunt, pushing you so far down into the mattress until his chest was rubbing against your tits, your feet dangling against his shoulders.

"I don't-I don't want this, 'Tsumu," you sobbed. "Don't want this!"

Oh, of course you don't. Atsumu knows you don't. He'd fucked you against your will, after all. 

But you were taking him so well, darlin'. Your walls were hugging his cock so fuckin' nicely that he couldn't help but shove deeper inside you, craving for the way your pussy twitched rapidly around him. 

If you weren't bound, he's also sure that you'd be pushing his hips away. But that's not what's getting to him. Because as he pistoned his cock into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass, you instantly turned your face away.

Did you know that you were breaking his heart? Shattering it to pieces, when you close your eyes like doors, locking them to prevent him from ever reaching you again. 

So he gripped your chin. Forced you to meet his eyes as you wept and shook your head. 

"Am gonna be better, baby," he groaned.  "No more keeping things from ya. None of that bullshit, now."

Atsumu shivered as you came around him, convulsing under him and strained voice still begging him to stop. Because he wasn't. He would never stop. Not when it comes to you. 

"Am all yours, angel. All yours." He pounded your fucked out cunt, chasing his own high as he kneaded your tits. 

A tear fell from your eyelids. And when he kissed you, it felt like everything in his life shifted back in its rightful place. "You can have it all," he sighed, cupping your cheek.

"So give me all of you now," Atsumu pleaded. "Come back to me."