#when I have the energy I like to put as much effort into these as I can for you guys ; ; 💚

[duuhrayliegh]

equal and opposite (consequences, pt. 2)

a/n: first of all, yall really showed out with the comments and reblogs on the first part of this so THANK YOU SO MUCH like i haven't written anything that i felt was good in months so to have such an overwhelmingly positive response to that post felt amazing!!!!

if you haven’t read part one, i highly recommend checking that out first!!!!

anyway, i hadn't originally intended for this to go anywhere else, but as i've said before bartender!bucky & peanut just wouldn't go away so here we are!!! i hope this lives up to the expectations and if we want more PLEASE LET ME KNOW I LIVE TO PLEASE

“Can you please just sit down? I don’t understand what’s happening to us!”

“That’s the problem!”

He throws his hands above his head out of exasperation. They land on his hips as their new resting place and he levels you with a frustrated glare. A glare. Apparently, you’re not worth the energy it takes to filter the emotions from his tone or expressions. That luxury must be saved for his plethora of mistresses.

“You don’t understand me anymore!”

“Understand you?”

Going home has become harder and harder. Despite desperately wanting to fix your marriage, it seems your efforts might have been in vain. No matter how hard you try, your husband has made every effort to avoid having a real conversation with you. To say you’re at your wit's end would be generous.

“Yes! Coming home to you is too stressful for me. I’m in the office all week and then I come home to a wife who doesn’t put in any effort to make herself desirable for me.”

Your jaw dropped, as did the wooden spoon in your hand. His words float through your head on repeat. That voice you used to love, the same voice that vowed to always love and cherish you in his wedding vows. Now, you’re cooking for a man you don’t know.

“Then why stay with me? If I’m so clearly not what you want, why stay?”

There’s a drawn out silence that is accompanied by softly heaving breaths and the simmering pot of homemade spaghetti sauce.

“You’re what I want in a wife. You just don’t understand my needs in the way that Shelia does.”

Your blood boils. Shelia—the latest girlfriend in a string of girlfriends. How dare he? You turn to the stove and begin clicking everything off. You fume while gathering your purse and keys to a home that you no longer feel welcome in.

“This is why I didn’t want to get into this. You’re too emotional and I knew you’d play the victim whenever I’m suffering too!”

You roll your eyes, refusing to engage because you’ll only hurt yourself more. Instead, you pry the door open and slam it shut before trekking off down the hallway.

You don’t have a plan, all you know is that you need to get out. You’re lucky that you were wearing a hoodie and jeans whenever you started getting into it with John. It’s not the first time that you had to get out, so you’ve learned over the past few months.

Wind whips against your cheeks when you exit your apartment building. You pull your hood over your head and start walking aimlessly. You reach for your phone and dial the first number you think of.

You never stop walking, street lamps lighting the sidewalk with a pale yellow light. There’s an irritating sting starting behind your eyes that you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t have to listen to the trilling of the phone line for long before it’s interrupted.

“Commando’s. How can I help you?”

The music in the bar is loud enough that you can clearly make out Steve’s divorced dad rock playlist. A rush of relief shoots down your spine and you breathe a sigh while enjoying the subtle ambiance through your phone speaker.

“Hello?”

It’s only then that you realize you’ve been on the phone for the past thirty seconds without saying anything.

“Bucky?”

“Peanut?”

“Hi, uh--I didn't have your number and I didn't know who else to call."

"Hang on, Peanut. I'm here, hang on." Suddenly the music is reduced to a bouncing bass line. "Are you okay?"

You continue walking, breathing in the stale air of the city as you debate your answer. For the most part, sure, you're okay. You’re not physically harmed in any way, just a deep emotional hurt that persists through the stark cold of the air around you. But if someone looked twice, or you spend more than half a second around someone you're comfortable with, that answer wouldn’t hold water.

"The wheels, Peanut, I can hear them. I need you to answer me. Are you okay?"

Bucky's voice is soft and grounding. Your heartbeat starts to match the steady baseline of the bar's music.

"I'm okay?"

Bucky's soft laugh echoes through the phone speaker, "That sounded like a question more than an answer, Peanut." He then pauses and sighs, "What did he do now?"

You suck in a sharp breath, debating on how to answer his question. The lead weight that had previously settled in your stomach begins to lessen as you hear Bucky’s voice.

On the one hand, Bucky has become the person you feel the most comfortable with. You don't have anyone close to you in the city because you moved out here to support John's career. Your family is on the other side of the country, and it's not like you've had a whole lot of time to build a support system here.

On the other, Bucky didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for a broken wife that isn't even his! You have no connection to him outside of becoming a regular at his bar and forming a possibly misguided attraction.

“Peanut? Come on back to me."

“Sorry, Buck. I just—“ you trail off, not entirely sure how to handle yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Peanut Butter.” You laugh softly at the lengthier version of your nickname while he continues talking. “Look, how about we meet somewhere so we can talk?”

“Aren’t you working tonight though? I can just come to the bar.”

No matter how appealing Bucky’s offer is, you don’t want him to risk his livelihood for you. You aren’t worth that, not really.

“Not anymore, Pea. You’re more important to me. The guys here can handle the bar while I leave to take care of my Ps and Qs.”

You giggle again, unsure of where he comes up with these iterations.

“There she is.”

The words are murmured low, as if he was just speaking to himself. As if it’s a remark not meant for public consumption, just a murmur of his adoration.

“There’s a little hole in the wall on 115th and North. It’s called Winnie’s. Meet me there and you can talk for however long they’re serving coffee.”

"Don't diners always serve coffee?"

"They sure do. And Winnie's is a 24-hour diner. Which means," There's a loud shuffle on his end of the phone and then his voice cuts through. "you can talk to me for as long as you want, Peanut."

"Thank you, Bucky." You aren't as loud as you meant to be, but you know he hears you when he hums before you end the call.

Shoving the phone in the pocket of your jacket, you search for street signs.

And now you stand in front of Winnie's, a sixties diner straight off a movie set. Bright neon illuminates the street below, bathing you in a turquoise light that you're sure is not at all flattering. The front door is encased in chrome and vinyl covers the seating throughout the restaurant.

You push through the front doors and spy a large jukebox on the left side of the building. There's no host stand, so you peer around the seats in search of your bartender.

"Welcome to Winnie's. hun! Just take a seat, we'll be right with ya!"

An older woman yells from behind the bar top. Her graying hair is pulled into a neat bun at the base of her neck and you're just about to read her nametag when you hear a familiar voice.

"Peanut! This-a-way!" Bucky stands from a booth in the corner, grabbing your attention and everyone else in the restaurant.

A bright blush colors your cheeks as you make your way to his booth in the corner. The linoleum floor of the diner becomes increasingly interesting the closer you find yourself to Bucky. To be completely truthful, you've never seen Bucky outside of the bar, so this is a jarring, but welcome experience.

He's still wearing those annoyingly large boots and tight white shirt that never fails to distract you when you're sitting on the twirly bar stools. His metal arm is on full display, the gold in-lay catching the light as he twists a straw wrapper into a tight spiral.

Bucky stands to greet you once you reach the booth, leaning toward you and wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your breath catches at his sudden body heat, but you waste no time in curling your arms around his torso.

"This might be the dumbest and most obvious question, but," he pulls back from the hug and gestures toward the seat across from him, "how’re you doing?"

A stifled laugh escapes as you settle into the worn vinyl seat. Instead of answering, you pull a less-than-convincing smile that you know Bucky can see right through. Evidenced by the fact that he laughs sarcastically at the look of it.

"Yeah, thought as much."

"It's just all becoming too much, I think."

An older woman brings two coffee mugs to the table, gripping a half-full coffee pot in her other hand. You stop yourself before you divulge anything in the presence of strangers. You don't need to burden another random stranger with your problems, Bucky is more than enough.

“Who's your friend, Jamie?"

Bucky smiles while introducing you to the woman. He extends the same courtesy to you, placing the name of the woman in front of you.

"Peanut, this is Winnie. She's the owner and operator of Winnie's diner."

Bucky pours a healthy dose of sugar into your coffee mug and then drops a spoon into it before pushing it across to you. You're in the middle of taking a large sip of the hot drink when Bucky continues talking.

"She's also my mother."

“Oh!"

He laughs as you sputter, completely phased by his nonchalance about introducing you to his mother. To be fair, you don’t really know Bucky outside of him being a great listener and mixologist. Winnie laughs and talks with the both of you before politely excusing herself to take care of her other customers.

“Your mother?”

Bucky leans forward and locks eyes with you.

“I’m so sorry. She wasn’t meant to be working today, but you would have met her one way or another.”

There he goes again, that dizzying nonchalance that bleeds into every word he speaks. Your mouth opens to speak, but you're still in a state of stunned that has you stumbling on your words.

"I'm just kidding, Nutter Butter." Bucky laughs and you hum while picking at your cuticles.

"Sorry, just took me by surprise."

"Clearly."

Bucky glances at your hands that are resting on the table and shifts around his side of the booth. There's a brief moment of silence as you mull over what Winnie has said.

"Did she call you 'Jamie'?"

Bucky lets out a loud laugh. One of those laughs that sounds like the feeling snuck up on everyone, including the person laughing.

"That's what you focused on, Peanut?"

You're smiling more in the past five minutes with Bucky than you have in the past five months with John. Bucky stops shuffling and then removes his coffee cup from the saucer it sits on. He slides the tiny plate toward you as you talk.

"Thank you for meeting me, Buck. Like I said, I think I'm just getting too tired of his bullshit. He really came at me today with the attitude that this is all my fault." Bucky nods as you continue speaking, "As if I'm the one who asked for an open marriage."

Bucky reveals a Ziplock bag and dumps the contents of it into the saucer in front of you. You're just about to start a rant when he nudges a salty shell into your hands. You glance down for half a second before getting the ball rolling.

"John asked for this! He's the one that's causing all this... this turmoil in our relationship. I haven't gone on a single date! I haven't caused a single issue. All I've been trying to do is understand things from his point of view, but he won't even give me the time of day to do that. I can't even suggest something like marriage counseling because he runs out the door the second he sees me enter a goddamn room."

You stop to take another long sip of your coffee while Bucky sits back and lets you rant at him across from yet another counter. You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back from saying something.

"I don't even know what to do anymore!" You huff and shove your hair over your shoulder. "What do you think?"

"Do you want my honest opinion or do you want me to just be here for you?"

"I want you to be you."

"Okay." Bucky nods, you crack open yet another peanut and place the shell on a napkin next to the plate. "I think you should start considering divorcing ol' Johnny boy."

"I can't do that."

Your response is immediate. Too quick to be healthy really. The shell of the peanut cracks between your fingers, revealing the salty perfection inside.

"Alright, divorce is off the table. How do you feel about separation?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It goes against everything I was raised to believe. I was brought up under the idea that the person you marry is the person you stick next to no matter what."

"Even when that person isn't extending the same courtesy?"

"I just--" You sniffle, peeling open yet another peanut. "I just want to be loved, Bucky. I don't understand what I did to make him look for love and affection from someone other than me."

Bucky reaches across the table and covers your hand with his, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles soothingly. You found yourself in this same position three months ago. It was when Bucky first told you of his interest in dating you.

To be perfectly honest, you were about two slow blinks away from folding into his arms then. Nothing's changed. You're still half a second from completely melting for the man before you, but you can't get over the fact that you're married.

"Peanut, you may never understand his reasoning. Especially when he won't sit down and explain anything to you. I think you should do what's in your best interest. If you don't want to divorce or separate, then you need to surround yourself with people who will give you that love and affection that you need."

A soft lull coats the pair of you and you allow your eyes to lock with Bucky's. What you find there shocks you.

Pity is something that you never, ever want to experience, but with a shitty situation like your marriage, you've come to expect it. Every time you glance in a mirror or catch your reflection in a store window, or even a puddle of water, you find your own eyes layered with that sickening sadness that accompanies self-pity.

However, in Bucky's clear blue eyes, you find nothing but determination. Determination for what is the question you're now faced with. In all reality, Bucky has no dog in this fight. He has no reason to be helping you the way that he has. Bucky's expressed interest in you, sure, but that doesn't constitute going to the lengths that he does.

"I just want you to be happy."

"Do you think you could make me happy?"

"Absolutely."

You nod while popping the last peanut into your mouth and wiping your hands off on your jeans. You stand unceremoniously and then hold your hand out to Bucky. He stares at your outstretched hand in half-baked shock and then jumps at the opportunity.

"See ya later, Ma! Love ya."

"Will you be home for family dinner?"

"Nope, gotta take my Peanut to the ballgame!"

Bucky rushes you out of the diner and pulls you to a heavy-looking motorcycle. You laugh as he pries open one of the saddlebags on the bike. He reveals two helmets, one white and one black. Both have sleek features with a face cover that reflects Bucky's sharp features.

"What?" His laugh that follows is full of nervous energy as you continue to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"It just--" You snort quietly, "You would drive a motorcycle."

"Oh yeah? And why's that, Peanut Brittle?"

You wave your hand as if you're circling his whole body and shrug while smiling your ass off.

"You just gestured to all of me."

You both break into a fit of laughter, only for Bucky to break it off and unclip the chin strap of the white helmet.

"Well, does safety also fit with..." he does the same gesture as you, "all this?"

Bucky gently rests the helmet on the leather seat of the motorcycle and then leans over to you.

"You might want to pull your hair back. Trust me I love your hair down, but whenever you're riding it's easier in the long run."

"Oh, okay." You begin to pull your hair back when you remember that your hair tie is on the counter at your apartment. "Actually, I think I'll suffer the consequences."

Bucky glances at you and then asks, "You need a tie?"

He prompts you to turn around and he quickly coaxes your hair into a neat ponytail at the base of your neck. You turn back to him with wide eyes, your hand reaching back to check the hairstyle.

"Come on. I've got plans, Payday! I've got ideas to romance ya!"

You laugh while Bucky beams and puts the white helmet over your head. Once it's secured, he swipes the visor up and boops your nose. You scrunch it in retaliation and he shakes his head at you. He grips the sides of your helmet and tilts your head to the side. A loud Bluetooth signal sounds and a robotic female voice informs you that the device has been connected.

"So, basic rules of the bike. I lean, you lean." He taps on the side of the helmet he just fiddled with. "This is a microphone, so we'll be able to communicate without the visors being up. Don't be afraid to squeeze if you feel a little wobbly. I promise I can handle whatever you give me, Peanut."

You flush at his words, thankful that you're already wearing the helmet so he isn't privy to the bright red coloring overtaking your cheeks. Bucky slips on his own helmet and mounts the bike in one smooth motion. His hands glide to the handlebars and then he turns to face you and jerk his head in the opposite direction.

You release a deep breath and give yourself a mini pep talk before placing your hands on Bucky's shoulders. The difference between them keeps you grounded as you swing your leg over the back of the motorcycle. His voice shoots into your ears, a breathy fuck me that wasn't meant for your ears.

"You ready?"

This question is at a normal level, and you respond in kind. The bike roars to life beneath you and you jolt toward him, arms immediately wrapping around his waist tightly.

"Hold on tight, spider monkey."

You giggle and interlock your fingers above the waistline of his jeans. Now, you can feel every breath he takes, every minuscule contraction of his muscles from every movement he makes to control the beast between his legs. You try to take steady breaths in order to control your heartbeat and match Bucky's, but the faster he goes, the faster your heart beats against his back.

City lights blur past as you find your rhythm behind Bucky. The more comfortable you get, the looser your grip becomes around him. He takes you through downtown with all the newer, hipster restaurants inhabiting the busy streets. Bucky begins to slow and you look up to see his profile illuminated under the bright red of the traffic stop.

His feet rest on the ground beside the bike, holding it upright while it rumbles idly. Bucky leans back into you, his hands moving from the handlebars to your thighs. He traces the skin that's exposed by the rips of your jeans. The loose material allows just enough space for his fingers to burrow beneath and trace meaningless patterns into your skin.

Butterflies make themselves known in the pit of your stomach, along with another slightly less prominent heat building at his touch on your skin.

"We're almost there, Peanut Brittle." Bucky's voice is melodic through the microphone. You could fall asleep listening to him read a phone book.

The bike thunders to life again as Bucky releases the clutch. More buildings fade as he continues to steer the two of you down the less traveled streets.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere fun!"

He laughs at your little groan. Surprises aren't necessarily your favorite thing, but if it's Bucky, maybe it'll be tolerable.

Suddenly, Bucky drops his right hand from the bars and indicates his next turn. The pair of you lean in that direction slightly as he slows into a parking lot of a roller rink. The sign for the Rockin' Roller Rink has a bright yellow arrow blinking toward the building at the base of its billboard.

He rolls into a parking spot near the entrance and pops the kickstand out to steady the bike. You peel yourself off of his back and rest your hands on your thighs while taking in your surroundings. Bucky slips his helmet off and then turns his torso to face you.

"As much as I love you on my ride, Peanut, you have to get off first."

You flush red beneath the visor and quickly dismount. However, in your rush to get off, you don't realize how unstable your legs are as they bear your full weight after the ride. Bucky's hands shoot out to your waist as he remains on the bike, a wry grin on his lips.

"Sorry, should've warned you about that." He stands in front of you and dusts off your shoulders before deciding that you're okay. "It's because of the riding position when you're on the bike. If you aren't used to that, it can be a little jarring the first few times."

He takes your helmet and then removes the keys from the ignition. Bucky bends at the waist and hooks his key carabiner to your belt loops.

As he straightens to his full height, he remarks with a wink, "Plus, the vibrations don't help much either."

You squawk unattractively and smack his chest with the back of your hand while he belly laughs. His metal hand hovers over your lower back as he guides you into the double doors of the roller rink. While he pulls open the door for you, you think about all the times that your husband has failed to do even that act of basic decency.

You shake your head as you walk in, determined to put him out of your mind. That is until you remember the one stipulation of your open marriage--you both have to disclose when you go on dates. Your mind drifts to all the unanswered texts he's sent you about his various dates. Little quips that accomplish nothing but remind you that your husband sees you as less than. A relationship that he no longer has to put effort into and hasn't for some time now. You take your phone from your back pocket to shoot John a quick text, a sour look overtaking your face as you do.

On a date, be home later. You’re quick to swipe your phone onto do not disturb and shove it back into your pocket. You aren’t ready to face the hypocrisy that John will manage to cook up.

"You okay, Peanut?" Bucky's voice clears everything. All the swirling doubt, the immense turmoil that you feel when you think of John, everything negative is wiped when you focus on Bucky.

Perhaps that's also an issue. Maybe you need to be single instead of dating. Maybe you need to love yourself before anyone else can effectively love you. What if that's the real issue? The real reason why John had to seek affection outside of your marital bonds. Maybe it was because you were so unloveable to the point that it was more effort to work through your issues than find an effortless partner somewhere else.

A cold finger taps your temple causing you to blink harshly and refocus on the man before you. This man who's become your safe haven, your harbor in this horrific storm that is your marriage. The man who brings peanuts to his mother's diner because you called him to meet up. The man who knows you better than your husband who you've known for half your life.

"The wheels," your bartender reminds you as he pulls you to the side of the room. His arms envelop you until all you can process is biceps, one cold and one warm. Bucky's cheek rests against your head and you can't find it in yourself to stop from melting into his touch. "How about this," he shifts away from you just enough to meet your eyes, "you just take it one hour at a time?"

"One hour?" You ask, brows furrowing skeptically at the concept. You've never been someone who just focuses on the thing in front of you. Your whole life you had a plan--get married, have kids, and secure a stable home life. Although, now that you think about it, your way isn't really that effective. What has your way got you? A decaying marriage, no kids, and a job that you tolerate at most.

"Just one at a time. Nothing can be that daunting if it's one at a time." He smiles big and leans forward, "And let's face it, your first hour is going to be spent watching me almost bust my ass on rollerblades."

You giggle and look at the ground, only for Bucky to lift your face up with a finger on your chin. He stares deep into your eyes, making you think if you stare long enough, you'll meld into one. His grip changes so that most of his fingers cup your jaw, allowing his thumb to trace your bottom lip. His metal finger tugs downward on your lip, releasing it from the hold between your teeth.

"That's definitely one of my current favorite noises you make." He struts off to the front counter, you trailing behind with a confused look on your face at his dopey smile. The implications of his comment seeping into your bones causing a deep heat to light in the pit of your stomach.

As you approach the teller, Bucky's already disclosed his shoe size for the rental pair of skates. The teenager behind the counter makes a bored grunt at the instruction and turns to you, waiting for your size before they trot off to fill the order. Once again, you're left alone with your bartender.

You lean against the raised platform, shoulder digging into the overhanging lip of the counter. During this brief moment of solitude, you take your time taking in Bucky. He really is a mountain of a man, coming in at six-foot-five inches of corded muscle and steel, he's really nothing less than impressive.

His hair just brushes the top of his broad shoulders, though you hardly ever see it down. He always manages to have it tied securely at the base of his neck. However one time, you remember walking into the bar only to see Bucky behind the bar, as usual. Except his hair was bundled on the top of his head. Little wisps of hair fell from the looser hold, framing his forehead and neck. On top of that, he was wearing a red henley that was at least two sizes too small with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his differing forearms in the dim light of Commandos.

It's safe to say that during those few hours you spent with Bucky looking like that, you were a little slower to respond. What's interesting though is that Bucky looks nothing like John. You always thought that John was your ideal man. Based on who you married, you would have assumed you'd be more attracted to Steve than Bucky. Instead, you find yourself lacing up a pair of rental roller skates, that might give you athlete's foot if you're not careful, with the imposing dark-haired man next to you.

"Why bartending?"

The question floats between you as you take the floor. Glistening hardwood reflects the bright neon of the strobe lights and your image beside Bucky. You watch as he glances down at you before refocusing his attention on the path in front of him.

"Well, if I'm being honest, I kind of stumbled into it." He wobbles dangerously as he speaks, hand jutting out to grasp yours in an act of safety. "Shit, sorry." He apologizes sheepishly but makes no move to drop your hand.

You giggle beside him, butterflies awakening from his act of self-comfort, a feeling you haven't felt since your relationship with John began. Bucky squeezes your hand, straightens his back, and pulls you around the rink.

"When I was discharged, it wasn't so much as bartending as it was the ownership of the bar. It gave me a chance to gain some semblance of control back." He stares off into the distance as he speaks as if he's reciting words he said time and time before. You peer up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

Even though you've known Bucky for as long as you have, neither of you has really delved too deep into your pasts. To say you know next to nothing about Bucky's time in the military would be generous. You hum while you ponder his answer.

"Does that need carry into other aspects of your life?"

It's a genuine question, something to move the conversation along because you honestly want to know more about the man beside you. The double entendre of the question doesn't process until you see Bucky blushing beside you with a wry grin. Your eyes bulge, words stammering out of your mouth without finding their full forms.

"Oh-- uh, n— that's not wh--" Your eyes drop to the ground beneath you, the sleek wood reflecting the neon disco of the roller rink lights.

Bucky chuckles beside you, slowly rubbing his thumb against the knuckles of the hand he still holds. He steers the pair of you to the side of the rink, locking you against the slightly sticky bannister with his strong forearms. You quickly level him with a questioning stare as he leans forward and takes a deep breath, undoubtedly getting a strong whiff of your soft vanilla and cherry perfume.

“I’m trying to be very good for you, Peanut. So I’m going to say this once and then we’re going to continue with our date and it isn’t going to come up again until you bring it up yourself.” Your nod is almost imperceptible, but considering how Bucky continues without consequence, you figure he was just mentally preparing himself for his next comment.

“I am enamored with you. I want to have sex with you. I have fantasies that revolved exclusively around you. However, I’m not putting any pressure on this relationship or you. I understand that you need time to process your grief and your marriage, but just know that I’m more than happy to help you through the process and I certainly hope that I’m the first one you go to once you get to a place when you feel confident enough to explore your sexuality.”

You flush at his words, a hot streak racing up your spine before settling in your cheeks, blossoming them into a heavy shade of crimson. Bucky’s left hand comes up to your forehead, brushing away a strand of hair out of your face.

“But not only that, I want to have a relationship with you. I want the late night cuddles. I want the early morning breakfasts. I want to come home from the bar and take a shower with you. I want to wash your hair. I want you to massage my shoulders after a long day. I want to host Saturday barbecues with you for my family and our friends. I want to drive you to the bookstore and regret driving the motorcycle after you get so many because I just can’t say no to you.”

Bucky’s hand drifts down your arm, tracing the soft skin, taking his time to lace his fingers with yours. He pulls you away from the ledge, leading you two into the hustle and bustle of the roller rink. A smile stretches across his features as he tugs you along, a slow steady silence backed by the bumping base of the house music. You fumble with who to respond to him, but you eventually decide that no words are necessary. You know that yiu’ll be able to discuss things further later, you allow yourself to fall into the comfortable company that is your favorite bartender.

Time passes by at a rate you aren’t able to fathom. One moment you’re skating circles around Bucky, laughing as his arms jut out to his sides, steadying himself as he sways and wobbles. You flit out of his reach for a beat only for his arms to wrap around your waist, bringing you to his warm front. You squeal as you clutch his arms, the difference in temperature providing a level of comfort that you’ve been craving for months now.

You tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder, his long hair tickling the apples of your cheek. Soft puffs of air hit your face as he peers down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. He remains stoic, only his eyes giving you any indication that he wants more out of your current embrace.

“Attention all Rockin’ Roller Rink patrons, the rink will be closing in ten minutes! Please return all skates and other rentals to the front desk before leaving.”

The voice over the loudspeaker startles you causing you to jump in Bucky’s embrace. He tightens his hold on you, ensuring that you don’t topple over on your wheels. You breathe out a heavy sigh creating a slight distance between you.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Bucky is quick to follow you to the benches on the side to you could change your shoes so you can return the skates. You’re sure to take out your phone from your back pocket before sitting down. Against your better judgement, you swipe across the screen to turn off the silencing option. The screen illuminates and dozens of notifications flood the screen and you cringe. You shouldn’t feel bad, yore only doing what constitutes an open marriage. You sent the text, that was all that was required of you, and let’s be honest even that was more than what John deserves. Bucky leans back, shooting a glance at your now busy phone.

“Wow, he sure doesn’t miss a beat, does he?”

“Yeah, I’m sure everything he’s texted me the past two hours has been entirely supportive and not at all condescending or hostile.” Sarcasm bleeds into your words, making Bucky chuckle under his breath.

“Oh, ol’ Johnny boy? Nah, he’s nothing but a big old softy who knows that he’s only getting it as good as he’s giving it.” You huff at the comment just as your phone begins to buzz on the tabletop.

A groan leaves your mouth, slipping out before you can filter it. Bucky eyes you as your finger swipes the call button to accept. You haven’t even gotten the phone to your ear before John’s voice carries through the speaker, shouting expletives and derogatory remarks about you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re on a fucking date right now? I can’t believe you!”

Your whole body cringes, and you rush to shove your shoes on to take the call outside. You leave without saying a word to Bucky, unable to look him in the eye while the supposed love of your life berates you over the phone.

“John, I don’t know what you’re upset about.” You tried to remain calm while he carried on. “I followed the single rule that you set in place.”

Bucky takes your free hand and leads you to his bike, leaning against the seat while he watches you pace in front of him. Your once smooth features are now ridged and tense, worry lines aging you ten years the second you get on the phone with John. Your forefinger and thumb find home on the bridge of your nose, pinching the bone there to prevent the sudden headache. You finally stop in your tracks, stomping your foot out of exasperation and then steel your voice.

“I refuse to allow you to speak to me this way, John. You’re the one that opened our marriage, I’m simply following the precedent that you set. I honestly have no idea what your issue with this is.” Your eyes dart to Bucky, “Now, I don’t feel comfortable coming home when you’re speaking to me like this over the phone, so don’t wait up. I’ll come home when you cool off.”

Tears begin to rim your lash line as John continues to shout his lungs bloody. You refuse to meet Bucky’s eyes as you lower the phone, thumb hovering over the end call button. A dark metal palm extends your way, a silent ask for the phone that you don’t have the strength to deny. Bucky watches you as he brings the phone to his ear, listening to your husband’s rant.

“This is completely fucking ridiculous! You’re my wife and I demand you come home and we talk this out like adults. You’re being so unreasonable, right now. And the fact that you think it’s acceptable to text me you’re on a date instead of asking if you could go on one? Who the fuck do you think you are? It’s best you remember who you belong to. You’re so in for it whe—“

Bucky laughs, your head shoots up, eyes locking with his for the first time since you’ve evacuated the roller rink. The laugh is a short, sardonic laugh. One you’ve never heard him make before, almost as if he’s using it as a throat clear. Your breath catches in your throat, knowing how John reacts to being challenged in any capacity.

“Now, I don’t know who you think you are, talking to my Peanut the way that you are. But I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure, you aren’t going to be speaking to her that way ever again.”

It’s another thing about Bucky you’ve never experienced. His tone. It’s dull, lifeless, but full threats that made your skin grow cold and your spine stiffen. You knew Bucky would never cause you harm, but those who hurt the people he loved? The same respect isn’t extended.

“And who the fuck is this?”

“I’m the guy.”

He’s eerily calm, the type of calm you’ve never seen him. You’ve been a distant onlooker while he deals with rowdy bar guests, having to throw out drunk customers who reached their limit and then some. But this… this was something else. John is still yelling, sure to be disturbing your neighbors earning you yet another noise complaint, possibly the one that gets you evicted from your apartment.

“What guy?”

“The guy that’s going to rip your spine out through your throat if you threaten my girl again.”

The world stills. The noisy streets of Brooklyn fade as you search Bucky’s eyes for any semblance of a joke. His eyes have darkened, latching onto yours with a depth that you’ve never seen in them. He reaches for you, pulling you in between his legs by your belt loop. You can hear the stammering on the other end clearly, John’s never had anyone stand up to him with such sincerity.

“If you’re done being a pussy, I’m a little preoccupied. If you’d like to continue this conversation, you may do so anytime at my bar. Howling Commandos. You can Google it and me in your free time. Right now, I’m on a date and you’re interrupting it and disturbing my girl.” Bucky’s hand snakes around your waist, pressing his chin to your chest while maintaining eye contact with you. “Now, apologize to her.”

He switches the phone to speaker mode, allowing you to hear the weakness invading John’s voice. All the while, Bucky’s eyes never leave yours. Your body melts into him, his warmth something that you didn’t realize you were craving. John stammers on his end of the phone, eking out excuses as to not apologize. Bucky clears his throat once more, the action causing his Adam’s apple to bob against your breasts.

“Apologize, Johnny boy.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Three monotonous beeps echo out into the silent parking lot. Wind whips against your cheeks, igniting a shiver through your body. He shoves your phone into his front pocket before wrapping his other hand around your waist. Bucky shifts again, pressing his forehead into your stomach instead of staring up at you. Your arms come up around his shoulders, burying your face into his soft hair.

“Thank you.”

Bucky says nothing in return, squeezing your middle before pulling back to meet your gaze.

“Let’s go, you can stay at mine.”

He pushes against your hips so he can reposition himself over the bike. You’re quick to stop him, remarking something about him just taking you to a hotel for the night. He cuts you off before you can fully finish your sentence.

“I’m sorry Peanut, but you surely don’t think I’m about to let you spend the night at some sketch hotel by yourself. And I’m certainly not going to let you go back to that apartment with that temperamental skeeze of a husband you have.”

“Let me?” You back up, resting your hand on your now cocked hip.

“Peanut.” Bucky stares up at you, “I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m sorry. I’m only saying that I want you to be safe and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in either of those environments. I would be much for comfortable if you came home with me so that I could protect you.”

You shoulders relax, in the back of your mind, you know that he didn’t mean anything by it. John always sets you on edge, and it’s unfair of you to put those emotions onto Bucky.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… John.” Your sentence trails off, no ending really needed because you know that Bucky understands.

“Come on. Get on, Peanut Butter. We aren’t far from my place.”

You mount Bucky’s bike, his left hand immediately going to your thigh, his fingers threading themselves between the rips of your jeans to feel the soft skin of your knee. The ride to Bucky’s apartment is quiet, the rumbling of the motorcycle beneath you is powerful and steady. Every chance he got, Bucky would slip his fingers into the rips of your jeans, aching to be close to you in every way possible. You lean forward, resting your helmeted head against his back while he drives.

If there was one thing that you never would have guessed, it’s that Bucky Barnes would have pale green wallpaper in his apartment. Not just a pale green, he proudly declares that it’s agate green, the color he spent weeks painstakingly debating between that and nurture green. You giggle as you toe your shoes off at the front door, quietly taking in his personal space.

The exposed brick melds with the dark countertops in a way that’s almost soothing. The pendant lights above the island cast a soft glow over the open floor plan. Bucky turns to face you, peeling off his leather jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the door. You catch his eyes, only to be distracted by the wall of bookshelves on the far end of his apartment.

“Oh my god, Bucky I had no idea you were so interested in reading.”

He laughs, shoving his hands in his front pockets while walking behind you as you approach the stacks of books he has scattered throughout his home.

“I’ve always enjoyed reading. When I was deployed there wasn’t much to do other than read. I had my Ma send me all different kinds of books, from new releases to her favorite classics to stuff my little sister was reading in school.” He stands beside you, shoulder to shoulder as you glance up at him. “Guess I never kicked the habit, though there are worse vices that a person could have.”

You hum, refocusing your attention on the books, but only for a second as Bucky reaches his hand out and leads you up the stairs to the lofted bedroom. Bucky’s comforter matches the green walls that sits behind his TV. Not only that, but his pillow cases vary from overly fluffy to soft silks. The mixture of textures and fabrics is almost too much for your brain to comprehend. You’re about to question it when Bucky returns to your line of sight, a dark Henley in one hand and a pair of boxers in the other.

“I don’t have any pajamas for you, but you can wear these.”

He’s almost sheepish as he presents you with the clothes, a light blush casting over his cheeks. It’s so interesting to interact with him. At times, he’s the most suave man you’ve ever met, and at others, it’s like he’s a lovestruck teenager who’s just got their first girlfriend.

You thank him and follow behind him as he leads you to the en-suite bathroom. Just as Bucky begins to explain where everything is, he bends down to the bottom cabinets and retrieves a spare toothbrush.

“Planning for extra company, huh?” You joke while poking him in the side as he stands next to you in the doorway.

Bucky’s tongue peaks out of his mouth, his teeth catching on his bottom lip as he stares down at you. His eyes do that thing again, the same thing he did just before he laid out his feelings for you earlier. Your breath catches in your throat, is he leaning closer? Are you inching toward him? What are you doing?

“Bucky,” the tension breaks, a dam of emotions behind held back by your dedication to your marriage. “I feel like I should explain.”

His hands rest on your shoulders, quick to silence your worries. He leans forward, dotting a quick kiss to your forehead. Bucky lingers, the soft press of his lips shoots warm and fuzzy feelings through your bones.

“Tomorrow. You’ve had a long night. We can talk about everything in the morning.”

A weight of anxiety lifts from your shoulders as you watch Bucky begins descend the stairs, lush blankets and pillows in hand. You turn back to his room, allowing yourself to sink into his private space.

You peel back the duvet and sit on the edge of his mattress, unsure if you should fully dive into his being. If you’re quiet enough you can hear Bucky downstairs, shuffling on the couch in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

Your eyeline floats over his bedside table, the lamp atop it casting a pale yellow glow over the entire room. The surface next to you is covered in items that are unequivocally Bucky—a worn copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth, a leather bound journal, the few gold rings that he something adorns his digits with while bartending. His rings clink against each other as your fingers drift over the cold metal.

Among his assorted objects is your phone on his charger. The light pink case is slightly out of place, but not enough to be obnoxious. You smile to yourself while lying back in his sheets.

You really do owe him an explanation. Bucky deserves more than some broken woman who’s in a shitty marriage. He deserves the world and then some. All you can offer is a somewhat clear thought process.

You think on John’s actions today. He really showed you his true colors. You start to wonder if he really cares about you or if just cares about having a wife. If it’s the second one, why does it have to be you?

You flip to the other side, now facing the back wall of windows. Your mind is about as calm as the city right now. New York is never quiet, even this far out in Brooklyn. You’re never safe from the light pollution that constantly blocks out the beauty that is the natural night sky.

It makes you long for your hometown, the wide open spaces with vast fields of nothingness that stretch for miles on end. Maybe it’s time you pay it a visit. It would be nice to escape the hodge podge of a life you’re currently living.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force yourself to slow your breathing. Distantly you can hear Bucky begin to snore, a low monotonous sound that you cling to. For the first time in months you feel secure. Your muscles decompress, your brow unfurls and you allow yourself to truly relax.

With everything that’s going on, Bucky deserves more. You deserve more, but that can all wait until tomorrow.

Tomorrow. That’s a good thought.

[xhanisai]

At the moment, I like to think that the reason Chloe started bullying Marinette in the first place wasn't because the latter did anything against her personally.

Marinette has this energy, this warmth that naturally attracts people towards her. Her clumsiness is endearing. Her creativity is inspiring. Her kindness is heartwarming. And her leadership skills are comforting. She got everything that Chloe has always wanted without seeming to put any effort into it at all!

Marinette's mother genuinely loves her and would go out of her way to ensure she's doing fine and that she's happy (Audrey doesn't even remember her name). Marinette's father loves her just as much and would pick her up and twirl her around (She has to scream for Andre at least fifteen times before he gives in to her whims).

So of course, after getting a good look at Marinette when they began middle school, Chloe had to nip her in the bud before their classmates could get closer to her.

If she, the mayor's daughter, can't get people to love her without having to compromise or do things she doesn't want to do, why should this peasant from the bakery get everything? She should stay in her lane of course! She's just a worm. A piece of dirt. She doesn't deserve the love that Chloe has been dreaming of all her life.

But then...

Adrien gave Marinette his umbrella. And he chose to become closer to her and would even defend her from Chloe's wrath! And then he gave Marinette his heart.

Audrey was impressed by Marinette's talents. She asked her to come to New York with her. But what about Chloe!? She's her daughter for crying out loud but she chose the peasant over her!?

Zoe came along. But she chose Marinette too like everybody else! No amount of "I love you, you're my sister!" will ever heal that sting.

Felix chose Adrien which meant he chose Marinette. They may not have gotten along much as kids but dammit did it still fucking hurt.

And then there's Lila.

Oh, Lila, Lila, Lila.

Chloe chose Lila. This should have made a difference right? Right???

But no.

Lila's hateful obsession with Marinette was so bright, so blinding, how could Chloe ever have a chance to shine for the olive-eyed brunette's heart?

She hates her.

She hates Marinette.

She hates her she hates her she hates her my god she fucking hates her!!!!!!

[dominimoonbeam]

DOMINI!! HOW ARE YOU!!

may i ask for

oh, don't be cute.

wait, did you just say that i'm cute?

putting on lip gloss/balm before the kiss, having fun sharing different flavors

with david and darlin pleaseee?? thank youuu ♥️♥️♥️♥️

ZOZO!!!! Okay, this was great and soo much fun! Thank you!! I hope you like how it turned out. <3 <3 <3 You're amazing, thank you so much for the ask!!

David/Darlin

tags: first kiss, prompt fic, a little tipsy, idiots in love

Coconut.

The warehouse was trashed from the pack party but David couldn’t quite muster the energy to care. It was almost four in the morning. He should start sending them home… really he should have done that an hour ago. Several of the pack were already passed out on the couches or the floor. He knew they kept some bedding at the warehouse but he hadn’t realized it was quite this much. They’d basically built a nest.

Fuck it. They could sleep here. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about them all getting home safely. He closed his eyes, arms folded across his chest and body settling into the couch. He could make breakfast in the morning. That would be nice.

The couch bounced when someone plopped down next to him.

He didn’t have to open his eyes to know who it was. He could feel their aura against his. Loyal, sharp, quick to anger, quick to run, brave, but so damn scared. His nose wrinkled, eyes still closed. “Why do you smell like coconut?”

He felt them shrug, their arm against his.

David opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Darlin. Their eyes were half-lidded. They’d been riding their buzz for the last hour or two. His gaze flicked to their mouth and the gloss on their lips.

“This was all Milo had,” they explained with another shrug.

David nodded, watching their lips move as they spoke. He was riding a buzz too. Their mouth was lush. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? He’d been crushing on this idiot for years but never really noticed those lips... They’d been flirting for months now. Asher didn’t think Darlin really thought they were flirting though. He was probably right.

David uncurled his arms and held out a hand, palm up, doing gimmie fingers.

Darlin grinned. “You want some?”

“Hn.” He wanted it.

Something mischievous lit their eyes and they tipped their chin up, offering their lips, eyes always on him, daring him to get some.

David smiled despite all efforts not to. “Oh, don’t be cute.” Don’t tempt me, he thought.

Darlin laughed and looked away, sinking back against the cushions next to him, shoulder to shoulder and thigh to thigh. “Wait. Did you just say that I’m cute?” They turned their head to look at him again, surprise hitting late.

David was looking back, their faces close. He saw the moment Darlin realized it and heard their pulse jump. Their gaze flicked down to his mouth. They didn’t pull away, but forced a sideways smile that made him think they were about to say something self-deprecating to cut the tension…

“No one would call me cute, Davey.”

Yep. He didn’t look away. “I did. Want me to call you more names?” he asked, deadpan and patient.

Their eyes widened a fraction and he could practically hear the battle in their mind, wanting to egg him on, wanting to know what he would say, but not wanting to risk it either. They nodded once. The whole warehouse was a hive of activity but it all faded.

“You bite hard, you’re brave, and your mouth is really pretty.”

Darlin’s eyes were as wide as he’d ever seen them and their smile was an explosion. “Fuck you, you did not just say my mouth was pretty!”

David ignored all of his own nerves and the heat climbing his face. He wasn’t going to look away from this. “I said really pretty.”

“You’re messing with me, Shaw.”

He finally smiled, because how could he not when they served it up like that? “I’ll mess with you if you want, any time… if you’re willing to share your chapstick.”

Darlin stared, practically gawked, seeming to realize again just how close they were sitting. “You’re drunk,” they said in way of explanation.

David just watched them, waiting. He was tipsy, sure, but he wasn’t drunk and they knew it. Their eyes flicked to his lips again. He wanted so much to close that distance but he couldn’t. He needed them to make that move.

His heart beat faster when the leaned in, his hands curling into fists against his own arms to keep from grabbing at them right away. They kissed him so softly, lips sticky with that coconut chapstick. For a split second after, he felt the flutter of uncertainty in them, not regret for kissing but fear that it was a joke at their expense and they’d fallen for it—that he didn’t feel the same—that he was just messing with them. It all vibrated there across those indescribable threads that connected them.

David reached across and curled a hand behind their neck, pulling them in again and this time kissing them deep enough to taste the pina colada on their tongue. The kiss was long and slow and when it broke he smiled. “So… You like coconut, huh?”

Darlin grinned back. “Don’t you?”

He nodded. He did now.

[mysticwolfshadows]

Taken - Zutara - Part 9

First / Previous / Next

The reaction is immediate.

Amber eyes widen, panic clear on his features. Zuko turns his body, putting his back to his uncle and facing a wall, so only his non scarred side was facing Katara. His gaze darts wildly about, as if unsure what to look at.

And, oh. That... That was odd.

She had seen him do it before, had noticed how he had kept turning away, seemed to have trouble looking her at head on. Now, seeing how much effort he would put into hiding the scar from her, she was starting to understand. He was ashamed of his scar, and if she was going to get anywhere, she needed to know why.

"I brought you home," Zuko said, his voice tinged with anger and an underlying sorrow. "So go home."

Katara frowned, tilting her head, and stepped into the room. Zuko's eye darted towards her, and he jerked.

"I said go home!" He turned a little further away from her, so he was shouting at a wall hanging.

Katara took another step, head high and determined. "Not until you look me in the eye."

His hand came up, shooting flames as he shouts. Her father shouts behind her, but Katara isn't worried. He's not aiming for her, and she doesn't flinch as the flames go wide and turn a portion of the wall red hot for a moment. Azula had thrown flames at her that came closer than that. She steps closer, one hand reaching out to his arm.

He's shaking, trembling really, with something held deep inside.

"Zuko," she said, her hand squeezing his sleeve. "Look at me."

He turned, so slowly, Katara almost thought time had slowed. When both his eyes were looking at her, she took a moment to study him. His eyes were filled with nervous energy, searching her face. She could tell, whatever she said in that moment, would change him forever. She could break him down to ash, or stoke him into the inferno she knew he could be.

"There you are," she said, smiling at him. "I've missed you."

It had been a long six months for her. Clearly, the same could be said for him. Zuko let out a strangled gasp, his hands coming up to grasp at her elbows. It was a desperate sort of hold, as if he were afraid she would vanish if he let go. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he couldn't stop himself as he dropped to his knees.

Katara followed him, sitting on the floor with him, as he let out all the emotion that had built up over the months. She held him, rubbing soothing circles on his back, and glancing up at Iroh. The old general looked a bit misty eyed himself, but gave her a smile as he exited, taking her father with him.

When the door was shut and Zuko was taking deep and even breaths, Katara finally spoke.

"What happened?" she asked. "I want to know everything."

Zuko kept his head bowed, but didn't try to hide his scar from her again. "It's a long story."

"We have time."

"You aren't going to like it..."

"I don't care."

"...You're going to hate me..."

"I could never."

Finally, he took a deep breath, and started from the very beginning. "When my grandmother got sick, Fire Lord Azulon was desperate..."

First / Previous / Next

[discountsoysauce]

I don't understand the idea that Victor has no backstory. Like- yeah, his backstory isn't as horrifically tragic and detailed as Eli's is, but we do know a good bit about him from what he's said so far.

His parents are pretty successful, so we can assume he grew up rich. Victor states that they write all of these books about family but have never taken time out of their day for him, even saying something along the lines of the last time they put aside time for him was his birth (not exact quotes, I don't have the energy to look back through the books rn), so we can assume that they were incredibly neglectful, most likely leaving him at home for days, weeks, maybe months at a time and probably not paying much attention to him even in times when they were home. Whether they paid someone to take care of him in that time or he had to learn to be self-sufficient is debatable.

I personally don't think they were physically abusive, and there doesn't seem to be any evidence at present that supports that idea. Verbal abuse is more likely, but I still don't think it was the case. It doesn't seem like they were around him long enough to do either. I don't think those things really need to be a part of his backstory to make it interesting or compelling. His parents were neglectful, and it shaped pretty much everything about who he is.

The biggest and most obvious one is Victor's obsession with attention. There are multiple references throughout the books of Victor craving attention from those around him, namely Angie and Eli. More than anything, Victor wants to be seen. He wants to be a part of something. He wants to be remembered and acknowledged and thought about. He craves the attention his parents never gave him. He doesn't want to be left behind or forgotten.

Being left behind is another big fear for him (I'm mostly speaking about Lockland here, as he becomes a bit less dependent after he becomes an EO, though there can still be an argument made about him latching onto Mitch and Sydney and Dol and Dominic in a kind of makeshift family he never had). He hates seeing Eli succeed because it feels like he's being left behind. He wants to be so intertwined with another person that they can't possibly forget him. He wants to form a connection so deep that it's impossible to sever. To Victor, there's a connection between 'success' and being left behind. He doesn't want to just be an expendable sidekick or an accessory. He wants to be an integral part of someone. Victor's life revolving around Eli is a symptom of his upbringing.

His social skills and general demeanor are also something that can be analyzed. From the beginning, he's set up as the antithesis to Eli, from social class to backstory to appearance to demeanor. They're the same at their core, but opposites in nearly everything else. Compared to Eli, Victor is a total recluse. He hates being around people, he avoids parties, and we barely see him interact with or pay attention to anyone except the people he genuinely cares about unless he absolutely needs to. His demeanor is off-putting, and he doesn't really make an effort to hide that, although he does just enough to make sure he isn't a complete social outcast. Victor grew up in one home with no siblings and parents who were hardly around. Compared to Eli, who was carted from home to home, meeting new people and learning how to blend in all the time, Victor likely doesn't have much in the way of social experience. He didn't have to hide who he was nearly as much as Eli did because there was no one there to see it anyway.

This being said, he is described as being a good liar and able to fool those around him, although notably worse at it than Eli. This one is more of a longshot, but I don't think it's improbable. Victor's parents were successful published authors who garnered their success based on the books they wrote about family. It's possible that Victor had to make press appearances at some point when he was younger, and learned how to lie for the cameras, or he just spent so long out of the company of others that he started seeing other people as more objects to use and less real living people, making it easier to learn the motions of manipulating them. Either way, Victor learns how to do or say the right thing to get someone to believe him, but he states that Eli is much better at actually faking emotions than he is. This is because while Eli spent his life following his father's death surrounded by people and thus learned how to change his entire self to appear more presentable to the general public, Victor only learned how to manipulate people through speech or actions. He can tell you exactly what you want to hear, but he can't put on a fake persona the way Eli can because he never needed to.

In conclusion, Victor does have a backstory, and it informs every aspect of his character, including his relationship to Eli.

[cursedvibes]

I have one disappointment with the reveal of Jin being a reincarnation of Sukuna's twin.

Kenjaku has lamented about their creations not being able to surpass their own potential, in the past. So it feels cheaper to finally have a creation/offspring have higher potential not through intrinsic growth or effort but cause of inheriting the other parent's greater potential.

Thoughts?

Hm, yeah I get what you mean. I'm at least glad that Yuuji got Shrine like Blood Manipulation, i.e. by absorbing a cursed object, not by just having it inherited.

I think with Yuuji and Kenjaku's expectations it comes down to two things. They say they wanted offspring that can surpass their expectations, but they acknowledge that they have always been too focused on controlling the process, therefore never quite getting something that really surprises them. Yuuji starts out like that too. His birth and upbringing was meticulously engineered. Parents picked out, even tracked down a specific soul, and then placed a sealed finger inside him to ensure he would be able to resist Sukuna.

I think that's where the Culling Game comes in though and what they said to Choso inside Tengen's barrier. The Culling Game was meant to be chaos that not even Kenjaku could control and Yuuji was intended to be a player. To Kenjaku's disappointment it didn't end up as chaotic as they wanted, but I think what they said about Yuuji is still true. They are obviously saying it overly crass to anger Choso, but I think they really didn't have a clear plan for Yuuji once he stopped being Sukuna's vessel and that was meant to give him freedom to evolve. Being Sukuna's vessel would kick off his evolution. Make him learn to control his cursed energy, make him aware of how he can use cursed objects to his benefits and make him familiar with Sukuna's soul and cursed energy to both awaken the potential he got through Jin and also what he took from Sukuna (e.g. Shrine). From there it's up to him what he does with it and how far he wants to go and that's what would make him able to surpass Kenjaku's expectations. Or at least they hope so. They have always kept their distance and only manipulated him very subtly if at all once he became Sukuna's vessel and their Shibuya and Culling Game plan kicked off. Among other things, I think it was to make sure they don't end up controlling his actions too much.

This still seems very controlled as is typical for Kenjaku and so far Yuuji seems to develop exactly how they predicted, so that might make them a bit proud but not satisfy their intentions for him fully. We'll see how it will continue from here. Kenjaku's main hopes probably still lie on the merger curse to surpass their own potential (it would've been born from them if things went as intended and they might still be involved in a way when the merger starts for real), but Yuuji was sort of like the second option I guess. In both cases they put an about equal amount of long-term planning into the result.

Kenjaku's dead now, so that would leave a lot of room for Yuuji to become what they are hoping for. They can't influence him directly anymore, only through what they set up before like making him and Sukuna clash. What happens afterwards is up to them. But they won't be able to see the result just like with the merger. Truly unpredictable now that it's out of their hands, but inaccessible to them (although I'm less sure with the merger, I think they still did something with curse womb!Tengen that would ensure their involvement somehow). They seemed to be fine with it though when they died because they got their own taste of unpredictable chaos with Takaba previously. Probably why they simply told Yuuta and his group aka also Yuuji that things will be fun.

[anemoiashifts]

why everyone won’t shift.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

“do you think everyone will shift?”

no.

“but if they really want they’ll eventually—“

no.

before you pick up your pitchforks & form an angry mob in the comments, hear me out.

first & foremost. what is a want ? a want is something you desire. but not every want is desired. for example, ive been thinking of getting a cat once i move out of my parents house. i want the animal & have the funds for it. when i dig deeper in my desire, i see all the vet trips, the having to feed it & take care of it & i realized that i don’t actually want the cat at the moment. im not ready to make that drastic of a change in my life. on the surface, id like one but i don’t want to take on the responsibility for taking care of a pet at the moment.

i like the idea of getting a cat (shifting) — but when the actual time comes to get a cat (actually shift), i don’t actually want a new pet at the moment (to create that big of a change because i am comfortable with my situation & not mentally prepared / mature enough).

i made a post about comfort already. what previously spoke about can tie into this.

if you don’t actually want something & just like fantasizing about it, that’s okay. but fantasy & imagination needs to be backed by intention. you need intention & effort put into your shifting attempts. ive seen so so many people say “i tried to shift” & all they do is say “i said one affirmation & rolled over & went to sleep & hoped i would wake up in my dr.”

you could say a million affirmations & hope you will wake up in your dr & not shift. you know why ? hope. it’s not hoping you will shift — it’s that internal knowing. it’s letting go fully of the comfort & all you know of this life to go to another & a lot of people don’t want to do that even if they say they do. again, they like the idea of shifting, but aren’t stopping to consider that you’re actually living it.

this isn’t a bad thing. if you actually have come to the conclusion that you don’t want to shift & are in the community — that’s okay. if you’re just interested in the science or content for the subject & that’s why you’ve stumbled across this blog, i don’t have an issue with that.

when i say not everyone will shift, i mean that not everyone wants to shift in the first place despite what they may say. what they want is an escape. time & time again i see comments on tiktok say “i want to get out of this reality”. that statement has nothing to do with wanting to shift — it’s wanting to get out of the situation you are in. you do not have to shift to get out of your current situation. if you live with family or are younger, it’s different, i understand.

if you’re someone who thinks “when i shift, ill be happy.” no no no. happiness comes from within you. while the 3d can bring you momentarily happiness, that only lasts so long. if you don’t have internal happiness & self love those feelings won’t last. shifting — in my option — can sometimes be putting a bandaid on a bigger issue & that’s loneliness & a yearning for another life. you can solve both of those right here at anytime.

lastly, shifting takes effort despite what you may think. “but such and such shifted without trying”. cool, that’s them. but have you ? if you’re reading this im going so safely assume at least a handful of you are saying “no” internally. when you want something you have to work for it. weather that be manifestation or putting yourself first. if you wake up & think “i didn’t shift” or “i hate this world it’s sucks” guess what ?? you’re focusing on the negative. what you pay attention to & give your energy to expands because you’re shifting awareness to it. you make up your thoughts & control them, thus affecting the 3d.

im not saying you can’t shift with negative mindsets or anything. im saying confidence helps a ton. how are you going to believe other people can shift when you can’t even extend that belief to yourself ? you’re making it much, much harder for yourself. doing healing work, finding the root cause of why you want to shift (for love, sense or belonging, etc.) & finding that here first, may alleviate the desperation to shift. when you have a sense of knowing, there’s nothing to be desperate about because whatever happens, you know the outcome already.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

[puppyeared]

obsessive

[b4kuch1n]

Hello! Honoring the call for a global strike, from now (24/01/2024) until the end of this week (6AM Monday 29/01/2024, Hanoi/Jakarta time (GMT+7)) I am offering one full-body sketch of any character you want for every e-sim you donate.

All you need to do is:

go to gazaesims.com

follow the instruction there and donate an e-sim of any plan

screenshot the confirmation of your purchase and donation

send the screenshots to me via either email (b4kuch1n@gmail.com) or Tumblr DM, along with the character you want a sketch of and any references you have on hand.

Standard commission/request guideline applied. I'll run streams in the next four days (and perhaps after as well) on Youtube doing these sketches live - those will be announced on this blog as they happen.

I'm not currently affiliated with the Cartoonist Cooperative or any other artists doing the same drive, but if my art's not what you're looking for, definitely give the Coop's site as well as the e-sim tag on Tumblr a look! And if you're not looking for sketch commissions from me or art commission in general at the moment, I encourage you to donate an e-sim anyway if possible.

Thank you for your work and support - I can't wait to draw your character!

[an-albino-pinetree]

NOOOOO BC WHAT IF MIFFY SCARES SCP JAX :(((( (she has major anger management problems and snaps if startled) 😭😭 this girl would never forgive herself if she made him cry

Ig what I’m meaning to ask is- *does* he get startled if something snaps at him or any animal growls?? Or would he just be like “lmao yippie dog lol”

-v- 💕

[fihyn-art]

outside my friend's apartment ♡

[nekotalia]

Have you drawn neko sweden before? If not, i would love to see him! c:

You're actually my first request, anon! I kinda went overboard with this to tested out some things, but I had fun! Thanks for your request <3 Outfit inspo

(P.S. He's transparent)

[saetoru]

i feel like i might be a lil mean for getting annoyed over this but also its like .... ?? 😭 but i will never understand why ppl ask questions without skimming over your pinned post at least once bc it is there....to provide you important info of this blog....its not there just to look pretty like damn at least give it a glance before asking questions that are easily answered 😭

[koishua]

shining solo ep 8. my reaction rn 😐😐 took it a bit hard lmao

[byronicbi]

With my waistcoat done I am compelled to make a shoulder cape. like it doesn't align with the tumblr canon of his sexified gajinka but like......... i think it would be very sexy when coupled with my cane.

[slippery-minghus]

hmm. had an actual conversation with nightmare coworker today that seemed mutually productive. she apologized for saying some bullshit that hurt my feelings and i clarified that my intentions are to help not to undermine her, and we both agreed that there's no competition against each other and that it's the lack of growth in our role that's the problem. it was...productive.

and further cementing for me that it is time to begin making my Exit. i will be sending out my resume to a few places this weekend.

i'm still processing the conversation, and am struggling to place myself in where i am responsible to better my behavior. because i genuinely don't want to be an ass, even though i really don't like this lady and will jump for joy the day i never have to see her again. she stated that she knows my intentions aren't to hurt her, and that she thinks i'm very kind. i apologized for if my behavior came off as undermining her, and said that my intentions are only to better my own growth—and that i know she's trying to succeed too. i validated her feelings, and complemented the effort she is putting in.

where i'm struggling with is: am i in the wrong/causing harm and needing to change if the issue is that her feelings are incongruent with what she knows of my intentions? her feelings are her responsibility (WOW i almost typed "her feelings are my responsibility". i feel like that's a freudian slip) and she states that she knows i don't mean to hurt her. i'm going to try to be more clear in wording my intentions with her (she feels like me trying to take work off her plate is to undermine her. when really, i'm caught up and see her getting overwhelmed, and i want to help and also have something to do since i'm bored).

but i'm really struggling to look at my role in this and pass judgement on myself. i can and want to do better, and i don't think i did anything wrong, but i'm always so hesitant to say it's not my fault or i didn't do something bad. like i can't trust my judgement on that. my intentions were good, her bad feelings are ones caused by her insecurities, which she more or less has expressed to be aware that they are not true—the hurtful thing she said to me, she acknowledged was said out of hurt and not what she actually thinks. so, is it fair to say i'm not the bad guy? i'm not in the wrong? i know good intentions that still result in harm don't absolve anyone, but when the things that are clashing are insufficient communication and reactive insecurities... i'm not a monster, am i?