#(I can clarify if anyone has questions but I feel like this does the job)

[testingthewatersss]

Questions Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture,  etc. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Oneshot 4800 words fluff, angst, comfort & kissing. 18+ MDNI  Bucky has questions. Questions he's sure she can answer. But she wont, and he thinks he knows why.

“Bucky” Y/N says, “Why are you askin’ me that?”

“Because” he replies, “I can’t ask anyone else.”

The look on his face is sad. She maintains eye contact for a minute before breaking it, averting her gaze to her desk, where she pointedly focuses on a bit of paper that is near enough blank.

“Please, doll?” he presses, “Please, just-”

“What do you want me to say?” she almost snaps, “James, I-”

“Please” he says again, softer this time, “Don’t call me that… Y’know I- I only get James when I’m in trouble.”

When she brings her eyes back to his, she can’t help but sigh, temper retreating like a wave.

“It’s a pretty nice name, y’know” she murmurs, “I don’t know why-”

“-Are you tryin’ to change the subject, darlin’?”

At least his smiling now, even if it’s tight lipped and forced.

She doesn’t deny his statement, just shrugs.

“My point stands” he hears her say, “It’s hardly a mouthful, I don’t know why you hate it so much-”

“I don’t hate it” Bucky counters, “It just reminds me of bein’ yelled at.”

“Have I ever yelled at you?” she quips quickly,

He shakes his head, letting out a slow breath.

“I just want to know” he says quietly, “I can’t just let it go”

“You really want me to tell you wether or not I think you could have gotten away sooner?” she clarifies, “You want me to stand here and tell you if you put up ‘enough of a fight’ in the beginning and then after all that you want me to-”

“make sure the words they put in my head don’t still work” he confirms, “Please, doll, I…I don’t have anyone else I can go to about this kind of stuff, can you imagine Steve’s face if I even tried to bring this up with him?”

For a second, she says nothing. She just stares, trying to read wether or not even considering his line of questioning is a step too far, and then, he reaches out to take hold of her hand and she feels her heart breaking.

“Please…” he whispers thickly, “…I want to know-”

“They’re not easy answers to give” she replies, imploring him to understand, “Bucky, that first question alone isn’t a simple yes or no, there are so many variables, I-”

“You” he mumbles, bringing her knuckles to his lips, “won’t lie to me, darlin’… I trust you, I love you and-”

“I love you to” she counters, “That, is exactly why you comin’ to me like this isn’t fair.”

He’s kissing across her fingers, and all she can do is grumble as she leans back against her desk;

“Do I think you could have gotten away sooner?” she echos, surrounding to his puppy dog eyes, “Physically? probably— They let you carry loaded guns, you were never in particularly bad shape, even if you’d been knocked around a bit— You probably could’ve bolted from a job, or fought your way out if you’d have timed it right, y’know?” he does know, so he nods, gut tightening uneasily, “but-” Y/N says, “just because you might’ve been able to get away, that doesn’t mean you ever stood a chance.”

Bucky feels his face dropping as she lets go of his palm, choosing to tuck her hair behind her ears instead-

“There was a reason they didn’t care about you carrying weapons” she continues, “they knew full well that you weren’t going to try anything, even when given the opportunity.”

He opens his mouth to speak, to ask her to be more decisive in her judgement, but she gets there first, crossing her arms across her chest as she carries on,

“and the reason they trusted that so much” she says, “is because, yes, Bucky, you put up a hell of a fight in the beginning— It wasn’t a one and done where they wiped you and that was that, it took months of them pullin’ you in and out of storage, of them messin’ with the tech, messin’ with you, before they decided that it was just about good enough to move on to any further training, and that, that was just the tip of the iceberg— I mean jesus, weird, torture bullshit, aside, you had at least 3 different trackers active on you— If you’d managed to run they’d have found you eventually. You cut that one out of your neck in Budapest—”

The old scar that’s hidden by his hair aches as she mentions it, and then, as she nods at his arm, he finds himself feeling awfully small,

“—I broke the unit they had in there, that thing was more than just a bug, it was hooked into your nervous system, and-”

“There was always one in the guns”

She nods, in agreement before falling silent again.

It’s a difficult topic to talk about. Y/N hates discussing anything about her own time with HYDRA, but, she still thinks she’d prefer that, to this.

Talking about the horrible things that have happened to the man she loves, seems unfathomably worse, somehow. It’s probably because even though she’d been there in person for the last five years of his time there, she knows that he was there for so long before that.

And then, she’d found herself having to paw through the book he’d brought back with them, having to read, and dissect every insidious detail of his history so that she could make sure that he was okay, now, that he wasn’t in danger—

and that had been bad enough, but, he’d asked her to do it, so she had, but now- now he’s starting to ask questions, and she can’t even be angry at him, because if anyone deserves answers he does.

“I don’t think I remember” he tells her, voice thick, “The beginning it… it’s real hazy—”

“I know” she agrees, smiling a little, “That’s probably a blessin-”

“—But, I think it’s comin’ back” he admits, forcing the words out before he can chicken out, “I- I think it… it might be- some, some of the dreams I’m havin’… It- it’s either not real or it’s just from real early on-”

That silences her. Her lack of interruption only highlights the way that Bucky’s words have drifted off into nothing.

He gulps, and finds himself shifting anxiously on his feet as he awaits her judgment.

She firmly decides to stay quiet. To let him digest what has already been said for a little while longer and to see if he’s going to expand on his own.

“Do you think you could tell me?” he asks eventually, “If… If things really happened or not?”

Again, she lets his question sit for a beat before she offers him a “Maybe” that he doesn’t know how to take.

“Maybe?” he echos, “Wha-”

“I don’t know everything” she tells him carefully, “I probably know enough to make a good guess on the things I’m not certain of, but wether I’d do that would depend on why you’re askin’ in the first place.”

Why I’m asking in the first place? he thinks, confused,

“I mean” she chuckles falsely, “honestly, I still don’t know why you’ve been asking me the questions you’ve already come up with”

“I just” he begins, “I… I want to know-”

“Why?” she presses, “Why, Buck? What does knowing wether or not you could’ve— maybe— in another reality gotten away sooner change? What does me telling you that you definitely fought back when they first started torturing you do? Does it make you feel better? Worse?—”

“No” he admits, “It… it’s not about that… how I feel, I mean”

“No?” Y/N says, “then what is it about, Buck? I get you wantin’ to check about the words— I know I’ve told you a hundred times that I’m sure— but, you wanting to check, to be a million percent certain? That, I can understand, but the rest of it? You’ve gotta help me out-”

“—I’m scared, doll—”

Bucky’s voice, and the blatant sincerity behind it makes her breath catch in her throat.

“—god,” he sighs, “—I’m terrified, I’m terrified that if I don’t ask you, then one day, one day soon you’re gonna start askin’ yourself and you’ll wonder if I, if I don’t care, and then, then I won’t be able to do anythin’ but watch as you realise that I could’ve done better and, you’ll— you’ll hate me, and I- I’ll lose you too, and I won’t be able to say a damn thing because it’ll be exactly what I deserve and, I—”

“-Stop.”

The natural authority in her tone makes his jaw snap shut. Anxiety driven rambling turning into silence;

Silence that Y/N allows to settle for a second as she tries to rationalise everything he’s just said—

“I’m sorry” Bucky offers nervously, running a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry, I- I’ll go— I’ll see you later, or, I, I can just… I can just go-”

“C’mere-” she counters, tone softening when she realises that he really is distraught, “What am I goin’ to do with you, huh?”

Her arms are open in invitation, and despite the way he’d been ready to turn and flee just a moment before, Bucky finds himself hiding against her a front in what feels like no time at all.

“Whatever you want” is the answer he gives to her question, though his words are muffled by the crook of her neck, “you can do whatever you want with me”

She chuckles at that, soft and light as she strokes a large circle across the back of his ribs.

They’re straining, he’s panting, and trying so hard to steady his breathing that she feels guilty about not approaching this in a more tactful way;

“How about we make a deal?” she suggests calmly, “How about, I’ll answer your questions, if you answer a few for me?”

“Okay” he agrees, not pulling away, “I… I can do that”

Y/N smiles, feeling his arms tightening around her waist in a silent display of attachment.

“When did you last sleep for more than fifteen minutes in a row?”

“1935” he grumbles, smiling a little when she laughs, “… probably last week, doll… usually… usually when I pass out I, I see things and I- I come round and I can’t settle again after that”

He’s being so blatantly honest that all Y/N can do is press a kiss against his brow, and wait for him to take his turn;

“.I… I don’t know what to ask”

That makes her chuckle again, eyes rolling even though he can’t see,

“and you had so many questions earlier” she teases gently, “Now I’m offerin’ to answer you can’t think of one?”

“I can think of plenty” he says, “Just don’t know where to start”

“How about” Y/N sighs, “you start with what’s botherin’ you most?”

“That ain’t a question…” he grumbles, “…Do… Do you think I could’ve done more? to, y’know… stop everythin’ that happened?”

“No” she says honestly, “No, Bucky, I don’t think there was anything you could’ve done to stop any part of what happened.”

“But, I-”

“You wanted an answer” she cuts in, “Not a debate, now it’s my turn.”

She’s right, so he nods, settling back into an unhappy silence,

“Do you really think that I’m going to suddenly wake up one morning and realise something that makes me ‘hate’ you?”

“Yes” he gulps anxiously, “Yeah”

She doesn’t say anything else. His reply just sits in her chest like a lead weight, as he continues to hide himself against her front,

“Do you?” he asks after a pause, “Do- Do you think that you might… do, do that?”

“No” she says, “Of course not—I could never hate you, Bucky”

“but-”

This time, she barely has to tut before he catches himself and swallows his objection,

“Do you believe me when I tell you that I love you?”

“…Yeah…” he says honestly, “…yeah I do, I- I just don’t understand how you could… or, or why you ever would…”

“Isn’t that up to me?”

“It’s not your turn, doll”

She scoffs at that, but doesn’t argue.

“Why do you?” Bucky asks next, “Why do you love me? after… after everything”

That’s a sad question really, but still Y/N feels a smile blooming across her face as she starts to consider every single reason she has; and then, it falters when she realises that putting them into words might be a problem,

“Christ, Buck, you’re not makin’ this easy on me…” she murmurs, “There are so many reasons… You’re kind, and sweet— you’re so, so sweet, and you make me laugh, you’ve always made me laugh, and, I- I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as brave, or gentle as you are…”

It’s so clear that he needs to hear her kind words that she suddenly can’t bare the thought of stopping,

“You’re thoughtful” she says next, “You’re smart— brilliant, really, without even havin’ to try— you’re… you’re just so good, y’know?… You’re a truly good person, down to your core, and I know that you always try and do the right thing, and see that goodness in other people, even when it’s not there—”

“But the things I-”

“You” she cuts in, not wanting to even hear his argument, “didn’t do a damn thing wrong. This whole thing was always bigger than you, but it's fair that you miss that sometimes.”

He does. He misses it all the time;

“But everything that happened” he mumbles, “all those people are dead because of me”

Y/N shakes her head, chest aching.

“No” she says, “those people are dead because HYDRA decided they needed to die— You just happened to be the weapon they liked using most at the time.”

He doesn’t reply, he just nuzzles in impossibly closer to her front as she lets her chin rest against the top of his bowed head.

“My turn again, huh?” she murmurs, “…How long have you spent worryin’ about all this?”

“all this?” he echos, uncertain of her meaning, “I… I’ve always been worried ‘bout you realisin’ that you deserve better than me, doll, that- that’s not new.”

“It’s ridiculous” she counters, “You deserve the world— but I mean this, specifically— How long have you been worrin’ about talkin’ to me about things you’re remembering just incase it makes me realise that you’re actually some evil monster and-"

“Ever since you wouldn’t answer me the first time” he confesses, “when I asked you about… about if you thought I could’ve done more to get away, and you wouldn’t tell me I… I figured it was because you knew deep down that I… I should’ve done better and I… I tried to stop thinkin’ about it like you said but it… it kept eatin’ at me, and the more I asked—”

“The more I didn’t want to answer, and the more likely the whole thing seemed.”

He nods against her shoulder, and she can’t help but press a kiss into his hair,

“I didn’t mean to annoy ya’, darlin’…” he says, “I, I really didn’t but I couldn’t… I couldn’t stop thinking about it, when you, when you wouldn’t tell me what you thought I was sure there had to be a reason…”

“I’m sorry” she says honestly, “I didn’t think you’d take it that way, I should’ve been clearer about why I didn’t want to talk about it”

“Why didn’t you?” he asks, “Answer, I mean? I… I’ve asked you things before and you… you’ve always answered me”

“Because” Y/N sighs, “I know you, and I know how easy it is for you to blame yourself for situations you had no control over… You do it all the time, and I love you, Buck… I love you and seeing you be so hard on yourself is bad enough without me piling on hypothetical situations that could only ever make it worse”

For a few seconds, there’s silence. Bucky’s arms are still tight around her waist and if she tries, she can feel his pulse rushing anxiously through his body,

“I know you forget that nothing that happened was down to you” she allows, “and I don’t mind reminding you— I really don’t, but, I really don't want to start goin’ into all the different ‘what if scenarios’ that you’re mind can cook up, because that… that’s a hell of a box to open”

“It feels like it was…” he tells her weakly, “It feels like it was all my fault, doll, all of it, it… it’s like I should’ve stopped it somehow, like— like I… like I could’ve just woken up and, and made myself not-”

“But you couldn’t” she inserts, “Sweetheart, you couldn’t just wake up, and even if you had? If by some, bizarre twist of fate you’d have been able to snap out of it and fight back? They’d have just started from scratch, either with you, if they could bring you back in, or with someone else, if they’d have just decided to kill you instead.”

“Do you think I could’ve made them do that?” he wonders, “Kill me, I mean?”

“Is it your turn?” Y/N asks, trying to lighten the atmosphere, “I’ve lost count”

“I don’t know” he mumbles, “I hope so”

She chuckles at that, shaking her head,

“No” she says, “I don’t think there is anything you could’ve done that would’ve made them kill you— not when finding you in the first place was like striking gold in a coal mine.”

“Can I ask what you mean by that, or do I have to wait?”

Y/N laughs again, soft and airy as she pulls back a little so that he can finally pull back and reveal his face.

“You are a good person” she tells him, reaching up to cup his cheek, “Really, Buck— You’re good, all the way through— It’s why they had to keep you, because that kind of genuine goodness isn’t somethin’ that you find often. The serum proved that there wasn’t a bad bone in your body, it magnifies everything it touches, you know about ‘Red Skull’— you know what putting that stuff into someone who’s not decent can do, so… you landing right in their laps, already dosed up and ready to go? that was something that was never going to happen again”

He’s starring at her, hanging on every word she’s saying, so, instead of waiting for him to ask her to expand, she just sighs, brushing her thumb under his eyes.

“You can’t torture evil out of somebody” she says, “no amount of pain or electricity can make a person better, so, even if they had managed to get a never ending supply of the serum, it never would’ve worked out because they’d have still needed subjects who didn’t have an ounce of malice in them, who didn’t want to be powerful, or dangerous, or anything other than decent and I think even they knew that wasn’t going to happen, and that… that’s why they spent so long making sure they kept you how they wanted, and that's why all of those other Winter Solider's never got more than a few hours out of tank at a time. They had no idea what might start to happen.”

“So if I… if I had made them kill me, then they… they wouldn’t have been able to-”

He sounds so genuinely guilty that all Y/N can do is continue stroking his face as she shakes her head, again;

“I don’t think they would’ve ever just killed you, and if they had? or if something had happened out of their control? Then they wouldn’t have given up— They’d have gone through thousands of people trying to find one that worked to replace you.”

Bucky’s brow is furrowed, both his hands still around the back of her waist. He doesn’t want to let go, he wants to stay close, and despite the way he’s trying to not be so obvious about his need for skin on skin, he knows that he’s pressing his cheek into her palm;

“I know it didn’t feel like it” she murmurs, “but they were real careful with you, sweetheart— They spent so much time in the beginning making sure that their tech worked- tailoring it to you, y’know? and makin’ sure that everything from the fall was patched up so that even when they hurt you your heart was never going to give out or anything like that”

“In the beginning…” he parrots, “…later on, when… when I’d been there a while, did… did the tech stop workin’? is, is that why I, why I…”

“No” she whispers softly, “The tech worked how it always did, they just didn’t factor in the fact that you were going to be off ice so much”

He blinks, confused and she can’t help but smile,

“They called them wipes” he hears Y/N explain, “but that’s not what they were, you can’t just erase somebodies personality, not with all the electricity and torture in the world… all you can do, is make someone obedient, you can make good men do bad things, and sometimes if you’re trying really hard you can alter the conscious mind— you can make it so someone can’t fathom fighting back, or questioning what you’ve convinced them is reality, but even that doesn’t last indefinitely— it needs maintenance, y’know? upkeep, because human minds aren’t hard drives that can be reset whenever someone feels like it.”

“They’d… they’d say I was unstable…” he recalls, “..Like when… when I saw Steve on the bridge I- I didn’t understand but I- I knew, that… that I he knew me and they… they wiped me straight away-”

“Well yeah” she chuckles grimly, “They couldn’t let something that major slide”

“and when I’d was bein’ brought out of storage they’d.. they’d usually bring me right to the chair?”

That’s definitely a question, Y/N can tell by the unsure quirk in his voice.

“Yeah, baby” she confirms, “that’s right”

“I… I hated that chair, I- I still… god, I- I still dream about it sometimes… even, even just the door to the room it was in, I, I see myself walking towards it, I- I feel the way my heart is racing…”

“Nobody” she whispers, “Nobody is ever, ever, going to hurt you like that again, you know that, right?”

The nod he gives her is a reflex. He’s so used to agreeing to statements like that, that it’s automatic, and it’s only when he meets Y/N’s gaze that he takes a second to consider wether or not it’s truthful;

“I forget, sometimes” he allows, “but, I trust you, and I know it’s safe here”

She seems to like that, she smiles and brings her fingers back across his cheek, stroking his face like he’s precious,

“It’s very safe…” she agrees, “…You, are very safe.”

“I’m sorry, doll”

That takes her by surprise. She’s not sure where his apology has come from, and she’s already shaking her head to refute it when he starts speaking again,

“I didn’t mean to force you to talk about all of this, I- I know you didn’t want to answer me and I, I should’ve just respected—”

“You can always talk to me” she counters, “about anything— anything at all, Bucky- I just want to make sure that we’re not makin’ you feel worse, not if we can help it.”

He nods, and presses a kiss against the pad of her thumb.

“What would you like to do now, huh?” Y/N asks gently, “we can do whatever you feel like.”

Bucky stays quiet for a beat, working up the courage to make his suggestion,

He already knows what he wants to do, he just don’t know if asking her to do it is pushing his luck, considering how she’s indulged him so much already;

“Could… could you try the… the words?” he asks eventually, “Please? just so, so I know…”

Her instinct is to refuse. To delay for right now, if not forever, but then she sees his face, she sees the need, and longing and, and then she finds herself nodding, even though she’s not sure quite when she decided to say yes.

“C’mere” she murmurs, “Close your eyes for me— FRIDAY, lock us in for right now.”

Bucky does as he’s told, slipping his hands into her back pockets as the room dissolves into blackness.

“Ready?” she checks- he nods, nervously, so she leans in and presses a kiss against his brow, “Tell me if it hurts, and I’ll stop.”

He knows what kind of pain she means, so he nods, bracing himself to feel his head burning, to feel incredible, pulsing pressure building inside his skull—

“Semnadtsat’… Rzhavyye…. Dozhd’…” her soft voice begins, slow and stable as ever, “…Pustyye…. Nad…. Vnevremennyye….”

He’s tense, and shaking.

He’s honestly, totally ready for something terrible to happen, for his whole brain to collapse inwards as he loses his grip on… on everything other than pain and whatever instructions he’s given— He finds himself thinking about how even if that did happen, at least it’s Y/N he’s with, at least she won’t make him do anything terrible— He’s about to tell her how grateful he is, that she’s always been so good to him, but then, he realises it’s over, she’s not talking anymore, and all he can hear is the violent, panicked thrash of his pulse in his ears.

“See?” Y/N says, almost smugly, “I told you…Nothin’…”

“Ready to comply” Bucky says, aiming for an impression of his former self, "gotov podchinit’sya”

“Oh yeah?” she laughs, pressing her lips against the corner of his mouth, “You gonna do what I tell ya’ for once?”

“Maybe” he mumbles, trying earnestly to coax another kiss from her, “depends on if I'd wind up regretting it later”

“You are full of shit, Barnes—” she chuckles, teasing him with the promise of more affection by letting her nose bump against his, “Have I ever asked you to do anythin’ you’d regret?”

“No” he promises quickly, “No, doll I- I’m just teasin’…”

“Good” she purrs, pecking at his cheek before pulling him closer, so their fronts are touching, “Do you feel better now that’s cleared up?”

He nods, feeling himself blushing.

“Yeah, I- I do, doll”

“Good” she says again, “I’m glad, sweetheart— Did you feel anythin’?”

Her hands are on his cheeks, now— both of them, cupping his jaw as her thumbs brush across his temples.

“No” he whispers, feeling incredible vulnerable under her consideration, “I was… I was nervous, but- but it didn’t feel like I thought it might…”

“It’s been awhile” she says, “If we’d have tried it a couple of weeks ago you might’ve ended up with a migraine, but, I think you’re so far out now that anxiety is the worst you’ll come away with.”

She doesn’t want to downplay that, anxiety is still more than he deserves, but given the situation, it’s definitely better than the alternatives.

“Thank you” he mumbles, head lolling over to the side as she starts to card his hair back, “Doll, for… for humourin’ me with all if this…”

“I think I'm indulging more than humouring” she corrects lightly, “but it's fine, next time you feel like playin' 20 questions just give me a heads up, this version made it impossible to cheat”

Masterlist

#bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #the winter soldier x you #Oneshot #fluff #x reader #drabble #bucky barnes oneshot

[softguarnere]

hi dove! i can't believe i've never requested anything on your blog! could you possibly write a enemies to lovers - lewis nixon x reader? maybe where feelings are discovered after one of them gets hurt/captured/something like that! you know i'm a sucker for angst with tons of fluff! thanks for being awesome!

mads <3

Coming Clean

Lewis Nixon x reader

A/N: omg hi Mads! Thank you so much for the request 🤗 I love your work (especially the way you write Nix) so I really hope you enjoy this! I edited and wrote the last half of this fic while sick, so if this is totally incoherent, that's why - and I'll just have to do my best to fix it when I'm better😆 (As always this is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️ Warnings: language, mentions of war

“I am not being overdramatic,” Nixon insists in what can only fairly be described as a rather theatrical tone. 

Dick only glances up from across the table, an eyebrow quirked as he studies his friend. He nods slightly. Thank you for proving my point, the gesture seems to say.

“Nix,” he says, his tone serious, even though he opts for his friend’s nickname instead of a more reprimanding Lewis. “I don’t think comparing anyone to Sobel is fair.”

Nixon drops his fork and holds his hands up in surrender. “Whoa, okay. All I said was that if she wanted to, (Y/N) could give him a run for his money. That’s all.”

“They’re nothing alike,” Dick deadpans.

Nothing alike? A bit nondramatic, in Nixon’s opinion. An understatement for sure. He starts to protest, but Dick cuts him off.

“I think the two of you just got off on the wrong foot.”

Scoffing, Nixon leans back in his chair. “Well, I wouldn’t call overhearing someone explicitly talking about how they think you’re unqualified for your job getting off on the wrong foot. But close enough, I guess.”

“That’s not what I said.”

The voice is enough to startle both Nixon and Winters – although the ginger presses his lips together in a way that suggests he’s only just managing to repress a smile as he takes in your arrival on the scene. Nixon, on the other hand, has to forcibly close his mouth to stop from gaping at your sudden presence.

“What I said,” you continue. “was that I wasn’t sure how well a Yale man would hold his ground amongst the other officers.”

A frown tugs at the corners of Nixon’s mouth. For once, he’s grateful that part of his upbringing included lessons in how to conceal one’s true emotions lest someone gain the upper hand by using them against him. He presses his lips into a thin line and steels himself.

“Remind me where you studied again, Lieutenant?”

Your face pales. Bingo! You may have had him there for a second, but he’s struck a nerve.

“It was just a joke,” you say, your voice quiet.

Nixon only shrugs before turning back to Dick. There are footsteps as you walk away, but he doesn’t turn to see you go. Instead, he tries to concentrate on his tray of food. Tries being the operative word, since Dick seems intent on staring at him with that look of utter disappointment on his face that could make a saint feel guilty.

“What?” He stabs some broccoli with his fork, not looking up.

Dick sighs. “It was a joke, Nix.”

The potatoes on the corner of his tray are his next victim. Unseasoned and questionably cooked as they are, Nixon still puts all his focus into getting them firmly on his fork.

“Why does it bother you so much?”

Now he looks up. “Huh?”

“The joke,” Dick clarifies. “Why did it bother you so much?”

It’s not so much that the jab at his alma mater bothers him. It’s just . . . Huh. Why does it bother him? The way it’s said, perhaps, or the people it was said in front of. After all, it was one of the first things that you said upon Nixon’s arrival after his promotion. Not a good look for a newcomer in such a prestigious position. If he wanted people to poke fun at him despite his achievements, he could have just stayed home.

Sure, that’s probably it, he tells himself. You’ve just hit a nerve. No need to psychoanalyze this whole thing.

To Dick’s question, he only shrugs.

His friend, thankfully, does not press the issue.

. . .

Lewis Nixon, you’re beginning to realize, does not forgive and forget.

Well, that’s too bad, because all the other officers seem to think that he’s funny and charming. And they’re right. But clearly those qualities are not on display whenever you’re around. And you’re not about to ingratiate yourself to him by groveling for forgiveness over some stupid offhanded joke.

Too bad. Because you’re a big enough person to admit that despite his flaws, Lewis Nixon has his good qualities – not to mention that he’s handsome.

“Why are you staring at me?”

The sudden question draws you out of your thoughts. You blink, back in the present moment.

“Pardon?”

“You’re staring at me,” Nixon says. He doesn’t look up from the stack of mail that he’s censoring, intent on his work.

You avert your gaze, trying to ignore the heat you feel rushing to your cheeks. The words on the letter in front of you turn to nonsense the more you try to focus on them. If you work hard enough, you won’t be tempted to let your thoughts wander to the man sitting across the table from you.

“Here.” A letter lands on top of the one you’re reading as Nixon, once again, interrupts your thoughts. Startled, you look up to find him looking at you rather expectantly.

The letter he’s tossed to you looks familiar. It takes you a moment to realize that it’s written in your handwriting – a letter that you wrote to your family back in the states. When you glance up at him, he turns back to his own work.

“You spelled accommodate wrong. Thought you might want to fix it before sending it off to your family.”

Oh of course he would point out your mistake like that! Anyone else would have let it go. Your family will be so thrilled by the letter that they wouldn’t even give the misspelling a second thought.

The sigh that you push through your nose comes out louder than you expect it to. Nixon, however, doesn’t look up. Swallowing your pride, you aim for a tone that’s halfway pleasant.

“Thank you, Nixon.”

Is it your imagination, or does the corner of his mouth twitch slightly? A smirk, perhaps.

“You’re welcome, (Y/L/N).”

. . .

Though the world no longer trembles with the barrage of artillery fire, you keep your hands pressed firmly over your ears, staying low in the foxhole. Is it the cold causing you to shake, or the adrenaline that still courses through your veins?

You had been out making rounds when the shelling began, just trying to make sure that the rest of Easy Company was okay. The shellings are always unexpected, but this one caught you out in the open, exposed. You had had to dive into the nearest foxhole, hoping for the best as you hid from the explosions just outside.

Someone had grunted when you fell into the foxhole, your elbow connecting with their stomach. There had been no chance to apologize over the loud, cracking booms that filled the air.

After a shelling, there always seems to be a moment – a split second, really – of silence before it all goes to hell again. Then the calls for a medic will break out and everyone will jump into action, throwing around orders amid the screams and groans of the injured.

Now, as you wait for the few seconds of silence, you feel the person beneath you shift.

“Sorry,” you mutter, your arms shaking as you attempt to push yourself off of them.

“Christ,” a familiar voice grumbles. “My fucking ribs.”

Nixon’s voice is all the motivation that you need to push yourself the rest of the way off of him. Still full of adrenaline, you push yourself back on your heels, staying low in the foxhole, but ready to leave at a moment’s notice.

The Princeton man rubs his ribs. “You came out of nowhere. That really – “ He pauses, his expression shifting into one that you’ve never seen on him before as his brows furrow. Gently, he leans towards you. “Hey, (Y/N). Are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine.”

“You look – “

Ka-BOOM!

The air splits in two as the second round starts. The shell must hit somewhere very near your foxhole, because the reverberations its impact sends through the ground cause you to topple forward, straight into Nixon.

Before you can even think about pushing yourself away from him again, something strange happens: you feel his arms wrap around you, drawing you in, close and tight, as the barrage continues. You bury your face in his shoulder.

When the second round ends, you both remain still, breathing heavily as you wait for whatever comes next. Only when it’s clear that the Germans are no longer firing do you pull away from each other. Neither of you looks the other in the eye.

“Sorry about your ribs.”

“Huh? Oh. They’re fine.”

Neither of you leaves the foxhole until absolutely necessary. And the next time that the Germans begin firing, when you somehow find yourself back in the same foxhole, neither of you seem to question how easily you wrap your arms around each other, bracing for the impacts and explosions.

The fog of war is a hell of a thing.

. . .

“Medic! We need a medic!”

The call is so unexpected that Nixon actually stops midsentence and turns his attention towards the panicked voice. Several others follow suit. After all, in the middle of Berchtesgaden, who would need a medic? It’s not like they’re in combat. And there’s nothing and no one around that should be putting anyone in danger.

Dick jumps into action immediately. Of course he does; he cares so deeply for his men – anyone can see that. It’s especially evident in this moment as he steps forward to intercept the panicked looking Talbert.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“(Y/L/N) needs a medic.”

Despite his wishes, Nixon feels his heart skip a beat at the mention of your name. It’s because of the startling and unusual news that Tab is delivering, he tells himself.

“For what?” he asks at the same time that Dick takes charge of the situation, charging down the street they’ve been standing on, yelling out that he needs to find Doc Roe.

As soldiers snap to attention trying to find the trusted medic, Nixon moves closer to Talbert.

“What happened to (Y/L/N)?”

Talbert takes a step back, his eyes wide, like he’s being confronted by a madman. Sure, Nixon’s tone was a little demanding – a little worried – but there’s really no need for the other man to look so shocked.

“A couple of us were out exploring the woods,” Tab explains. “She caught her ankle on a root and tripped. Might be just a sprain, but it looks pretty nasty.”

“Where is she now?”

“We got her back to the house that she was quartering in – Hey! Nix, where are you going?”

Talbert’s voice fades behind him as Nixon rushes down the street. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s vaguely aware of people stopping to stare at him as he passes, his pace a barely restrained run.

Several shocked faces look up at him when he bursts into the house. He stops in the doorway of the living room, staring into where you are.

You sit on the couch, one leg propped up beside you. Other than the swelling in your ankle, you look okay – if not a little surprised, that is, to see Nixon gaping at you like this. For what it’s worth, the few Easy men who are scattered throughout the living room look just as stunned.  

“(Y/N),” Nixon breathes. Coming back to himself, he clears his throat, willing his heart rate to slow down to normal levels.

“Um . . . I think we should – we should maybe clear out, yeah guys? Give (Y/N) some room to breathe,” Babe suggests.

Casting glances between you and Nixon, the other men squeeze past him in the doorway as they make their way out of the house. Behind him, the door closes, but Nixon doesn’t move. Somewhere within the house, through all the silence between the two of you, a clock chimes to signal the top of the hour.

“Can I help you?” You finally ask.

“We’re at the end of the war.” Nixon’s voice, once again, is louder than he intended it to be. He clears his throat again before pushing on. “We’re at the end of the war, and you somehow got hurt.”

“I tripped in the woods. So what?”

“So what? I was worried about you!” The words are out of his mouth before they have his permission to be spoken. They’ve escaped before he truly grasps the gravity of what he’s just said.

You quirk an eyebrow – a rather sarcastic expression that he’s come to know on you, but your voice is quiet when you ask, “You were worried about me?”

He was worried about you, he realizes suddenly. And he’s been worried about you for some time now, though he can’t place when his feelings towards you softened, when he started to care.

“Yeah,” he admits. “I want you to get home safely.”

“Why is that?”

His head spins. Maybe you should have been put in intelligence, the way that you’re pressuring him for answers while keeping a collected tone. It’s exasperating, honestly, how you’ve somehow gained the upper hand.

But part of him . . . likes the feeling it gives him when the two of you spar like this.

Something tugs at the corners of your mouth. It might be a smile you’re trying to suppress, or one of the smirks that he’s come to know so well.

“Nixon, I think you’re very bad at expressing your emotions.”

He blinks. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” With your propped leg taking up the space beside you on the couch, you instead gesture to the chair that sits nearby. Without knowing why, Nixon takes a seat. It’s a bit like waiting outside the principal’s office, the anticipation of it all. “But,” you continue. “it’s kind of cute to see you so flustered.”   

You’re messing with him, surely. Yet he can’t find any sort of witty comeback.

After a moment of staring at each other, you nod with the assurance of someone who has finally made up their mind and is resigned to their fate. “I think it’s time I finally came clean.”

“About?”

“I think you know. But just to watch you squirm, I’m going to start at the beginning.”

He’s heard you tell stories before. The two of you could be here for a long time.

But, he thinks as you start your narrative, he’s starting to realize that he wouldn’t want it any other way.

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers fanfic #lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon #my writing #mutuals #tumblr friends

[romeulusroy]

Succession Preference: Having a Partner With Bipolar Disorder

A/N: I have Bipolar II, so I can only write from my own experience and what I do to cope. I wrote a Peaky Blinders request similar to this, too ages ago. Know that I'm not trying to glamorize or romanticize anything. I just have a really hard time seeing myself be in a relationship with anyone because of this disorder and I fear no one will love me or someone like me because of all this 😅 I just want this to be sweet for anyone going through the same things I do! 💜💜💜

Connor has no idea what you're talking about. You seem fine, right? It's only when you finally break down, exhausted from keeping up the facade, do you tell him that you have Bipolar Disorder. He's heard of it of course, but not in the terms you're thinking of. In jokes about his dad being "so bipolar", about the weather being "so bipolar", but not like this. He sits you down, hating that you thought you needed to hide this from him, that you were using every last bit of your energy and focus to keep yourself together. You weren't even doing a very good job, you thought, canceling your last date because you couldn't leave your house. He asks a lot of clarifying questions, needing to understand what it is, why you have it, how long you've had it. It runs in your family, and you've had it for a long time. You're managing things with medications and therapy, but it doesn't stop these episodes from happening, not completely. The next question he asks brings tears to your eyes: how can I help? No one's ever asked that. They dismiss you, saying you don't have it because you're not explaining your entire history, your every thought, to them. Or they shake their heads/roll their eyes, not wanting to hear or care about it, like you should stop talking about it. Connor wants to be there through everything, even the hard parts. He's not giving up on you or your relationship like you feared. He cares about you, every part of you, and nothing will ever change that. He assures you, nothing.

Kendall isn't sure what to say besides okay. He knows you're in therapy, that you take meds at night, but he doesn't really give it a second thought. Not until he finds you standing in the scalding shower, date night clothes on and soaking wet, does he start asking questions. You can't answer, give a coherent one at least. Your skin won't stop crawling and this is the only way to make it better. It's the only way to regulate without doing something self-destructive. You stand there for as long as you need. It's not until a few days later that you tell him you have Bipolar Disorder. Okay. That you're beginning to feel manic. Okay. That you can go through periods of mania and depression. Okay. That the hot water helps. Okay. That you're not a danger to anyone else or yourself. Okay. That you're in therapy, that you're taking your meds, that if he doesn't want to be with you anymore you'd understand. That knocks the wind out of him. What? That's not at all what he wants to do. You know that he's not understanding the full weight of your words, that he's only seen you hypo/manic, the fun, bubbly, lively you. He hasn't seen you depressed, he hasn't seen you crash like you will soon. You ask him to take a break, until you're back to stable. He asks how long that will be. You're not sure. After about a week he shows up at your doorstep, unable to be without you. You still remain careful, explaining everything to him, making sure he knows what he's getting into. You're still not convinced despite the years you've been together. Kendall isn't worried. He'll be with you through it all. Everything.

Shiv I love shiv she's so pretty knows quite a bit about it. She took a psych class in college hoping to diagnose a few family members. She understands the basics, the two ends of the spectrum, but she's never met anyone with it. At least, that she knows of. She finds out about it the first night you sleep over at her house. You think you're being quiet with the pill bottles, but she's quieter, making you jump as she appears out of nowhere. You say they're for sleep, but she knows better. You try to shrug it off like it's nothing, but she wants to talk about it. You can't meet her eyes when you explain everything. The reason she's never been to your place is because you've been depressed lately and it's a mess and it's taking everything out of you just to show up to work. She holds your hand through all this, playing with your fingers, a sign that she's worried. You think you've ruined it all. She must hate you for deceiving you like this. Instead she grabs her bag and walks you to the car. From there you go to your apartment where she starts cleaning. You're so embarrassed at the state of things, but she doesn't seem to mind. She never wants to hear your voice crack like that again, she never wants you to be so full of guilt and shame like that again. You'll figure it out together, you will, she promises you. She'll help you every step of the way.

Roman at first makes a joke about it. You knew he would. He's seen you at your lowest, he's seen your scars, he's heard all the horror stories. You're not trying to scare him away with this, you just need him to know that sometimes things can get very bad and he needs to be prepared for that if he wants to be with you. You've been together a long time before you work up the courage to tell him, though he's suspected something for a while. You couldn't get out of your bed, you weren't eating, you were sleeping and crying and shaking all day. You'd completely shut him out, not answering his calls or texts. He deserved an explanation that wasn't a half-assed apology. It all makes sense now. So, what, now I'm dating two people for the price of one? You're being vulnerable and all he has to say is that? Once he sees the look of hurt on your face, he immediately apologizes, over and over again. Of course he can make jokes about it, you'd prefer if he did instead of never bringing it up again, just not right now when you're trying to have a serious conversation. You tell him that if he wants to call it quits, he can, that you would totally understand. You know it's not easy living with you, dealing with all this, at least he has the chance to leave. That's what he calls you crazy for, for thinking he would leave you over something like this. He's seen you as your worst and he loves you more than life itself. Not despite it, not out of ignorance or because he feels like he should, he just does. Bipolar Disorder won't change that. Nothing will. You're stuck with him.

#preference #headcanon #connor roy #connor roy headcanon #connor roy x reader #kendall roy #kendall roy headcanon #kendall roy x reader #shiv roy #shiv roy headcanon #shiv roy x reader #roman roy #roman roy headcanon #roman roy x reader #succession #succession headcanon #succession x reader

[lok-repository]

The Avatar Wiki newsletter has published the final portion of their earlier Q & A last year with Janet Varney, Korra's VA .

Questions after the cut.

What is your favorite Korra battle scene and the change that it brought to the world? Oh you know I can never pick just one favorite! But if I have to pick one for now, I think for sheer intensity, I might have to pick the big Zaheer scene, which I’m not even really thinking about the world impact more than even just the impact on Korra and where it takes us all… the journey afterwards… the PTS… Toph… clarifying her feelings for Asami…

If you weren't Korra’s VA, which character(s) in the show would you want to voice instead? It’s funny, it’s like even though we all know you aren’t asking me to take someone else’s job, the knee-jerk response is to be like “Nooooo! I couldn’t replace anyone! I love everyone too much!” But in a multiverse where we’re all just… maybe swapping roles? I might grab Bolin or Varrick!

Who would you pick as Korra’s VA if it wasn’t you? Thank goodness this would never be up to me in real life- I could never choose between all of the phenomenal VAs out there! That said, I’m kind of obsessed with all the ladies on one of my all-time favorite shows, “Reservation Dogs…”

What is something you have come to appreciate more about the original series while rewatching it for the podcast? Great question! Just when you thought you couldn’t appreciate something more… you watch it one more time, and every “one more time” you love it even more. I think an easy answer would be how much Dante and I appreciate “The Great Divide.” Especially after a recent conversation we had with a certain author about a certain history in that episode that may have influenced a certain book or two…

How are you feeling about talking about Korra on Braving the Elements? Does it feel different than talking about ATLA? Honestly? So far, it doesn’t feel like it will be that different, because anytime I watch Korra, I get so immersed in the story, I basically forget I was in it. But how much Dante might get to tease me about little things like I tease him about Zuko? Now THAT could change things. LOL!

What is the process of planning and recording episodes like? It’s pretty involved, tbh! For a recap ep, I rewatch the episode in question at least three times. You know I like to see what Avatar Wiki has to say! I consult the art book and all the dvd commentary (luckily Nickelodeon made all the commentary/bts stuff available to me, which is great!). I think about the themes of the episode and what kind of guest would be really fun and why. And writing the outline really cements the episode for me in new and interesting ways. And then Dante and our guests STILL manage to blow my mind with their own insights!

Did you know about the spiritual arc that Korra was going to have in Season 4, or when and how did you learn about her bisexuality during production? I knew some broad strokes, but Bryke/the whole amazing team did a good job of keeping us in the moment, episode-by-episode. I can’t remember exactly when Bryke told Seychelle and me about Korrasami, but it was definitely one of the things we knew before it actually happened. And we were both so, so happy!

How do you think Korra grew from her relationship with Mako and the lessons she learned that contributed to a healthy relationship with Asami? Good old Mako. This was a relationship I recognized so well from my own teenage years, and my friends.’ So combine that it was in some ways a very classic teenage relationship with the Avatar circumstances on top of that, and it’s kind of hard to see how it would succeed. But at the same time— who’s to say what “succeeding” or “success” means? What if that relationship was a complete success in that it lasted exactly as long as it was supposed to, and helped Korra and Mako both see what they would really be looking for in a relationship going forward? Plus, it was a success in that she and Mako were ultimately able to love and support each other as dear friends, and that’s a beautiful outcome.

Do you miss and enjoy voicing Korra for as long as you have? Here’s the thing- I don’t know what my answer would be if I *didn’t* get to keep talking about both series (and all the other media in the Avatarverse!) at conventions with fellow fans and with Dante and everyone on the podcast. But because I get to live in the Avatarverse through those things, I honestly haven’t thought about “missing” doing the actual show. Please, everyone, just let me keep nerding out on Avatar forever, and I’ll be happy! ;)

#interview #lok #legend of korra #tlok #the legend of korra

[bellygunnr]

In the Grill

A continuation of " Blood on the Hood ".

The shadow of someone jogging across estate grounds at sub-five in the morning is almost enough to prompt Bonnie to pull over. She’s been here long enough to know the patterns-- the walking trails are less for use and more for show. The only folks up this early are the groundskeepers, cleaning crew, and her. She considers investigating for only a second. If it’s egregious, someone with a better paycheck than her will tell her. For now-- she has other things to worry about.

Like her job, and her dying boss, and the fact that she can already see lights on at her destination. She knocks her head back against the seat with a groan. Either someone beat her there, or someone stayed far too late, and she has an inkling as to who. A yellow Gremlin sitting in the glorified parking lot only confirms her suspicions. It’s with exasperation that she parks next to the little compact and shuts off her truck.

For a moment, all she does is stare past the hood and into the grounds. The Foundation headquarters is a baffling amount of territory. All she knows is she’s somewhere in the middle of it, with the lab and the test track. She climbs out onto the pavement before the ensuing silence grows too loud, lets the cool air ground her, and ducks inside with the swipe of her badge.

But she has to go down. She gives the elevator her retina scan and tries not to feel claustrophobic in the steel gray box. Harsh lights and freezing cold air greet her on the way out.

“April!” Bonnie calls.

Most of the lab is clean. Only a couple techs are in, which she throws looks at, but they’re not the target of her ire, so she blows past them to where a half-dismantled car dominates most of the floor space. Among it all, one woman sits, apparently triple-checking measurements.

“Dr. Curtis,” Bonnie tries again. “Good morning.”

April jumps.

“Oh, Bonnie! You’re here la-- right on time. I…”

April smiles sheepishly. She makes an aborted movement to run her fingers through her hair, which is too busy being clipped into a tight bun.

“Look, I was just trying to finalize some things… We have to completely refab the roof and pillars and I lost track of time. I can leave?”

“Finish up what you’re doing and sign out. You’ve been taking notes, right?”

Bonnie glances over at the vehicle. She decides not to question why only half of it had to be reconstructed-- not until she sees the documentation.

“Of course! Yeah, they’re in the usual place. I’ll kick out the others with me--”

Good, she thinks. KITT is too easily distracted when there’s more than a couple people in the lab, but she doesn’t tell April that.

“Thanks, April. And get some sleep-- I mean it. We’re not on crunch time yet and I don’t-- I don’t want everyone burning out.”

April’s expression softens, but her eyes narrow knowingly. “Then you need to lead by example, Dr. Barstow. I know what you’re doing! You’re not the only one who cares about this project.”

“I know I’m not,” Bonnie says, a touch too hot. “Anyway, have you seen anyone weird out on the grounds lately?”

Mercifully, April turns back to her work (though not quickly enough to hide an eye-roll). “You know? Yeah. I caught one of Mr. Knight’s guests snooping around a couple days ago. He-- she left pretty fast.”

Huh. Wilton never mentioned anything about that, but maybe that explained the measurements her team received a few days ago. The orders tied to the information had tacked tens of hours more onto their work. And Devon rarely knew enough to clarify anything…

She shakes her head.

Eventually, April and the others leave. At six sharp, KITT onlines, but doesn’t speak for a full two hours. An hour after that, the rest of the day team arrives and takes over much of the work.

---

She finds Wilton’s so-called esteemed guest in the bathroom. Or, more precisely, the esteemed guest finds her-- by shoulder-checking her with the door and bleeding from the head. Bonnie takes in their appearance in haphazard bursts. The heavily bandaged face, the shaved head, freckled skin all of the way down, dark pants and a tank top that sits low on the chest. And no bra, which is almost as pressing as the spots of blood dripping down the bridge of her nose.

“Wh-oh, this is occupied! Where’s the first aid kit?”

Her expression is hard to discern from the bandaging and scarring, but her tone is shocked, urgent, nervous. Bonnie shakes her head in disbelief and tries to look anywhere but the blood, nausea already making short work of what little she had for lunch.

“The door was locked,” Bonnie says instead, strained. “Why-- how--?”

“The nurse was coming and I panicked,” she says plainly. “You look a little pale. You good?”

Bonnie waves a hand dismissively and drops to her knees, blindly fumbling for the seam of the cabinet doors underneath the bathroom sink. They come loose with a hollow sound and she finds the medical supplies quickly, mostly because she’s had to use it before. It hadn’t been her brightest moment (and Devon had nearly fired her).

The woman reaches forward, but Bonnie swats the hands away.

“I’m not letting you re-dress your own bandages,” she says hotly. “Sit down.”

She’s a professional, god dammit.

“But—”

“I think you’d rather let me patch you up than get caught by Devon,” Bonnie says sternly.

She steels herself enough to make eye contact. The soft lighting catches the woman’s visible eye, drawing out an intense blue. It’s almost as distracting as her lifting placating hands and shimmying around to sit atop the toilet, teeth bared in a grin.

“I’m Michael,” the woman says.

She-- Michael-- thrusts out a hand. It’s covered in dust and wood shavings. Bonnie frowns down at it and the nitrile gloves she was just about to slip on.

“Or Michelle!” She amends, spreading her hands.

“Not... the problem. Michael’s a fine name. I’m Dr. Barstow.”

Bonnie winces a second after. Michael has a grin, now, and a calculating gleam in her eye that follows Bonnie through the process of examining the bloodied bandages. The detritus that’d covered her hands is on her scalp, too.

“The hell did you do?”

“Climbed out of a window, don’t worry about it. Say, who’s Devon?”

The blood doesn’t particularly smell like anything. It just gleams wetly and dries sticky and is a vivid red reminder of what lays under the skin. She swallows down a wave of nausea. At least Michael has the decency to remain quite still, even tilting her head this way and that when Bonnie asks.

“…Wrong question, uh?” Michael continues on, blithe as anything. “Is it bad, doc? Am I dyin’?”

Jesus. Bonnie shakes her head, surprised to feel a bubble of laughter against her throat. The world spins a little in protest.

“I’m not a medical doctor,” she says. “And if climbing out of a window with a head wound didn’t kill you…”

“Either you will or nothing can,” Michael finishes solemnly. “Got it. You almost done?”

Michael bobs her head in tune with her little joke and drums her fingers across her thighs. Bonnie barely resists giving her an admonishing swipe, directing the energy into finishing the bandages.

She leans back, pulling off the gloves and throwing them into the trash. Now disinfectant sits heavy in the back of her throat. The world rolls languidly. Yeah, maybe she overestimated herself this go around. But Michael’s sheer presence raises more questions than it answers, and Bonnie doesn’t like leaving things unanswered.

Who is she? Why is she injured-- why did she climb out of a window? If she’s here, in the estate, how does she not know Devon? Maybe she’s Knight’s daughter, but-- he doesn’t have any children. Does he?

Bonnie looks down at Michael and her nervous energy critically.

Michael’s palms dig into the tops of her knees while her fingers drum a pattern. Her visible eye moves around, clearly picking out the full depth of the bathroom and the distance from the door. A low-level tension simmering underneath the skin makes toned muscle jump out-- and she’s already a good head over Bonnie.

“Where do you plan on going after this?” Bonnie asks.

Michael blanches. She rocks back and forth, tongue running across chapped lips.

“Well, I was lookin’ for the kitchen, the first go around…”

“Funny. I was just about to go on lunch break,” Bonnie says, suddenly thoughtful.

Granted, she doesn’t feel like eating now. But something tells her it’d be best to keep Michael in her sights rather than let her gallivant around. Plausible deniability and all that.

Michael’s brow pulls forward. Her head cocks to the side, tracking Bonnie intently.

“My truck’s out in the front,” Bonnie says casually. “Can’t miss it, it’s ugly as sin. Meet me out there and I’ll be right behind you.”

Her face lights up-- she cottons on fast and vaults toward the door, slamming it shut behind her. The stone-and-tile bathroom echoes for a long moment with the sound.

Hopefully the truck isn’t locked, because Bonnie spends the next ten minutes hurling and cleaning up.

#knight rider #k.i.t.t. #bonnie barstow #michael knight #gunny writes

[infinite-orangepeel]

hahahaha @madigoround this is making me cry laughing 😂 i feel like i should probably clarify a little bit more for anyone else who might be confused about the potential plot of my next steddie fic:

without giving too much away, YES eddie is fucking steve’s dad. NO he does not want to be fucking steve’s dad—at all, like very much not at all. he’s not/never has been attracted to steve’s dad, he does not have any romantic feelings for steve’s dad, he does not want to be in this predicament in the slightest. the job he takes as steve’s dad’s “personal assistant” is one he accepts purely out of necessity. this job means survival for eddie. it’s protection. it’s life or death. and that weighs on him heavily (as will be seen throughout the story).

it nearly breaks him, but he’s kind of trapped and doesn’t see another way out. fucking steve’s dad is an atrocious but unfortunately, large part of the job and it’s greatly traumatizing for eddie. it’s not fun. it HURTS. and most importantly it’s not sexually fulfilling for him, at all. but then he meets steve and while things are tense between them and they kind of despise each other at first, it certainly doesn’t stay that way for long….

this is a LOVE STORY between steve and eddie. there will be a happy ending but it won’t be pretty along the way. as you can probably assume, there’s going to be a lot of drama, angst, consequences, and challenges regarding them trying to be together and beat the odds.

anyways, i really hope that makes some sort of sense but feel free to ask me any other questions in my inbox or comment them, here !! I do want to keep some things secret ofc but am happy to answer more general questions !

also i totally understand if it’s not for everyone ! it’s dark (probably the darkest thing i’ve ever written) lol so no worries if it’s one you need to skip as a reader !

#marissa’s asks #i’m sorry if this confused anyone lol i would never make eddie and steve’s dad a thing romantically #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie big bang #steddie fic #steddie fics #steddie ao3 #fruity four #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie angst #steddie au #steddie brainrot #steddie fic recs #steddie gif writers

[thousand-winters]

How do you think Darius and Eberwolf met?

HELLO, HI, I LOVE THIS QUESTION (I also just remembered I have a wip of that I completely forgot about oops)

See, I find very sweet the possibility that they might have met when they were both children, even if that meant they drifted apart at some point and then reunited, but most of the time I headcanon that they met at the coven.

Despite Eberwolf becoming a Coven Head, I feel like they might have faced some prejudice because it doesn't seem like demons truly hold an equal position in society on the Boiling Isles, other than the bipedal demons, but that's still just one of three types of what seems to be an incredibly abundant race in the demon realm. Now, of course Eber has to be a bipedal demon, he can do magic and, well, he's bipedal, but he does look a lot more beastly than other bipedal demons, so I think there's a good possibility that he's part bipedal, part beast demon, which wouldn't give him a very good standing.

He's powerful, however, and bringing him in as a Coven Head is probably good for an image of "anyone can become a Coven Head" if Belos was going for the publicity angle, though mostly I imagine he must have cared about him being powerful since the Head Witches were the catalysts for the draining spell. We know how the rest of the Coven heads were though, and I don't think they particularly cared for being kind even to one of their peers.

So here's what I'm getting at: Because of all of that and the fact that Eberwolf doesn't speak the "common" language on the Isles, I think to a certain point no one was bothering with them too much, with a general attitude at the castle being like "ah, let someone else deal with that beast", more passive aggressive that straight up rude. Now, I doubt Darius was even interested on them at the beginning, too busy trying to figure out what had happened to his mentor, or being a little bit depressed, or both. He would have learned by this point that connections at the castle are a big no-no anyway.

But "he doesn't give me the time of day" is still better than "he sees me as lesser" so I like to think Eber latched onto that and kinda went "oh, it's too late, you're never getting rid of me now", and no matter how irritated Darius seemed to be, he was still irritated because of Eber's behavior, not because of his nature, so Eber was delighted 😭

I tend to think that there's scarce people who can truly understand Eberwolf, most of them getting by with written messages or rough signing, and Darius learned out of spite just so he could retort properly and then they kinda ended up being stuck together for missions because hey, why not send the one guy who can handle the Beastkeeping Head Witch? And Darius didn't even want to be friendly but now he's stuck with them and uh, oh, overtime he started getting fond of them. It was very much mutual, and once they found out they both had rebel tendencies? Oh, it was for life.

Nobody asked for this but take a fragment of the wip I mentioned at the beginning to see if I can somehow gather motivation from this to actually finish it:

“This is no beast,” He states through gritted teeth, even if the extremely pleased and sharp smile the small furry demon is sending in his direction makes him want to take back his assessment.   The scouts that are still there, watching the spectacle with what Darius guesses must be stunned expressions behind their masks. If they put as much effort on their jobs as they do on staring at him, they could have avoided this whole thing, but he’d rather extricate himself from this situation as swiftly as possible than waste his time by scolding them. “But Head Witch Eberwolf-” “-is right here," He cuts them off, watching with little amusement how they turn their heads so fast behind them that he's fairly sure at least one of them has some extra vertebrae on the neck to make for that ease of movement. "The demon you just pushed at me," He clarifies. The scouts stop moving so abruptly that Darius wonders if they were somehow petrified without him realizing. And with all their clothes staying intact instead of turning to stone alongside them. It’s impressive really, though not enough to lessen his irritation.

#darius deamonne #eberwolf the huntsman #the owl house #toh

[thienvaldram]

The Book of the Snowstorm – Readthrough/Review Part 1

Part 1

I will first clarify that I am not a great reviewer especially for something as passionate as this. I will endeavour to do my best though.

Foreword

Does this count? It’s an real life statement than a story but I did enjoy how it contextualises the anthology and I’m a fan of the light, but not mean spirited, jab at the 60th Anniversary’s more blatant and flamboyant celebrations and the general sentiment that the Third Universe is too big to be spanned by any one story or copyright or anything.

Previously on the Multiverse

Fun little rundown of just how big this little section of the wider multiverse really is. From the Archons, to the 10,000 Dawns to the Cupids and more. I admit I’m not familiar with a lot of it but this did a pretty good job making it seem like fun.

Scene 1

Nice intro, like the setting and this is pretty much my first intro to the characters besides brief readings of the wikis entry on the Cactus and the Corpse (I really need to get to Horrors of Arcbeatle at some point though quite frankly my wider knowledge of this part of the Universe needs a lot more filling in). Either way, nice little setup with Martisa and Callum trapped in a room with three unknown elements.

Magic Bird of Fire

To be honest, I find it difficult to reasonably review pieces that serve as simple little character pieces like this (Which may make the rest of this book a bunch of very similar short reviews like this tbh). SIGNET’s an interesting group to contrast with UNIT and Torchwood and PROBE and the like but this isn’t even really all that much about them, more about Aoife specifically. Fun characterisation and a neat little setting but not too much more I can say than that. I enjoyed it.

Scene 2

I do like the way the framing narration weaves the stories into its narrative. Linking the title of Magic Bird of Fire to the missing Rich and connecting Coloth’s presently missing circumstances to the following story.

The Dinosaur in the Snow

Ok so can’t review this one. For the potentially obvious implications that it was me who wrote it and that seems a little unfair. Best I can say is I enjoyed writing it and am proud of how it turned out, especially with Aristide’s editing work I cannot praise that enough.

If anyone has any questions about the story feel free to ask, though I cannot guarantee a meaningful answer especially in regards to statements of authorial intent, there are things I will not confirm nor deny.

Scene 3

We finally get to see what happened to Coloth and Rich, and there’s a little more on the nature of the books. I am really enjoying the library setting.

And that’s it for the moment, not too much to say but I did say I wasn’t that good at this.

#dweu #doctor who eu #doctor who #thebookofthesnowstorm #the book of the snowstorm #arcbeatle press #coloth #doctor who expanded universe #faction paradox #well #faction paradox adjacent

[lonethetraveler]

Oh man, I'm going to go into some Fontaine 4.2 spoilers in a sec, but Furina has been catapulted into my second favorite character slot (that she's now sharing with Baizhu). Don't get me wrong, I liked her before, but after the AQ, she just. Gosh I love her. (Discussion and spoilers under the cut)

First to clarify: when I say Furina, I mean Furina and Focalors together (sort-of) since they're very much different characters, but also closely linked.

I really like the introduction we get to Furina. I love that she's over-the-top and dramatic, claiming herself to just "know such things, as a God does" about the Traveler visiting (oh and how her sending out informants across Teyvat was actually explained as to why she did that). The citizens talking about her as a 'mascot' and just, her having an air of putting on a show to make herself seem more grand. It comes across as vain, or at the very least, grossly overconfident. However, as the plot unfolds, we get to see cracks in the facade she puts on. But what does it mean? Is she actually weak? Does she actually have a deep disregard for her people? By the time we're going to bring her to trial, it kind of seems that way. It seems like she's been slacking off all this time while everyone else in Fontaine has been devising a plan to save the nation.

Then we learn the truth.

The way everything falls into place once Focalors reveals her master plan is so deliciously tragic. Of course Furina is afraid of fighting or facing off against the Knave. She's just a human, one without any vision or combat experience. And her dismissive, aloof, grandiose act is all her somewhat naive idea of how people might see an Archon. It's not even the first persona she tries! When being humble doesn't work, she resorts to an image of someone for whom mere mortals are beneath because it will keep people from questioning her. Really the order she was given was so incredibly tall: convince the nation that you're a God without performing any divine acts. Or even weilding Hydro. But she does it.

Every day she carries out this persona because she knows that, if she fails, everyone will die. Their blood will be on her hands, so she keeps it up, even when she's passed her breaking point. She doesn't even know if her other hall's plan will actually work, has no concrete way to reassure her people because she's been told nothing other than her duties. The fact that she chose not to let down her guard at her lowest, even when she felt convinced by the Traveler is wild. Her resolve is insane, especially considering that she couldn't confide in anyone.

I love the way we get to experience her inner world on the matter as well. That we're placed in a big empty opera house, constantly on a stage with spotlights, hearing voices with no faces. And the music backing off in that section to highlight the feeling of isolation. Not to mention getting to take control of her character so everything that's happening js directed at YOU, I think that was an excellent use of the video game medium.

And just when I thought her character couldn't get any more tragic, it does because she basically gets to witness the prophecy come true. She wasn't present for the conversation between Neuvillette and Focalors, so from all she can tell, Neuvillette and Traveler disappear with her alone in the opera house, witnessing it fill with water as she most likely thinks SHE is responsible for it.

When the water recedes and she comes out, probably expecting abandoned devastation, only for her pace to quicken as she realizes that everyone is still there. The prophecy didn't come to pass. She didn't fail. Man, that got me to cry more than just about anything else in Fontaine.

I just really love Furina, ok. I love the tragedy of her story, and her resolve, and how even the game audience is fooled by her performance. Considering everything, she did such a good job given the hand she was dealt. It makes me so happy that she's finally free of this burden and gets a chance to heal and find the peace and happiness that she's been denied for so long. That her story, her life, won't just end in tragedy.

#genshin impact #genshin spoilers #4.2 spoilers #furina #I just want to hug her and tell her that she did so good #that the Fontaine leads are both characters who cry often AND are strong in their own rights #long post

[thedistantdusk]

Hello! Hope you're doing good! I'm a huuuuge fan of your works! You're really brilliant istg! Just wanted to ask if you're working on any Harry Potter fics currently.... I understand if you don't want to answer this. It's absolutely fine if you're on a break or something. Hope you are happy and having fun! Take care, lots of love!

Hello!

Thank you, that’s very kind.

It’s… interesting to me that this ask arrived in my inbox late last night (when this old lady was dead asleep! 😴) because this is a topic I’ve struggled with for some time. I suppose now is as good a time as any to discuss it.

After immersing myself in original content for over a year, I’ve come to the realization that I’m better suited to original publication.

I can already hear the follow-up question (“Why?”)… and yikes, I’m hesitant to answer, because my reasoning is the sort of thing that’s often misconstrued/taken personally on Tumblr.

Please know that what I’m about to say does not describe a single person or event, and it’s absolutely not intended as a personal attack. However, since I’ve been wrestling with this for some time (and since I get frequent asks about it), I’d like to think my feelings are valid enough to explain myself.

So! Here’s an explanation, in the form of a story.

A couple of weeks ago, I attended a writing conference and got the opportunity to chat with an author who’s been doing this gig for ages, with a number of professional accolades to her name. She also started out writing Harry Potter fanfic, so we got to talking about the transition from fic to OC. She no longer writes fic (and didn’t write canon pairings, so had no overlap with my experiences in that regard) but she offered a sage piece of wisdom that has stuck with me since.

I’m paraphrasing, but the gist of what she offered is that in most cases, when comparing big-name fanfic authors to big-name OC authors, the standard of content quality is almost exactly the same— but the accepted standard of professionalism couldn’t be more different.

And maybe this statement is obvious to you, but it really threw me for a loop! 😅 To clarify, she wasn’t saying that this statement is necessarily anyone’s fault, or that individual fic writers are to blame for the overall culture of some (not all!) fandoms. She also wasn’t saying that any author— or any person, in general— deserves disrespect.

She was simply commenting on the difference of what’s considered “part of the job” when comparing reader interactions between fanfic vs OC communities. She wasn’t even speaking about Harry Potter in particular, so if you’ve had a different experience, I believe you! This was her feedback, and hers alone 😄.

Unfortunately, though, it did ring extremely true for me. Imo, when “professional” authors (and yes, I hate using that term, because all authors are valid) engage in objectively outlandish/unkind behavior, they often face consequences— at least in the court of public opinion.

However, I simply can’t say the same is true for fandom. Imo, there are few other venues where folks who actually want readers/followers are publicly supported in behavior that, in my opinion, should receive a call-out instead of a round of applause.

Again, this is just my experience, and I’m not describing everyone. Many fanfic writers (including the ones I beta for 🥰) behave as true professionals. And if you’re reading this and completely disagree with me, that’s totally okay! Nothing I’m saying should be intended to take away from anything you’ve experienced. I’m simply describing my own personal feelings/the feelings of a peer with whom I discussed the transition from fandom to original culture.

So… will I write fic again? Given the circumstances I’ve described, this will be a challenge. I love organizing fic exchanges and festivals, working on the subreddit, and supporting the creation of new content. But after witnessing, first-hand, the way that OC authors engage with the public, my experiences in fandom culture feel unnecessarily toxic by comparison.

Which leads me to my point: After quite a bit of introspection, I’ve had to accept that there were many times over the past few years when I should’ve been kinder in my public handling of reader interactions/Tumblr asks.

I, myself, fell into the “fandom trap” of responding to innocent questions in a way that embarrasses me now. I take full responsibility, but I can’t change the past. The most I can do is apologize and offer a greater degree of kindness in the future.

So! I know that’s a long-winded explanation, but the transition to OC has really opened my eyes. I wholeheartedly support anyone who continues to write fic/produce for fandoms; this, again, is literally just my experience. I’ll always be around discord for a chat and conversation, but I’m not sure if writing fic is for me anymore.

In closing, it saddens me that this post (which is literally about kindness/professionalism) will probably inspire passive-aggressive reblogs and hashtags, but this will only be a prime example of why HP content creation may no longer be for me 😅.

In short, this indefinite break will probably continue, but I truly appreciate your support ❤️.

Take care!

#not harry potter #fandom culture #fanfic culture

[ofrolysdogs]

Commission Fanfic: Chapter One

Fandom: Willy Wonka Franchise

For: @reviss-dragonlord

Authors note: just to clarify, I'm not apart of the wonka fan base, I do have a good glimpse of the plot however I'm not exactly sure if the characters are in character despite headcanons and whatnot, figuring out a lot as I go on through this chapter, thx for understanding.

this should be 3k words (for a very odd reason (laziness) I can't write over 2k words sorry, but I tried my hardest to add as much as I could.)

for anyone who wants to commission me, dm me but first, read this so you can understand what I'm willing to write and whatnot!

------+------

the once light blue sky above was growing darker, the sun was setting down, and the stars were to be twinkling in a moments notice, the two, middle aged men, were standing outside, staring into the sunset.

"wilkin.... my dear... can I ask you something?"

the man, who would only be called wilkinson, had heard the others voice, looking to his right he sees him not batting at eye at the man beside him, but only focused on the array of colors in the distance as the sun sets.

"I already told you not to call me that."

wonka let's out a small huff. "why not?"

"it sounds dumb."

a small huff turns into a laugh. "dumb?" he noticed the light pink blush on wilkinson's face.

"just get on with the question, please." he felt embarrassed, slightly, but it's mainly because he thought it was adorable.

clearing his throat, wonka turns over to his love, he grabbed his hand, with both of his own, brining it to his chest, wilkinson was still not used to this type of affection despite it being only a few years into their relationship, wonka definitely had plans on marrying him, in his eyes, he was just the one, the one he saw himself walking down the isle for, the one he kissed, the one who stayed through everything, even when wonka was at his lowest he was there, despite not being the most vocal or the one to show many emotions, he could still see that wilkinson cares.

"do you remember the first time we met?"

wilkinson definitely didn't have a perfect memory but he did remember certain things about their first impressions, for one, wonka was definitely someone with a unique personality, it was almost an act to him, an actor taking his role a bit too seriously, but the more he started to learn about him, the more he finds out why he acts the way he does, and the more he fell for him, he tried his best to suppress this feeling of love, but he couldn't, he loved him, so, so much, it almost felt like he was attached to him..

"I do, everytime I come here it's a reminder everyday, I'm reminded of the first time I walked through those doors, it's almost nostalgic... sometimes I wish I could go back..."

he didn't want to cry, realizing how much he had grown back then, what he had learned, what he had experienced to make him the person he is now, though it doesn't feel like it, he definitely has changed, obviously for the better.

- + - - + - - + -

sometime ago, there was an ordinary man working an ordinary job for someone of his not exactly ordinary class, it was a boring job with a decent pay especially for something like your average office job, it was enough to keep him by for the moment, but it got tiring and depressing doing the same, unfulfilling thing for what could seem like eternal loophole.

but wait a second, who was this man? a mysterious man, to the outer surface a mysterious past, personality, everything! he always kept to himself, not in a secretive way but more in a "if you would've asked, I could tell you" way and, even then, you'd only get half truths.

outside of work however he lived alone, no wife, kids, or family it seems, any remaining family was gone, not dead, just gone, lonely he was, but unfazed he remains, or that's what it appears like on the outer surface, of course he wasn't completely lonely, there were close acquaintances he would speak to on an occasion but that's all there is to it, occasions, though days would come that he wished for the deep companionship of someone else, just like in the movies, of course a movie isn't the best realistic example, but it was a start, but he wasn't even sure about who he even was first, did he even deserve such? it seemed unlike him to have someone like him, let alone love him, or that's what he thinks.

he rarely spoke to his co-workers, the occasional hello, lengthy meetings of business chit chat, and a goodbye, their existence is forgotten about until the next day, being reminded of their faces once more.

his boss was almost the same way, nothing personal would be brought in to his work, he didn't feel as if it was necessary, in fact he liked the mysteriousness everyone saw in him, he was a puzzle most couldn't put together, and in the only times where he is noticed is when someone is bothering.

"you're so quiet" is what they would say, it was true, he was a secretive individual, he spoke very little unless spoken to, what's so wrong with that.

no matter.

a usual day begins, waking up, getting dressed, eating breakfast and heading off to work, whilst eating breakfast at a nearby coffee shop since he didn't feel like making his own, a simple hot cup of coffee with a sausage egg roll for a few before he heads out the door.

whilst walking down, almost a few blocks to his workplace for the remaining hours, he looks over to his right, a somewhat normal sized building, it looked to be in the middle of construction, he didn't think much of it, and continued to walk past and off into the distance he could see his job.

once he walks in, the cool air hits him, summer is right around the corner, and the humidity outside was growing, he disliked summer because of the humidity, it's hot and uncomfortable, but a good swim doesn't hurt once and a while.

he got down to his desk and started to work, finding emails, loads, that he needs to reply to, a huff leaves his nose as he begins to type, staring at the screen as words begin to appear, until a moments notice.

"excuse me, wilk, do you mind seeing me for a bit, it shouldn't take too long?"

a woman's voice, he looked up at the lady, the bosses secretary that he swore was a mistress, ah, yes, he had a bit of insight on drama relating to job, of course he observed from a distance but knew as much as he could, nonetheless, he stood up from his desk and walked past the woman without a single word uttering his mouth.

"he was always a man of few words, isn't he." the woman behind him spoke lowly to herself, as low as she could.

the main office wasn't exactly far from the desk he sat at, and through the office window he saw the man himself sitting at the desk, opening the door, the smell of something musky, like sweat, had hit him.

"come in, have a seat."

it was an odd atmosphere, it felt like something was going to go wrong, he sat down anyways pulling the chair up to the desk to comfortably sit with his arms resting on the desktop. the boss fixed his glasses, a relaxed expression on his face, letting out a cough before words could come out, and after a while of the boss speaking and speaking on, he gets to the final point, of him behind fired.

but what for? he asks not because he's begging to stay but rather wondering what's the reason.

apparently, a woman is accusing him of some form of name calling and harassment, in fighting is strictly forbidden, though expected everyone won't get along, but straight up insults is where lines were being drawn, the question is, who would accuse him of such? why him? he was pretty much left behind and forgotten by almost everyone around him, never invited to parties hosted by those around him or any outings, not that it bothered him much since he could care less about their existence, but he did sometimes wish he could experience a bit of it.

after the conversation was ended, things were being packed and now it was time to finally go for good, how exactly did he feel about this situation at hand? well, it was planned on a while back anyways, he just never had the right time to tell his boss, no, his former boss anything so far, he went on to pack his things and head out the door, all he could do now is pray that a better job was ahead, better pay, maybe more interesting co workers, whatever awaits his future is there.

he had forgot that because his job was only a 15 minute walk away from where he lived, he didn't necessarily need to bring a car, but because of the things he packed it did sure come in handy, but complaining internally won't do much, so, he walks the same way he came.

after about a few minutes he runs into that building, some more work had been done to it, including a poster that is stapled to a pole nearby the building, it shows that the building being developed was being turned into a chocolate factory, and they're looking for work, and once you walk inside that building you would be interviews for hire, it seemed interesting and he was inclined to give it a bit of thought, though he walked back home anyways, not thinking much about him being fired or much more, but in all honesty, he felt like something deeper was going on, I mean, he wasn't the type to speak much to let alone harass a woman, not that he's misogynistic but rather, he just didn't, nothing deep within it.

but even then, right now it doesn't matter anymore, that's all in the past, but it did feel a bit hurtful, almost comparable to getting a flu shot, he had worked there for a few years and had some pretty interesting memories.

once arriving home he sets his things down on the coffee table that sits beside his couch, next to his laptop, he goes off to his room to change into something more comfortable, and returns to the living room shortly afterwards, and then it hits him; that chocolate factory.

he had to admit that he did like sweets, even as a small child he loved the taste of chocolate, he hasn't had as much now as he did back then, he is getting old, the older you get, the more weight you gain, and the more likely the health issues you get from eating such things, not that he cared much about his health but.. yeah, he kind of did, he had to.

did he even have enough time to go down there to see an interview? he never bothered to check the schedule, it was late but not dark out, late because that's usually the time he would stay indoors before starting the next day, but should he make this day the exception?

ah, it didn't matter, he was far too tired anyway, today was exhausting, all he wanted to do was to fall asleep, and not have to worry about anything, other than what could happen tomorrow, so he walked back to his room to go to bed, finally.

- + - - + - - + -

8:30 am, the next day finally rolls in, his eyes flutter open, still tired as he isn't able to move, his thoughts begin to roll in, reminders of the days before the others, until it hits him once again, he needs to go to that building to be hired.

he slowly rises up from laying down, stretching before he hops out of bed to start the morning: washing his face, brushing his teeth, and then to find out what to wear, it took a bit of thought but he decided to go with a navy blue suit top with a black tie, the same, black pants he wore and dress shoes, and to not forget his glasses.

he goes into his kitchen to see, what could he eat for this morning? buttery waffles, drenched in syrup with a side of sausage links with an undecided drink will do for today, almost every time he would just go down to that coffee shop but today was just different for him, as he waited for his waffles to cook he gathered a bag of frozen links, and got to cooking.

it had been a bit since he cooked anything, so, mistakes could happen here or there, the sausage was a tad bit overcooked and he accidentally put to much waffle batter in the iron, it not like it was a complete disaster though.

he ate nonetheless and watched the television, he watched the most interesting thing that was on, and he had to admit that the food was actually pretty good despite it's imperfections.

and now it was finally time to leave, he locked the door behind him and headed off, walking down his usual route, showing that nothing much has changed so far, other than the relocation to keep him housed.

it took a lot quicker to reach the building than to his old job, standing at the entrance that leads to a trail in the building, he inhales, and exhales, preparing for whatever could come, first impressions shouldn't be too bad as he's decently dressed, would they look into his history on the fact that he got fired just yesterday?

he told himself not to panic too much, he felt the same way when he applied for his first, second and last job, this one shouldn't be to different now?

anyway, he took his first steps into the entrance and walked down the isle, he felt his legs start to tremble and wobble but kept his usual blank expression, it didn't take him long to reach the entrance, he didn't know wether he needed to just simply walk in or to knock but considering that it's not exactly open to the public, he opens the door slowly, peaking in to see.... things he had never seen before.

he took his first steps in, wandering the surrounding area, it looked almost like a children's play area, it wasn't the most colorful, but at the same time, vibrant, like it was all painted just moments ago, he hadn't seen something like this in ages, and he-

"excuse me sir?"

a voice was heard in the distance, but the echo makes it seem like it was closer, he turned his head front, back, left, right, forwards, backwards, only to see the man standing behind him, a top hat, a velvet red colored tailor coat, everything underneath was black from the suit to the shoes, there was also a distinguishable cain, he was also relatively tall as well, or maybe, the hat kind of made it out to be that way.

"oh, hello there, you must be the one that works here..?"

"why yes I am, are you looking to work here?"

"umm.... yeah I am."

the man in the top hat claps his hands together joyfully. "great! now if you will follow me to the office and we can get started!"

from what was gathered, this man seems so... interesting? not in the same way he was, you know, the stern and quiet type but this man however... he was more on the joyful side, if joyful was even the word to use, he had a certain style, a certain elegance that he didn't see in real life, it was surreal to say the least, was he putting on an act?

once in the office, the man in the top hat goes on to sit down in front of his desk, he uses his cane to push back the seat that sits across from him, going to sit down, the man slides his seat up to where his arms can rest comfortably on his desk.

"alright, so, for this interviewing process, I will ask you a few questions, then afterwards we'll see if you are eligible, that doesn't sound bad does it?" a smile on the mans face, before it disappears, like he had saw something..?

....

"oh wait! goodness me, I almost forgot to introduce myself, you can simply call me wonka, but, willy is my first name, and as for you, well... what is your name?"

...

clearing his throat to speak.

"my name is..... you can simply call me wilkinson."

wonka's expression grew blank, showing confusion, he stares him boldly in the eyes, from the point of view of wilkinson, this isn't good?

"well, that's quite the interesting name, wilkinson! don't worry, I've met people with even weirder names!"

the guy who's name is quite frankly willy wonka is joking about names being weird, but then again it could be a stage name, also, wilkinson is his last name, his first name can be john, or terry, any basic middle aged white man names.

the job hiring process was being completed with multiple other questions, in between chats about personal but not too personal details about ones lives, it seemed like everything was going smoothly, wilkinson could feel himself loosen up slightly and speak more, it felt so refreshing considering that he never met someone that he can truly feel at ease with, it was a very special feeling.

it feels like he had learned a bit too much about this man, like, a close friend perhaps? it's not a bad thing obviously but it was something that was a bit questionable.

"honestly, I can't wait to have you work here with us, you'll fit right in!" wonka opens the door to his office as he allows wilkinson to move past him with a low "after you," closing the door behind the both of them they walk down the hallways of the factory in construction, looking around him to see the walls he walked past not too long ago.

"well, it is still rather early." wilkinson speaks to himself as he looks outside through a small window, the sun was still beaming with clouds coming by to cover it every few minutes or so, the weather before he came in was almost perfectly in the middle, he didn't even need to wear this fancy suit.

"why yes it is, its only noon, I must say, out of all the applications, you seemed to have stood out! I mean just look at this outfit! it compliments everything about you!" wonka smiles, continuing to walk in front of wilkinson.

there wasn't much else to do from here, the job here was done, he was hired on the spot, most people consider it a red flag but since this was a starting career, it was almost expected.

"when do I begin my work?" wilkinson asks.

"when do you want to begin working?" wonka responds in playful sarcasm.

"I prefer in a week, I just need time to figure out some personal situations first, if that's fine with you?"

"that's perfectly understandable!"

once reaching the entrance, wilkinson walks out of the double doors, but is stopped by wonka's call, stopping in his tracks, he turns half body to the man walking behind him.

"you don't mind that maybe, we can have a chat over lunch one of these days? I would like to get to know you just a little bit more."

wilkinson wasn't uneasy, of course not, but it did feel a bit.... strange, of course wonka seemed lovely of course..

"sure, why not..?" wilkinson hesitantly agrees to the offer, before giving the man a professional hand shake, and leaving once more, not much else was planned for the day, he's so used to working for these long hours answering to emails and whatnot but for today, resting is what was planned, it had been a while since he had taken an afternoon nap, or caught up with a series of what not, this will happen for an entire week

as he walked, he found himself passing the coffee shop he always goes to, he debated to himself wether or not he wanted something from there, but he wasn't exactly hungry, so he walked past, he would probably regret it later but .. oh well.

his house now wasn't far, walking in after unlocking the door, he did himself a big stretch before walking back to his room, flopping himself on the bed face first, the memories of today replay in his mind, he didn't want to overthink about his soon to be job, but, he couldn't help it to a degree, it's a natural feeling.

the day wasn't over yet, so what? he had all the time in the world right now to take a nice nap, and that, is exactly what he did.

little did the man know, the decision he made would change his life for the better.

#commission #willy wonka #wilkinson

[the-royal-bat-snake]

You'll never guess which hermit I want

I'll take Grian and cleo

Oh 2 for the price of one, bold choice I like it. Okay, let's go through each part one by one.

Double time! Grian is actually one of 4 people that actually end up using this one in the au so far, Cleo is not. Grian's clone he ends up calling NPC Grian, and it starts out with a few more noticeable changes when first formed. It looks arguably more synthetic than the others, with their veins actually being red upon close inspection, and their eyes being red. As time goes on they get more metallic and more robotic in general.

Redstone! These 2 don't really use this one that often, but if they need to and it's the only one around, they will. Grian is banned from use after an incident that turned off the power in half the city. This does not stop him. It will happen again.

Flight! You'll never guess what this one looks like on Grian. Yeah it's parrot wings and tail feathers but specifically a Sun Conure parrot aka one of these bad boys

Cleo has vulture wings and tail feathers, specifically the Eurasian Griffon Vulture aka this bad boy

This is Grian's favourite but basically every Hermit uses this part.

Null! Not really anything much to say for this one. These 2 don't use this one often as they either find it a) boring or b) not that useful.

Potions! I think Grian gets speed boost and strength. And Cleo probably gets resistance and night vision. Both like using this one but Cleo only really uses it at night because it's more useful and the sun is Too Bright with night vision.

Randomize! For this one Cleo gets the ability to manipulate huminoid statues/mannequins. She can make them pose in any way, and she can control multiple at once to create an army. This is the part Cleo uses the most often, and she tends to use it even when not out and about to make tiny statues in her free time. Grian gets the ability to sew really quick. Like blink and you'll miss it speed. Like I said before the powers are NOT balanced but Grian got to use it a lot when the group first started out in creating their costumes. Now he mostly uses it to mend Scar's clothes when he inevitably rips them on the job. Or at home. Or anywhere nothing is Scar safe

Another long one! Feel free to ask any questions you want but if we want to continue this like a choose your own adventure:

Go back and ask about a different Relic

Ask about specific times a Part has been used

Ask about a different Hermit or Hermits

Ask me to clarify something

Once again anyone is free to ask anything!

#asvk #tell <3 #hermitcraft #relic au #grian #zombiecleo #i like the idea of night vision just making your pupils wide as fuck to absorb more light #potion of silly mode

[animechristi]

Tower of God: Symptoms of Loneliness

I place this at the service of Christ by the hands of His mother.

“It is not good that the man should be alone” - Genesis 2:18

First, disclaimers:

1.)    As of 2022, Tower of God is an unfinished webcomic written by S.I.U., so I cannot comment on the series as a finished whole.

2.)    That said, I really like ToG. I think the MC is a great example of someone growing in virtue and the author does a great job at creating a diverse cast of characters. If the art style turns you away, I suggest you hold out since it gets way better over time. Alternatively, you can watch the anime which is a good adaptation with a great OST by Kevin Penkin.

3.)    I want to talk about loneliness, but that is a wide category, so this will have to be limited to a specific type as I’ll clarify later on.

Second, here’s the plot:

            The premise of ToG is simple. There’s a tower. Climb it. Get to the top, and your dreams will come true. Simple, right? Yes and no. The issue is this: you climb each level - known as a “floor” of the tower - by passing a test, a test where there is always a winner and loser. Thus, it very quickly becomes every man for himself.

Our story begins with Bam a young boy who lives in an underground cave. One day a girl named Rachel stumbles across this cave, and the two becomes friends. But Rachel wants to climb The Tower and tells Bam to forget about her. Our infatuated boy is not to be put down and so quickly chases her up the tower.

Third, what I want to talk about:

          My focus this article is a conversation between Bam and Endorsi a girl who is living only for herself. Endorsi has no problem stepping over people to get what she wants. She grew up in a family that encouraged the strong and neglected the weak. Bam on the other hand, had no one with him in the cave and so treasures anyone he meets.

            At one point, the climbers need to get 10 signatures of “friends” they’ve made. Endorsi has set herself up as an independent climber and so she has no one to reach out to for such a task. At the same time, she finds herself out of money and so Bam buys her lunch each day in order to get her signature. Later she asks Bam why he wasted the money just to get her signature. His answer? “I hate being lonely, so I don’t want others to be lonely either.”

            Endorsi, however, doesn’t immediately say “thank you”. Instead, she tries to defend her isolation. “I like being alone,” she says, “It feels worse to be with someone. They bother you… and make you nervous, so it’s better to be alone.” But Bam turns this argument upside-down. “But doesn’t that also mean… you’re lonely?”

            His point is this: for some of us, the dislike of people is not a cause but a symptom of loneliness. And Bam proves this by his next question: “Is that how you feel with me?” To which Endorsi replies: “No.” The point is that, by realizing there are people she enjoys being with, Endorsi now understands loneliness isn’t being with people we dislike but being away from people we do like. If you’ve ever sought refuge in a friend at an event where you don’t know anyone else, I think you’ll know what I mean.

Okay, so what’s the point Mr. “Christian Commentator”

            Recall the verse at the top of this page. “It is not good that the man should be alone.” As Christians, we believe that from the beginning of our existence we are called to live in a community. This is why family is not just a social but a natural structure. Despite whatever you may read from Hobbes, Locke, or Rousseau, we never find man simply alone in a state of nature.

            We are not meant to be alone – no matter how much we convince ourselves that it’s good for us. Even the early monastic movement was aware of this with solitary hermits being the exception not the norm. You don’t take on the solitary life to be independent but to realize just how dependent you are on God. It makes us grow in humility by knowing we don’t have everything under control.

So now here’s the point.

        To move away is also to move towards. In recognizing that it is not good to be alone, we know what it is we should be looking for: building community with others. Big surprise, a recurring theme in Tower of God is whether it’s better to dominate others or work together with others to obtain your goal.

            As I mentioned at the beginning, loneliness is a broad category, so I’d like to look at a specific type of loneliness, one that makes us dislike people. Just like Endorsi – when there’s no one around us that we’re comfortable with – we can easily turn to ourselves to accomplish everything. Afterall, wouldn’t asking for help be a sign of weakness? And here pay attention to the lies of the devil: wouldn’t they think I’m stupid? Do they only help me to feel good about themselves?  Wouldn’t I be in their debt or be putting myself under them?

            All of these are ways the devil gets us to close ourselves off to others and put us in a state that is not good for us to be in. To borrow words from Classroom of the Elite, we mistake isolation for independence. We forget that God has said “Behold how good and pleasing it is when brothers dwell together” (Ps 133:1).

So what are we to do?

Talk is nice, but this is pointless if I don’t offer practical advice. I’d like to preface this by saying these aren’t magical cures, but simply things that I’ve reaped much benefit from.

Frequently invoke the name of Jesus. E.g. “Jesus Christ have mercy on me” or whatever form you find helpful and can be prayed repeatedly while you’re working. This reminds us that we can’t do anything without Him.

If you don’t have a devotion to a particular saint or your guardian angel, get one. Doesn’t matter who; start making friends with those we look forward to spending eternal life with. Just like with Jesus, talk to them about anything that’s happening.

(And this is the one I struggle with most) Put in effort to know more about people, it will help you love them. Spend time learning about their likes, dislikes, and family, and most importantly don’t be afraid to share your own life with them. (Endorsi wouldn’t have realized her scenario if she hadn’t talked with Bam about it)

As I said, this is not a cure-all. But it is a place to start. When we find ourselves hating the company of others, let’s stop and ask ourselves why. If it’s because we think we don’t need anyone, then that’s the first sign we’ve gone too far.

 

I could go on but will stop for now. Perhaps this topic can be revisited from a different perspective.

St Justin Martyr, pray for us.

#animechristi #catholic anime #overthinking #anime analysis #tower of god #25th bam #androssi jahad

[carabet-kin-help]

no harm meant by asking this and feel free not to answer if it makes you uncomfortable, but why is marvel not allowed to be requested? does that mean every marvel character or are some okay ?

I simply don't care about Marvel and would do a bad job researching and creating a request for you, it's nothing you or anyone else has done. It's always okay to ask questions :]

I'd also like to clarify that my take on problematic media is that a kintype is not something one can control, and as long as they aren't romanticizing it and are critically consuming media they shouldn't be treated differently.

I think the only requests other than Marvel I'd personally downturn atm is harry potter and SNK due to current world events surrounding transphobia and anti-semitism.

Anywho, sorry for the tangent, here are some blogs you could request Marvel at instead!

@kinmusics @winter-kins @hells-kitchen-kinhelp

#NOT DISCOURSE #im just answering a question #not request #Omori's thoughts

[officehrs]

dont you think youre being too harsh by saying he should be able to communicate with you since he’s an adult? your confession could have hurt his image considering how much time he has alloted to you,, what went from fatherly love is now pity, did you really think coming clean about your feelings would repair what was already broken. you are a kid, you are his student,, you need to know your place. your increasing attachment to him made you lose sight of what was important about the bond you shared

again thanks anon for the questions,, idk if u are the same person or a different one but either way i do really appreciate it!! it makes me think much more critically of how i perceive our relationship and everything that has happened in its course ,, with that being said, this will certainly be a longer post than usual, just so im able to explain everything.

i highly encourage all of you read this — i explain why i sort of hate him now, how i confessed, how he has changed, and why our relationship cant work anymore.

i should clarify that in my other post, i said “he should be able to communicate since he's an adult” not as something i believe now, but something i believed at the worst of our relationship some weeks ago. though this is an idea that subconsciously lingers (because i believed it so intensely!!), since then, i have experienced events in my personal life that have required me to “grow up,” even more, contrary to what i might project here. to believe he has inherent malicious intent or inherent insensitivity in everything he does surrounding me is completely at odds with how i see humanity as a whole. it wasnt and isnt justified, but i was really just desperate to see that immediate reparation of our relationship like you described, and to me it wouldve been, ideally, this sudden blooming and everything being good between us again. but this is impossible, and i wish i could have warned my earlier self of that much more!! he has experienced things that have changed him since last year and i have experienced things that have changed me also. this is something im trying to accept now.

though i was very childish in my reasoning for choosing to confess, i didnt do it without thinking. for that reason, i fight back more strongly against the idea that my confession could have hurt his image in any way. i loved him and i was extremely saddened by him when i wrote what i did, but i did not want to hurt him so inconsiderately, costing his job or reputation for something that (as i wrote, and as u acknowledge) was literally my fault — that being, my attachment to him 😬 so, i did everything in my power to ensure that this would be private and really only painful for myself. its not easy to confess, i promise!! but anyway, i dont remember if i shared this detail (like my other post), but the confession itself was in the form of a letter, sealed by an envelope that i gave to him directly with no one else around. the contents were, then, completely discreet. as for the confession itself, i shared very sensitive and specific information (like being gender non-conforming and the name i go by, which ive never told anyone, and more details about not having emotionally present parents). this essentially means that the only way the confession could hurt his image is if he told someone about its contents, or anything about it at all, which would be an egregious act on his part — he would be the only method of damaging his image, and in fact, he already has throughout the year!! his students tend to feel that he unfairly treats them, and find him pretty stubborn and unlikable. people loved him a lot more last year when he was more free and caring, including me jsladksjks

but dont be mistaken, anon,, you undeniably speak truth in other things said, and im grateful that you can derive that fundamental truth from what i post here, which i unfortunately have to manipulate (in minor ways) in order to protect myself and r, and really everyone. one thing i absolutely enjoy is how you articulated the change in our relationship ("fatherly love to pity") because its very brief, yet applicable in its entirety; in all its implications. although its a bit painful to see him see ME as this sad character who never experiences joy, its for all the wrong reasons. honestly, in my last post i lied — he didnt feel guilty for treating me like garbage, but he felt guilty for recommending me things to do during this time, which i expressed in the confession and after is NOT the problem. this misunderstanding is something that cant be fixed, though. his ideological change prevents him from seeing the reality of the situation the way i see it, because he would have to change the way he sees reality as a whole; if this happened a year ago, he would not pity me at all. i know this sounds very wrongfully confident, but it is true. people complain about him now, and i dont enjoy his presence anymore because he believes in things that oppose the lives of his students. my confession was then even more immature because i thought, basically “i could fix him” 😵‍💫

in this, you are right anon: i am just a kid. i have proven it time and time again in this post alone!! but, you must understand: i am NOT his student, and i havent been this entire year. when we talked monday, 5/16/22 (the same day i cited in my last post) he also said that in many ways, he is not my teacher. in academic terms, i am not his student — i am an assistant to him who helps the people he actually, actively teaches. in attachment terms, i have horribly turned him into a replacement of my father. and in occupational terms, i have surpassed him intellectually in the subject he used to “privately teach” me about, and therefore, he cant really teach me anymore. when i say privately teach, i mean he would tell me things and give me books to read about the subjects we both had interest in (philosophy, and the social sciences), when i would see him after school. but, because he knew very little about both, i quickly became much more knowing of both areas than he is with what he gave me and my own private study. of course, he knows way more about the subjects he formally teaches (film and lit) than i do, but these i am not really interested in, so he could not teach me unless the material is stuff that im not passionate about. there's more, but i dont want to sound like im bragging, and im sure im not making this any clearer ,,, anyway, overall, i agree with you; though im not his student, i need to know my place. and again, this is something i have been trying to reinforce to myself.

i wanted to add a transition to this by saying the last thing brought up is something that i should clarify, but it cant be clarified because i havent ever said it. nevertheless, let it be known that my increasing attachment to him — at least as i perceive it — is not what made me “lose sight of what was important about the bond [we] shared.” i would argue, even, that i never lost sight of what was important about our relationship. but the issue is that his incompatible views of life (in my view) and his constant maltreatment of me and other people (like my best friend too, actually), have been fueling a decreasing attachment to him. really, my only attachment to him now is to how he made me feel and what he once was.

for the both of us, its best that we do not talk to each other anymore, and this is something i wrote in my confession. additionally, my confession has always served as my ultimate presentation of the truth about our relationship. to r, he was glad to be told the truth, and as he said it the day after i gave him the letter, he would rather know than not to know. to me, last year, i wanted to confess the same way on the day i would graduate, and i finally got to do it this year, although at a completely unplanned time. and with this, i conclude my response 🐇

im very sorry if this is incomprehensible — ive been writing this response for 3 hours now, and im extremely worn from it.. regardless, thank you anon for giving me the opportunity to explain,, please continue to do so by raising those questions (you or anyone else)!!

#r #teacher crush #teacher crush community #male teacher crush

[crybabylisa]

Baby Ace would like me to read your self ship with Kazutora but There is none yet 🤧

here is my kazutora selfship now!!🤧

the sfw selfship ask game

-> send me one character out of my selfships and i'll answer these questions <3 please clarify if you want me to do the sfw or nsfw version!

KAZUTORA X LISA

who is the grumpiest in the morning?

probably me... but he's so cute and holds me close until i'm fully awake and i just can't stay grumpy when he's cuddling with me.

who worries more when the other is sick/hurt?

kazutora absolutely panics when i'm sick or hurt and always calls chifuyu to ask him for help. i need to be more worried about his mental health :(

who plays pranks on the other?

it's so easy to prank tora because he falls for it most of the times💀 he's really bad at pranking me..... he can't lie to me and it's so cute when he tries to lmao

who is always the first to suggest cuddling on the sofa?

kazutora always suggests it before i can even think about it. he's so cute and wants to cuddle with me as much as possible🤧 sometimes the first thing he says after coming home from work is "hi baby, can we please cuddle? i missed you" and how can i say no to that? he's adorable and i want to cuddle with him all day long :(

who insists on creating nicknames for the other?

me!! i call him "kazu", "tora", "pretty boy", "baby" and all kinds of nicknames because he deserves all my love and he's always so flustred when i call him that. he also loves to call me by nicknames and pet names!!

who says "i love you" first?

i said it first when we were cuddling after a few weeks of dating. he was feeling insecure again and asked me why i'm not with someone else and when i told him that i'm in love with him and that i don't want anyone else, he started to cry :((( kazutora was the one who fell first, but he was too scared to tell me because he thought that he doesn't deserve me (he still thinks that sometimes...). he told me how much he loves me after he calmed down a little. we liked each other way before we even started dating tho, chifuyu had to hear both of us simping for the other one and he got tired of it and organized a first date for us💀

who's the messiest one?

tora..

who feels the most uncomfortable about pda?

at first it was kazutora because he was a little shy and insecure.. but now he's the one who always takes my hand, has his arm wrapped around me or even pulls me into a kiss if he feels like it. he wants others to know that i'm his and he won't even give other people the chance to hit on me. he also leaves hickeys on parts of my body where everyone can see it because he loves to see me marked up as his😩

who's the funniest drunk?

kazutora!! he comes up with the weirdest stories back from jail or from his time in a gang💀

who texts the most?

mhhhh we text each other a lot in general but he can't be on his phone too much when he's at work, so i'm the one who texts a little more. (we always send eachother pictures of dogs and cats we saw and random dog and cat posts on instagram lmao)

who has the most embarrassing taste in music?

my baby kazutora :(

who reads the most?

me!! but he's so cute and sometimes (when he's not sure) he asks chifuyu what manga i want, just to buy them for me as surprise🤧

who's better with kids?

we're both bad with kids🥲

who's the one that fixes things around the house?

he always tries his best with fixing things and he does a pretty good job most of the times! did he learn these things in jail? probably lmao

who cooks and who cleans up?

we try to learn how to cook together because we're both not the best at it💀 but most of the times we're at chifuyu's place and eat there with him. we clean up together!!

the nsfw selfship ask game

that depends on who's the submissive one that day lmao but we're both really loud while doing it.

KAZUTORA X LISA

who is the loudest?

who is the more submissive?

we're both a switch! sometimes he's really submissive, sometimes it's me, it really depends on our mood. he's the cutest sub ever, always asking if he's allowed to cum, doing everything to get praised and he lets out the prettiest moans and whines :(( but he's also a great dom and i can't help but to be submissive around him when he's marking me up and fucking me senseless😩

who is the most experimental?

probably kazutora because he watched so much porn before we got together and he wants to try a lot of these things out.

do they fuck or make love?

make love most of the times! we might both be needy whores but we're in love with eachother and feelings are always involved.

lights on or lights off?

mhhh most of the times the lights stay on, but sometimes they are off.

who likes sexting the most?

we both love it!! but i do it a lot just to tease him. sometimes i do it when he's at work when he doesn't have too much to do, he always needs to excuse himself to the bathroom because he gets so fucking hard and needs to cum🤧

who is more likely to be caught masturbating?

kazutora!! he masturbates so much when i'm not at home to help him and he doesn't even care if i catch him. yeah, maybe he's a little embarrassed because it's the 3rd time this week but at least i'm here now to help him and overstimulate him. tora also really likes to be punished when i told him he's not allowed to touch himself..

who is better at oral and who prefers it?

he might be a little inexperienced but he's so fucking good with his tounge!! ...mainly because he does it for his own pleasure lmao but he's so good at it and really loves to eat me out. he also loves it when i suck him off!!

who usually initiates things?

we both do.. we're so needy for eachother and can't get enough of the other one, so things get heated really fast.

who has the most/weirdest kinks?

tora and i have almost the same kinks.

#crybabylisa moots: angel ;) #crybabylisa ask games ☆ #hanemiya kazutora #kazutora hanemiya #selfship