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paroxysmss · 3 years

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Love Like You

Summary: it’d been a few years since Bucky had been freed from Hydra and The Winter Soldier. But, he still felt like he needed to prove himself. Steve was gone, and Bucky thought he was incapable of love. How could he love somebody when he was a terrorist? When he ruined families and tore loved ones apart? However, when you showed up in his life, loving him no matter what, it made him possibly learn how to love

Words: 8.6k

Warning(s): PTSD, dissociation, MCU level violence, fluff, angst, pre TFATWS,

A/N: Hi! This is my first fic, so I hope everything goes well. Please tell me if I have any spelling errors or just anything wrong in general, and I will quickly fix it! Feedback is always appreciated! I hope you enjoy it! ❤

If I could begin to be

Half of what you think of me

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love

Rule #1: Don’t do anything illegal

Rule #2: Don’t hurt anyone

Rule #3: Say these words to the person you're making amends to: “I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James 'Bucky' Barnes, and you are part of my efforts to make amends.”

Bucky had his mind back- even if it was tossed into a blender- he still had control of it. He understood he could do what he wanted now, with the Avengers disabled and the Wakanda's freeing him; he was himself. But he didn't know himself. It was the 1940s when he was last himself. All his hobbies and things he enjoyed are outdated and scarce to find in the modern world. Music was all that he could salvage. YouTube, Spotify, Records, and CDs allowed him to reminisce on good times, running down the very same streets and walking into stores- welcoming faces that he once remembered- but were now replaced with new faces or closed.

Deja vu struck him like a truck most days, and he blankly stared and watched the people around him, laughing and passing by while he stood as if he were a ghost. Bucky, some days, didn't feel alive. Overwhelmed by change, he gazed through his apartment window, detached and fixated on his surroundings and desperately trying to feel more in touch with reality.

"Dissociation happens to soldiers after they've come back from war. It's a disconnection and lack of continuity between thoughts, memories, surroundings, actions, and identity," Dr. Raynor, his therapist, had explained, "It's familiar with PTSD and stems from repeated episodes of emotional, physical, and mental abuse."

Bucky was too stubborn to believe her at the time, but now that he had implemented a new life in Brooklyn, maybe she wasn't wrong. Brooklyn wasn't the safest place to live in, depending on what neighborhood you found yourself walking through at night. Gun violence, drugs, and prostitutes scoured the shadows. Bucky tried straying from that side of town. Out of sight, out of mind. He didn't want to cause any more trouble than he already had in the past 70 or so years.

He frequented the music shop and diners, hunting for a sliver of conformity in daily life. Nightmares plagued him at night, so he opted to busy himself with the list. Because no sleep meant no nightmares, and no nightmares meant progress, right? He justified his thought process when discussing it with Dr. Raynor, but he couldn't quite remember what he said at the time.

His screams tended to wake up the apartment block he lived in, receiving stares and sometimes a knock on the door when they seemed a little too violent. His neighbors kept quiet. However, he understood he was just another burden - that neighbor everyone segregated because they weren't right in the head. Mothers redirected their children when he was near, their faces shoved into her side when he passed. They recoiled, faces tightening into crooked misplaced smiles and dread. Glares and stares, he felt them everywhere he went. They were perpetual as if they knew he was the Winter Soldier.

It stressed him to no end, and Bucky locked himself in his apartment, attempting to control how loud he yelled after a nightmare. Government-mandated therapy is what kept him from becoming a hermit. He had no contacts, no family, no friends. Just him and his therapist. Steve was what Bucky had left in his life, but after Thanos, Bucky had nothing. Everybody remaining went their separate ways, Sam taking Steve's shield, and the rest going off to do only God knows what.

He was alone for the first time in a while, free to do as he pleased.

The floor was cold as he laid on his back, shirtless. Bucky nursed a bottle of whiskey, his unbridled thoughts encompassing his mind. He knew he couldn’t get drunk with the serum, but he liked the feel of the burn in his throat and how the heat rested comfortably in his chest. Hours before, he was in the bathroom, firmly gripping chunks of his hair, practically tearing them from his scalp to chop off. His hair was the last thing that reminded him of the Winter Soldier. It was long and greasy, and he couldn't look in the mirror without seeing the mask on his face and the tactical gear Hydra accommodated him with. If he wanted to move on, why keep it? It was a barricade to his progress. A reminder of who he was- a killer.

Wads of his hair coated the tile, and he tried his best to make it look suitable for his looks. Maybe he would go to the barbers tomorrow to get it cleaned up, Bucky told himself, fully aware he wasn’t leaving his apartment. Lying to himself let him feel better, even if it was short-lived. Eyes clouded with despair. He struggled to keep his gaze on the mirror, his mind morphing his vision. The gold embellished vibranium arm distorted into a bright red star, the one Hydra marked him with as their personal touch. Bucky cringed at the memories, redirecting his eyes to the sink, shaking his head as if to clear it. He tried styling his hair as he did in the 1940s, but it felt subpar, as if he somehow impersonated himself.

Bucky paced the living room for half an hour before flicking on the television to drown out his thoughts. He abruptly sat on the chair the building provided; it was stiff and creaky, and he reached behind his back and grabbed the crumbled pillow with his metal arm, haphazardly tossing it across the room. Everything was uncomfortable, but Bucky didn't complain. He mindlessly watched the TV, blocking out his poisonous thoughts for a brief second until they came tumbling back louder than before.

Specks of hair stuck to his neck and laid on his shoulders. It itched, but Bucky slumped backward anyway, eager to find release. His head throbbed, a hammer pounding into his temples, and he grimaced when he rested his head on the wall. The horrors played in his sight like a movie, blending into the ceiling as he tightened his grip on the neck of the bottle. Why couldn't he escape? Grotesque scenes flashed past his eyes and face full of fear, frantically pleading, crying for him to spare them because they have a family, a wife, kids, their parents were too old to take care of themselves – that they wouldn't tell the police or anything if he would let them walk away.

He squeezed shut his eyes, trying to collect his scattered thoughts and suddenly sat up, grabbing at his face in a useless attempt to stop the hellish trick his mind was playing. The whisky bottle smashed to the floor, glass scattering below his feet, and the alcohol seeped into the side of the upholstered chair. Bucky's breath came out in thick pants, and he was sweating. Desperation crawled in his throat, and he pried open his eyes, standing up on wobbly feet in need of a distraction. He clamored toward the kitchen and turned on the tap. The cold water refreshed his burning face, and he gripped onto the counter so he didn’t lose balance. How- Why- It wouldn't stop, the relief abruptly fleeting as he stepped away. His back collided with the island, and his world felt like it was spinning, turning, not stopping until he planted his feet into the ground and stopped all force of motion.

The scenes depleted as he concentrated on his breathing like Dr. Raynor had demonstrated, and Bucky began to feel more at ease. He focused on the floor, scared to shut his eyes as the horrors relayed, persistent. At first, he had forgotten where he was, feeling foreign in his own home– the home he was provided and thrust in after the- no stop- this was his home, his apartment in Brooklyn where he was raised. He expelled a long breath, pulling back a stool and sitting at the table. His ears were ringing, and he hunched over, elbows rested on the counter while his fingers entwined with his short hair. He wasn’t used to it, but it was for the best.

Bucky knew he'd been up all night when the sun illuminated his floor, peaking through the edges of the blackout curtains. He slowly stood, his knees weak, and started up the coffee machine with shaky hands. Thoughts flew, one after another going faster than he could handle. These nightmares and flashbacks were halting his progress, but Bucky didn't seem to think he was redeemable. After all these years, people whispering their opinions in his ear, being told that he could be fixed, Bucky was finally worn to the bone. Steve was what kept him pumping, and without him, what was Bucky for? Why didn't they lock him up like they wanted to? Why did he get a second chance? Bucky was tired of it. He rather rot in a cell than be set free because, at least in a cell, he would have a purpose—a reason to be there.

He didn't deserve salvation–rather damnation.

He sat at the end of the couch, his stare long and foreboding. His leg bounced, his heel tapping the carpeted floor. Gloved hands, leather jacket, and you watched his nervous ticks. How he ran his hand through his hair and when he cautiously glanced around the room on high alert. It wasn’t necessary, and he didn’t particularly enjoy it, but it was a need. You sat curled on the other end of the couch, head tilted and soaking in the scene. He was beautiful but fragile, almost naïve, with a shy and pleasant face darkened with whatever hell he held onto subconsciously. He almost looked ill, with deep depressions under his eyes and a pallor to his appearance that fractured the illusion that he was bigger than the average man. Broad shoulders slouched inward perceived him as smaller, weaker, almost tiny, but when he stood, it showed a different outlook.

You met him at his therapist's office; your friend, Dr. Raynor, requested papers on another patient. You crossed paths many times, and eventually, you approached him, asking him out to lunch. You were friends. His mentality was too shattered for a relationship at the time. Anyway, you worked full time as a psychologist, busy helping misguided teenagers and assisting them in redirecting their lives.

Bucky, which he suggested you call him, was a mystery to you. Dr. Raynor kept his files private, refusing to tell you any detail on his record. All you understood was that he was a soldier, his PTSD flickering every once in a while for you to witness. He’d disappear for days, then reappear at your door at night, head bowed shyly, and hands shoved deep in his pockets.

New York’s buzz came to a steady halt. The moon peeked through the buildings as the horizon painted the last remaining colors of the sun, the muddled purple, and red bleeding together as an ocean of black began to consume it. Commercials were white static to your ears. Illuminating the house in a brief flash of color like a vintage picture show. The room was dim, yellow lamplight forming a muted golden circle on the ceiling. The couch was torn and frayed, creaking at the lightest pressure. It had rolled arms that were stiff, uncomfortable to lay against after a long day. The pillows were plush and round, and the pleats secure as the button in the middle held it together. The set came from the nearest thrift store, half off, and if it were in prime condition, it'd be worth more than your best set of jewelry.

Deep in thought, he fiddled with the brim of his hat, guiding his thumb over the fabric. He perched on the edge of the couch, ready, and his body slumped forward, opposite to you as if he had something to hide. Tremors erupted at his shoulders, slight, however noticeable to the thorough eye. “Do you want to talk about it?” You calmly asked, and Bucky vaguely glanced at you, mildly alarmed.

“No, you're not my therapist,” he murmured, shifting uncomfortably.

“I'm not, but I am one. Do you want to be left alone, Ja— Bucky, I mean— or do you want to talk about it?” You suggested softly, adjusting the papers and placing them on the coffee table, “You knocked on my door at 8 pm, and it's now 10 pm, and you have yet to speak. Something's wrong.”

“I'm fine, doll.” His gaze was bleak and disarming, finding your eyes in the dim room.

Letting the weight of his words sink in the area, you put your fist to your mouth and scanned over your papers. Aliyah M. Roberts, a teenage girl from uptown with rash emotional outbursts and struggles with self-worth and self-esteem. She was your new patient– a teenager– forced into therapy by her deranged mother, making her unresponsive to treatment. You were transfixed, glossing over her diagnoses and medications, when Bucky straightened, standing up. He fixed a ruffle in his jacket and tugged on his hat.

“I thought you said that you stopped having nightmares,” You recalled doubtfully

“I did.”

“Lying doesn't fix things, Bucky.”

“Like I said-”

“I’m not your therapist, you’re right,” You interjected, and after a careful pause, spoke again, “But I want to help my friend.”

Bucky smiled uneasily, not quite sure how to respond. You stared knowingly, waiting, and he averted his gaze at the window, pretending not to care. The silence was excruciating, and he anxiously picked at the fraying on his jacket, hoping you would call him out on his bullshit instead of him having to admit to it. Neither of you knew how to move forward, and he didn’t think he had to answer some questions when he first knocked on your door. It was a blind action when he lost himself on the way home, a sudden blaring car horn ripped him from reality, and he sought out normalcy in your presence.

Swallowing hard, “Doll, I’ll be fine. I just got a bit shaken up, that's all.”

He moved around the couch, maneuvering to the foyer. Bucky wanted to leave, not waste your time, and his heartbeat spiked. His hand was clammy under the glove, and he hurriedly slid on his shoes. You reached over the back of the couch, softly grabbing his arm. He instinctively flinched, staring at you alert and anxious.

"Tell me when you’re ready.” You said faintly, knowing you disturbed him and were sorry, "I promise I don't bite." A meek smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, and you squeezed his forearm reassuringly. Bucky's cheeks reddened. His body calmed at your gentle touch, and you placed your hand on your lap.

He nodded, exhaling a heavy breath, replying with a blunt, "Ok."

“Hey, text me when you’re home.” You called, glancing back at him when he was halfway through the door. His eyes trained on you, “Also, I've been feeding the neighborhood cat, so can you check if the bowl is full? If not, just throw it by the door; I'll get to it before I go to bed.”

The screen door snapped shut behind him, and he stepped onto the porch. It was closed in with wood fencing; the boards paint chipped and leaning, struggling to hold up the railing. A porch swing hung at the end, the cushions new, and a mesh screen protected it from the weather. You placed a rocking chair and a rusted metal table in your little area, you coming out on a nice day to sit on the swing and read the latest novel you divulged yourself into. Bucky loved those days, especially rainy ones where he would sit on the swing with you, head on your lap while you carded your hand through his hair. It was refreshing, knowing not all hands are used for violence, and Bucky began, in recent weeks, to crave your attention. It swallowed him whole, and he couldn’t get enough of it, basking in its warmth and sense of serenity, easing his tense muscles.

Curtains blocked the view of your living room, but the television light flashed every once in a while. Muffled voices echoed, the laugh track resounding through the speakers. Neighborhood kids scampered in the night, swift small shadows darting with purpose as they release shrill, playful shrieks. A bonfire was going on, the flames straining toward the sky as they fed the fire with cardboard boxes and beer cans.

Laughter chimed, and Bucky watched as a mother scolded the children for playing on the street. She shooed them to the backyard, and he briefly wondered how his life would've turned out if he hadn't fallen off that train. It was almost painful to think about every time he glossed over the idea. Sometimes reducing him to a ball on the tile floor of his shower, the pelts of water dinging against his arm as he tried to forget what could've been.

The plastic bowl was at the bottom of the stairs, and as you asked, he tossed it toward your door. He had to get home.

“Thank you!” You happily shouted, waving at him.

Bucky waved back, walking away.

Quesadillas and lime cilantro rice wafted in the air, and you settled a full plate in front of Bucky. The kitchen was small, sectioned off into the back end of the house. The fusty window faced your backyard, the windowsill covered with plants and succulents. Pots were painted with cute designs, and all marked with a silly name in sharpie. Cabinets chipped of white paint creaked and moaned. Shelves closely packed with china, patterns contrasted and bold against the muted hue of the room. Dishes were piled in the sink, on the countertops, and filled the drying rack.

You busied yourself at the stove, cleaning up the pots and pans as you go. Books and papers were stacked onto the island where he sat, Crime and Criminality, Child Psychology, The Development of the Human Brain. Documents of patients displayed their background checks and history in the open. A stack of unopened mail was in the corner, bills and car payments, left to rest out of sight within the mess. Restless, Bucky pushed back in his chair and looked around.

A white cat laid on the edge of the couch, on top of blankets, and snuggled into a quill your grandma made for you. Alpine was his name, and part of his left ear was bitten off. In only a week and a half, your life changed, and Bucky was surprised to see a new addition in your home. More books stood on a shelf, pictures frames, photos of people— people you’ve never mentioned— on display. A layer of dust smudged their faces. Magnets held more pictures on your fridge, yearbook photos, and sports accomplishments —drawings, letters, lists, and different little personal items that just screamed of you.

In that week and a half, Bucky had been making amends with some former colleagues, trying his best to follow the rules Dr. Raynor had requested. Making amends was much more complicated than he anticipated when his therapist suggested it. He needed to work on his self-image; she had said, working through the list would help him find his identity.

Recently, his nightmares heightened, forgetting where he was for a brief second when he jolted awake. His mind frequently clashed, losing itself in the darkness, detached and immovable, his cognitive thinking drowned out by the flashbacks of those he had mercilessly killed.

Bucky figured it was best not to get you involved. He flexed his metal hand, and he feared showing it to you, not wanting to scare you. It was a blemish, just another driving attribute to being only a tool. Bucky Barnes, the government's little puppet, a lethal weapon used only when it suits their schedule. A permanent reminder of who he actually was- The Winter Soldier.

“You took your sweet time coming back, Barnes,” You glanced at him, “I thought you left me high and dry this time.”

Bucky solemnly looked up, “Why would I leave, doll?”

You exhaled a vapid laugh, “I dunno, but I started to worry.”

“I can handle myself.”

“That’s-That’s not what I meant,” You said, half-turning, “I worry about you, ya know? I dunno what you get up to in your own time- I don’t really want to know, but it’s normal for the human brain to wonder. Imagination and stuff like that- but that’s not what I’m getting at, i mean- goddamn it-” You faltered, unhappily, hurriedly wiping your hands with a dishrag, “You’d think since I’m a therapist I’d be able to coherently form a sentence, right?”

Bucky sat confused. What were you trying to get at? He looked at the tablecloth, “Did I-”

“No, you didn’t do anything, Buck,” You looked a bit embarrassed, slumping your shoulders, “I just- I just missed you.”

His lips parted, thrown by your statement, “I- um- I missed you too, doll,” And he did. He missed you on the walk home from your house or when he was gone for weeks at a time. The hollowness in his chest grew in your absence, and he wanted to grab you, hold you in his arms and tell you just how much he thinks about you every day. How you interrupt his thoughts with that smile and your glowing eyes. Everything he wanted was right in front of him, all he ever dreamed about, but he restricted himself from advancing. You had a blossoming career and life, chugging forward no matter what was in your way.

Bucky's heart thudded when you faced him with a tentative smile. You pulled out a chair and sat down, eating a small plate of quesadillas. Bucky fought the urge to stare; you just looked so happy, bobbing your head side to side as you ate. A smile tugged at his lips, and he ran a hand through his hair. Even if he didn't deserve a happy ending, Bucky was content here, in your home with you by his side. Shielding the horrors of the world as much as he could and playing the part of the average guy.

It didn't matter if you could see through his façade; he wanted to keep it this way. It was silly, he understood, but he was too scared to risk it all. You brought light and warmth when he was lost in the dark, and Bucky feared that if you knew what he had done, what they forced him to do to those innocent people that you would leave. He traced the flower pattern on the tablecloth, no- no, you couldn’t- no you can’t go. Anxiety formed into a lump in his throat, and Bucky grimaced at the thought of being alone. He shot his gaze up to look at you, to be reassured by your smile, how the corner of your eyes crinkled at the sight of him, but you were gone.

Bucky stood, the burst of momentum sending the chair flying on its back. His heart thudded in his ears, and blood rushed to his face. You vanished, gone like thin air. His mind played tricks on him, seeing red and hearing distant screams, ones so heart-wrenching he could still see their faces. God- he squeezed his eyes and put his hands up to his ears in a desperate attempt to stop the screaming. It never worked, and he inhaled a sharp breath. Remember what Dr. Raynor told you.

“Bucky?”

His head snapped to the sound of your voice, and he staggered down a narrow hall lined with tarnished mirrors and family photos. You met him on the threshold of your room, a dusty book in your hand. You seemed nonplussed, chest to chest with him, as he looked down on you with a glazed, worried expression.

“Are you ok?” You said, worried, “Did something happen?”

“No, doll.” He answered, breathless, and his hand somehow made its way to your cheek, but he clumsily pulled it back and forced it to his side, making a fist, and awkwardly hiding it behind his thigh, “I just lost you for a second.”

You clutched your book to your chest, concerned that you missed something important. You specifically remember telling him you’d be right back. He must’ve not heard you and freaked when he noticed you were suddenly gone. You sheepishly grabbed his gloved hand, it was cold, but you didn’t mind. Bucky watched intensely, and you reassuringly squeezed it.

“Would you like to come and sit with me on the swing?” You asked, running your thumb over his knuckles, tracing the bones.

Bucky nodded awkwardly, moving aside and letting you guide him through the house, your hand in his. His eyes were dark, directed to the side of your head, as if waiting for you to dissipate. You slowly whistled for Alpine to follow, opening the door and allowing him to scamper into the yard. You positioned yourself on the swing, gesturing for Bucky to join you when you were comfortable. Hesitantly, as if he was going to crush you, he sat beside you, carefully resting his head in your lap as you began to read. Your fingers carded through his hair, and at that moment, Bucky wanted to be nowhere else. He sighed, melting into your tender touch, humming contently as he rested his eyes.

He had fallen asleep on your lap for the past hour or so, lightly snoring. He looked so peaceful, young, almost if it wasn’t for the depression in his cheeks. Alpine purred under your feet, curled into a compact ball to shield herself from the cool breeze. It was almost fall, and you had forgotten a jacket. The numbness in your legs didn’t help either, the pins and needles striking the sensitive underside of your foot. Uncomfortable was an understatement, but you stayed a little longer, cherishing Bucky's presence before he would go back to being distant and self-contained.

Your thumb traced his jaw, feeling every groove of stubble on his chin. “Bucky,” you softly called, setting your book by your side and rubbing his shoulder, “I think you overslept.”

He flirted with waking, his eyes fluttering as he regained his surroundings. You looked down at him with such a lively, unhurried amusement that he forgot about the smile growing on his face. God, you were so beautiful, the glow of the porch light perfectly shading your features.

“Hi,” He said, breathless.

“Hi,” You giggled.

Alpine mewled below your feet, placing his front paws forward and leaning back for a big stretch. You hummed, looking out into the road. It was dark, the moon standing alone in the purple hue of the sky. Stars were invisible as the city lights prevented their exposure. You don't remember the last time you've seen the stars. The porch light buzzed, moths worshipping its radiance. You gazed back down at Bucky, noticing his stare, a look in his blue eyes you couldn't recognize.

Bucky was transfixed, blatantly captivated by your expression. How you viewed the world with such admiration and curiosity carved a tinge of envy in his chest. You loved everything. All life has a purpose, you said one day, collecting a stray spider you found crawling on your wall. You had lectured Bucky for a minute when you saw him winding up to kill it, arguing about how would you feel if you were minding your business and a massive hand crushed you with no reason? Huh? Though you jumped at its every movement, you swiped it into a container and rushed outside. Bucky watched as you released it into the yard, quickly bounding back up the stairs with a shrill squeal.

Life was so precious to you. No matter the being and Bucky was nothing like that. For years it'd been drilled into his head that life was expendable. That it was a means to an end, an obstacle that kept coming back when the next self-proclaimed hero strolled along, trying to stop them. He's snuffed out so many promising lives, innocent and ambitious. Those were the faces that haunted him at night, the ones he sees every time he shuts his eyes.

How could he be with someone so good?

"Wanna go to a dance with me this Saturday?"

Bucky jolted up out of your lap, tightly squeezing his eyes. His back faced you, and he gripped the swing, briefly off-centering it as he regained focus. "What, doll?" He mumbled, squinting at you.

You shifted, uneasy, "A dance this Saturday. A- uh- coworker asked me about it a few days ago. He's kinda creepy, so I denied him." You grimaced at the memory; he really was the biggest creep, "And well, I just kinda remembered it and was wondering if you would wanna come with me."

The faint drone of traffic floating up from downtown made the silence seem vast. You scratched your brow, tight-lipped and antsy. "When is it?" Bucky asked, drowsily, planting his feet on the ground.

You stammered, nervous, "Saturday."

He sighed, mixed emotions rupturing in his chest. He doesn't remember the last time he's been to a dance, and even if he did go, his moves were outdated. Bucky glanced at you, and your cheeks were flushed pink, eyes downcast into your lap. You fiddled with the hem of your shirt, eager for his answer. You sounded so hopeful when you asked, but now you seemed like you wanted to disappear into the cushions.

"I thought it'd be fun," You were restless, embarrassed, "Of course you don't have to come if you don't want to! I was just wondering-"

He raised his hand, prompting you to quiet. Bucky sighed, and you thought you fucked up. It wasn't supposed to be anything more than a friendly thing, just a proposal to get out of the house for a few hours with your favorite person. Though you wouldn't mind if Bucky was more than a friend, his emotions mattered as well. He was challenging to read. Your line of sight intensely fixated on your lap, and you felt like a stupid school girl with a crush. Your heart thudded, and your chest weighed with anxiety, requiring shorter and quicker breaths to escape. You suddenly stood, flustered and ready to use your professional voice to overcome the situation, when he chuckled.

It was light, airy, and you were met with soft blue eyes. "What time is it, doll?" He questioned, standing and his bulky broad shoulders surprising you all over again. He lowered his head to catch your eye, a wide smile curled at his lips.

"9 pm." You said, swallowing a lump in your throat you didn't know you had. Bucky was charming, his grin making your chest and stomach burst with butterflies. It was rare you witnessed this side of him. Only appearing when he was comfortable enough, opening up about snip-bits of his life before catching himself and shutting down.

"Great, I'll pick you up at 8."

Bucky shuffled between shirts, trying to select the most fitted one for the occasion. He didn't have anyone directing orders, anyone to critique him, or anything. He was on his own, free to pick what he wanted. It wasn't as liberating as he dreamt, but he pushed the thought aside. It wasn't time to dwell on the past.

All black attire with black gloves. It was basic, but he didn't mind. It was the best he had without someone chirping in his ear.

Dr. Raynor pushed to tell her details about the dance, but Bucky always redirected the conversation. He dreaded sessions with Dr. Raynor, wishing he were at your house instead of wasting his time dancing with word play and her silly questions. She made an effort, but Bucky remained unresponsive and distracted. Only when she took out her notepad did he get irritated.

The ride to your house was quiet, the radio off and Bucky concentrated on the road. You lived farther outside of Brooklyn, and he had no clue where this dance was at. His excitement switched into deep-rooted panic, and he felt the sweat forming on his palm. Did he even remember how to dance? Anxious, his grip tightened on the wheel, thumb tapping to a distracting rhythm he played in his head. He glanced at the flowers in the passenger's seat and sighed. It’d been so long since his last dance, and he couldn’t believe life had given him this chance to redeem himself. It was too good to be true.

In the distance, he heard yelling. However, he chalked it up to your neighbors again. They fought like cats and dogs, screaming bloody murder while you and Bucky listened from the front porch. Discreet wasn't an option, you both laughing at the stupid points they brought up and how one stormed out of the house when the quarrel became too heated. They were harmless to each other, just two hot-heads living under the same roof and not wanting to be called out on their bullshit. Though you argued they were more healthy ways to express their problems, it wasn't your place to step in, and if it worked for them, that was fine.

But when he pulled up to your house, another car was in your driveway. He didn't recognize it. The plate was from Pennsylvania, and beside it was a Steelers bumper sticker. Your front door was open, the screen door ajar. Bucky's first instinct was to run in and see if you were hurt, but when you passed by the door, hands flying in every direction, he put that plan on standby. A man followed you. He was tall and muscular, his shoulders stooping low.

Gravel crunched under his feet, and he grabbed a knife in his cup holder, shoving it in his waistband if anything terrible were to happen. Plan for the worst, Bucky thought, stalking up your porch, hiding in the shadows. Bucky didn't know who that was, you've never mentioned him before, and this set Bucky on edge. The screaming and shouting erupted, the man growing louder to drown you out. You were on the other side of your couch in a beautiful emerald dress that hugged your body.

If it weren't for the circumstance, Bucky's heart would've dropped to his ass. Any ounce of confidence he had crumbled into a stuttering pile of nerves.

The man was tall, with stooping broad shoulders. They were cut and bruised, with dry drywall mud flaking his tan skin. His back faced Bucky, muscles flexed and tense as he shouted at you. He gripped the end table, leaning on it, supporting his weight with his arm, and Bucky noticed a small tattoo peeking out of the low collar of his tank top. You stood adjacent to him, the couch a barrier. Tears were rolling down your face, smearing your makeup, as you pleaded with him to get out. Behind you was a hallway to the bathroom, and you slowly moved toward it. Your hands trembled at your sides, and Bucky watched at how you flinched at every movement he made.

He screamed out something, and Bucky couldn’t make it out, but it seemed to affect you negatively. You gulped and released a stuttering breath as you stood silently. Bucky’s attention focused on the man, his anger starting to cloud his vision. Who was he? Why was he here? What did he want with you? It left a sour taste under Bucky’s tongue, and he began to stalk up the steps, readying himself. Self-control and reason left his brain. The rules Dr. Raynor established fled as all he cared about was your safety.

What was rule two again?

Maybe in another life, Bucky would’ve shown more restraint. More control.

A vase with dead flowers hurled toward your face, and you bolted down the hall. Bucky slammed through the screen door and grabbed the man before he even had a chance to pursue you. Bucky pulled him to the floor by his collar, fist connecting with his jaw before the guy had the opportunity to collect himself. Bucky pinned him to the floor, fist repeatedly connecting with his cheekbone, as his metal arm clutched his throat. He frantically clawed and scratched Bucky’s arm, ripping the fabric of the shirt and letting out a strangled cry. Blood flicked into Bucky’s eyes, spraying his face as the man struggled, squirmed, and kicking manically as panic and fear set in his gaze.

Bucky knew he recognized him but didn’t care. This wasn’t about him this time, this wasn’t someone ordering him to comply, yet it felt almost out of body. As if no matter the help he got, this was Bucky. This was what he was, and at that moment, he accepted it. Because if he couldn’t provide himself with the life that people claimed he deserved, then at least he could give it to someone else.

Someone like you.

Your voice broke him free of the ringing in his ears, and he turned in search of you. The man took his chance, slithering out from under Bucky’s hold and providing a clean kick to Bucky’s jaw. He hoisted himself up, but Bucky quickly snatched his ankle, reeling him in. The man fell on his chest and grunted, sending another wild kick into Bucky’s nose. Bucky clamored, falling back on his hip. A trickle of blood dripping onto his busted lip, tasting iron as he sucked in a sharp breath. He bounced back and grabbed at the man, his metal hand free and exposed.

“James! Stop!”

It was too late now, and Bucky tossed the man like he was nothing through your screen door, the hinges breaking with a fierce snap and frame contouring and twisting under the man’s weight. He groaned miserably, turning onto his side to cough up some blood. It dotted the wood floor and gushed from a gash on his cheek. Bucky stepped toward him, ducking under a cracked piece of the wooden door frame that hung limply. There was nothing else on Bucky’s mind. He focused on the man as he struggled to get back to his feet, grunting and cursing under his breath.

The man turned around, propping himself up on his elbow as Bucky gripped him by the collar of his shirt, reeling back, the porch light reflecting off the vibranium hand. However, Bucky stopped, his fist mid-swing, and watched as you stood in front of him, arms out protecting your face. Heavy pants escaped your mouth, chest heaving as dry tear streaks framed your cheeks.

“Stop it,” You weakly cried, searching his face for any sign of the man you knew. It was blank, cold. The blue eyes dulled and stormy, watching you with a smoldering scowl. “This is enough. You’ve done enough.”

You reached out for him, and he flinched, abruptly letting go and stepping back. The man scrambled away, falling over himself as he tripped down the steps, sliding onto his back. He grunted and wiped his bloodied mouth with his wrist, “You’re a fucking freak,” The guy spat, stumbling to stand, “No wonder Stark wanted to lock you up. You’re a monster.”

Monster.

You whipped around, “Get off my lawn, Gabe," You snapped venomously, pointing to the dark road, "Maybe next time, listen because you got what you deserve; now, leave.”

Gabe flicked you off, but bolted when Bucky stepped forward, ready to bash his face in. The way he treated you angered Bucky to no end, and he was prepared to give up everything he worked for just to teach him a lesson. Instead, he stopped when you placed your hand on his chest, shaking your head.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” You said, beckoning him inside.

His heart skipped a beat, and he numbly followed you inside. Stepping past the broken glass and into the narrow hall, his chest pressed up against your back. You were quiet with a furrowed brow, and he stared at your profile as you guided him to the bathroom. It was small and quaint, and he shuffled to sit on the toilet as you grasp the first aid kit, delicately pulling out bandages and peroxide to clean the cuts on his knuckles.

You kneeled in between his legs, gently cleaning his wounds, pulling away every time he flinched. His metal hand rested on his knee, and you peered at it every so often. Bucky sucked his bottom lip in his teeth, feeling a heavy sense of shame at his actions. But, in a way, he didn’t care. Gabe was going to hurt you. All that malice threw at you with nothing but illicit thoughts. If Bucky wasn’t there, he feared what could’ve happened. He suddenly searched your face for any marks, examining every inch to make sure.

“I was scared he was gonna hurt you,” He whispered, breaking the silence.

"It's okay," You said. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, doll.”

Even through his tough exterior, he was tender and caring. You sat silent, carefully wrapping the bandage around his knuckles. He didn’t particularly need it, the serum healing him in no time, but he let you anyway. You were so gentle and kind, your touch delicate as if he were made of porcelain. You moved slowly, waiting for his permission to touch him. He molded into your hand as it cupped his face, your other one softly wiping the blood off with a damp rag.

“Who was he?”

You exhaled audibly, suddenly standing to wring the towel. Bucky missed your touch, a chill replacing the warmth quickly. Blood pooled in the sink, the drain sucking up the red, and you pushed your hair away with your wrist. Your hair was pulled up into a messy bun, loose strands stuck to your perspired skin. Sweat dripped from your temples, and Bucky couldn't help but stare. He knew he shouldn't have stayed, that he should've left right when Gabe hurried off, but he was addicted. You were his drug. A vice he ventured to quit but never seemed to be able to stop completely.

God, he couldn't resist you.

You sighed, wishing to avoid this conversation, “Nobody important.”

Your smile didn’t reach your eyes, and you shifted on your hip.

“Are you sure, doll?” Bucky leaned over the counter, and you glanced at his face. It was hard to talk about. Gabe had five years to get over the relationship while you were just zapped back, life drastically changed, and he was already with another girl. Life with Gabe was hell, and getting away from him was one of the best decisions.

He was controlling and always wanted his way. When he showed up at your house, knocking on your door with a purse in his grasp, claiming it was yours, you panicked. You rushed to lock the door, but he barged in, grabbing you by your shoulders and pushing you backward. You scrambled to run, thrashing from his grip and bolting to your kitchen, playing around the island as you tried to create distance. Your heart was thumping, both of you incoherently shouting as you scurry around your house, eventually jumping over your couch to block him from getting close to you.

The arguing progressed from there, him demanding why you were ignoring him and who you dressed up for tonight. He pulled his hair and clenched his fist as he paced the foyer, distraught. You stared, blank. His unbridled rage formed into something almost demonic, and you watched, impassive, almost like a mouse who’s been through the wringer too many times. You were light on your feet, ready to run, and when a vase hurled toward your face, you ducked, pivoted, and sprinted toward the bathroom. You covered your head with your arms, and you bolted like a fire was lit under your ass. The chase wasn’t anything new. It was rehearsed, the same dance every time you argued. You hid in the bathroom for hours, waiting while he paced outside, unwilling to accept your boundaries.

But this time, you didn’t hear his trampling footsteps behind you. There was no yelling, no pounding on the door to let him in, to please forgive me. I won’t do it again, cry of self-pity that sent him on this deranged path anyway.

That was when you found Bucky on top of him, connecting his fist with Gabe’s face. You were frozen in shock, staring at the sight, absolutely unsure of what to do at that moment. Bucky got a few more punches in before you intervened, remembering your training. You’ve seen fights before, been involved in them, and even had to defend yourself a few times. However, that was against unruly teenagers, and this fight was between a super soldier and your ex.

Fuck.

“I think we both have a past we're ashamed about.” You said unexpectedly, gaze not quite reaching him.

"Yeah," He answered, not anxious to continue this conversation.

"What I mean-." Your voice faltered, and you shut your eyes to collect your thoughts. Even in his darkest moments, Bucky was keeping a watchful eye on you. He was built like a man who could crush you in a matter of seconds, with his broad stance and intimidating stare that peered straight through people.

However, around him, you never felt so safe.

You rubbed your wrists, attempting to put on your best professional voice but it came out meekly, "Thank you, is what I mean to say."

He met your eyes with a half-terrified look, his stern and stoic demeanor morphing into confusion, "What do you mean?"

You said nothing. You always had a soft spot for Bucky, waiting patiently for him to open up on his own terms. He turned his head away, but you caught it with your palm, leaning over the counter and placing a firm kiss on his metal shoulder, "Whether you believe it or not, you're a hero. My hero." You smiled, stroking his cheek with your thumb, "Even if the world doesn't see you that way."

Bucky melted into your touch, shutting his eyes to savor it. "I'm nothing like Steve," He muttered, almost to himself, and you found yourself between his legs again, applying Neosporin to his cut lip.

"Good." You whispered, "I don't expect you to be like Steve Rogers."

Bucky numbly nodded. No matter how much he tried to forget, he would never amount to Steve. He was his family, and like that, he was gone. Choosing a girl over his best friend. Bucky would be lying if it didn't leave a sour taste under his tongue, but what could he do but sulk? He shook his head, laughing dryly, "Then what am I?"

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes." You giggled as if it was that easy, "That's who you are- it's who you are to me, at least."

You straightened, packing up the first aid kit to put back in the cabinet. Bucky rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. It wasn't hard figuring out who he was when the vibranium arm wasn't covered. But that's not what surprised him. How you seemingly acted indifferent, not caring that he could kill you within seconds, but rather regarding him attentively, not treating him as if he was just a machine.

He appreciated your seldom prying, listening to him when he wanted to talk. A simple how are you usually devolved into a comfortable conversation where he wasn't straining to find the next answer to appease his doctor's. He always answered with 'M fine, doll but you could easily read through enough to not spell anything out.

If he was selfless, he would've left. Got up without hesitation and strode out the door and back into his car, driving away like a deadbeat dad. But he couldn't bring himself to leave even when he was standing in your living room, torn, watching you sweep up the broken glass. He was frozen, fixed on the blood seeping through the bandages wrapped around his knuckles.

"Why did you stay?" His words caught you off guard.

"Because you're special to me, that's why."

"But I'm a monster like he said– like the world said."

You chuckled, "Considering you are 107 years old, you are quite naïve.”

Bucky squinted at you, amused, unable to hold the shy smile blooming on his face. "What's that supposed to mean, doll?"

He stepped forward.

You swished your dress around, the fabric fluttering as it gracefully floated to the floor. You chuckled, collapsing in his embrace, brushing your fingers over his forearm, "Nothin' you don't already know, Barnes."

He smiled timidly, "We never made it to that dance."

Adoration sparkled in your eyes, and Bucky pulled you in hesitantly. He didn't need music to dance with you. Being in your presence was enough to keep his horrors at bay, and his shaky hands ghosted your waist, only cementing his touch when you stepped into them. His face was red, and his palm was sticky, gripping onto your waist tighter.

"No, we didn't."

Dancing with you was like a dream. One of the sacred ones that Bucky didn't wish to let go of and wanted to milk until the same scenes repeated in his head, slowly muddling into incoherent blabber and smudged faces. How you fit perfectly against him made him sweat, the heat radiating to your flushed plump cheeks. He was stiff, back and shoulders set like a man at the end of a long day of work, mistrusting of his movements. He was destructive—a brute force. Nothing but Hydra's little toy, but you looked past that. You looked past the man in the 1940s. The man he knows he will never be again. You saw him as him. A raw and vulnerable version that even Bucky was too scared to show and admit was there.

You were too good.

Too fucking good.

Your head rested on his chest, humming a sweet tune as you swayed. His heart rapidly thumped against his ribcage, and you eased comfortably into him, listening. Bucky's chin perched on top of your head, and he tried not to assess the damage he had done to your house. The door was left open haphazardly, and the screen now mangled into a mess on your porch. Your rug crumbled and reduced to just threats leaning out the threshold. Moths flicked around the buzzing light on the porch, and Alpine balanced on the edge of the windowsill, swatting at them with his paws and getting tangled in the curtains.

Willowy arms wrapped around his waist, and he met your gaze, and his world stopped. For decades, Bucky was convinced he had forgotten how to love. The meaning was beaten out of him and lost to the many years of abuse. It was confusing, a mixture of built-up emotions pressuring inside his ribs until he thought it was going to burst. Bucky gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, completely disoriented from his surroundings and solely fixated on the loving flash in your eyes.

Your adoration for him will forever be a mystery, and Bucky planted a tender kiss on your forehead. You hummed in satisfaction, returning to kiss him on the cheek. Lips lingering to whisper in his ear, "I'm never gonna leave you, Buck."

He released a shaky breath, pulling you impossibly closer. He never wanted to let go, desperately wishing to be stuck in time with the girl of his dreams.

"You're too good for me." He whispered. He placed his metal hand on your cheek, and you grabbed it, gazing at him lovingly. Bucky eyes held heavy guilt and shame. You gently kissed his palm.

"Only when you let me."

Maybe, just maybe, he could finally learn how to love like you.

I hope you enjoyed!

#bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky fanfic #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky oneshot #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fic

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spxllcxstxr · 3 years

Text

Teaching a Moderately Old Dog New Tricks • S.B

(Gif not mine)

Request: could you do a older sirius x younger (tonks' age) reader, maybe he's in denial about liking her because he thinks he's too old but she doesn't think that way. — @msmb

Summary: The man you fancy has been avoiding you. Tonks gives you an idea.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of cigarettes, kissing, older man/younger woman (but reader is Tonks’ age), light mention of remadora (does that need a warning?), Sirius is a bit self deprecating, heated make out, Moody’s all seeing eye

Word Count: 1.6k

A.N: Inspiration hit at 1am. Uhhh Kissing can either be well written or extremely cringe. I can’t tell what category my kissing is in, so possibly sorry in advance? OotP Sirius is so hot and I will love him forever. Hope you guys enjoy. Love you all❤️

****

“So how’re you and Sirius?” Tonks asks, her hair a violent shade of violet as she swings her legs over the arm of the couch at Grimmauld Place. She takes a sip of her daisyroot draught, excited for any news.

“I don’t know.” You respond, swirling your own goblet in your hand. “How’re you and Remus?”

You smirk as she almost chokes at the mention of the man of her dreams.

“I asked you first.” She shoots back after her coughing fit goes away.

“You’re annoying.” You take another sip.

“Cry about it.” Tonks huffs. “But don’t change the subject.”

“Merlin, I wish I had an answer for you.” Groaning, you run a hand through your hair. “He seems to be pulling away from me, yet again.”

“Ugh, men.” Tonks mimes a fake gag.

“I mean, he pulls me into a broom closet for a quick snog and now he won’t even stay in the same room as me!” You cry out.

The draught is sweet in your mouth as you down the rest of your goblet. “‘Ugh, men’ is right. I will never understand them.”

“At least you get a snog.” Tonks retorts. “Remus barely grazes my fingertips passing me a piece of parchment and suddenly he’s all pink and avoiding me for weeks.”

“Are they that daft, or are we just shit at flirting?” You pour yourself some more daisyroot draught.

The murky pink of the draught bubbles and sizzles near the top of the cup.

Grimmauld Place is mostly quiet, the kids were all asleep and someone paces in the room above. There’s faint laughing coming from the kitchen, but that could be one of the Black family portraits, so it’s no concern of yours.

“It can’t possibly be the latter because if I remember correctly, flirting was our specialty back in school.” Tonks winks from her stretched out position.

“Oh yeah.” You muse sarcastically. “All those people we managed to seduce at Hogwarts...”

“Hey! I snogged Penny Haywood seventh year!” She declares.

“It was a game of truth or dare! We all snogged Penny Haywood!” You exclaim, almost spilling your drink all over your robes.

“My point still stands.”

The house groans and creaks in your comfortable silence, Kreature’s dragging gait echoes through the corridor.

“Sirius has nice lips.” You sigh dreamily, your thoughts once again preoccupied by him. “Would love to snog him again.”

“You should.” Your friend replies. “At least one of us needs a proper love life.”

“But he won’t talk to me...” You childishly whine. Pouting, you drink from your goblet.

“Well maybe you should be the one that pulls him into the cupboard next time.” Tonks shrugs, waving her wand to fill her goblet once more.

“You’re brilliant, y’know that?” You perk up at her idea.

“I’ve been trying to tell you that since we were eleven, (Y/n). Can’t believe you’re just now admitting it.”

The night gets cut short after that, mostly because the two of you have work in the morning and the Ministry of Magic was already unbearable sober. Hungover at the office meant a lot more suffering than usual.

You’ve never been more thankful for Molly’s desire to put the gaggle of kids to work around the house.

Even when you get back from the Ministry the the next night, they’re all still galavanting with doxycide upstairs, letting the exhausted adults have a moment to relax.

That’s when you decide to strike.

There’s an extremely convenient and mostly empty broom closet on the ground floor close to the kitchen that is just ripe with opportunity.

Tonks gives you a thumbs up and shoots you a wink as she passes you and strides into the kitchen. You’re leaning against the doorframe, pretending to be preoccupied with checking your nails, but in reality, you’re watching and waiting for Sirius to come a little closer.

His black curls with the occasional strand of grey rest on his shoulders. His velvet burgundy blazer stands out against the dark wood and blue theme Grimmauld Place seems to really enjoy and embrace. You watch his gold pocket watch glimmer in the flickering orange candlelight and how he twists the rings on his fingers.

Your heart flutters at the mere sight of him.

He finally breaks away from his conversation with Remus before turning around and making his way towards you.

He struts closer, heels clicking against the floorboards and your hands jitter in excitement. You’ve never been one to initiate these types of things before.

“Alright, (Y/n)—“ Sirius starts, reluctantly nodding his head in greeting.

But since he’s within arm’s reach, you grab his soft lapels and pull him into the broom closet.

With a flick of your wand the door shuts and you’re plunged into even dimmer lighting.

Your hands are still tightly grasping at his lapels and you have to admit, you’re a little breathless as you fervently press your lips to his.

Your eyes flutter shut and you press your chest to his own, effectively pushing him harder against the wall. You moan, feeling him kiss back. He tastes distinctly of firewhiskey and cigarettes and you’re loving every second of it. His lips are addicting as they move in tandem to yours. Sirius’ hands trail up to the back of your skull, pulling you closer to him, something you enjoy and gleefully let happen. The closer to him you are, the better.

The heatedly deep kiss sends a thrill throughout your body. Here you are, snogging the man you’ve fancied since the day you met him, in a broom closet of headquarters. Instinctively, your heart skips a beat.

One of Sirius’ hands detaches itself from your hair and instead, trails its way down your body to rest on your lower back. A jolt of excitement sparks and flares up inside. Goosebumps erupt underneath his warm hand. He squeezes your body tighter, quickly taking control of the situation.

Unfortunately, air becomes something that you’re losing fairly quickly and when you reluctantly spilt apart, you’re extremely aware of his swollen red lips. They stand out between the dark hair of his beard.

You’re panting as you cling on to his blazer for stability. The moment your lips touched, your knees practically gave out.

“What was that for, poppet?” Sirius pants as well, grey eyes looking into yours.

“Merlin, Sirius, do I really have to spell it out for you?” You smirk, still breathless. “I fancy you.”

“You what?” His eyebrows dart up in surprise.

“I fancy you? Like I want to go out for a drink sometime. Or I guess, stay in for a drink since—“ You ramble.

“You can’t fancy me, (Y/n).” He interjects, hands slipping away from you.

You carefully remove your hands from his figure in return. “Oh.” Awkwardly, you stuff your hands into your pockets. “And why’s that, then?”

Anxiously, he begins to twist the ruby ring around his thumb. The broom closet feels a lot smaller than before and the burn of embarrassment feels even harsher.

“I think you know why.” Sirius evades the question.

Your brows knit together in both confusion and annoyance. “No, I really don’t know why, Sirius, so please enlighten me.”

“Godric, (Y/n)!” He cries out. “I’m an old ex-convict with a fuck ton of issues! You don’t want that kind of baggage!”

Sirius scowls, not at you, but at himself.

“You’re in your thirties, Sirius. If that’s old than Mad-Eye’s ancient.” You try your best to joke and make light of the situation.

However, you see that your attempt doesn’t work.

“Hey, I don’t care that you’re older than me. I like you because you’re this handsomely charming and charismatic guy that shares my issues with authority.” Hesitantly, you bring your hand up to his neck. He leans into your warm touch. “And I really like you.”

“I’d be more of a burden than a boyfriend.” He mutters.

“You’re no burden. Not to me.” You reply, stroking his beard. “Never to me.”

“I’m a bit rusty.” Sirius confides. “Haven’t had a partner since the seventies. And I’m not the same person I used to be.”

“Neither am I.” You shrug. “Mostly because back then I was a wriggling little lump.”

Sirius snorts.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” You question, tucking a few strands of stray hair behind your ear.

“I felt bad.” Sirius confesses, straightening out his blazer. “Felt like I was manipulating you by leading you on so I was trying to get you to hate me. Trying to convince myself to get over you.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t succeed in that endeavor?” You tease your bottom lip with your teeth, innocently looking at the man in front of you.

His grey eyes are kind and soft gazing into yours even after years and years of torture and misery.

He’s someone to admire.

“Getting over you is probably the hardest thing I’ve attempted.” Sirius laughs. “And I escaped Azkaban.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Sirius.” You muse, rubbing the back on your neck in embarrassment.

“Flattery will get me everywhere, poppet.” He winks in return, amused by your gesture.

“So can we give it a shot?” You ask, praying to Merlin he agrees.

“Sure poppet, why not?” He grins, his white teeth poking out from the intense red.

In a swift movement he has you flipped, your back now pressed to the wall as he passionately places his lips back on yours.

You hands tangle themselves in his wild hair, his sneaking around your waist. You tug at the locks and he hums in approval.

Suddenly there’s a large bang against the door causing it to shake on its hinges.

“Oi!” Tonks’ voice rings out.

Sadly, Sirius pulls away just enough to rest his forehead on your own. His breath hot on your face.

“Mad-Eye says that if any clothes come off he’s barging in there, so wrap it up!”

Your mutter out a curse as you attempt to untangle yourself from Sirius.

“Also (Y/n),” Tonks yells again. “knew you had it in ya.”

•

Sirius Black Taglist: @fific7 @quindolyn @msmb @lunalovecroft

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

#Sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #sirius black fluff #the marauders x reader

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flickeringart · 2 years

Text

Ceres

I have not paid much attention on asteroids because for a long time I haven’t been open to how they play themselves out in people’s lives. I’ve deemed them relatively unimportant (and in a sense, they are - they shouldn’t be taken into consideration before the major planets) but I’m becoming more and more aware of their influence and now it’s quite obvious to me that they play a significant roll. They certainly add valuable nuance to our natal charts. There are a lot of asteroids to explore but in this post I’m going to share my experience with Ceres (which is technically a dwarf planet and not an asteroid) and use examples of some famous people for further clarification.

Ceres is sometimes referred to as the earthy version of the moon. Ceres is a provider, protector and “parent” - she nurtures people in a practical way. My sister has her Sun conjunct Ceres and she is very caring in the sense that she wants people to have the material comforts that they need. She’s not necessarily emotionally nurturing in the lunar way but she wants people to be comfortable and have access to the resources they need. She has been referred to as “the mom” of her friend group at certain times and she’s often inquiring about the clothes and the products other people use. With the Sun conjunct Ceres, this energy is merged with her self-expression. Her core self is merged with this planetary principle. She has always talked about wanting to be a mother in terms of the practical routines that it would imply rather than the emotional experiences that would come with it. I have come across another woman with her Sun tied up with Ceres and although I don’t know her very well she gives off the vibe of being very comfortable with the practicalities of motherhood. She seems organized and responsible in her role as parent. That being said, everyone who has a strong Ceres in their chart won’t be actual mothers and fathers. The important thing to remember with this planet is that it’s not very emotional (though it would vary slightly depending on the sign it’s placed in). Ceres is cool-headed and firmly rooted. She’s not sentimental and doesn’t provide intimacy in the way that the moon does. The best thing about Ceres is that she’s reliable and predictable without necessarily wanting anything in return.

In my own chart I have Ceres in 7th house of other people. I tend to access this energy through relationships because I can’t get to it on my own. I don’t consider myself to be a very practically nurturing person; I’m relying on other people in my life to make these arrangements (which might not always be a positive thing). I have felt the discrepancy between how I’ve been provided for by others and my emotional needs since I have Ceres squaring my moon. I also have Ceres in Aquarius, which makes her filter through a very cool and detached energy signature. She simply gives without emotional resonance, which makes my emotions very uncomfortable. I’ve never felt good about being provided for in any way even though I probably “should” feel appreciation and gratitude. My chart certainly spells out the reality for me. I also have Ceres semi-square my Sun and Venus, which would indicate that the nurturing I receive from others is at odds with my sense of self-value. This is very true in my case. The semi-square is not as intense as the square but it’s mildly disturbing, like an itch that is making itself known. Have a look at Ceres in your own chart to find out what it’s up to (or let me do it for you by purchasing a short reading).

A good example of a person that radiates Ceres through her personality is Yoko Ono. Although a lot of different things could be said about her, she gives off the vibe of a kind of earth mother with an ethereal and mystical approach (Ceres in Pisces). She has her Sun conjunct Ceres in her 5th house of creativity and self-expression. The conjunction trines her Juno so it’s possible to conclude that it’s easy for her to be committed to her self-expression as a provider and nurturer. However, she can’t be herself and fulfill her dreams and aspirations for ultimate love and peace for the collective, which is illustrated by her 5th house Sun-Ceres opposition to Neptune in the 11th. There’s another thing that puts pressure on her sense of self, which is the square to Chiron-Vesta in the 8th. She would be extremely sensitive to other people’s pains and wounds and take them on as her own. She would be a devoted healer with a propensity to probe into the unknown in order to find answers. With the Chiron-Vesta square to Sun-Ceres it would make her self-expression as the protector and caretaker compromised because of other people’s traumas and their need for serious focus on healing (Vesta in the 8th conjunct Chiron have to tend wounds in others/caused by others that affect the self). It is possible that her nurturing style would trigger other people and challenge their values, resulting in them demanding that she’d be different and less like herself in order for her to become aware of their sensitivity and suffering.

Another good example is Jennifer Lawrence with her Sun conjunct Ceres in Leo. I immediately come to think about her role in the Hunger Game movies as a great testimony to this aspect. She really was a good fit for it with her heroic Leo expression coupled with the resourceful, caring and protective Ceres – it was exactly what was required for the part. It being in the 9th house also fits perfectly as it’s the house of foreign territory, travel and adventure. In her chart Ceres is square Mars and Pluto, which gives her a true warrior streak, but also a difficulty feeling truly seen for who she is because she empowers and asserts herself in ways that deny her self-importance and self-protection. In other words, she has to empower herself and act in a way that doesn’t go together with her core self. I’ve always felt that she’s a little bit off, like she doesn’t really know what to do because she’s being pulled and pressured by Pluto and Mars to behave differently from who she considers herself to be. People think that she’s funny and down to earth (the latter being due to Ceres’ influence but also to her Taurus Mars and Mercury in Virgo in the 10th) but the whole picture of her chart doesn’t really indicate light-heartedness. She’s in conflict with herself, trying to gain power through denying her own self (Sun square Pluto) and getting things done through acting in a way that doesn’t support her self-importance (Sun square Mars).

As a last example there’s Tom Cruise with his Sun conjunct Ceres. He certainly doesn’t seem very much like a stereotypical parental figure but he sure is protective and seems to be happy to provide other people with resources. If his birth time is accurate, this conjunction would fall in the 9th house of knowledge and religious-spiritual-philosophical pursuits – he would perhaps be giving “opportunities” and “wisdom” to people more freely than anything else. He also has Juno conjunct the Sun, which is to say that he sticks to his values and commitments. He also has Vesta conjunct, which points to an ability to be deeply invested and devoted. I believe it’s true that he puts a lot of energy into sustaining himself in terms of his beliefs and convictions. His Ceres is not particularly troubled as it makes trines to Neptune and Jupiter. He’s a “larger than life” person with big and expansive dreams. He doesn’t hold back. There’s a slight discomfort indicated by a quincunx to Saturn that would force him to provide in a very concrete and specific way according to his moral convictions. There’s also a semi-square to Mars that would point to a slight discontent with his way of taking action – he can’t really be the protector and provider without feeling a little bit robbed of autonomy.

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ursaminortarot · 3 years

Text

I’m really fixated on romance right now for some reason, so here we are with a soulmate reading. I’m of the belief that we don’t just have romantic soulmates but platonic and familial ones as well. However, for this reading, I am choosing to focus solely on romance.

I’m experimenting with a new format. I linked each of the readings to a google doc, this is mostly because they ended up being way longer than I’d anticipated (story of my life). I also thought that it might be more organized to do it this way. I’d appreciate feedback on whether or not I should keep doing it.

Piles to choose from:

Pile 1 - Cobra

Pile 2 - Fish

Pile 3 - Cheetah

Pile 4 - Zebra

Pile 5 - Hawk

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[Decks Used: Modern Witch Tarot, Wild Unknown Tarot, Wild Unknown Animal Spirit oracle, Tarot Cats, standard playing cards, and a homemade oracle deck]

This took me 10-11 hours to do, spread out across 3 days. So, if you can support my shop or donate I’d be grateful. Also, please excuse any grammar/spelling mistakes and small incoherencies, by the time I got around to editing the readings I was kind of over it.

My Shop: https://www.etsy.com/shop/UrsaMinorTarot

CashApp: @UrsaMinorTarot

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Pile 1: Cobra

Who They Are:

Queen of Wands, 9 of Wands, 8 of Pentacles, King of Clubs

10 of Cups, 7 of Cups r, Justice r, 5 of Hearts

7 of Cups r, 9 of Pentacles r, 6 of Wands, 9 of Diamonds

Death r, 7 of Wands r, 8 of Wands r, Ace of Spades

The High Priestess, The Fool, The Hanged Man r, Ace of Hearts

Mother of Cups r

Winter+New Love

I’m getting some self-made energy here, they are likely a very hard worker who puts in a lot of time and energy. Their success, while appreciated, makes them feel very alone. There’s a lot of wands energy here, so they are generous with their money and it’s possible that other people take advantage of that. The Mother of Cups reversed reinforces this idea as she brings the message: “you give too much of yourself to others”.

The High Priestess, Fool, and Hanged Man being pulled together makes me think they function in two very different ways. Either, they overthink literally everything to the point of never making a decision, or they just do things very impulsively without a second thought.

They want a big, happy family, whatever that means to them. It could involve having children or just having a lot of pets. However, due to past relationships, they no longer feel as though they could trust anyone enough to live out that dream.

They feel disillusioned with love, which gives them a lot of conflicting emotions. Because, again, there’s a lot of wands energy, so they’re a very passionate person. Their current belief that love isn’t real is a direct contradiction to who they are at their core. Winter and new love could be taken literally, like you’ll meet and fall in love with them in the winter. Or, if you wanted to look deeper at it, it could mean that you help them get out of this place of being unable to consider love.

How You Can Recognize Them:

8 of Cups r, Son of Wands, 7 of Wands r, King of Diamonds

5 of Pentacles, Father of Cups, 3 of Swords, Jack of Hearts

The Devil r, The Fool, The Devil, 2 of Spades

10 of Pentacles, The High Priestess r, Queen of Hearts

The Hermit, 7 of Pentacles r, 10 of Cups r, 7 of Diamonds

Hanged man, 4 of Cups r, 10 of Diamonds r

“You’re having trouble getting in touch with your emotions”

“You’re not seeing clearly”

This person has an unmistakable light about them. Being with them is like sitting outside on a nice day soaking up the sun. However, they are still holding on to the past, and this is to their detriment. When you meet them, if you haven’t already, they will be extremely hung up on their ex. They are going to be obsessing over what went wrong and whether or not they can fix it. I can’t tell if they want to fix it to get back together with their ex, because they think it will give them closure, or because they think it will help them avoid making the same mistakes in their next relationship. But, they also don’t actually want to fix anything because that would mean confronting their emotions and they would really rather not. They will likely seem to be existing outside of reality, they are going to be so distracted by this internal conflict that they aren’t going to notice the world around them.

In all honesty, they will be very difficult for you to recognize. You’ll probably notice them because of their light, but you won’t (and shouldn’t) consider them a potential partner - at least not until they’ve dealt with their issues and moved on. I want to stress that while they are so focused on their past relationship(s), that’s not all they have going on. They are a 3 dimensional human being like the rest of us, but this is just the information I was able to get.

I also want to mention that their family is very important to them, they’re the type of person to call or text each member of their immediate family every day. I also get the impression that you two will be friends for a while before getting into a relationship.

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Pile 2: Fish

Who They Are:

Queen of Swords, 9 of Wands, 9 of Cups r, The Tower r, Jack of Spades

King of Swords, Daughter of Wands, 3 of Pentacles, 8 of Diamonds

Judgment r, 2 of Cups r, Daughter of Swords r, The Chariot r, 3 of Spades

5 of Pentacles, Temperance, 7 of Wands, Jack of Hearts

The Emperor, 8 of Pentacles, The Magician r, Ace of Wands, 4 of Spades

“I’m sorry”

Best friends

Between the Emperor and having all of the court cards of the Swords suit, this person has a very powerful presence. They’re almost the kind of person that makes people stop and stare, I say almost because they’re intimidating and people don’t want to be caught staring. Not intimidating in a scary way, they just - and I can’t stress this enough - exude power. They are also very ambitious and highly intelligent. So when they put their mind to something, they will execute it perfectly. Or, at least, they want people to think it was done perfectly. They have a very “everything’s under control” look to them, but they’re barely hanging on by a thread. I feel like one bad day would send them into an existential spiral, because they don’t know who they are if they’re not perfect.

Nothing’s ever come easily to them and they’ve had to fight their whole life to get the things that they have now. They’ve never had the option of giving up. If they gave up, they were worthless, they were nothing - that’s how they’ve always seen it. I imagine there’s a lot of parental pressure at play here. It’s turned them into a workaholic, there’s no work-life balance to be found. I’m getting the impression that the “I’m sorry” card has to do with this aspect of their life.

The “best friends” card speaks for itself. With the Jack of Hearts and Daughter of Wands, there’s a playful energy to them. But these are the only cards pointing this out, which tells me that they restrain this part of themself. I think that you being their friend, as well as their partner, will show them that they don’t need to be so serious all the time. This is something buried so deep it’ll need some time and energy to be coaxed out of them.

This is pretty obvious, but this person’s biggest fear is failure.

How You Can Recognize Them:

Knight of Wands r, 4 of Wands r, 8 of Cups, 9 of Swords

King of Pentacles, The Moon r, 7 of Swords r, Queen of Spades

5 of Pentacles, Mother of Swords, Queen of Wands, 4 of Hearts

Queen of Cups, Daughter of Swords r, Knight of Wands

7 of Cups r, Son of Swords, 4 of Pentacle, 5 of Diamonds

The World r, 9 of Wands r, 8 of Hearts r

You feel as if you aren’t getting the recognition you deserve

Seperation

We’re definitely seeing their more sensitive, playful aspects. However, these are still vastly overpowered by their Swords energy as, once again, all the court cards are out - the Queen’s out twice. Seriously, this person has such powerful energy that it’s the first thing you notice.

I feel like you’ll meet either at work or at school, somewhere where you’re working on a group project together. The people you’re working with aren’t going to take your contributions seriously. But, once they realize you’re right, they’ll claim they were their ideas all along. The Swords family is very fair-minded, so I think this person’s going to have a problem with that.

They have this very detached, uninterested persona and once you’ve spent time around your soulmate, you’re going to pick up on the fact that they are deeper than they want people to think they are. When they’re more comfortable with you, which will take some time, you might catch glimpses of them being competitive/hot-headed or they’ll start making jokes around you. If you’re patient enough, they’ll eventually be vulnerable with you.

They have a fear of the unknown and love is foreign to them, so this is definitely a slow-burn.

In both of these readings I got a wave of pretty interesting energy. It wasn’t anxiety or dizziness, but felt similar to both. I felt like I lost my balance, that’s probably how you'll make this person feel. They have a lot of plans for life and you’re not one of them, so they’ll be thrown for a loop.

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Pile 3: Cheetah:

Who They Are:

Page of Swords r, Son of Cups, The Hierophant, 9 of Clubs

Page of Wands, Mother of Wands r, Page of Cups r, 4 of Hearts

9 of Cups, The Tower, 2 of Swords, 2 of Cups, Ace of Clubs

Queen of Wands r, The Chariot r, Queen of Pentacles, 4 of Spades

Knight of Pentacles, Ace of Wands, Emperor r, 6 of Clubs

8 of Cups, King of Wands

You can’t help everyone

Over-investment in work

Aries

The first thing that I’m seeing is that this person will probably have some self-esteem issues. It seems to be tied to their abilities more so than appearance.

They have a lot of ideas for projects that they want to work on, but they never seem to start anything, let alone finish. I think this is because they try to be everything to everyone and don’t prioritize themself. They find contentment in the idea that everybody likes them, but this can make them a people pleaser. This can lead to them taking on long hours at work to make their boss happy. It’s also unrealistic because there’s not a person on Earth that’s universally liked. I think this is something they’ll come to realize in their own time.

They may come across as indecisive at times, they aren’t. They always know exactly what they want, but can have a hard time asserting themself.

There’s a fire that burns bright here, this person has a lot of drive and ambition. This is where that aries energy comes in, they don’t have to have aries placements so please don’t get fixated on that. But, like I said before, they hold themself back by prioritizing other people and neglecting their own needs. They have the potential to be really successful, however they need to start putting themself first.

This seems like a very sensitive individual, just the thought of doing something under-handed stresses them out. Which is a good thing for other people, because your soulmate’s very charming and could probably talk themself out of anything.

For some reason I get the impression that they have a bit of a sweet tooth.

How You Can Recognize Them:

2 of Swords r, The Empress, Queen of Cups, 3 of Hearts

9 of Pentacles r, Judgment r, The Moon, 10 of Spades

The Fool, Mother of Wands r, Hierophant r, Jack of Diamonds

The Chariot r, The Hermit, 4 of Wands, Joker B&W r

3 of Pentacles, 4 of Wands r, Knight of Wands, 4 of Spades

King of Cups r, The Magician r

You’re having trouble getting in touch with your emotions

September

Think before you speak

Let’s start with the reinforcements of their self-esteem issues, as well as their people pleasing tendencies. It’s exhausting for them, emotionally and physically. They are well and truly holding themself back, and I think that by the time you meet them they’ll be starting to examine these aspects of themself. This will be something they struggle with for a while and there may be a period of time where they withdraw to think things through.

The joker in black and white in standard decks is my fool reversed card, but it’s reversed so its the fool reversed reversed. The fool upright, I feel like there could have been a simpler way for my cards to get that message to me. But I also feel like it represents the way your person talks to themself, they make everything just a little bit more complicated than it needs to be. They think in circles, eventually getting to the point but it may take them a while. This may be a contributing factor to their perceived indecisiveness.

They want to make a home with you. I get the impression that when talking about it with you, they’ll appear to be cool and collected. Like it’s not a big deal to them. But then they’ll turn around and shout it from the rooftops. It won’t be possible for people to not know you’re together, they’ll just be so loud about it.

Outside of the need to make everybody like them, they’re a pretty care-free individual. It will be important to them that you have fun together. I think this playfulness is their most defining feature and probably the first thing people notice about them.

In the first two piles, it looked like they’d be friends for a while before getting into a relationship with their person. That’s not the case here, like I said before, when this person knows, they know. They’re not going to waste time with you.

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Pile 4: Zebra

Who They Are:

The Fool, The Hanged Man, Queen of Swords, Ace of Clubs

6 of Swords r, 2 of Wands, The Hanged Man, Ace of Hearts

Ace of Cups, Mother of Pentacles r, 4 of Wands, Jack of Spades,

3 of Swords r, The Magician, 10 of Pentacles, Queen of Cups r, Jack of Diamonds

3 of Cups, The High Priestess, Strength, The Fool r, King of Spades

Soulmate

Hostile

May

The first thing I’m picking up on is that your soulmate is someone who is very carefree. They also have a lot of romantic energy to them, so they are definitely a hopeless romantic.

The amount of Major Arcana here tells me that this person is likely very spiritually gifted, they might not be consciously aware of this.

This person is kind of a go-getter. Once they decide they want something, nothing’s getting in their way.

There are some conflicting energies here because as happy and carefree as they are, there’s an equal amount of pain and hardship. This is someone who’s faced a lot of hostility, so at first will be fairly guarded. They love the idea of being in love, but have difficulties opening themself up to the reality of love. It’s not all bad, they are making an active effort to heal and not let past heartbreak hold them back.

With the Magician and High Priestess facing each other, this is someone who is likely very in touch with their spirituality. Not only are they able to trust their intuition, but they also have everything that they need to follow it. Once they have a gut feeling about something, whatever it is, they will trust it more than they’ll trust you, and be right 90% of the time.

They are very compassionate and probably are used to giving more than they take, which gets them taken advantage of. Part of their growth is going to be finding a balance in this aspect of their life.

This is someone who values family and most likely wants some kind of family unit, whether that be having children or pets.

The month of May might be important, it could be when you meet or one of you could be a Taurus or a Gemini.

How You Can Recognize Them:

Ace of Cups, 3 of Pentacles r, 8 of Wands, 2 of Swords

Page of Cups, Justice r, 5 of Cups, 7 of Clubs

King of Pentacles, 10 of Cups, Strength r, 2 of Diamonds

2 of Pentacles r, 9 of Cups r, Queen of Wands, King of Diamonds

Death, The Hierophant, Page of Wands, 9 of Spades

Sensitive

Peaceful

There’s still time to change your mind.

One of their prominent characteristics is their sensitivity. This doesn’t mean that they’re crybabies, they are just very mindful of everybody's feelings. This paired with what we learned about the painful parts of their past probably makes them a little insecure. This insecurity is only a problem when it comes to relationships. They may come across as very confident and flirty, but as soon as it moves past that they start clamming up and getting nervous. It could be bad enough that they have a hard time believing that you actually want to be with them.

They invest a lot of time into their projects, whether work related or personal. It’s likely that they struggle with finding a work-life balance. This is someone who needs to feel productive at every moment of the day. They keep themself busy so that they don’t need to be alone with their thoughts. This isn’t someone that knows peace. It is something they’d like to experience, but they don’t know how to. They have too many thoughts and can’t quiet their mind, their inner-demons get the best of them at times. This isn’t something they express outwardly though, everyone around them probably sees them as someone who, while busy, is fairly laid back. They need a lot of guidance here so if you’re someone who meditates, this could be something you help them with.

It’ll be easiest for you to recognize them based on their sensitivity and active lifestyle. They will be extremely helpful to their friends and family, and would drop everything to be there if needed. They are also, surprisingly down-to-earth.

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Pile 5: Hawk

Who They Are:

5 of Cups, Judgment, Queen of Wands, Queen of Spades

Knight of Wands r, 10 of Wands r, 5 of Pentacles r, 3 of Diamonds

7 of Cups r, The Fool r, 10 of Pentacles, King of Spades

2 of Swords r, 9 of Cups, 3 of Cups r, 3 of Spades

The High Priestess r, 3 of Pentacles, Magician r, 9 of Diamonds

“You’re my everything.”

You need to hold yourself to more reasonable standards.

This is someone with a lot of pain, they are overwhelmed and feel defeated. I’m getting the impression that it has to do primarily with work/co-workers. It could be that they put a lot of themself into their work and seem to always get passed up for promotions, or they could have even been recently laid off. They’re very ambitious and intelligent, so if they did get laid off, it would be a big hit to their ego. Alternatively, they could have almost reached a long-standing dream, only for it to fall apart at the last second.

Your soulmate has a lot of fiery passion that they don’t always know what to do with, so they turn everything into a competition. The thing is, they’re only competing with themself. They’re always trying to be better than they were yesterday, even when it’s unrealistic.

As passionate as they are, they can be very patient when it comes to getting what they want. They know that not everything can be rushed, even if that’s frustrating to them. They try to avoid making reckless mistakes, but sometimes this can lead to them not making decisions in a timely manner.

They value family and friends greatly, this could be the most important part of their life to them. They’ll test you to see if you can gain the approval of their loved ones. If you don’t, they may begin to have second thoughts. This is a soulmate though, so you’ll likely be very compatible and win everyone over with relative ease.

How You Can Recognize Them:

5 of Pentacles, The Moon, 4 of Swords, 5 of Clubs

King of Pentacles, Judgment, 5 of Swords r, King of Wands r, 7 of Diamonds

2 of Swords r, Daughter of Pentacles, 5 of Pentacles r, 3 of Clubs

Temperance r, Son of Wands r, High Priestess r, 7 of Swords r, Jack of Clubs

6 of Swords r, The Tower r, Page of Pentacles r, 5 of Hearts

You are not seeing clearly

Hesitant

When You meet this person, they will be coming out of a very rough period of their life. They are going to be at the start of their healing journey and they won’t have a lot of time or energy for romance. They’re likely very hard on themself, they don’t want to be seen as weak so they don’t express negative emotions. This is something they have to confront in order to heal.

They are going to be in a complicated headspace, there’s going to be difficulty separating the past from the present, and there’s not a lot of balance between their spiritual and physical lives. They either reject the spiritual to embrace the material world, or neglect their physical well-being and focus solely on their spiritual self.

You know how some people use their trauma as an excuse to inflict pain on others? This person’s the opposite of that, everything they’ve gone through has made them a patient, compassionate person. This will probably be one of the first things you notice about them, how kind they are. They are also very dependable, they’ve experienced going through hard times alone and don’t want anyone else to feel like they have to.

Overall, they come across as a very good human being, but there’s an underlying tiredness to them. They might be dealing with a little bit of brain fog, so at times they’re slow to process the world around them.

#tarot #tarot reader #tarot reading #tarot pick a card #tarot decks #tarot cards #tarotblr #oracle decks #oracle cards

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dr-alphys-lizard-mug · 2 years

Text

I just got reminded that terf wizard book lady exits and :(

-rant ahead-

Sure, the books helped me through my childhood. They helped me cope. Escape. Hope. They helped me realize I was being [TW] abused. They got me into to witchcraft.

But they also caused harm. To me. To others. I once looked up to her. I wanted to be her [rät starts playing]. But it turns out she was a fake. A fool. I first heard about her being odd in political ways. I brushed it off because I still didn't know any better. Then I learned that she was a terf [trans exclusionary radical feminist]. Then I read Cursed Child and saw how little she cared for her stories. And then there were the Fantastic Beasts movies. And her being weird about gays. (I guess him wearing "feminine" boots in the first book was supposed to allude to that???] And then I learned she was anti-Semitic (hope I'm spelling that right) [jewish caricature goblins], anti lgbt, racist, misogynistic or at least sorta, weird about poc and different religions [not many/stereotypical poc characters. Also mr. Dark lord head from the first book) and who knows what else.

There's so much icky stuff in her books. It's everywhere. I can't separate the art from the artist when the artist fucked up this badly. Everything. Everything is bad. And I just

It has helped me and so many others but I think it's time to put it to rest. Like and old friend you drifted apart from. You can still hold the memories. You can still mourn the loss. But please, keep moving forward.

It was fun, but now that we've grown up, don't you think it's best to leave it behind?

Additional notes:

Reality shifting [please don't comment on if this is real, thanks] is just shifting to a different reality. And there are infinite of those. People who shift there can shift to a non problematic version without all that icky stuff. Yes, I know it'd be wildly different, but do you really want it to be the same?

Idk what to do with stuff you already own. I might burn mine as part of a detachment(i think that's right?) spell.

I clung to Hermione as a kid. She was me. I was her. I didn't have my own identity, so I took hers. It hurts learning about all this. She truly was a comfort to me.

Autistic and adhd folk: i know you can't control hyperfixations or special interests just please don't financially support her

Osdd and DID alters, I am so sorry about what happened with your source. I wish you well

I want to completely rewrite hp/cursed child/fantastic beasts without all the -isms and -ists snd cultural appropriation. At that point it'd be it's own series. Different characters. No dark lord. No death eaters. No romanticized abuse. Just magical escapism. Idk if I'm going to do that, but if i do it'll be it's own thing with different characters/names and I'll try and learn as much as i can about all different types of cultures and people (I'm a white person, so yeah. I'd need to do some research) the characters would be pagan probably and there wouldn't just be wizards and witches. Mages, warlocks, etc. If i do this I'll put in on wattpad or ao3 or something

#tw abuse #tw harry potter #tw jk Rowling #this series helped me greatly #and also damaged me #I'm leaving it in the dust #goodbye misogynistic wizard witch system #goodbye death-trap school and horrible teachers #and goodbye my old friends

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quirrrky · 4 years

Note

Can I ask for a jealous reader & how the kamaboko gang reacts plus any pillar? pleease. thank you :)

HEADCANONS: Kamaboko Squad and Giyuu with a jealous s/o

Hello anon!!! I super love this request. It’s very cuuute and I hope you enjoy the scenarios I thought out. Feel free to drop more requests! 💖

tanjirou

It’s sure you’re jealous because Tanjirou’s kindness just overflows to basically everybody

Sometimes it made you feel so not special like you’re not his s/o or something

But you didn’t tell him this because you don’t want him to misunderstand

However, it’s Tanjirou we’re talking about…so no matter how hard you try to and hide it, he’ll def sniff it

“Y/N, you’re upset about me, right?” He’d straightforwardly ask, allowing you to explain it further yourself.

Tanjirou just wanted to hear you out if you wanted to tell him something if not, then he’ll respect you

Whether or not you told him about what exactly it was, didn’t really matter, he just liked to cheer you up

He’d hold your hand and look directly to your eyes

Looking up above the night sky, he’d point out to the many stars that glistened. “There are many of them shining out there. For me, they are all equally beautiful like that…”

“But you’re not among them…” He continued as he let you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Because to me, you’re the only one that shines the brightest at night.” He said as he turned his head towards the moon

Warmth filled you with his loving words. His statement was enough testament of how much he viewed you in a special manner

You responded to him with an adoring smile. “The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

He responded with a nod and, “Just as you are.”

zenitsu

“Y-YN, a-are you jealous?” Zenitsu asked fully knowing why

Zenitsu’s a lover of the ladies…He’s a ladies man and attentive to them and their needs

This was what brought you to be very attracted to him

You’re his princess, his one and only

However, it didn’t help that he stopped hitting on other women ever since he met you, because now his sweetness towards you also caught the attention of other ladies

Now…even the village ladies knew his name and his gentlemanly ways

Ofc, he was very chivalrous towards them, as usual

Not that you’re being selfish…

But this new girl in town didn’t seem to know that and she continuously needed Zenitsu’s help on many personal occasions

And yes, you mind

You just turned your back at Zenitsu’s question as he very much knew the answer

He tightly hugged you from behind and rubbed his nose at the back crook of your neck

“Y/N~ Don’t get mad at me, please. I promise I’ve got nothing for her. You’re the only one for me and you know that.”

Zenitsu didn’t latch off from you until you loosened up and turned to look at him

“You’re the only one for me too.” You said, hiding your face on the plane of his chest

“Y/N!~” He crooned near your ear and whispered. “I only have my eyes for you. I’ll definitely let her know that.”

inosuke

Inosuke’s a tough guy and his strength can definitely attract attention

And the attention the other women were giving him, was not attractive for you at all

They mused about his toned muscles and that pretty face, like…who wouldn’t right?

But when they started to wanna touch him…

Welp, it’s a different thing…

It’s more different when he’d just let them

You know that he thought that he’s just showing his power to his underlings but…

C’mon, we all know that it was not what the reality was!

And yeah, you may try to play the mind game on him just for him to get that, eherm, you’re damn jealous

But Inosuke won’t get that…Like, what does jealous mean, after all?

So you told him, in a joking manner, that he looked better when he had his boar’s hide over his head and probably a shirt on

Inosuke felt that there’s a strong negative presence going on with you

You told him that you didn’t feel comfortable with other girls hitting on him like that,,,

“WHAAAAAAT?!” He reacted. “What do you mean? What is that?”

You tried to explain everything to him, but what he got was…

You’re sorta’ competing with those of the female species like…in the wild y’know…

“Argh! What are you feeling bad about?” He started.

Inosuke continued with how only the strongest woman can be matched up to him and that was you.

He kept on and on about it and even the passersby looked at the both of you

It was embarrassing but, yeah, it was heartwarming.

With a wide grin, he proudly pulled you close to him, “Those women surely got nothing on you!”

giyuu

You know that Giyuu was detached to most people and you know that you are the exception

However, at the very start of your relationship, it didn’t look like that

Because he looked like his #single self even when you’re together

You thought that he wasn’t a fan of PDA and took it in consideration

Giyuu was so mysterious, he’s damn interesting together with that handsome straight face he’s sporting

So it was no shock when a girl was obviously hitting on him

You just let slip though, because he’s distant and he let her know that

But when that kind of event happened often and those girls didn’t even consider you as his s/o…even if when you’re standing close to him…

You just know that there’s something wrong

Another girl bit the dust and now..you just couldn’t bear to look at what’s happening

You turned your head to the other side and avoided the scene

The both of you continued walking and you still avoided looking him in the eyes because you didn’t know how to exactly spell it out for him

You’re both adults…It’s embarrassing to say that you’re jealous…

“Y/N, something’s up with you.” He said in a simple and calm manner, but the little shift in his tone, gave away his slight nervousness

His gaze never left you, not even saying any word.

Regardless how much you try to avoid him… You still took time to explain to him what you’re fussing about

After all, you’re not jealous because he was being close to those girls. Giyuu kept distance from them pretty well

It’s more like he looked just as distant to you even when you’re his girlfriend

His eyes became softer the moment he heard you

You assured him that you know how much he loves you, it’s just that…you’re no longer friends anymore and you both are more so you gotta act like it

Giyuu gulped and averted his gaze while processed everything over his head

Still strolling, Giyuu suddenly pulled you by the waist and, without a word, placed a kiss on your lips. Shocking you and catching the attention of the bystanders

“G-Giyuuu!” You quietly reacted as you covered half of your reddened face in embarrassment.

“See.” He dry gulped and looked away hiding his embarrassing blush. “I’m not really good at this to begin with, that’s why.”

“M-Maybe…” You started as you held his hand. “We can start with something like this first.”

Your eyes met briefly but both of you quickly turned away, still shy from what happened

Still flushed, you heard him murmured, “I’m nobody else’s. I’m only yours.” Then, he tightened his hold on your hand.

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entryno17 · 3 years

Photo

this has been done to death but i absolutely LOVE making pokemon teams for characters lol. i might make a sequel with more? these were just the first to come to mind. check under the cut for little explanations for each team!

ALPHYS —

rotom: it’s a ghost that possesses electronic appliances... she probably had it become mow rotom to impress asgore at some point, presenting it as a smart lawnmower. asgore just seemed horrified by it.

klefki: based on how she gives your phone a keychain, idk. she keeps collectible anime charms on it (it hates this)

sylveon: she named it mewmew!

porygon2: in whatever this universe this is, alphys made porygon. it was an amazing scientific achievement, but mostly she just wanted to make some funny 3D ducks. she’s working on a software upgrade to enhance its abilities for potential research—strangely, alphys remembers already programming an upgrade for it, but she can’t find the code anywhere. she assumes it was lost to data corruption.

arctozolt: it’s so cold.

type: null: it’s an amalgamation of all known pokemon types. it went berserk, and alphys didn’t really know what to do... it’s stuck in cryogenic stasis somewhere in the true lab.

GASTER —

porygon-z: it was supposed to be able to travel between dimensions, which turned out to be a horrible idea. gaster ended up keeping it—even though its brain is corrupted, it’s still a good buddy.

unown: before shattering, gaster researched the electromagnetic waves that unown use to communicate. the unown responded uniquely whenever he spoke wingdings, and they tended to suddenly pop up wherever he went. one day, they started spelling out strange things around him...

mr. rime: gaster’s partner pokemon. he’s had it basically his whole life. it’s his goofy friend! right now though, it’s just kinda tap dancing in a state of perpetual nonexistence. it’s keeping him company, at least.

bad EGG: from bulbapedia, “Bad Eggs are not really Pokémon Eggs, and may possibly never have been, but instead the default message returned by the game if the checksum is wrong.” i just needed to share that sentence somewhere because it’s fucking horrifying. this bad EGG spawned when gaster attempted to create something incompatible with the workings of reality—who knows what it was supposed to be. he can’t get rid of it, and it seems to be in an infinite loop of hatching: every so often, it hatches into another egg. it’s kind of annoying, so he sorta just... gave it to someone.

missingno. : gaster’s missingno. most commonly appears in its aerodactyl form, but it will randomly oscillate between forms. unlike the other glitch pokemon, this one seems to have some sentience. it likes to play fetch with gaster’s detached limbs.

??????????: gaster actually has all 65,097 of these things. it was the first glitch pokemon he found; they started appearing a bit before he fell into the CORE. he attempted to study them, but the seemingly endless variations made it impossible, and their intangibility didn’t help either. (fun fact: ten question marks is the only glitch pokemon with a pokedex entry!)

SANS —

shedinja: it’s an empty shell with only 1 HP, so shedinja and sans have a lot in common. since it’s literally just a soulless husk, sans doesn’t need to worry about feeding it or doing anything with it, really. it seems content ominously hovering over his head.

mr. mime (galar): sans doesn’t really own this mr. mime; it just showed up one day and started following him around. it seems to enjoy the cold of snowdin and it likes performing comedy routines with him, so they’re buddies.

PAPYRUS —

mime jr. : though he’s training a team to fight alongside him in the royal guard, papyrus’s pokemon aren’t exactly amazing in battle... his mime jr. loves to mimic him; it takes delight in papyrus’s highly animated, expressive nature. it usually sits on papyrus’s shoulder and mimes whatever he’s doing. he still hasn’t got it to battle even once. it also likes to mimic sans’s mr. mime—papyrus thinks it’s a horrible influence.

ralts: ralts are said to appear around positive, cheerful people, and papyrus fits that description pretty well. idea taken from this post, go read it it’s cute.

growlithe: most growlithe are fiercely loyal and obedient, but papyrus’s... isn’t. he adopted it after it was found to be unfit for the royal guard during training, and he’s determined to one day evolve it into a majestic, powerful arcanine. right now though, its main interests include rolling in the snow and stealing bones from papyrus’s attacks.

cubone: papyrus found this cubone sitting alone in the snow, shivering and crying. he couldn’t leave it alone, so it became part of his team. he spends less time training it and more time comforting it. his growlithe likes to chase it around, trying to take its bone club. it’s all pretty chaotic; papyrus tries his best to keep them in order but it’s definitely a challenge. still, he refuses to give up on either of them!

tyrogue: this pokemon thrives under strict training regimens; since papyrus is so committed to training, it fits right in. it’s definitely the most cooperative of his team but it’s still very weak. he encourages it every day, and it’s definitely—albeit slowly—getting stronger!

eternatus:

it’s his special attack!

#undertale #alphys #gaster #sans #papyrus #can you tell that i really like porygon and mr. mime.#and glitch pokemon #papyrus having eternatus is because i wanted to give him the most bullshit op pokemon #and the pokedex entries + lore made it too funny not to include lmao

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plush-rabbit · 4 years

Text

SFW Alphabet - Aizawa Shota

A: Affection (How affectionate are they with a s/o?)

Shota is surprisingly affectionate. He loves nuzzling into your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist and overall just being close to you. He’s much more affectionate with you behind closed doors, in the public, he’ll interlace his hand with yours or press a hand to your lower back.

B: Breath (What could their s/o do to take their breath away?)

He’s always sore and has knots in his backs due to his sleeping positions so when you rub lotion onto his back and give him a message, he’ll absolutely melt. His breath will hitch and he’ll remain still that you’re pretty sure he fell asleep until he opens his arms for you to join him in bed.

C: Cuddling (Do they cuddle? If they do, how and when do they cuddle?)

He absolutely loves cuddling you until you both fall asleep or until you two need to part ways. He loves the feeling of your weight and heat against him and how you’ll often play with his hands or with his hair depending on the position. He cuddles quite often, mostly during the night, sometimes letting go or rolling over when it gets too hot.

D: Dream (What do they dream of doing with their s/o?)

He would love to just wake up late with you, limbs entangled underneath blankets, eyes heavy with sleep and body light. No worries about the impending doom, his class getting hurt or anything like that- just a nice easy morning where you two get to wake up late and eat breakfast in your pajamas.

E: Effort (How much effort do they put into a relationship?)

He puts effort into the relationship. He has a busy schedule and often times can’t make it to special dates with you, but he will show he cares by sending you flowers or ordering food for you. If you’re unable to do chores around the house due to you being too tired or busy, he’ll clean around the house and then take his nap.

F: Fear (What do they do if their s/o is scared? How do they handle it?)

He will wrap his arms around you as if he’s trying to shield you from whatever danger is affecting you. He’ll do his best to calm you down, to make you listen to his voice and just focus on him.

G: Gifts (What type of gifts do they give their s/o? Do they want a gift in return?)

His gifts aren’t the trendiest. He often gifts you articles of clothing which are bright in colors and clash with the other things he has given to you prior. You have a slight suspicion he does this on purpose when he gives you a wide grin and raises his thin brows. Other times you suspect these really are gifts he’s giving to you when he gifts Eri similar looking clothes to yours. He doesn’t expect a gift in return but he’s always pleasantly surprised when you gift him something for sleep.

H: Hugs (Do they hug their s/o? How often?)

He hugs you quite often when in private. He’ll hug you from behind, with his chin resting on your shoulder or burying his head into the curve of your neck. He loves feeling your warmth and it always makes him feel a sense of pride when you lean into his touch and holding onto his hands.

I: Intimacy (How romantic are they? Do they have problems with intimacy?)

He has his moments of being romantic. He has no problem with being romantic or with intimacy but due to his line of work, he doesn’t have too much time to woo you. He’ll often send you things during important dates if he can’t make dinner in time.

J: Jealous (Do they get jealous? How do they act when jealous?)

Shota rarely gets jealous. He trusts you and knows you won’t entertain the idea of someone else flirting with you. However,, if someone doesn’t get the hint, he’ll wrap his arm around you and give off a rather unsettling grin to the person who can’t take a hint.

K: Kiss (Are they a good kisser? Do they like to kiss? How often do they try to kiss you?)

He is a wonderful kisser. His kisses are lazy, and they drag against your lips or skin. If it’s a rather heavy make out session, he’s sloppy and pressing kisses against all areas of visible skin leaving you with wet marks. He always tries to kiss you early in the morning, not minding the morning breath and just wanting to be near you when he wakes up.

L: Love (When do they say they love you? How often do they say it? Do they prefer to say or show it?)

He loves you so much but his actions will always speak louder than his words, he would rather show you than tell you. He knows that often times, words are always nice to hear but he enjoys the expression on your face when he gets you something that you’ve mentioned you wanted in passing.

M: Marriage (Do they want to get married? If so, what kind of ceremony?)

He’s indifferent to marriage. If he loves you, he loves you. If you would like to have one, he would prefer to have a small ceremony with close friends and family, no media attention and something that would actually go under the radar if possible.

N: Night Out (What type of dates do they like to go on? How often do they like to go on them?)

Date nights are often done in the comfort of your own home- being with him usually entails of being low-key and not wanting to be in the public light. Normal nights are done with a home cooked meal with the help of the family accompanied by movies or a television show. Important date nights are usually out in restaurants and depending on the significance of the date, are how high end the restaurant will be.

O: Out of the Ordinary (What’s something they don’t normally do with/for their s/o?)

Being a hero is hard work. He’s seen his own fair share of hell at a young age and has dealt with loss. After taking in Eri, he’s more aware of the horrors that reality has and he can’t bear to share with you his own traumas when you reacted so negatively to Eri’s. He’s a hero, he’s your hero and he can’t allow himself to break in front of you.

P: Playful (Are they playful in a relationship? If so, how do they play around/mess with their s/o?)

He loves to mess with you. He’ll tickle your sides or sit on your legs, he’s cheeky and will just flop on top of you. He loves to kind of spook you or fake sleeping if you call him for something.

Q: Questions (Do they ask their s/o their opinion on things? Do they share theirs?)

He won’t really ask for your opinion on something unless for whatever reason you guys are wearing similar matching outfits. He doesn’t really share his opinions unless asked and he’s still going to comment that you look good in any-and-everything.

R: Random (How spontaneous is their relationship? Do they do things on the spot or plan ahead?)

He isn’t really spontaneous in the relationship. Everything done in the relationship is plan ahead, he likes to know what you two are going to do for the day so he can prepare the day and the activities.

S: Sleep (How do they sleep with their s/o?)

You two are intertwined when sleeping. He likes to nuzzle into you and wrap his body around you. Depending on how hot the nights are, he’ll detach himself from you once you’ve fallen asleep and will sleep on his side of the bed but his hands are still holding onto yours or he’s facing you so you’ll be the last thing he sees before he sleeps.

T: Trust (How much do they trust their s/o?)

Shota trusts you quite a bit. He won’t tell you about his trauma but that’s because he doesn’t want to burden you. Other than that, he will place his entire trust in you. He loves you and his love will include a large amount of trust in you. He has Eri in his life; he needs trust to have trust in you in order to have Eri around you.

U: Unique (What makes them unique as an s/o?)

He has a certain personality and looks to him that doesn’t make him as appealing or easy to approach in random and because of that, people don’t necessarily flock towards him so when he has you, he’s a devoted lover. He will remain faith to you until you push him away. If he is serious about you, he’s not going to leave you.

V: Vulnerable (How long until they can be vulnerable around their s/o? What are they like in this state?)

It’ a very long time until he can be vulnerable around you. Once he confides in you about some of his trauma or a rough day, he’s clingy and a lot more withdrawn. He’s holding onto you and will have his eyes closed as you massage his head.

W: Wild Card (Random headcanon)

He’s very cat like. He has his bursts of wanting affection so when he has one of his spells, he’s just going to flop on top of you and rest his head on your lap. He’ll bother you and rest on top of you until you entangle your fingers in his hair. He’s going to nuzzle into your neck and you can feel the smile he has when you shift and try to push him off.

X: X-Ray (What would they do if their s/o got injured?)

He’s not letting you out of his sight. He is going to be near you at all possible times and if he can, keep tabs on you until you’re healed. He’s not one to linger too long until you’ve been healed but he’s a bit more nervous afterwards- making sure you’re okay, texts every hour where he waits patiently for your answer, a bit more doting on you.

Y: Yuck (Do they have any pet peeves about their s/o? Are there any habits that might bother their s/o?)

He remains a bit secretive about his hero and work life, so because of that, you don’t really know much and will often try to pry. You want to respect his privacy but you don’t want him to hold the entire burden. You pry too much and he’s much too secretive about his work life.

Z: Zeal (Are they passionate as a s/o? Do they want or like passion?)

Despite not being overtly affectionate, he is passionate. He loves being near you and holding you tight, running his hands down your body and pressing you close to him. While his passion comes in bursts, he would like a somewhat passionate significant other; it’s more of a want than a need.

#aizawa shota #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa headcanons #aizawa x reader #aizawa imagine #sfw alphabet #sfw alphabet aizawa

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hutaoscoffinn · 4 years

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Seraph of the End RANT

Disclaimer: if you are a fan of Mahiru and get offended easily or ship Guren and Mahiru, this is not gunna be a post for you

Anyway everyone else who is still here sit back, relax, brew some tea because its time to sip☕️☕️☕️

This is a rant/kinda theory post about Mahiru’s character and her relationship with Guren bc while rereading some of the manga, rewatching the anime, and just looking back at some posts I have some shit to say

First of all, I have some MAJOR problems with Mahiru’s character. Like M A J O R probelms

I’m also extremely upset because she had so much potential to be one of the best characters in the series but ya know we can’t have nice things.

First of all her character is so misogynistic. She acts like she can’t do anything without her ✨man✨

She acts like she needs Guren for everything and like she’s weak without him when she isn’t. Mahiru isn’t weak at all. She is strong but she acts like she is helpless without Guren which is a big lie. She was able to function without him for ten years.

She was able to do a LOT without him but nope.

✨Now lets look back a bit to when Mahiru and Guren first meet✨

I’m sorry but what actual 5 year old is that obsessed with love and that obsessed with a boy. 5 year olds love a new thing every minute and it’s unrealistic that a 5 year old would be as set as Mahiru was on a boy that they just met. Its also unrealistic that said 5 year old would remember said boy and still be in love with them for TEN YEARS after meeting them.

Mahiru kinda acts like the Bella Swan from Twilight but she’s the crazy vampire and the overly obsessed one while Guren just wants to live his life.

Like honestly

Now her actions... good god where to begin

Well she manipulates Guren, lets her family use him as their punching bag, puts a fucking demon in him, AND THEN KILLS HIS FRIENDS IN FRONT OF HIM

In short, what the fuck Mahiru?

Like I think killing his friends after already screwing with his emotions like crazy is crossing a line

And Guren and Mahiru’s relationship was and is the definition of toxic. There was nothing good about their relationship. It wasn’t wholesome in any way. Being manipulated in a relationship isn’t good or wholesome in any way and that relationship was all manipulation and crazy.

✨Mahiru now✨

I hate Mahiru’s character now, maybe even more so. She’s kinda an ass (hardcore an ass). She keeps manipulating Guren and twisting him to do everything she wants him to do which again, is not healthy. Especially for Guren

Guren’s mental health is probably all sorts of fucked up and its all her fault. Like seriously, think about it. Think about all the manipulation, how she pushed him away from his friends, killed his friends, now he can’t get close to his friends, has to experiment on the people he loves, BECOMES A DEMON FOR CHRIST SAKE.

And why? She made him. Technically he had a choice, but in reality, she is making him and using his friends as hostages because they don’t have a lot of time left and Guren has to perform the spell again and save everyone before its too late. But he has to do it right this time so the world doesn’t end, so that there isn’t a time limit for his friends. And even then, he will bear the biggest cross if he comes out of this alive. He will bear the biggest secret.

Why?

Mahiru killed his friends. The friends he couldn’t live without. The friends he arguably loved FAR more than he ever loved her.

Like you cannot tell me that Guren didn’t love his friends more than Mahiru. Especially Shinya. Then again can you blame him? Shinya just wanted to make sure he was okay, sane, and genuinely looked up to Guren and cared about him.

Mahiru definitely didn’t truly care about Guren considering what she did to him out of HER OWN FREE WILL.

✨Do I think Guren still loves Mahiru?✨

Oh god no. I could argue that he never really felt actual love for her but tea ☕️

As of right now? He definitely doesn’t love her. I mean the man is 24 in the series rn and she’s a whiny 16 year old demon that has fucked him over one too many times. If he still loved her he would have lost ALL of his sanity (which he hasn’t lets be honest)

He also basically dismisses her whenever it comes to her trying to be “affectionate” which is 100% her playing with him and manipulating him. He acts like he’s trying to detach himself from her in the best ways he can whenever she isn’t forcing him to do what she says aka become a demon.

In fact I think that he genuinely hates working with her. I mean the things she is making him to can and will break him. And she knows that. Yet she continues to push and push and push until theres nothing left of Guren to repair. His heart is beyond broken and damaged and I cannot imagine living a day in his shoes.

I’ve already written a post on if Guren wants to resurrect Mahiru and I’ve already stated that I don’t think he exactly wants that to happen especially if the 100% old Mahiru isn’t back and even then that’s not a good Mahiru and even then there’s still the fact that she’s stuck in his cursed gear and that she is a demon.

Can’t see that ever working in her favor tbh and if it does thats the biggest plothole in the whole series and is major bullshit.

Also, if Guren and Mahiru ever somehow get back together thats a) extremely toxic for him and b) unrealistic in every way considering the bad blood that 100% should be between them

In summary I have an extreme dislike for Mahiru and her character and I hope to god that Guren can escape her somehow

Hope you guys enjoyed my rant~

#ons #owari no seraph #seraph of the end #seraph of the end manga #ons manga #guren ichinose #guren ons #ons theories #guren #shinya hiragi #shinya #ons rant #owari no seraph rant #seraph of the end rant #rant #anime rant #manga rant

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pandoraborn · 3 years

Text

Throw me to the Ground (and watch me fly)

Chapter Three (AO3 Link.) Word Count: 2709 words Characters: Schlatt, Dream Content: attempted manipulation, jealousy

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The office is unusually quiet this time of night. Normally, Niki or Quackity would be hovering nearby, but evidence shows they’d left early, probably due to the random announcement Schlatt had made, concerning Tommy. He’d been so sure of himself in the initial moment, and after Tommy left, Schlatt had promptly announced it to the entire white house staff. The majority of them had seemed pretty stoked, especially considering Tommy already had experience with leadership and power; it was natural he’d be the perfect fit.

However, now that the adrenaline is wearing off, Schlatt isn’t so sure of himself. Tommy hadn’t seemed as excited as everyone else, and he can’t figure out why. It hadn’t been until he’d agreed to take on the role of vice president that his wings lifted up off the ground, and he’d seemed happy. There had been something off about the teen this time, and Schlatt feels like he’d been played.

It has to be Wilbur’s fault.

No, he’s not going to start thinking like that. Wilbur had never lied to him, Wilbur had never once led him astray. The man was always honest with his words and intentions, and if he had wanted Tommy to be vice president the whole time, he’d have made that perfectly clear. Schlatt has to admit that this had been entirely his idea. It doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.

Who would be? He’d appointed a sixteen year old to be vice president of an entire country. It doesn’t matter if Tommy had helped create and build it, he’s still a teenager and should be treated as such. Schlatt wonders if it’s too late to take it all back, to find someone else who’s older. Then again, Tommy does have the most experience out of everyone who works under him. Tommy would know best how things are run, or supposed to be.

There’s also the question of whether or not Tommy can follow orders. The teen is known to be very stubborn, with an inability to listen very well. Would the new president have his hands full? He hopes not. Tommy is the younger brother of his closest friend, Schlatt has to put trust in the entire family as a whole. They would never betray him. Tommy would never betray him.

He hopes.

Coming back to reality has Schlatt realizing he’s still sitting in his office. He’s still behind his desk, staring at the dark oak, the computer that’s shut off, and the mess of papers scattered around the edge of his desk. Had his office been like this when the others were here, or had he messed it up somewhere in between then and now? He had been jovial when Wilbur and Tommy had been here, sitting on his desk and creating a mess. He barely remembers the meeting though, but that logic does make the most sense.

With a sigh, Schlatt leans forward, reaching out to grab at the mess in some hurried attempt to organize it. He wants to get home and relax. Being here in just making him think strange things, like feeling resentment toward a kid. There’s a mess of papers that still need to be sorted too, like documenting the new addition to leadership.

That alone is going to be another several signatures and faxes for official purposes. Tommy’s going to need a letterhead of his own. Fuck.

“Knock knock?”

The voice is not what he had expected to hear, and it comes with a slight reverb. Schlatt jumps out of his chair, glaring at his door frame. He’d expected Quackity or Wilbur to come back, so to see Dream standing there is different. Dream has no business being in the white house. Schlatt narrows his eyes, but beckons him into the office anyway. If Dream’s there, it’s bound to be something important.

“It’s after hours, Dream. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” The mask on Dream’s face is the only emotion being shown. The rest of him is nothing but a sea of green, with only the vaguest of silhouettes to show he has some shape to him. Schlatt finds himself wondering what Dream even is, if not human. Angel? The wings on Dream’s back would indicate as much. The faceless, endless green would also indicate as much.

“Schlatt, I came because I had a feeling you needed some help.”

“No thank you.” He offers a smile as he stacks papers. Maybe the paperwork can wait until tomorrow. He’s itching to go home at this point. “I’m a very busy man.”

“Oh, don’t worry! I didn’t come to take over your job. I wanted to bring up a few concerns I had.” Dream walks further into the office, pressing his hands to the desk. The more Schlatt looks at him now, the more he can see a humanoid figure. He can see a faint outline of a face underneath the mask, too. There’s an urge to ask what creature Dream is, but Schlatt bites his tongue. That would probably be a rude question to ask in the first place.

“What concerns?” He asks. “I wasn’t aware that I needed help from someone like you.”

“Everyone always needs me for something.” Dream pushes the mask up, showing his mouth. There’s a grin on his face that doesn’t exactly give off a friendly aura. “It’s why I’m here, Schlatt. I’m always needed, whether or not people realize it.”

Sitting back down, Schlatt gestures for the sofa. “Alright Dream, if you’re so smart, then enlighten me. What could I possibly need any help with?”

“Tommy, of course.” Dream takes the silent offer and perches himself in the middle of the couch. He spreads his wings out, overtaking the length on either side of him. Feather flutter to the floor, as if Dream had detached them himself. Shades of black, white and green feathers fall all over the place, almost like they’re taunting him for his lack of wings. Schlatt can’t help but stare at them. He continues to stare until Dream clears his throat, causing his gaze to snap back to the entity.

“Tommy,” Dream repeats. “You appointed him vice president earlier today, if I’m not mistaken. You’re having doubts about the position because of his age. There’s more to it than that though, isn’t there?”

The blood drains out of his face. How does Dream know about that? He’s sure Dream hadn’t been in the office when he told Tommy, unless Dream has the ability to turn invisible. That thought is unlikely.

“How...how do you know that? I barely even told the rest of the white house staff.” Schlatt’s gripping his desk now, refusing to look in Dream’s direction. His mind is racing, trying to come up with every likely scenario possible. More than that, it’s the thought that Dream had just hinted he knows there’s more to the situation. He knows Schlatt is doubting himself. How does he know that?

“It doesn’t have to make sense,” Dream says softly. “Nothing has to make sense for it to exist. Life itself doesn’t make sense. Why else would a sixteen year old help build an entire nation?” He tilts his head to the side. When Schlatt looks at him this time, there’s no trace of humanity in him. He’s back to being a vivid, bright shade of green that’s almost blinding. The wings seem to be glowing as well. Dream is painful to look at. Yet, he’s radiating a sympathetic aura that Schlatt almost finds comfort in. Someone who understands him…

Wait. Dream is speaking about sense while not making any himself. He shouldn’t be listening to the words coming out of the entity’s mouth.

“What are you doing, Dream?” Schlatt asks. “You can’t come in here and start acting like you know what I’m thinking. I trust Wilbur, and I trust Tommy. Furthermore, you can’t possibly know things unless you were actually here.”

“But I was here, and I do know things.” Dream folds his wings around himself, once again drawing his gaze. “I see the way you’re staring at my wings, Mr. President. I’ve seen the way you stare at their wings too. Anyone with half a brain cell can tell you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.” The reply is immediate, terse and overly defensive. He winces at his tone, trying to backpedal. “I’m not exactly fully human myself, you know.” A grin is forced onto his face as he turns his head to the side. “See these horns? I’m also a hybrid. I have nothing to be jealous of, especially not wings.”

“Yeah, that’s obvious.” Dream’s mask seems to smile wider. “Everyone can see you’re a goat hybrid, it’s not exactly a secret. I wouldn’t mind being a goat hybrid, the horns are pretty cool.”

“I guess.” Schlatt’s already done with this conversation. If kept up, they’d go around in circles with this pointless small talk.

“You want wings though, don’t you? It’s why you’ve always kept Wilbur close. You’re clearly hoping to gain something out of the friendship. So I’ve come to offer that to you.”

“That’s not true.” Schlatt abruptly gets to his feet. He’s done with this conversation, and he’s tired of Dream poking holes in his life. It’s decidedly not fun having some godlike entity poking at his vulnerability, pretending to know and understand him. He especially doesn’t like the insinuation that he’s using Wilbur.

Whatever spell Dream is attempting to weave is shattered the second he’s on his feet. “Wilbur’s been a great friend to me, his family’s wonderful. They’re great people, very law-abiding and upstanding. I’m not going to let anyone talk me out of my decisions.”

“If you say so.” Dream stretches out his wings again, mirroring Schlatt. He’s on his feet, and there’s that faint outline of a human face beneath the mask. Schlatt can see freckles. “It’s clear you don’t trust Tommy though.”

“I trust him just fine,” Schlatt snaps. “I think it’s time you leave.” He waves toward the door. “He’s already had a hand in running this country, I know he’ll continue to uphold it to my liking.”

“Yeah, but he said ‘maintain its dignity.’ It’s like he doesn’t trust you, Schlatt. You’re smart enough to see right through him.” Dream lets out a giggle as he moves toward the door, wings fluttering. Dream is still taunting him, and feathers are still floating around. Schlatt has a vision of himself burning every last feather left on his floor.

“I’m busy,” he says instead. “I have a lot of work to complete before I go home, and you’re just taking up time with random bullshit that’s not even true.”

“Oh, of course, of curse.” Dream nods. “Because you don’t wear your emotions on your sleeve, and you don’t get moody whenever someone calls you out on your own bullshit. You’re the president, Mr. Schlatt, you definitely know what’s best for this country.”

“I was elected, wasn’t I?” Again, he waves toward the door. “It was a fair election, and even Wilbur conceded. I’m the one in charge. Don’t come into my office and start trying to dictate things to me. You’re not even a citizen.”

“No, but considering this country is in the middle of my land, I think I have a right to express my concerns. I was under the impression you shared them. I’ll admit I was wrong though, once you admit that maybe, just maybe, I know you better than you think I do.”

Schlatt shakes his head. “You don’t know me at all if you think anything about what you said is true.”

“So why constantly stare at their wings? Or mine, for that matter? It’s like you’re hypnotized. I know that look, I’ve seen it before. It’s envy to an unhealthy degree.”

“Because they’re pretty, duh.” Schlatt rolls his eyes. “The only thing you might be right about is the fact that Tommy’s young.”

“Oh, I didn’t say that part.” The mask seems to grow even wider. If Schlatt squints, he thinks he can see teeth in that poorly drawn smile. It’s downright terrifying, and the implications that Dream has more power than anyone knows is even more so. “You said that, not me. I just said to you that he might be a problem.”

“He’s sixteen years old. Anyone with, what was it you said? Half a brain cell- would be concerned about his leadership skills.” Schlatt is no longer feeling so tired. Adrenaline is pumping through his body, making him feel on edge. Something about Dream’s presence is unsettling, and Schlatt wants to put as much distance between them as possible. “This is my country, and I get to make the final decisions.”

“But it’s not really your country though, is it?” Dream’s hovering in the door frame now, as if that too is framing his silhouette. Everything about him seems to be glowing, and Schlatt once again is staring. This time, with disgust rather than awe. “You appointed the person who found it as vice president. I mean, I didn’t come here to tell you what to do or how to run things. Yeah, it’s your country, but you just ensured that Tommy’s always going to have a say in how things are done. I’m not sure you’re not his puppet anymore.”

“Get out,” Schlatt snarls. “I’m busy, and you’re just throwing random shit out there and hoping to get under my skin. I’m not falling for it, alright? You’re not even supposed to be here. You’re not part of the cabinet, you’re trespassing and it’s after hours. Don’t make me page security.”

“What security?” Dream laughs. “Alright, I’m going. Just remember though, Tommy never lost power. You might be president, but he still has a lot of power and ability to sway people. Where he’s concerned, I’d watch your back.”

“Goodbye, Dream.” Schlatt marches around the desk and slams the door shut. He can hear Dream laughing as he leaves the floor, before the sound abruptly stops. It’s hard to tell if Dream had just left the building or vanished into thin air. He doesn’t even know if Dream can do that.

He goes back to his desk and stares at the mess of papers. He hadn’t made much headway in cleaning up his office, but now he’s especially not feeling it. He thinks back to Dream’s wings and how bright they were.

Why can’t he get them out of his head?

Why can’t he get Tommy’s wings out of his head?

The doubts he’d had earlier come back full swing. He’s not sure Tommy is a good fit for the position of vice president, and previous experience no longer matters. Still, the decision is made, it’d be shitty of him to go back on his word just because of some stupid green entity that likes to play around with words. Schlatt just has to trust in himself. Plus, the other employers will help keep Tommy in line, no doubt.

He’s the president, he’s not going to let anyone forget that. He’s the one in charge, and Schlatt is going to remain in charge. This is his country, the people wanted him in charge.

No idiot with wings, no matter who they are, is going to take that from him. He can instate Wilbur as part of the cabinet and it doesn’t prove anything other than Schlatt deciding who rules with him.

He mutters to himself angrily as he finally cleans up the paperwork. He’ll sort it all out later, when Tommy starts his first day. They’ll work on the letterhead, on the signatures and policies and everything Tommy might need to know, and it’ll be fine.

When finished, he shuts off the lights and heads out, turning back only once to glance at the dark building behind him. By this point the sun had long since set. Streetlamps are the only source of light as he wanders down the path. Hardly anyone is out at this time, most citizens either heading to their homes or enjoying a night on the town.

As for him? He goes home. He has a busy career ahead of him and he’s going to take any downtime he can.

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