#“Give one short answer to a simple and short question or die”

[steelthroat]

What’s your favourite transformers series I’m curious

(Also have you been able to watch armada yet because you should I got sites if you need it)

Hello hello there~

That's a difficult question since I really like everything but for different reasons... also because I have a love/disappointment relationship with every single piece of this franchise 😔👍🤙

I watched all the movies, Prime, animated, Earthspark, the Netflix trilogy, half of rid2015, 2/3 of rescue bots, and I'm finishing the g1 cartoon. ( I also saw sparse episodes from Masterforce and victory, but one day, I'm gonna approach the Japanese continuity from the start... one day)

I have a soft spot for G1 because in this time of my life, I need silliness and plot bunnies. G1 is covering for my needs, so atm I'm biased 😭😅

Ask me the same question in a couple of months, and the answer will probably change

2 years ago, I would have answered, "i will never anything more than Prime." Ooooh, I really love that series. Animated is at the same level as Prime to me and broke me just as much...

Also, I know it's controversial, and I can see the very obvious flaws, but... I feel like the Netflix trilogy was... good. Listen, other than the comics and maybe the wfc videogames, I feel like I've never felt the war more real. Like yes, please. I know many people judge it as angsty and stuff, but hear me out! SOME ASPECT OF THE SHOW WERE ACTUALLY PRETTY EFFING AWESOME RAAAAAAAAAH

About armada, sure thanks! I'm planning to see it in Italian, in English and subbed to see the differences and I have to start somewhere :D

Thank you my pirate comrade 🏴‍☠️🦜☠️

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Jealousy - Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) x Fem!Sinner!Reader SMUT

Summary: Lucifer's jealousy emerges when your Ex from when you were alive enters the hotel in search of you. Lucifer makes sure to claim you as his.

Contents/Possible Warnings: P in V sex, dom!Lucifer, cream pie, Lucifer being possessive, marking, unprotected sex, degradation (it happens like once), SMUT, MDNI

A typical day in Hell was far from calm, so whenever a peaceful moment occurred, even a small one, you made sure to savor it, appreciating it for what it was. For example, you intended to let the wonderful moment you were currently in last for as long as you possibly could. You had been watching a movie in your room in the hotel, but by now your attention had turned away from the movie in question and onto Lucifer. The king of Hell had snuggled up closer to you than he already had been, his head resting on your shoulder as he watched the show.

The simple gesture made you melt, and you couldn't resist gently turning his face to look at you. Lucifer looked at you curiously, waiting for your next move. You placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, enjoying the smile it brought to his face.

"Hmm, that was nice, but I think you missed, love." He leaned in, closing the gap between you two, kissing you lovingly. You moved to deepen the kiss and— a knock came at the door. You parted from the kiss and looked towards your room door as Lucifer let out a disappointed sigh. "I'll make sure to give you as many kisses as you want later, alright?" You whispered to him, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before standing up and answering the door.

"(Y/N)!" Charlie exclaimed in excitement. "The hotel has a new guest! They said that they know you. You two must've been friends before! Come on, let's go see them!" Without warning, Charlie eagerly grabbed you by the hand, pulling you through the hallways of the hotel and towards the main lobby.

In the lobby, you saw them. The fucker you had hoped would never die purely so you would never have to see them again. Yet, here they were in all of their trashy, shit glory. "Hi." You said with a fake smile, trying to remain civil and hold back the resentment that had since been dormant.

"(Y/N)! Baby!" Your ex grinned, approaching you with wide, open arms. "I'm so glad I found you after all these years. It took some asking around, but we're together again!" They wrapped their arms around you, squeezing you tight enough that it felt like you might suffocate.

"Woah, haha! Hands off, please!" Lucifer appeared next to you, poking at your ex with his cane, annoyance seeping into his forced, polite tone. They finally released you, glaring at Lucifer as he stepped between the two of you.

"And just who the hell are you?" Your ex questioned, watching as Lucifer wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his side. "I feel like I should be asking you that question." Your boyfriend replied snidely, any attempt to be polite despite the situation now far gone.

"Alrighty!" Charlie said with a nervous laugh, wishing that she had gathered more information about her hotel's newest guest and their relationship with you before allowing them to see you. "Let's all just relax, and maybe (Y/N) can introduce the two of you to eachother."

You let out a sigh. You loved how sweet Charlie was taking in any sinner, you really did, but sometimes it did more harm than good, usually to no fault of her own. You motioned to your ex, "Lucifer, this is my ex." Then you motioned to your boyfriend, "This is Lucifer. King of Hell...And my boyfriend." The last part felt almost weird to say, the surrealness of dating the Hell's king and the man sometimes known as the devil himself finally setting in.

Your ex only laughed in response, earning an angry, growling-like noise from Lucifer. You grabbed his hand, squeezing it in an attempt to calm him down which only partially worked.

"There's no way this little guy is Hell's king! He's so fucking short. I really thought you had better standards in who you date, babe."

"Fuck you." You hissed, anger bubbling up inside of you as you felt yourself slipping into your more demonic form. "He's certainly better than you ever were." By now the other inhabitants of the hotel had gathered around, some more entertained than anything, while others, particularly Vaggie, were preparing for the brawl that was surely about to happen.

"Woah! Look at the time." Charlie intervened. "It's getting pretty late, why don't we all start heading to bed?" You responded only by turning around and heading towards your room, in desperate need of calming yourself down. Lucifer followed behind you, the walk to your room quiet with no words spoken.

You opened your door, nearly throwing it open in your still-present anger, before flopping down onto the bed with a loud, frustrated groan. You looked to the side, taking notice of the way Lucifer refused to look at you, his arms crossed.

"Honey?" No answer. "Love?" No answer, yet again. "Luci?" That did the trick. He always melted whenever you called him that.

"Your ex is fucking annoying."

You let out a small chuckle at his bluntness, a smile making its way onto your face. "They are, Luci. That's why they're my ex." You sat up, pulling him down onto the bed with you, kissing him, causing both of you to relax, some built-up tension leaving.

"You're all mine, aren't you?" He questioned, already knowing your answer. "Mine to love. Mine to claim." His mouth moved to your neck, sharp teeth grazing the skin, and you let out a soft moan as he began to nibble and kiss at the skin, his teeth leaving a mark you were sure he'd take pride in.

Your head fell to the side, giving him more access to your neck as you took his hat off, throwing it to the side, your fingers running through his hair as he continued to mark you.

"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. You'll only ever want me." He whispered, lips returning to yours in a fervent kiss. Your lips remained locked together, only occasionally parting for a few seconds so you could help rid each other of the clothes that separated you from what you both craved.

He moved between your legs, the tip of his hardened cock teasing at your wet entrance. Usually, you two would've done more before the main act, but you two were more than ready to indulge in the other right now.

"Don't be a tease, Lucifer." You purred, spreading your legs wider. "Can't you feel how wet I am? How ready I am for you to fuck me senseless?"

He smirked before finally slipping in, biting his lip to prevent an almost embarrassingly loud moan that threatened to surface at the way you felt wrapped around him. He has been in heaven before, and he could say with confidence that being deep inside of you felt better than anything his former home could've offered him.

He began to thrust, his pace starting slow, still teasing you. He wanted you to beg, and you already knew it.

"Faster, harder, please, Lucifer—" You pleaded, giving in to what he wanted from you. "I know you want to pound me into this bed, Lucifer—Ah! Fuck!—" His pace sped up, and the sound of hips meeting yours in rapid succession filled the room. "Fuckfuckfuck–yes!"

"You always feel so fucking good." He growled, wings slipping out as he lost himself in the ecstasy that was your pussy. You ran your fingers through the red and white feathers, and he let out a pleasured whine at the feeling. His wings had always been sensitive.

"Fuck me—Let them all know I'm yours!" You cried out, losing yourself in the feeling of his cock fucking you with quick, deep strokes. You gripped the sheets in your hands, back arching as he angled himself just right, hitting your sweet spot head on.

"Mine. Mine to ruin, mine to fuck, and mine to fill up. All mine." His hands found yours, pinning them down against the bed as he began to fuck you even harder, his climax nearing. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in closer.

"I'm gonna cum–You're going to make me cum so hard–"

"Then fucking do it." He demanded with a growl. "Cum around my cock like the little slut you are for me." You came around him, cunt spasming as your orgasm coursed through you. Lucifer's wings fluttered as he followed you soon after, filling you up with his hot cum.

You pulled him down into a sweet kiss once your climax subsided, cupping his face in your hands. God, you loved him more than anything. The kiss ended after a good moment, leaving you both to bask in your shared, post-coital bliss.

"You lost a few feathers," You observed with a giggle, holding one up. He chuckled warmly, lying beside you. You rested your head on his chest, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. You'd have to deal with your ex in the morning, but for now, you were both satisfied with knowing that you were entirely Lucifer's, and that's how you'd always want it to be.

[autistichalsin]

Analysis of each character's final words in the new Dark Urge evil ending

If you are romanced to a character, you have the option, when taking the new version of the Sins of the Father ending, to kill your partner in front of the others in your party, killing them with one last kiss. They then give their last words and pass away. I love each and every one and feel they are incredible characterization moments.

So let's break these down!

Lae'zel:

I... I am glad it was you. No other blade would have sufficed.

This is something that hammers home that, Vlaakith or no, Lae'zel deeply believes in all the ideals of a Githyanki. Life is a privilege for the strong, and death is the price of weakness. Further, if romanced, Lae'zel will affectionately call you "the source of my bruises" many times. If she has to die, if she has finally found the one person stronger than herself, then she is "satisfied" that it is you- who she both loved and admired. The only one she would ever consider worthy of besting her.

Karlach:

Fuck you.

Short, simple, and to the point, just the way Karlach does everything else. She's already gone through all her stages of grief with her engine- well, almost all of them. Anger still remains. She burns hot until the end.

Wyll:

I... I forgive you.

This isn't just Wyll being a good guy. This is heartbreak, and guilt. Guilt for not saving you from Bhaal's influence when he was so sure he had. Heartbreak that after he gave his literal soul to save as many people as he could, he couldn't save you- and couldn't save others from you, either. All he sacrificed, negated in an instant by the person he loved and trusted most. Of all the characters here, Wyll (tied with Halsin) sounds the most obviously broken, and it's easy to see why, given that he is self-sacrificing to a fault.

There was a set of scenes datamined from the game, where at the Morphic Pool, the Netherbrain would have taunted the players, causing them to hallucinate things related to their fears and insecurities. Wyll's would have been a vision of himself talking about how he was never a hero, how the Blade of Frontiers was a farce all along. One can't help but think about that scene here, wondering just how much blame, bordering on self-loathing, he might feel here.

Dark Justiciar Shadowheart:

I... I'm coming to you, Lady Shar.

Another short and simple one. By becoming a Dark Justiciar, Shadowheart has fully embraced the nihilism of Shar's teachings. Why be saddened or angry at her own death when this is just what she's embraced with all her sacrifices?

(Sidenote: this does also answer a question I had, namely, what was going to happen to everyone Durge kills. Thankfully it seems they aren't actually going to be sacrificed to him as such, and will indeed end up in the realm of their deities. This makes Bhaal's plan even DUMBER, because deities in DND lore need worshippers to have enough power to exist. Killing everyone at once just guarantees that soon after Durge dies as the last person alive, so too will Bhaal fade from existence.)

Selunite Shadowheart:

I... I thought we were going to save each other...

This Shadowheart rejected everything she knew. She was scared to defy her goddess, but worked up the courage- thanks to you. She thought you would have a new life together. She believed in you. She thought she would get to return the favor, and help you turn the page on Bhaal, too.

She's not just heartbroken for herself; she's heartbroken for you, too. Heartbroken at the life you denied both her and yourself.

Gale:

You made me want to live...

From the moment the orb entered Gale's chest, he knew he was at risk of dying. Then Mystra all but marked him as a dead man walking. But despite that, he finds love with you- and for the first time thinks maybe there is a purpose for him beyond Mystra. That he isn't more useful to the world dead. More than that, he wants to live to be with you, to enjoy your company and companionship. And then you kill him, and do the one thing WORSE than what would have happened if he'd never been pulled from that rock.

It almost would have been kinder to just hack his hand off the first time you met him, though Gale may or may not agree.

Spawn Astarion:

I should have killed you when I had the chance...

The angriest, most bitter response out of all the romanced companions, a step beyond Karlach's "fuck you." This is beyond "fuck you" and even beyond "I hate you." It's "I regret every moment I spent with you." You made him believe he could have better. That he could recover from what Cazador did. You even convinced him to spare the 7,000 spawn and that he could be something better than Cazador.

And now you reveal it was all a lie. Astarion is probably thinking that you talked him out of completing the ritual solely so he'd be easier to kill right here and now. How many regrets are flashing through his mind, how many moments where he wonders if things could have been different if only he'd done this or that, even aside from killing you?

All he wanted was to live as a free person. And then the first time he thinks he has that at last, he loses it as the world ends.

Ascended Astarion:

No... no, this can't be... I can't- you can't- no...

In contrast to spawn Astarion, ascended isn't angry, because he doesn't have the clarity, the ability to process what's happening. Spawn Astarion could tell he'd been betrayed.

But Ascended? Ascended, who went through so much to become one of the most powerful beings in the world, only to STILL lose without fanfare? And by you, his own spawn who he thought he had under his control? It isn't betrayal, because he is bluescreening; he can't comprehend what happened or how or why. How could he have been killed, and by you of all people? Was all he went through killing Cazador really for nothing? How could it be when he was supposed to be the most powerful? Was power actually meaningless all along?

He doesn't say anything of substance because he can't understand what's happening here.

Halsin:

Thaniel... goodbye...

Halsin is the oldest of all the companions. He's experienced the most loss of anyone; his birth family, his fellow Druids, and, for a time, Thaniel. He has had more than enough time to contemplate his own mortality, because he's already lived multiple lifetimes.

So here, two things are happening. One, he isn't expressing anger or betrayal at his murder- because he is more than wise enough, and humble enough, to understand that there are worse things than what has been done to himself. Instead of himself, he is thinking of the world he's leaving behind that is about to fall- and most of all, of his most important person, the one who gave him a purpose, who was there when no one else was, who he failed once and only just got back. The closest thing to a child he'll ever have. In his last moments, instead of himself, Halsin is thinking of those he loves.

And second, it's an almost deliberate snubbing of Durge. He willingly walked into that kiss, knowing full well it would be the last thing he ever did. He gave you his death, he pleaded with his own god to forgive you and him both. He gave you everything he felt he owed you, and no more- no begging or sobbing. Instead, he comes as close as he ever gets to selfishness, and spends his last moments thinking about the thing that makes him the happiest- which could have been you, in another life, if you hadn't done this.

Minthara:

No... we were meant to do this together...

Heartbreak, disbelief, and betrayal. You spent so many nights planning this out. She had been cast aside by her people, her goddess, and she was going to get the last laugh. She was going to crush them personally under her heel and prove she was the best (or second best, behind you) of all of them. She's devastated she won't get to help you torture all those souls and take what she feels was owed to her. But interestingly enough... no anger. Probably because it was overshadowed by the sheer heartbreak, but also a sign that even in those moments, she still admires you for your ruthlessness.

[aycius]

GQ’s COUPLE QUIZ: JJK MEN EDITION!‧₊˚

feat. sukuna ryomen, satoru gojo, nanami kento, choso kamo & toji fushiguro

author’s note. this was inspired by rihanna & A$AP’s couple’s quiz together, i love them so badly!

SUKUNA RYOMEN

this cocky ass mf… everyone can already tell that this man doesn’t want to be here (that’s how confident he is that he’ll get all the questions right). literally as you guys were driving here he made you bet that if he got all the questions correctly, you give him massages for the whole week and when you asked what was in it for you, he gave a taunting laugh and said there wouldn’t be because he’d answer everything correctly… well, turns out there truly ISN’T anything for you because he actually managed to answer the questions correctly, short and simple answers and when the sound of the ‘ding’ comes on he literally SMIRKS at the camera. the crew was stunned to say the least and now he’s trending on all social media platforms as everyone’s “dream man.” some people were mad and claimed that the both of you premeditated answer because of how quickly he responded. has ‘i know my girl better than anyone else” written all over his face.

SATORU GOJO

overconfident (it’s gojo we’re talking about, c’mon). literally the definition of ‘loud and wrong.’ will confidently answer a question incorrectly and try to tell YOU that his answer was correct, and yours wasn’t. smirks when you smack him on the chest for being a dumbass and literally everyone in the room can sense the tension from the both of you. licks his lips and leans closer to you but you use his middle finger and thumb to flick his forehead away, a VERY KIND reminder that you guys are in public. he’s getting flamed on twitter from getting ‘rejected’ by his own girlfriend. LOL.

NANAMI KENTO

this poor man… went in so confident that he’d be able to answer the questions correctly but 5 questions in and he’s already a flat tire. please cut the dude some slack. literally kid you not this man full on SIGHS with ALL his might before muttering a little “baby…” when you ask him how many follicles of hair are on your head. you decide that the questions you’re asking him are a teeny bit too unfair so you die it down and ask him more normal questions to which he answers them all correctly. you don’t forget to sprinkle in those unreasonable questions every once in a while because kento’s defeated face is just so cute.

CHOSO KAMO

an absolute angel. literally radiates light when he gets an answer right, his smile so wide that you can’t help but laugh at how cute he is. when he gets one wrong he brings out his hand across the table for you to grasp and plays with your fingers while you explain the correct answer and he nods along, silently repeating it to himself so he remembers for later. you have to bite back a smile with all the cameras on your face.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

doesn’t follow the rules. absolutely indecisive. blurts out a bunch of different answers because he’s scared of getting them wrong. literally stares at you like you’re the one answering the questions and you tell him carefully “you know this one” — he doesn’t. it was supposed to be soothing but it sounded more like a threat if anything. you asked him what your first name was and he even answered that incorrectly… he claims it’s because he isn’t a good test taker… he already know he’s in big trouble when he gets home.

[ssprayberrythings]

heyyy to help u w ur writers block:

spending a lazy day w danny, like either lazing around on the couch in the sun or maybs he’s sticking to his workout regimen and trying to convince us to join? just cutesy domestic shh xx

thank you anon for this, i hope you're still around to read the final product! i kept it short and sweet, wanting to get the simplicity of it all but im proud of it!

MOMENTS LIKE THESE | DR3

daniel ricciardo x girlfriend!reader

warnings: none at all just domestic moments with danny 🫶

masterlist | taglist

It was vacation time for the drivers and that meant you finally got to spend time with your boyfriend, except for when he went to the gym, which was one thing you didn’t do with him. 

“Where are you going?” You asked your boyfriend as he walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

You had woken up a few moments earlier and heard the shower running. You debated joining him but the water was being turned off before you could make any further movement.

“To the gym” he smiled as he walked into the walk in closet you shared to get dressed 

“Can’t you skip the gym for one day” you asked already knowing the answer to the question but decided to ask any way 

“No, but I figured I’d go early enough so when I get back we still have the whole day to do whatever you want” Danny told you as he reentered the bedroom, to your disappointment fully clothed. 

“Or you could join me” he added as he made his way towards the bed sitting on your side

“No your workout is so intense I’d probably die” you exaggerated as you moved closer to him “Plus you’re so sexy, I’d just be distracted the entire time” you smirked at him 

He let out a laugh while putting one of his hands on the side of your face “I wouldn’t mind an audience” he told you as he leant in to kiss you. 

You smiled into the kiss, happily kissing him back before he pulled away “I have to go or else Michael won’t let me leave to make up for being late” he told you getting up from the bed, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek and heading out of the room to leave 

“I’ll be back before you know it. I love you” he gave you his famous Daniel Ricciardo smile before he was gone out of the room. 

You just decided to go back to sleep, figuring it’d be the fastest way to kill time before he was back home and your day would start then. 

-

You woke up a few hours after and it didn’t take long for you to realize Daniel still wasn’t home judging by the empty space next to you or at least that’s what you thought. 

When you eventually found the energy to get up and leave your bedroom, you were met with your boyfriend making breakfast. You smiled at the site and admired how at peace he looked. 

“Morning sleeping beauty” he joked with you once he caught you admiring him.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked as you made your way to sit on the counter, his hands taking a break from fixing breakfast and helping you up smiling at how cute he thought you looked 

“It was okay. Would’ve been better with you next to me” you told him as you took a blueberry off one of the plates and ate it while Danny went back to making breakfast.

He had made pancakes, washed some fruit and then he was just finishing up the eggs right now. “How was the gym?” You asked him

“It was okay, would’ve been better with you” he answered you sending a smirk your way causing you to roll your eyes while laughing at him reiterating the same response you had given him.

Once the eggs were done and he plated them for the both of you, you jumped off the counter and grabbed them bringing them to the living room.

You had a routine that whenever you ate breakfast together you’d eat it in the living room, enjoying the calmness the morning brought and enjoying each other's company.

It was such a simple act but with Daniel’s busy racing schedule, you had come to appreciate the simpler moments you got to spend with each other and enjoyed just being able to be with each other. 

“What do you want to do today?” you asked your boyfriend taking a bite of your pancakes 

“Can we have a lazy day, maybe go for a walk later to watch the sunset” he suggested 

“Sounds perfect to me” you smiled at him, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

It wasn't like Daniel to suggest something like this as he always wanted to be doing something but every once and a while he would make this type of suggestion and you loved it because it meant getting to spend the day cuddled up which was something you never took for granted.

-

When you both finished breakfast and the dishes were cleaned. You made your way back to the living room where you spent a good chuck of your day, enjoying the comfort from each other.

You watched movie after movie, some funny, some scary, it didn't matter, the two of you loved any time you got to spend together.

When the time came, you got dressed in some warmer clothes, put your shoes on and made your way to watch the sunset.

Daniel had his arms wrapped around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder while you enjoyed the peace and quiet watching the sun set.

It was moments like this that made you the happiest. Getting to spend precious time with the man of your dreams, nothing else compared to moments like these. 

-

Tags: @namgification

I know it's small but I hope you enjoyed it and this was the first f1 related fic that isn't smau style so I hope its okay. Feel free to send any ideas or requests. Look at this two Danny fics in a row, I must be in a Danny mood ☺️

[buckets-of-dirt]

(ID: A screenshot of tags that read "#Prev what are some alternatives to the word primitive that are less derogatory" /end ID.)

@panicdeleter I'm responding to your question on a new post so that the op of the original doesn't get this in their notes because answering in good faith is going to take a lot of explanation.

Short answer: there isn't one.

Long answer: as you say in your tags, "primitive" is a derogatory term with a very loaded meaning. Removing it from your vocabulary is less a matter of finding a more PC alternative, and more a matter of understanding why it's derogatory and changing your perception of what's being discussed. To do that, we're going to have to look at archaeological theory for a minute. Stick with me, I do have suggestions at the end.

Archaeological theory is a complicated subject and there's no way I'm going to try to summarize all of it in a Tumblr post since it's a topic arch programs devote at least a semester (if not longer) to. So we'll focus on the relevant bits.

Essentially, in the bad old days when archaeology was starting to become a discipline instead of a thing rich dudes did on the weekends, there was this idea that certain European societies were the peak of civilization and everywhere else was less evolved and therefore primitive. It was based on the misunderstanding of the theory of evolution that was common at the time. Like so:

(ID: a diagram drawn in pen. It's titled "Ye Olde Arch/Anth Theory TM". The next line says "Primitive = simple, less evolved, bad". Below it there is a vertical arrow pointing down, with the words "one way line" next to it. Under the arrow there is a line of text reading "Advanced = complex, most evolved, good". /end ID.)

These early archaeologists believed that all of humanity lived on a hierarchy with the "advanced" societies they lived in (and their ancestors like Ancient Greece) at the top and all the "primitive" past and current societies (destined to either become like them or die out eventually) at the bottom.

It's been a long road for archaeological theory. The 20th century was fraught with theoretical movements and debates that sometimes literally devolved into fistfights. But eventually we all ended up more or less here:

(ID: A hand drawn diagram in a similar format to the one above. It's titled "Arch Theory Today (Short Version). Below the title there is a single line of text centred around a horizontal line with arrows at both ends. The left side of the arrow reads "simple" while the right side reads "complex". The line itself is labeled "continuum or spectrum". /end ID.)

While you'll still find some archaeologists who disagree, the main consensus appears to at least be on the same page that instead of the old primitive vs advanced hierarchy, societies exist on a spectrum that ranges in complexity. In the most basic terms, because I'm glossing over A LOT of nuance here, hunter gatherer societies tend towards the simple end of the spectrum while big state societies are on the more complex end. This is not meant as a value judgement of these societies, but merely an attempt to classify them so other people have a frame of reference for what you're talking about. Even so, there's considerable debate about the language used for certain terms and societies, and I am not necessarily qualified to go into that in this post.

I say all that to help you understand why I can't give you a catch-all term to replace "primitive", because if one did exist it would be just as derogatory. In certain contexts there may be more appropriate words that you can use, such as simple (as in the case of the meme that inspired this post) or old. But a lot of the time an alternative just doesn't exist because we are not better or 'more evolved' than our ancestors any more than people living in big state societies are any better than people still living as hunter gatherers.

I know this has been a very long post, but I really am just scratching the surface here. For more information I suggest looking at podcasts like The Dirt or A Life In Ruins, youtube channels like The Welsh Viking or Archaeology Tube, or the blogs of any of my fellow dirt lovers here on Tumblr like @chaotic-archaeologist, @micewithknives, @art-thropologist, @archaeologistproblems, and @rhysintherain to name just a few. Archaeologists are generally a bunch of nerds who will take any opportunity they can to talk about the human past, and we rarely bite.

[arliedraws]

Drabble: James and Sirius are tortured together

Just a little Saturday whump. A special thank-you to @blacleria and @fiendishfyre for suggesting and supporting the idea of Prongsfoot being tortured together ☺️

Somehow James starts talking about cannibalism, as one does in times of stress, of course.

“Sirius,” James whispered. “Are you awake?”

There was a short grunt. An affirmative. It was a relief to hear it, to know he wasn’t alone, but James also wished Sirius would simply sleep if only to escape their predicament for a few moments. The weight of Sirius’s head dropped heavily onto James’s shoulder.

They had left the gag in Sirius’s mouth and the blindfold on James. It was useful to their tormenters because Sirius couldn’t warn James of what was coming or who was about to receive pain next, forcing him to suffer the anticipation of James’s screams before James realized what was about to happen. James had to applaud the cleverness of something so simple, but he and Sirius were quick to learn a new language. Their hands were tied behind their backs, lashed with cords around their wrists, their fingers growing numb. Sirius would squeeze his hand once if it they were about to hurt James next but twice if they intended to hurt Sirius. When the Death Eaters had gone from the room, one squeeze also meant yes, but two meant no. And then sometimes Sirius pumped three times in a way that held no concrete meaning that James found himself parroting whenever he started to lose hope that they would make it out alive.

The Death Eaters insisted that the point of all of this was to turn one of them, but James knew better. It was Bellatrix Lestrange’s chance to humiliate Sirius before he died. She wanted to show Sirius what a fool he was for abandoning his family, for sullying his blood, for giving it all up for a bloodtraitor like James Potter. She wanted him to repent. But first, he had to suffer, which meant that if anyone were going to die in this place, it was going to be James, and if his instincts were correct, it was going to be bloody. Bellatrix had already cut into James’s torso and his arms to see him bleed—she had swiped her finger through James’s blood and smeared it over Sirius’s lips, urging him to taste what happened when good blood was defiled by a Mudblood.

But the time to die had not come yet. For now, they were alone again, breathing raggedly, their shoulders pressed together. Waiting.

“How’d I taste, then?” James croaked.

Sirius made a sound of confusion in his throat.

“My blood,” he clarified. “Did you like it?” Sirius growled, but James chuckled anyway. “C’mon, it’s funny. Squeeze once if you think it was good, twice if it was too salty.”

Instead, Sirius crushed his fingers. James grinned, resting the back of his skull against Sirius’s shoulder.

“If you were to pair it with a fine wine—”

Through the gag, Sirius snarled at him to shut up.

“What was that, Padfoot? You said a cabernet?” James turned his head and inhaled the smell of Sirius’s hair. “Or maybe a good whisky. Right, so here’s another question for you: would you eat me if I died and you were starving? Hypothetically, of course. Let’s say we were stranded in the middle of nowhere without food and I died before you. Would you eat me?”

James grinned weakly as a string of curses pushed through the wad in Sirius’s mouth. His swears were muffled but he made his fury obvious.

“No, don’t answer right away,” said James. “Remember the story about the Muggles whose airplane crashed on that mountain in South America? They were all friends, right? They promised each other they could eat their bodies so the survivors wouldn’t starve. So there it is, Paddy. You’ve got permission to eat me if you run out of food. In fact,” he added, “if you didn’t eat me, I’d be offended.”

Sirius began to wriggle in earnest, jerking at the bonds that tied their hands together. It was no use—their legs were bound to their chairs, and they had learned long ago that the chairs couldn’t be budged anyway. And even if they managed to untie themselves, the door was locked.

“Sirius, stop,” James snapped. “There’s no point. We’ll figure out another way.”

Blindfolded (which seemed rather unnecessary since his glasses had flown off ages ago), James failed to see that Sirius was crying. He could only feel that Sirius was trying to pull out of the ropes that cinched the two of them together, but now it was obvious that he was holding back sobs.

“Shh, Sirius, it’s all right,” James urged. His chest was tight as he heard Sirius struggling to breathe. “This—this’ll be over soon.”

It didn’t calm Sirius at all. He was saying something, but James didn’t understand.

“Sirius, stop moving. You’re making my fingers numb. Listen, to me,” he demanded, and Sirius stilled. “If you lean your head back and turn your face away, I could try getting the gag off with my teeth. Can you do that?”

Sirius squeezed his hand once. James felt him do as he was told, and James craned his neck as far as it would go, burying his face against soft hair. It felt a bit stupid fumbling around and feeling for the strip of cloth with his nose, but soon, he’d found it and sank his teeth in, wrenching down to get it past Sirius’s ears. Pain radiated around his neck in the awkward position. James grunted and pulled until finally it loosed; he heard Sirius spit out the wad of cloth that had been stuffed in his mouth.

“Fuck you, James,” Sirius rasped. “I’m not…I’m not going to eat you.”

James was sweating from his effort. He laughed, resting back against Sirius. To hear that voice again, desperate and miserable as it was, made him feel safe. He pumped their entwined hands three times, unable to find the words to convey his relief. Sirius signaled back, sighing.

“I suppose you could eat me if it came to it,” Sirius murmured.

“But you wouldn’t eat me. Reckon my blood’s dirty now?”

Sirius snorted. “Mine’s filthier than yours.” Then he huffed and nestled back against James, his breath warm against James’s ear. “Fine, if it’s what you want, I’ll eat you. But only if you swear you’d eat me if I died first.”

“Of course I would. I’m honored you’d let me, Padfoot.”

“Better you than the worms.”

[joeyalohadream]

Fic Request

I received four requests from some lovely anons, all asking for a fic that had Gale being reminded of his childhood/father and Bucky comforting him.

So....I took those and turned it into this! Featuring: Gale low key falling apart a bit, angst, some feral!Buck and Bucky being soft with his boy. My first lengthy Pre-Relationship version of the boys. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 5,776

Gale doesn’t want to think about that boy anymore. Yet, at the same time he feels like he should think about that boy every day. And he doesn’t even know his name.

It’s cold and wet. The early morning fog is hanging in the air and casting its dew upon the wool of his uniform. Eggs, coffee, chat with the men. That’s what he needs to do right now. Then it’s a leader’s brief, a group brief, equipment checks. That’s what he needs to do next. Then it’s preflight checks, take off, try not die, drop bombs and make it back to England. That’s what he needs to do after that. Simple when he thinks of it logically. Terrifying if he thinks about it any other way.

The first step of his plan is stalled when the sight of a young airmen sitting alone on a bench outside of the DFAC catches his eye. Men pass by the bench with a weary glance and a quickening pace and Gale can’t blame them. Everyone has their own ritual they complete within themselves in order to get back into those forts and acknowledging their mortality by watching a man cry isn’t one of them.

But Gale is a leader and even if he wasn’t, he couldn’t leave another human being alone to stew in misery unless they asked him to. Maybe not even then.

He approaches the young man and stops a few feet in front of the bench he’s parked himself on. Gale notes that he’s in his flight suit and sheepskin, ready for the mission. At least in body, not so much in spirit.

“You eat yet, Sergeant?”

Big brown eyes meet his and he shuffles his feet a bit when he’s greeted with a trembling lip.

“Tried to, Major. Got sick.”

“First mission?” Gale questions, but he knows the answer. He’s never seen this kid before.

A jerky nod is given with a shaky exhale and Gale silently prays that more tears don’t fall. He’s never been any good at dealing with people, but especially not when they cry.

“You enjoy the fresh air for a few more minutes. Catch your breath and try again.” Gale keeps his voice level and firm, but not hard. He doesn’t lead with an iron grip unless the situation warrants it. A soft touch gets him what he wants more often than not.

“I’m scared.” That lip trembles again and Gale wishes this kid was back home. Wishes all of them were back home. Except himself, he doesn’t much care for his home.

“I know,” Gale gives him a small smile. “We all are. Keep your head up, remember your training. Lean on your crew and let them lean back. You’ll be okay.”

He sees this kid’s eyes change. He’s been buoyed by his words, and he believes him. Gale doesn’t understand why, but he has this effect on others. They want to trust him, want to follow him and they do it happily. He watches the moment this scared kid straightens his spine and decides he’s going to do what Major Cleven said and eat his eggs, drink his coffee, go to his brief, climb into a fort and try not to die.

“Thank you, Major.”

Gale gives him a nod and leaves him to compose himself, hoping Bucky has saved him a seat by his side so he can get himself composed as well.  

In the end, he’d lied. That scared young man with the trembling lip had been blown out of the sky before he ever had a chance to even fire a bullet. No chutes, just fire and death for him and the rest of the crew Gale told him to lean on.

His feet carry him towards the pub, but his steps aren’t his usual steady gait. He doesn’t feel like himself. Or maybe he does. He feels like he used to feel, before he made himself someone new. When he too was a scared kid on a bench somewhere.

“Can I come in this time?”

Just shy of fourteen years old, gangly and thin, too short and too timid, the rough around his bicep moves him easily where it wants him to go. He’s pulled to a metal bench and pushed onto it, though his body reflexively shifts back up, trying to escape the cold that immediately burns through his thin trousers and into the backs of his thighs.

His father’s hand moves to his shoulder and forces him back, not looking at him, gaze already focused on the door to the bar across the empty street.

“I’m not taking you in there,” his father says, turning his gaze on him, eyes hard and unfocused. “This place is for men.”

“I’m a man,” Gale straightens his shoulders and meets the man’s gaze straight on. He wishes his voice would hurry up and get deeper like the other boy’s voices in class started to over summer.

His father barks out a laugh and Gale leans further back against the bench in an attempt to avoid the spit that flew from his mouth. It wasn’t an invitation, but his father takes it as one and leans into his space, face close enough Gale can make out the yellowed spots on his cheeks and the spot he’s missed shaving on his chin.

“Didn’t look like much of a man when I caught you giggling over those girly magazines with Marjorie this morning. Teenager closes his bedroom door with a girl inside, I’d expect to find something more fun goin’ on in there than that.”

Gale cringes away at the vulgar implication in his words more than at the cheap whiskey on his breath. He looks down at his lap, refusing to meet his father’s eyes.

“Then what’d I even have to come for? It’s cold.” He’s proud of himself that it doesn’t sound like a whine when the words leave his mouth.

“I might need you for collateral,” his father straightens back up and his spine pops at the action. He pulls a cigarette from his pack and lights it, takes a drag and blows the smoke directly down at this son. “But I can’t take a pansy like you in there. Those men will eat you alive. So, stay here until I’m through.”

Gale watches him stumble over the curb, into the street and disappear behind the door to the bar. He takes a steadying breath and wills away the moisture in eyes.

He lifts his feet up to the bench and wraps his arms around his legs, rests his chin on his knee and wonders if there will ever be a time when he’s capable of standing up for himself.

He watches the door across the road and makes a mental note to ask Marjorie if she knows what collateral means tomorrow when they meet at the river.

The pavement is wet beneath his dress shoes, an unpleasant squeak sounding each time his left foot makes contact. He wishes suddenly for sneakers and some comfortable clothes from home. Something worn, fabric that didn’t mean anything when it adorned his body. The dress uniform that usually makes him feel like he belongs somewhere, like he finally fits in the world, feels restricting and wrong on him this evening.

He doesn’t want to be here. He’s not sure why he is here. Their last mission had been two days ago, and they’d lost two forts, all replacements that he’d barely even noticed before there was nothing to notice at all. They’d all spent the last two days debriefing and healing and resting and tonight, the men had all wanted to let loose. A trip to the pub had been the exact opposite of what Gale had wanted. It was still the exact opposite of what he wanted.

When Bucky had begged him to come, he’d turned him down firmer than usual. He’d felt a buzzing under his skin that he couldn’t shake since he’d landed back safe on base, and he wasn’t in the mood for the swinging pendulum between safety and mortal peril that their lives had become these days. He didn’t want to watch everyone around him get drunk and dance and flirt when in two days he’d be watching them fight and cry and bleed and die. He wanted to be alone for a while. Bucky’s sad eyes at his refusal hadn’t swayed him this time.

Only once Bucky had followed the rest of the men out the door and headed for the pub, once Gale had showered and laid in his cot with his book, once he was left in the quiet of the vacant billet, he realized that he hadn’t wanted to be alone at all. He’d wanted to be alone with Bucky.  

Once the realization hit, it was like his feet had carried him to the pub without his permission. He didn’t feel like himself, didn’t feel calm or level-headed or reasonable. He just wanted to be near Bucky because Bucky always made him feel okay.

He stops outside the door, hand reaching for the knob. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, he drops his hand and steps around the corner into the alley. He leans against the wall and takes a breath, then another. What is he doing here? Seeking out his best friend because, what? Why? Because he wants Bucky to make him feel better? Pathetic.

He imagines Bucky’s face when he sees Gale walk through the door. His grin would be genuine, one of the big ones that takes up his whole face and makes Gale feel warm inside. But then his brow would furrow and he’d be immediately concerned. Because Gale didn’t want to be here. Because Gale had walked here, not even bothering to ride his bike. And even though Bucky makes him feel better, it would take a while, and his friend would offer to leave with him.

He’s going to walk into the pub and ruin Bucky’s evening.

Just as he’s making the decision to not be selfish, to go back and deal with his fucked-up head and let his friends enjoy their night out, two bodies stumble passed him into the alley. Both men are laughing as they light their cigarettes, and they seem drunk enough that they don’t notice Gale.

He pushes off the wall, ready to start his long walk back to base when a heavily accented voice halts his movement.

“Looks like they’re pulling their replacements right out of primary school,” one the men, RAF, Gale assumes, laughs into the cold air. Gale’s fists clench. “And they’re being led by that Major Moustache that hangs off his men like they’re a bunch of ladies. Is it an American thing or do they just get too lonely on that side of the base?”

The buzzing under Gale’s skin feels like a live wire. Thoughts of their first evening out, when he’d been ready to square-off with the RAF pilot that had insulted his friends, his men, flit across his brain. Images of Curt smiling and hollering after he’d leveled him with one punch. Images of Curt, blown to bits a month later.

“No wonder they’re dropping like flies.”

Before he can think better of it, he steps into the light and is met by twin looks of surprise that quickly morph into grins as they take him in. They’re unsteady, can’t stand still, and Gale can smell the whiskey even through the cigarette smoke that fills the space between them.

“Major Buck Cleven!”

Gale squares his shoulders and moves his hand to his pocket, securing a toothpick and placing it between his teeth.

“Your namesake said you weren’t coming out this evening, Buck.” They stumble closer to him and Gale bristles at their tone.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Gale returns, keeping his voice low and unaffected. He wishes he could control the rest of him as well as he could his face, his voice. Right now, he’s angry and he doesn’t want to be. He can feel the hands in his pockets shaking.

“You going in?” The man closest to him gestures to the end of the alley. “I’m sure your friend is in there, just waiting to get his hands on you.”

Gale narrows his eyes at him, takes him in and realizes that both of these men had been at their table that first evening. He’d thought they’d been the more level-headed of the bunch but apparently Gale will always be proven right in his assumption that enough whiskey can turn a good man ugly.

“Don’t see much of a reason to stay out here,” he replies, not rising to the bait. He’s used to newcomers, to strangers being shocked in the face of the affection of John Egan. He’s used to them being judgmental of it. But the carefree way that John Egan loves, that Bucky makes sure you know he cares about you is one of Gale’s favorite things about him and tonight isn’t a good night for him to be in the face of someone that wants to ridicule it.

“Could give you a reason to stay out here,” the same man offers. He’s still grinning, but he’s looking as unstable as Gale’s been feeling the last two days. Maybe they’re all cracking, looking for an outlet. But Gale’s outlet is on the other side of the wall, and he isn’t one to use violence as one ever. He’s on edge, but he knows his safest bet is to put himself in Bucky’s orbit until his mind silences.

“I ain’t gonna fight you,” Gale moves the toothpick in his mouth from one side to the other. “But I’d ask you to stop talkin’ about my men the way you just were. We’re all here to do a job. It’s shit enough for them without their own allies tearing ‘em down.”

With some satisfaction he watches as his words land and the quitter of the two men looks chagrined. He takes a step back, hand going to his friend’s shoulder and tugging.

“Not surprised you won’t fight, Major,” the talkative airman shrugs the hand off his shoulder and takes a step into Gale’s space. “You let your rude little friend do the fighting for you. Where’s he been? Haven’t seen him around in while.”

Gale grits his teeth so hard he feels the toothpick snap in his mouth.

“I told you to stop talking about my men,” he grinds out. He hears a ringing in his ears and he knows he needs to remove himself from this situation before he makes a mess he can’t clean up. He moves to turn away, can’t decide if he should go to Bucky or go back to base, just knows he needs to forget about sad kids on benches and whiskey and collateral and everything else.

But a hand wraps around his bicep and stops him in his tracks and whiskey breath gets too close to his face and a taunting voice, laced with venom says, “What men? All I saw in there were a bunch of pansy boys.”

And the strange ringing in his ears and the buzzing under his skin and his thoughts all clear until all he sees is red. He doesn’t even remember taking his hands out of his pockets.

Bucky’s not having a good time. Well, objectively speaking, he is having a good time. The RAF pilots that had been giving them a hard time had walked out the door a few minutes ago, leaving them in peace. He’s got a whiskey and Benny and Hambone just finished a duet on the bar, much to the bartender’s ire. And everyone around him, all of his men, are smiling and laughing and for a moment, they don’t look like they’ve lost half their friends in the last three months.

So that’s a good time. But he wishes Gale was here. Or he wishes he was with Gale, somewhere else. His best friend isn’t doing well. He hasn’t been himself the last couple of days, like he’s having a harder than usual time shaking the mission off. And Bucky can’t blame him. He drinks and smokes and fucks too much to ever blame Gale for having a bad reaction to a mission. He just wishes Gale would talk to him, would let him help, because he knows he could.

He sees that Gale relaxes around him. His smile comes easier when Bucky is next to him. He doesn’t really let anyone put a hand on him outside of a friendly pat, and yet he seeks out Bucky’s touch.

And Bucky tries not to read too much into it, no matter how much he wants there to be something to read into. But sometimes, he thinks that Gale wants the same thing as him. Just that they’re both too chickenshit to ask for it.

He sighs and takes a sip of his whiskey, only his second of the evening despite having been here for over an hour.

He thinks of Gale and the way he’d told him ‘no’ this evening. Told him that he wanted to be alone and thinks about how much it had stung. Because he loves Gale, and it’s really fucking hard when the other man pushes him away.  

“Fight!” Bucky looks up as one of the replacements he doesn’t even know yet yells from the doorway. He takes another sip of his drink and rolls his eyes. He hasn’t had enough whiskey to be in the mood for this. “Fight in the alley! I think it’s Major Cleven!”

Bucky’s on his feet in an instant and headed for the door a moment later. He shoves anyone in his way out of his path and doesn’t bother looking back or apologizing.

It must be a mistake, Gale’s not here. Gale doesn’t fight people in back alleys. And he definitely doesn’t do stupid shit like this unless Bucky is with him, starting it.

But his long legs have him out the door and around the corner of the pub in under a minute and his mind blanks for a moment as he acknowledges that it wasn’t a mistake. It is Gale in the alley, except it hardly looks like a fight.

He pushes past two other men just in time to see Gale shove a man in a British uniform away from him and turn back to the other British airman he has pinned to the ground. His best friend, who he’d left at the barracks, is on the ground, dress uniform dirty and wet, knees on the pavement. He’s got one arm straight, hand fisted in the collar of the RAF pilot that had been harassing Bucky inside, and he’s bringing his closed fist to his face again and again.

Bucky stands in shock for a moment before he kicks himself into gear and rushes forward. He doesn’t pause or hesitate, he leans down, wraps one arm around Gale’s chest, the other around his waist and pulls. He reels as the man now firmly in his hold struggles against him like a wild thing, but he uses his considerable size and the fact that he outweighs Gale by a good thirty pounds to his advantage and backs away from the scene until his own body collides with the alley wall.

“Buck,” he whispers fiercely into the other man’s ear, feels sweaty blond strands against his mouth. Gale continues to struggle, breathing heavy and Bucky tightens his grip and shakes him. “Buck, cut it out! It’s me, it’s Bucky.”

Whether it’s his voice or his tone or his words or some combination, Bucky doesn’t know, but it’s like Gale’s strings are cut and he goes still in his hold. His chest is heaving, and Bucky can feel him trembling against his chest, but he’s not fighting him anymore.

“John?” Gale’s voice, rough and raspy reaches his ears and Bucky loosens his arms but doesn’t let him go. He’s so confused and he’s so happy he’s not drunk right now.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ loony,” Bucky growls into his hair. “What the fuck is going on?”

Gale doesn’t answer him, his breathing quickens and Bucky’s worried he’s going to start hyperventilating.

“Should call the goddamn MPs on you!” An angry, pained filled voice shouts at them and Bucky snaps his head back to look down at the RAF pilot still on the ground. He’s got one elbow under him and his friend is moving in to assist. Bucky can’t help but grimace as he takes in his face. Blood is pouring from his nose like a faucet, his teeth are painted red and his left eye is already starting to swell. “Or the white coats. Not right in the fucking head that one.”

He gestures at Gale and Bucky feels him stiffen in his hold, breathing still too fast.

Bucky glares down at the man on the ground and growls.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He doesn’t know what happened out here, but he knows Gale. Has to believe he didn’t do this unprovoked.

“He’s not fit!” The other man yells back, stumbling as his friend finally helps him get to his feet.

“Shut your fuckin’ mouth,” Bucky yells back. He shifts his hold on Gale, lets him go just long enough to push him behind himself. “You gotta go through me and the whole bloody 100th if you even think about reporting this.”

His tone is dark, menacing. But this man is threatening Gale. His Gale. His Gale who just beat the shit out of someone when he was supposed to be in fucking bed. His mind is spinning.

“Not many of you left to go through,” the man sneers and spits blood at Bucky’s feet.

Bucky feels Gale shift behind him so he leans back, pressing him closer to the alley wall, silencing him. He needs to get him out of here.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He puts every ounce of venom into his tone, makes it a threat and glares at both men. Then he reaches back until his finger can grasp the lapel of Gale’s uniform and he tugs.

He drags Gale out of the alley and down the street. Drags him passed Benny and Brady and Dougie and Hambone, meeting their wide eyes with a glare and a shake of his head. A look on his face that he hopes says, “don’t follow us and don’t cause any more trouble.”

He drags him for what must be a quarter mile before he changes direction and heads for the abandoned barn right before the tree line. Gale finally becomes an active participant right as they reach the barn. Bucky stumbles as Gale shoves him enough to dislodge the grip he had on the other’s jacket.

“Buck,” Bucky lifts his hands and steps toward his friend, but Gale raises a hand to wave him off and a moment later he’s spinning around and hunched over, vomiting into the grass.

Bucky grimaces and approaches slowly, reaching out to place a hand on Gale’s back. But Gale jerks away from his touch and then retches again.

“Don’t touch me,” Gale grinds out, voice wrecked. Bucky peeks around and his frown deepens as he takes in the bile that left Gale’s body. And nothing but bile. He’d noticed he hadn’t had much of an appetite, but now he’s adding too many things to his list of things to worry about when it comes to his best friend.

After a few minutes, Gale straightens and wipes his sleeve over his mouth, back still to Bucky.

“You gotta talk to me here, Buck.” Bucky begs. “I’m real fuckin’ lost.”

He can see the way Gale’s shoulders are shaking and he wants to reach out and touch, but he’d been asked not to, and he won’t do anything Gale doesn’t want him to.

“C’mon, Buck, please.” Bucky tries again, hands going to his hips to keep himself from reaching out again. “You’re kinda scaring me.”

“I’m fine.” Gale tells him, finally turning around, but not meeting his eyes. Bucky can see that his lip is split, but other than that his face looks fine. A little pale, a little clammy from being sick, but still as beautiful as ever.

Bucky looks down at where Gale’s hands hang at his sides and takes in the ruined knuckles, blood running down some of his fingers.

“You’re clearly not fine.”

“Let it go,” Gale meets his eyes for a moment but is unable to hold the contact. “I said I’m okay.”

“Alright, fine, you’re okay!” Bucky wanted to grip Gale’s shoulders, finally not feeling the need to restrain him, he just wanted to touch him for the sake of touching him. “But I’m not.”

Gale’s blue eyes, still a little wild and not completely clear, snap back to his.

“I’m a little fucking concerned that my sweetheart of a best friend was just beating some schmuck to a pulp in an alley. That ain’t like you, Buck.”

“Maybe it is,” Gale’s jaw sets and the look in his eyes is downright stubborn. “Maybe you just haven’t been paying attention.”

Bucky can’t help but laugh at that.

“Trust me, Buck. I’m always paying attention to you.”

Gale’s blue eyes widen a fraction at his words, and he tilts his head, assessing Bucky. He takes a breath and then another and then another and Bucky realizes he’s doing the breathing exercise the flight surgeon taught them to get themselves steady before a flight.

Bucky can see the tremors wracking his frame and he’s sweating, even though he’s starting to shiver. And Bucky just can’t take it.

“It’s not like you, Buck.” He starts, taking a step closer to Gale so that he’s within arm’s reach. “It’s not. Because you’re the kindest, smartest and downright sweetest guy I know. So, no matter what fucked up message your brain is sending you right now, this wasn’t like you. I don’t know what happened, but you can tell me, and I’ll believe you and no matter what, I ain’t gonna think any less of you.”

Gale’s eyes look brighter, bigger when they look into his, but he closes them and takes one more deep breath and then he nods. The tension, the fight leaves his body and when he opens his eyes back up to look at Bucky, he just looks sad.

“Can I please touch you now?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re breaking my fucking heart.” Bucky breathes out and then he shrugs. “And because I really want to.”

Gale looks at him for a beat and then he shrugs too. But then he nods and Bucky closes the gap immediately. He wraps his arms around Gale’s shoulders and buries one hand in that soft hair, and pulls him against his chest. He breathes easy for the first time since he’d stepped into that alley when Gale’s arms come up and wrap around his waist and a cold nose is turned into his neck.

Bucky can feel he’s still trembling, but he feels him getting steadier, so he just holds on and breathes him in.

“My head was all fucked up before I even ran into them,” Gale mumbles into his neck. “I wasn’t thinking straight and they said some things that made me so angry. And I guess I snapped.”

Bucky scratched his blunt fingernails against Gale’s scalp for a moment.

“What had your head all fucked up, Buck?”

Tension enters the slim frame in his arms again, so he continues to run his fingers through the shorter hairs at the base of his neck.

“I really don’t want to talk about it, Bucky.”

Bucky wants to shake him again, wants to groan and complain. Because it seems like sometimes, Gale keeps so many damn secrets from him. But right now, he got Gale to go from acting like a wild animal to being docile and content in arms, so he chooses not push it. Not right now anyway.

But they can’t stand here all night, so reluctantly, he pulls away. His heart breaks a little when Gale immediately pulls himself back at the slightest indication that Bucky is done with the embrace. As if he’d been imposing by accepting the comfort and affection Bucky had given him freely.

He takes him in again and decides it’s not quite time to go back.

“C’mere,” he puts his arm over both of Gale’s shoulders and pulls him towards the barn. He gets his back against the wall and slides down, pulling the smaller man with. Gale’s pants are already filthy from his brawl so Bucky figures he won’t mind sitting in the dirt for a bit.

“What are we doing?”

Bucky leaves his arm around Gale and smiles a little to himself when the other man leans his head back, pillowing it on his bicep.

“Giving the guys ample to time to leave the pub, walk back and get in bed before we do the same.” Bucky tells him. He lets his hand fall to rest on Gale’s arm, lets his thumb stroke it over the fabric of his shirt. “Figure you didn’t want to play twenty questions or have an audience while I clean up you lip and your hand.”

Gale flexes his right hand and grimaces.

“I can do that myself,” Gale tells him. “But I would rather avoid their questions until morning at least.”

“I know you can,” Bucky jostles him a bit. “But you don’t have to. And you’re not going to, not when I’m around.”

Gale’s quiet for a moment but then he turns his head, still pillowed on Bucky’s arm and smiles at him. Small, but real. The first one Bucky’s seen all night.

“Thanks, John.”

Bucky continues soothing his thumbing along Gale’s arms and lets silence settle for a bit. But his thoughts are still running wild, and he knows he decided not to push, but there’s still something he wants to know.

“Why were you at the pub tonight, Buck?” He can’t help but question. “You said you didn’t want to come. Said you wanted to be alone.”

“I thought I did,” Gale’s voice is still rough, quieter than just moments before. “Turns out I was wrong.”

Bucky thinks about it for a minute but isn’t satisfied.

“So you decided what you really needed to do to get out of your funk was a rowdy pub and all your drunk airmen?”

“No,” Gale shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Can you just talk to me? It matters to me, Buck. You matter to me.” He doesn’t mean to sound angry, doesn’t mean to sound so frustrated and especially hates that he did when Gale tenses and turns his head away from him.

“I told you my head was all tied up,” Gale says, sounding like he doesn’t want to be speaking at all. “I couldn’t read, couldn’t sleep. Hell, I couldn’t even sit still and I just wanted it all to stop.”

Bucky heart squeezes at the pain in his voice.

“Did what happened in that alley make it stop?” He can’t help but ask.

“No,” Gale turns back to look at him. “That made it tip over the edge. Made it worse.”

“Okay,” Bucky makes an encouraging sound and pulls him a little closer, pleased when he comes willingly and leans his weight on Bucky’s side.

“My fucked-up head,” Gale continues. “It untangles when you’re around. I wasn’t going to the pub, I wasn’t going to the men. I was just trying to go to you. Because you make it all better.”

And Bucky just about melts. For the first time in a long time, words won’t come easy to him. He looks down at the Gale, who has his head now pillowed on his shoulder. Gale, who is staring at his bloody hand. Gale who is the most beautiful thing, the best thing to ever come into Bucky’s life. And Bucky feels more confident in this moment than any other that his feelings aren’t one-sided. That this is going to be his past, his present and his future. And he feels so damn proud that he can be Gale’s safe place.

“Sorry,” Gale mutters, guilt in his tone, and Bucky realizes that he just gave the most insecure, shy man silence as a response to his sweet words.

He takes a bit of a risk and places his mouth to the top of Gale’s head in the imitation of a kiss. He breathes in the scent of him and closes his eyes.

“Don’t you apologize for that, sweetheart.” Gale lets out an audible breath at the endearment. “You do the same thing for me. Why do you think I never want to let you out of my site these days?”

“These days?”

“Hush, you,” Bucky squeezes him, though fair. He hasn’t really let Gale out of his site willingly since flight school. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane around here. I feel the same way.”

Gale doesn’t say anything in return, but he settles more firmly into Bucky’s side and just relaxes.

“You know, you could’ve just asked me to stay with you tonight.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You could’ve, I would’ve.” But Bucky gets it. Hates it, but gets it.

“I know, John.”

They sit in silence for a long while, enjoying the other’s presence, enjoying the closeness. To Bucky’s surprise, it’s Gale that breaks the silence.

“Think he’ll report me?”

Bucky shakes his head, confident.

“Nah. His word against ours and I’m a helluva liar.”

“All they gotta do is take one look at his face and my hands and words ain’t gonna matter one bit. It’d be a court martial for me and I’d deserve it.”

“Fuck that,” Bucky immediately tells him. “They aren’t gonna court martial the best pilot the Air Force has in the middle of a goddamn war for fighting.”

Gale doesn’t say anything to disagree.

“And you don’t deserve that,” Bucky continues. He lets his lips brush Gale’s hair again, no imitation this time, just a kiss. “Only thing you deserve is some peace and a long goddamn life, Gale.”

“John,” Gale breathes out. He brings his hand up and latches onto the front of Bucky’s uniform shirt. Knuckles splitting open again as he grasps the fabric. “I don’t deserve you.”

“That ain’t about deserving,” Bucky tells him matter of fact. “You and me, Buck? That’s a given. Set in stone. Inevitable.”

And as Gale turns his face into Bucky’s neck to hide for a bit, Bucky thinks of something else that’s inevitable.

I’m gonna kiss him.

[ooctlt]

I really like this blog most of the time, but sometimes you take reasonable earnest asks that are trying to be thoughtful, and are such a dick about it.

Like if it's the characters being dicks, fine. But you could say something in the tags or post to indicate you're not just viciously mocking someone for trying to engage.

I still haven't submitted an ask since seeing your response that led to comments along the lines of "anon should go die in a hole" for asking, pretty reasonably, why harrow would want to stay with people she didn't seem to like or want to be around or interact with.

(i know, because she does like them and does want them around but doesn't know how to show it) but it's an ASK blog. How do we hear that from her unless someone ASKS

i understand it might be surprising and a bit hurtful to see an ask answered with the characters being mean/flippant, and for that i do apologize that it wasnt made clear that it would be a common thing in this blog. id like to issue the disclaimer: there is always the possibility that the characters here will not take your question well. they might answer rudely, and instigating behavior is not only encouraged but expected on both ends. this does not reflect my personal opinions as the artist; there are over 250 asks even after i constantly compile duplicates, and i will answer the asks that i personally like.

i will assume you are referencing the two most recent posts where gideon acts rudely and i repost an old panel: for the former i thought anon was really sweet for being so heartfelt and encouraging, but gideon isnt the kind of person who needs to be told shes brave for doing that by a stranger. it was a simple act of survival. and harrow is still very much in the passive deprogramming phase. the latter response was meant to kickstart (spoilers) what i will call the "dicks last resort" arc, where i clean out the inbox and share more simple, low effort, but potentially rude responses*. this is because i have roughly drawn almost daily for 87 days straight, and would like to recuperate without being burnt out because i love this blog and i love art.

this leads me to my next point: some of these answers will be curt and short and rude, because they are easy to draw. if i only prioritized the "good" asks or to make certain ask responses kinder, or longer, it wouldnt be a daily blog. it would be a monthly blog where 5 asks get answered among 100s. i didnt anticipate people asking about harrows piercings, and i considered shutting it down by just having harrow say she likes them etc. but i did want to give more insight into harrows character even if she wouldnt say so herself, and that took roughly 3 full unemployed nights. if i treated every ask in good faith the same way i wouldnt have time for anything else, because they take more effort and have to be seriously considered for the future. i can retcon their favorite ice cream or play off griddlehark fighting - it takes more to keep track of a narrative about people talking Around their issues

* by rude responses i mean "this will affect the 679ers negatively, much like making your sim 🧑‍🤝‍🧑➖➖ someone" there are a few asks planned to hurt in the same way one drafts a bad end in a visual novel, and this type of interaction is encouraged. of course if you dont want them to get worse dont send asks telling gideon she should flirt with MILFs (you cant send this ask now i already said it), but i encourage the banter.

TL;DR this is the "characters think you are weird for personal questions" blog. i am sorry i didnt warn of the ask-response banter, because i also enjoy drawing these characters being dicks. i do like when aggravation and conflict leads to character development. "how do we get earnest answers unless someone asks" sometimes you will never explicitly get that from them, and thats what the dead ends are for: to let you know to try something else and read between the lines

[utilitycaster]

Hi there, I saw in one of your tags recently that "if you think the raven queen was being unfair, I'm not really interested in your opinions." I was wondering if you could talk a little more about that because I'll be honest, Vax isn't my favorite character but I've seen all of C1 and I really don't get why some people HATE the RQ, call her unfair, manipulative and pretty plainly say this moon conflict is mostly her fault because she took Vax and through a Domino effect Ludinus is releasing Predathos. Also, I enjoy your theories and analysis for CR so much you got me listening to Midst, so thank you.

Hi anon,

Great question! This is going to be a very long post, with a relatively short initial answer, because there is both the literal misinterpretation that indicates this is not someone with strong analytical skills nor knowledge of canon, and a number of potential mindsets that lead to this manner of thinking in the first place, none of which I respect. You happen to have sort of hit upon the foundational elements of my whole deal re: CR meta, so, buckle in.

The first part is simple: Vex died because Percy triggered a trap before she'd been healed up. We've seen this sort of trap elsewhere in non-divine contexts (Folding Halls of Halas); it's just a form of trap. A particularly nasty one, but this is for a very powerful relic she doesn't want falling into the wrong hands, and, moreover, the party could have likely disabled it either through rogue skills or magic had Percy waited. Vax, then, as the third part of the resurrection ritual, told the Raven Queen to take him instead of Vex. The Raven Queen did precisely as he asked. He did not need to offer this (Scanlan was going to make an offering, the other parts of the ritual had gone well, it was Vex's first death so the DC was low, and Vax could have made any number of other, less dramatic offers), and he did so with the understanding that he would die in lieu of Vex, right then and there. He did not. I think that's the only case, actually, where the Raven Queen was not 100% upfront with her intentions before Vax accepted something; but he offered it voluntarily. Vax was a person who formed extremely intense connections, to the point where it was perhaps unhealthy, and did not believe life without his sister was worth living, and was willing to sacrifice himself to a god.

Everything after that was extremely straightforward. Vax communed with the Raven Queen, who spoke very directly with him in his vision in the Raven's Crest. She was extremely clear when she met with him following his disintegration: he was given the option to refuse her offer, and he took it instead. It is not manipulative to give someone a difficult decision, and if a character you like makes a choice you don't like, it is not automatically the result of manipulation.

As for the moon conflict being her fault…that is, to put it bluntly, unhinged, and what's more, ironic given that that's the manipulative argument. Ludinus tried to commune with Ruidus using a random crystalline artifact beneath Molaesmyr, centuries before Vax was born. He was going to do this regardless. If he couldn't get Vax, he'd get some other sliver of divinity, and what's more, it's been all but stated that Vax is not actually supposed to be leaving the Shadowfell to protect Keyleth, and is disobeying the Raven Queen directly (and it's been stated that this isn't necessarily helpful for Keyleth, who is trying to grieve and move on). So: Vax made his choices with the knowledge of what they entailed, is trying to bend if not break the conditions to which he agreed with full knowledge in a way that probably isn't healthy for him or Keyleth, and it's bananas to be like "wow look at how the Raven Queen made Ludinus try to free Predathos." Like. Even if she had tricked Vax, which she didn't, Ludinus literally could have just kept on his racist imperialistic longevitymaxxing beat indefinitely and left the moon well enough alone. The domino meme is a meme. I mean, while we're at it, couldn't we trace it back to Vecna instead, for killing Vax with Disintegrate in the first place, since had he not done so, Vax would have either survived that fight or would have been resurrected normally? Or perhaps it's Percy for triggering that trap. Or the Chroma Conclave for being the reason why Vox Machina was seeking the Deathwalker's Ward in the first place…but that only happened because Allura and Kima didn't kill Thordak but rather sealed him, and because a priestess of Melora cursed Raishan so that she had reason to ally with Thordak. We can go on indefinitely; the point is, to assign blame specifically to the Raven Queen when Ludinus literally did not have to do a goddamn thing with the moon is a fucking stupid take.

Below the cut, I talk root causes behind why people might decide the Raven Queen was unfair and come up with the above nonsensical argument to support that, since I don't think people say stupid things just to be stupid.

I think one root cause for this mentality of this is that the person in question wishes Vax hadn't died and is looking for someone to blame because they don't want to blame Matt Mercer and Liam O'Brien, even though yeah, that's who to blame. The thing is, as we learned in Campaign 2, character death is quite literally on the table. Had Vax not made his bargain, either in episode 1x103 or his original one during Vex's resurrection? He might have simply remained dead. Had he not given his life for Vex's, he was pursuing paladin anyway with the Everlight, and we don't know what she'd have required of him. But more importantly, for all people like to bring up a PC-centric perspective (which, in Actual Play, is inevitable) Vox Machina's frequent use of resurrection spells was in fact a massive privilege most people in Exandria do not have. And, unsurprisingly for a table whose DM made up rules specifically to make resurrection more difficult, the Critical Role cast is open to a story where death exists. I do not think it's an accident that resurrection has been made even harder in the subsequent campaigns. I also happen to think that Campaign 1 is a far richer and better story with Vax's death, given the other events that occurred. Had Vax not been the sort of person who would offer his life for a god to take in exchange for his sister? Sure, he'd possibly have lived to the end. But he was, and that's the character those people who wish he were still alive loved. If he wasn't that person, they wouldn't have liked him in the same way.

D&D is fundamentally about exceptional characters becoming more powerful, and will be focused on those characters. I do not think D&D supports a story about characters who reject all power. They can give up political power (the Mighty Nein, for the most part, do this - certainly more so than Vox Machina, and Bells Hells is yet to be seen) but they will progress in levels, which is power. Even if unwanted, it is power, because most people in the world are commoners with 5 HP and 10 in all their stats. With that said, a lot of people desperately want a subversion of this power narrative. Vax is, I think, the closest we get. In D&D you are not going to get a player character who finishes a campaign and remains Just Some Guy. But you can have someone like Vax, who doesn't have any interest in power (compare to Vex, who very much is about power and who gets a much happier ending) who nonetheless ends up on the Tal'Dorei Council and the favored of a god…and yet, in the end, his equally powerful friends still can do nothing to save him. I think a Power Bad story is overly simplistic, but "there are limits to power, and ultimately none of us have complete control" is not. I think Vax's death gives the story of Vox Machina a finality and heft that it would lack otherwise.

A second possible cause is the "What if the gods are BAD" argument. I'm going to be totally honest: I did not see this in the fandom until Campaign 3, and honestly, not until EXU Calamity in any widespread sense, which does lead me to believe that most people did not come up with it as a reasonable idea on their own until characters started saying it, because it is so plainly in conflict with the themes of Campaigns 1 and 2 that to make this argument would be obvious projection. Do I think a nuanced view of the gods as flawed beings, rather than perfection, is warranted? Absolutely. Mortals, too, are flawed, and we don't kill them all for it. I think Vax's story makes them uncomfortable because it makes it clear divine favor is not, as Ludinus Da'leth tries to argue, the gods just bestowing and withholding their gifts arbitrarily, but rather that divine favor comes with a divine responsibility as well. Clerics and paladins do not study the way wizards do; but they must live lives in service, whereas a wizard can shut the book at the end of the day and do whatever. Clerics and paladins have powers that can be taken away; a wizard does not. That's the fundamental concept behind the Age of Arcanum - wizards trying to get around the fundamental rules of this world! Vax's paladin powers came at a price. His options are guided, but also limited, by the oath he took. He is far more fettered than a wizard, in the end, and I think that fucks with the narrative of the gods cruelly withholding their gifts from all but a select few, so they instead make their gifts into manipulative punishments…while still, contradictorily, arguing that characters such as Laudna or Ashton or Imogen were denied the mercy of the gods. Now, setting aside the obvious, that these characters have their backstories because Marisha and Taliesin and Laura decided they would because this is a story, and one in which someone had a perfect life would be boring and so the gods didn't intervene with Laudna because Marisha Ray wanted to play a Sun Tree corpse (see next section), it really is fascinating to see how people who hate the Raven Queen so neatly align with Ludinus. It's fine for sorcerers to have inborn powers, apparently, and Ludinus actually has himself tried to ape druidic magic; it's not about power, it's just about that power source. Honestly, they're not even above the gods as a power source - Ludinus used the crystal beneath Molaesmyr seemingly unaware if it were of the Archheart, and he's demonstrably using Vax, and everyone loves a resurrection from the gods, but heaven forbid you pay someone for the work you feel yourself entitled to. (Entitlement: this will also be a theme throughout the rant portion of this post.)

As a brief subsection to this: the idea that bad things happen to good people because the other side of that coin is free will is an ancient theological and philosophical discussion, and one we are obviously not going to solve here, though it is a little depressing I have had multiple rewarding conversations on this topic, thanks to an academically rigorous religious education, starting from the tender age of 9, and a lot of adults on Tumblr seemingly can't engage on the level of my third-grade classmates. I think, however, it tells a truth that fits in well with the wizard (and entitled fan) desire to control everything. People are terrified of random forces. Cancer, for example, is a matter of probability. There are things that can increase your chances of developing cancer, to be sure, but the simile I used when I was taught about radiation-induced cancers was that of lottery tickets: if you buy more, you have a better chance; but sometimes someone who bought a single ticket "wins" and someone who bought a ticket weekly never does. By believing the gods of Exandria are on trial for not intervening with every little hardship or for not taking Vax precisely as he intended, they reveal a profound terror of random chance and of the free will of people who are not them. Which is very funny when you consider we're watching Actual Play, where random chance is a deliberately induced element. I think the takeaway of all of this is "I think some of you guys are really mad this is a D&D game." But let's continue.

The third, and honestly most likely cause, is honestly sort of a continuation of the first but not centered around Vax so much as just a general, in my opinion deeply childish discomfort of any sort of tragedy or unhappiness in fiction. I've noticed this a lot lately, and I am not a cultural critic and don't have a high enough level view to pretend to be one, but as others have noted a lot of people seem affronted when whatever show they are currently watching does not meet their specific standards of "comfort media" or "hopepunk." It's a self-infantilization I don't care for, and it's certainly not limited to the CR fandom (see: any grown-ass adult passionately defending a choice to only watch children's cartoons and only read YA) or even fandom at all (see: the baffling popularity of the Mr. Rogers "look for the helpers" line which was intended for anxious young children, not for adults who can and should be the helpers). It really came into focus for me with CR when people referred to both EXU Calamity and to Candela Obscura's Circle of Needle and Thread as specifically "hopeless." They are, to me, deeply hopeful series. They are sad, and tragic, and many characters do not get a happy ending, but they are ultimately about how some people will endure, and will live on and find meaning after great loss. Calamity explicitly states that because of the actions of the heroes, while devastation will occur, total annihilation is mitigated. It's like the adage of how courage only means something in the face of fear; hope only means something in the face of darkness. Happy and fluffy tales are not hopeful; they are merely not things that require you to have hope. The root word of catharsis is that of cleansing and purgation and it originally related to physical excretion - cathartic stories are about getting those complicated and ugly emotions and fears out and feeling better for it by briefly feeling, perhaps, worse! Now, again, this has worsened with Vax's story with time. Shortly after Campaign 1, it was very common to see stories where Vex or Keyleth were utterly distraught, indefinitely, but those at least were engaging with grief, even if in a very shallow and unproductive way. But this has morphed into this idea that the fact that a work of fiction might make you even feel sadness makes it bad, and wrong, and hopeless, and the machinations of a cruel and heartless god. Which brings me back to the entitlement narrative: it's really as simple as "the story didn't give me what I wanted (whether that was a happy ending for Vax, or for Keyleth, or just a lack of sadness generally, or a narrative about the gods that validates my personal beliefs, or a way to justify Ludinus's actions), so it is bad." Which again is about being in control of the narrative, which again, in D&D, is simply not something anyone can claim. Why are these people here watching a D&D game? I don't know.

So that's really it: on a basic level, if you think the Raven Queen is unfair, you are profoundly ignorant of canon, so I'm already going to have to fact check anything you cite (if you cite at all), but there's a much deeper refusal to meet stories where they are and expand one's own comfort zone at play, and that means any analysis will never consider the possibility that your pre-existing beliefs were wrong (absolutely crucial in meta). You will always play it too safe and be uninspired and reactionary because the alternative is uncertainty and fear. I think a refusal to embrace tragedy in fiction is itself a profound tragedy; that is someone who is terrified to believe that life goes on.

[thealtoduck]

NXDE

Peter Parker x Male Black Cat!Reader

Warnings: Reader has a leaked sex tape with his ex, reader’s nudes have been leaked, bullying, crappy guys, crying, mentions of wanting to die, feelings of shame, angst.

Peter Parker x Male Black Cat!Reader: Masterlist

Summary: Peter finds out why you have the reputation as ”the school slut”.

———

Peter was changing back to his normal clothes after P.E class. As he finished changing he saw that a couple of guys were grouped up watching something on one’s phone. ”Yo, Parker, you know Y/n Hardy, Right?” One of the asked.

”Yeah, why?” Peter asked the guy just said ”You gotta see this” and waved Peter over. Peter curiously walked over to see what the guys were looking at. He looked on the screen where he saw a video of Y/n.

Y/n was laying fully naked on his back in bed, legs lifted as the guy filming was plowing in and out of him with his cock. Peter heard Y/n’s moans from the video playing in front of him. He then watched as Y/n came all over himself and the unknown camera man unloaded deep in Y/n.

He looked at the guys and asked shocked ”How did you get that video?”. The guys shrugged and one said ”It’s all been circulating for a few months, i think i heard it came from some chat room but i’m not sure”.

”Wait? All? There’s more?” Peter asked. ”Yeah, there’s some videos and pictures, i think” the guy said. ”Does Y/n know?” Peter questioned. ”I don’t know, maybe?” the guy said. Peter the got all his stuff and left the locker room. He decided to try to find Y/n after school to talk to him about it.

He saw Y/n at his locker and walked up to him, ”Hey Y/n” Peter said. ”Hey” you answered casually. ”So i wanted to talk to you about something important, wanna come to my place?” Peter suggested. ”Yeah sure” you answered.

The two of then made your way to Peter’s apartment, May wasn’t home so you had it to yourself. You and Peter sat down on the couch in the living room and you asked him ”So what did you wanna talk about?”.

”Well… i was in the changing rooms and a couple of guys were watching a video… of you and another guy… well…” Peter tried to break it to you. He didn’t even need to finish he could tell you knew what he was talking about. You sat in silence for a short while.

You just uttered a simple ”Oh… Yeah”. ”I really know how to pick them, right?” You said uncomfortably with a small dry laugh staring down at the ground. ”Well it’s not your fault, the guys you dated were shitheads who would leak that kind of stuff” Peter stated.

You let out another dry laugh and explained ”It started with just fun videos and pictures where i happened to not be wearing a shirt, then some of them started bringing out there phone while i was changing, then when we were having sex” and Peter noticed your voice tremble.

”Then one started sharing those pictures and videos to his friends and the other ones also did sooner or later” you said. ”Then they started spreading around the school and i became the school’s slut, man-whore, fuckboy…” you said and Peter noticed you had started tearing up.

”And when i found out i wanted to fucking die, cause everyone could see videos of me… and i- and i-” you started but broke down in tears. Peter instinctivley threw his arms around you and pulled you closer as you cried. The two of you sat in silence and Peter just let you cry it out.

You then pulled away slowly and looked at Peter with teary eyes. ”Are you ashamed of me?” you asked. Peter took one of your hands and said ”Never” he then planted a small kiss on your knuckle, giving you small smile.

”Can we watch a movie?” you then asked Peter. ”Which ever one you want?” he answered. ”I wanna watch ”Return of the Jedi” so i can laugh when Leia kills Jabba the hutt” you said casually. ”Okay, i’ll get the dvd” Peter said and got off the couch.

[vioartemis]

Mine (part 2)

(Wednesday Addams x fem! reader)

Summary: Your girlfriend's stalker seems to know a lot about your breakup with Enid... Part 1 || Part 2 Warnings: none a/n: I struggle writing lately, but I'll try to motivate myself more because I have so many ideas 😭 (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

A few months after you started dating Wednesday, you discovered your girlfriend had a stalker. Neither of you had an idea of who it could be, but one thing was clear: this person was up to no good.

The raven had already been threatened multiple times by her stalker but didn't pay any attention to it, thinking it was just a prank. It was only when her stalker started threatening to hurt you that she started to be worried.

You were her whole life, her reason to live. She couldn't lose you; she wouldn't know what to do without you. Now that she had you, she was ready to do everything in her power to make sure you would remain hers. Forever.

Her only problem was she didn't know who the stalker was. Usually, she would have just investigated to figure it out, but she couldn't bring you with her, knowing it might be dangerous. She also couldn't let you alone while she was away, that would give the stalker a good opportunity to hurt you.

In this moment, she almost regretted you had no friends anymore. Almost. She still believed she was all you needed.

When she had to leave you, even for a short amount of time, she would ask Thing to stay and keep an eye on you, to make sure you were safe.

What she didn't know was that the stalker -whoever it was- had no intention to harm you. Not physically at least. Of course not. Even if you were to die, the pain caused to Wednesday wouldn't be enough. She had to suffer. And they had found the perfect way to do so.

One day when Weems had called Wednesday in her office, you received a text from an unknown number.

'Your girlfriend is a toxic, manipulative liar. Here are the 'proofs' of Enid cheating on you. It's Wednesday who edited the pictures and sent them to you.'

You couldn't believe your eyes. Even with the screenshots sent by the stalker -because it was obviously them- you couldn't believe it. You didn't want to.

You decided to wait until your girlfriend got back from Weems' office and confront her.

"I'm back my love, did something happen while I was gone?" she asked right away, as per usual, the second she stepped into the room

"Actually... yes, something happened. I uh... I received a text, probably from the stalker"

Wednesday snapped her head at you the moment she heard the 'yes', blinking.

"What? Show me."

You purposefully held the phone away from her.

"Answer me first; were you the one who sent me the pictures of Enid 'cheating on me'?" you asked as calmly as you could

She certainly was taken aback by your sudden question, and it was clear she was thinking of the best answer to give you.

She could lie to you, tell you she didn’t do anything. But if you had real evidence, you would hate her if she lied. More than you would hate her if you knew what she’d done.

She was going to have to tell you the truth, it was the best thing to do to make sure she wouldn’t lose you.

"Yes. It was me."

You felt your heart sink at her words. You would've never thought she would do something like that.

"... Why?"

"It was for your own good, Y/n, I-"

"For my own good? You hurt me for my own good?" you cut her off, your anger building up "You ruined a perfectly good and healthy relationship that made me happy!"

"She wouldn't have made you happy a long time. You were not meant to be. I know I am the one for you. Aren't you more happy with me, cara mia?"

She spoke calmy and took your hand in hers softly. This simple touch was almost enough to calm you down.

"I am. But this... this is not healthy. Everything is based on a lie..."

"I did it for you. For us."

"No. No. You did it for you."

The anger was back, and made you snatch your hand away from hers before continuing.

"It was never about me. You just couldn't bear to see me with someone else. You had to have me all for yourself, didn't you? No matter how that would hurt me."

"No, that is not-"

"It is. It's exactly what it is. You're just selfish, Wednesday. Did you ever even considered the fact that I might not develop feelings for you? That you might have ruined my life?"

She did not consider it, not even once. She was sure you would love her because you were meant to be, weren't you? She could feel it. She couldn't explain it, but she knew you were made for her and vice versa.

She believed you were her soulmate, but she never realized she might not be yours. That would be cruel. And not how she liked it.

"Y/n-"

"No." you raised your hand and grabbed your bag "I'm going to my dorm. Don't follow me."

You didn't let her say anything else and stormed out of her room. You were angry and felt betrayed. You just wanted to be alone.

Wednesday watched you leave, her stomach twisted uncomfortably. She wanted to follow you, to call you back, to do anything to make sure she wasn't losing you. But you told her not to, and it would upset you more if she did.

She couldn't lose you. Not now, not after everything she'd done. You loved her, she knew it. Yet, she couldn't help but feel nervous. What if you went to Enid? What if she still loved you and tried to get you back?

She didn't have news of you for the next two days. You were doing your best to avoid her, and she didn't like it. It was torture -and not the good kind.

It was torture for you too, as much as you hated to admit it. You missed her so much. It was almost concerning how fast she got you addicted to her. You wanted to come back to her, hug her, kiss her... But you were mad she lied to you. And you wanted her to understand that.

But again, you missed her. So so much. You had trouble sleeping at night without her, and during the day you just missed her sarcastic remarks, the feeling of her hand in yours, the way she looks at you like you're the eighth wonder of the world.

You just couldn't stay away from her any longer.

You barged in her dorm after classes that day and grabbed her face to kiss her, not even letting her the time to understand what was happening.

She was taken aback by your sudden arrival after three days without even looking at her, but that meant you weren't leaving her, and that was the most important to her.

She held you close, hands on your waist, while she kissed you back. She'd missed that as much as you did.

After a moment, you pulled away.

"I'm still mad at you. But I just can't seem to be without you..."

"Cara mia-"

"No, let me talk, please"

Your girlfriend looked at you and nodded, a bit nervous about what you were about to say next.

"No more lies, and no more things like that, okay?"

"Of course, mi amor. I promise you I will be fully transparent now."

You smile at her words.

"Okay, I believe you. I love you Wednesday"

She nodded at your answer. She was relieved that you believed her, that you still loved her.

If she was determined to discover who her stalker was before, now she was ready to do everything in her power to figure it out. Whoever it was, they tried to take you away from her. And that she would not forgive.

[Previous part]

[ronearoundblindly]

Feel free to ignore this… but any further (descriptive) thots on what the first time Ari calling reader Mrs Levinson would be like?!

I just can’t get the thot of tender love making out of my brain after reading the 3+1!

Please no pressure at all! Just wanted to let you know how much this Ari lives rent free in my brain 😵‍💫💙

Ari Levinson x bestfriend!Reader (now wife) from Bedrock and Blueprints series

woah. so. good lawd, i got all up in my own feels for a while and shrank my world down to just reader and this guy:

An expansion of the the last part of this. Warning for sexy times in the most loving way. MINORS DNI. WC 1.3k

A/N: holy sh*t. don't @ me if you hate this and hate terrible puns because 🙈 idk what happened...

Your relationship keeps evolving.

You started as distant acquaintances, sharing a friend but not much else. Soon, though, you and Ari found common ground and mutual respect. Slowly, the two of you learned more about each other and grew comfortable, playfully jabbing at each other's bad habits and blind spots.

You only ever wanted the best for one another.

It took a long time--many people would say too long--to WANT one another, and old habits die hard.

The strangest part of your wedding day is how easy it is to fall into the 'friend' pattern again. You're executing a planned day, hosting guests in your home, coordinating care of your baby. Ari's helping. He always does.

The ceremony is short and sweet, the party after a simple barbecue. It hardly feels...special.

On the other side of the lawn, Ari shows a few of your coworkers Rachel's favorite face he makes, and your daughter howls in joy, grabbing at Daddy from her perch your cubicle-mate's arms.

They're too far away to hear, but you can read Ari's body language pretty well after a decade.

What's wrong, honey? You love looking out at a crowd.

See? See all these people? They're here for you. For us. For...

Ari's eyes meet yours, his bottle of beer becoming an anchor in his outstretched hand. He beams.

...mommy.

You give a tiny little wave just as he gets ambushed by a few more guests cooing over Rachel. Ari is tall enough that you can see his gaze never leaves you, even when he's surrounded, even when he mutters an answer to a question, even as he pats shoulders and backs until he's out of the throng.

His radiant smile washes over you like the warm breeze on this perfect day. His feet land in time with thuds of Boyd and Dimitri battling it out on the cornhole boards, and the women flanking you twitter appreciative giggles as if putting voice to your heart's fluttering.

Ari is, well, damn fine to look at.

"Hey," he breathes heavily once making his way to you. "You wanna--" he gestures behind you to the house "--for a sec?"

"Oh, sure." You scramble to think what more could be missing from outside. Are the drinks running low? Is the grill ready for the next round of food? Does Rachel need a toy or maybe a hat?

He leads the way to open the door for you, and that's when you notice Ari's starting to sweat through the t-shirt he changed into after the ceremony. He's never been a fan of the penguin suits. As he puts it, "they rent them for a reason. Nobody wants to own one of these."

Whether for the entertainment or just to cool himself off, you assume Ari's heading for the kitchen and turn accordingly before an arm snaking around your waist hauls you backward.

"Not so fast, gorgeous," he snips in your ear, a familiar playfulness in the words warming down your spine.

"What are you doing, Ari?" you laugh, letting him man-handle you down the hall to the bedroom.

He touches you down gently beside the door and shuts it behind him quietly. Those pearly white teeth and bright blue eyes keep shining.

"Just taking a minute," he whispers, stepping closer, dragging his finger around your ear to move a bit of stray hair, "just for us."

His focus holds yours for a long time. The rough pad of his thumb traces the height of your cheekbone. A sheen of perspiration glistens on his temple. His flush glows pink even on the skin between beard hairs. Ari's tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip.

Mixed with the muffled sound of your party outside, it's hard to tell his breathing has changed, but when your own eyes stop roaming the rest of his face, you see welling tears.

"Sorry, I don't know why..." Ari's cracking voice trails off. He sniffs and plants his hands against your hips to steady himself.

It makes your head spin.

"Sorry I took so lo--" but you don't let him get the words out.

Friends don't let friends cry over wasted time, no, because none of it was wasted. Learning about each other is necessary. Respecting one another is crucial. Laughing at the little things and the stupid things is essential. Everything happened just as it should.

You pour your approval into the kiss, tossing your arms around his neck and climbing him like the steadfast, rooted tree he's become, the centerpiece he is in the forest of your life, and Ari weathers the assault with gusto.

He sways with that changing wind of desire to lay you on the bed, shading you with his broad body and dangling hair, cocooning you both in your own little world, hot and heavy and light as a feather.

"I love you," he says as his wide palm explores up your skirt. "I love you," he says as two fingers move your panties out of the way. "I love you," he says as he discovers just how long you've been waiting for this touch.

"I love you," you repeat, undoing the fastening of his shorts. "I love you," you repeat, pushing them to the ground. "I love you," you repeat, taking his length in your hand.

"Please, Ari."

He hisses in tortured excitement. "Yeah?" In a flurry of fabrics, he's yanking your skirt around, tucking your leg up high over his waist as he climbs on the bed, too. "You want me, gorgeous?"

You like how much he leans into your new nickname; he's tried to ween himself off calling you 'kid' now that Rachel exists.

"Need you." Your words sound whiny and desperate because they are. "Need my husband."

The groan Ari lets out would wake the neighbors. Thank g-d there's a party outside...

He's so careful entering you, giving you time to stretch for him, giving him time to listen to every sated breath you both take. He pulls down the zipper at your side and peels your dress back, further exposing you. He loves how sensitive your nipples are since having a baby, but he also knows how much you hate these bras. He takes a moment to unhook you and fling that shit across the room, relishing your happy sigh of freedom.

"There's my wife," he chokes out, propped on his hands above you, surveying the bare beauty before him. His shirt is loose and wrinkled from where you've been gripping it for dear life. The shimmer of tears is back in his eyes--just for a second--until you bring him down to kiss again.

Once fully sheathed inside you, Ari sets a rhythm to mirror your whole relationship: slow and playful. He works to make you laugh, to make you fight him just a little bit because he's being silly. He flicks at your nipples and mouths at your shoulder. He only has one care in the whole world and for all time until--

Ari growls into your neck when there's a knock at the door.

"Just took the last bottle out of the fridge for Rachel, dearie. Thought you should know," Momma Joe's sweet old voice vibrates through, but you hear her footsteps fade quickly.

"'Spose that means I need to pump..." You toss your arms out in defeated frustration.

"Nah-uh," Ari shoots back, gathering you into a firm hold, pressing himself that much deeper inside you. He drapes that bubble of attention over you again, intent and adoring. "Right now? Right now you're mine, Misses Levinson."

He rolls his hips back, cock inching out of you, covered in your slippery arousal.

"And I need to pump--" he thrusts forward, the heft of him making your head loll back on the sheets "--again...and again...and again..."

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @royalwriteroftheuniverse @jamneuromain

[daemonwritesstuff]

AEGON II & HIS BELOVED AELLARA TARGARYEN

A/N: this is yet another trade with my best bud @sugutoad !! I’m so happy to do yet another one of these and I hope I did this one with justice (I think I’m just gonna go dig up a hole and die in there once this is posted 🧍) but I will forever be grateful to do so many matchups with ya 😭❤️ here ya go! and yes this is aegon x anna’s OC!

It was a peaceful evening for the two couples Aegon and Aellara, they spend their nights together in each other rooms or someone deep into the night with no one around, it was just them together in the world.

 Aellara and Aegon’s relationship was a secret, no one knew about them only his family did, including his sister-wife Helaena, she understood their situation and aware of how in love they were, she wouldn’t interfere with them…

One night where Aellara and Aegon usually met up frequently, this time they were in his own chambers… When Aegon and Aellara are in each others arms she decides to ask a question to her beloved and it was a very simple question that no one should really be upset about, she asked the boy “Are we ever gonna be together?” Aegon got out of her arms in confusion, why was she asking such a question?

“Of course we are…” Aegon assured her but it really wouldn’t last long and the tension started getting more stronger, Aellara was losing her hope… her thoughts kept bugging her, telling herself that maybe this love was not meant to be.

She had said it out loud… not knowing that Aegon was still with her, he got up and started yelling at her… telling her that they will be together but Aellara is sick of hearing the same thing, if Aegon really loves her and wants her then wouldn’t he do something about this marriage he was in and finally be with her?

“I… I don’t think this was meant to be…” she said as she let out her sobs, her pain, everything single horrible thing she has ever thought of, she let all of it out during this breakdown, before Aegon could even say a word she unstably got up, lifted her dress and started running away sobbing, Aegon’s soul was screaming at him to tell his guards to go after her, to stop her, but the words… nothing could come out of his mouth as his heart kept putting pressure on him and he started crying.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

It’s been a few days since he was last spoken to Aellara, she has not spoken face to face with him recently and he began to grow anxious, waiting for her to come back to him so he can be in the comfort of her arms, the real place he called “home”.

He decided to use his sword and start attacking a wooden statue (meant for using swords) to let out his anger, Criston just happened to be waking by and stopped by and asked Aegon if he wanted to duel with him, and without a doubt he did… this lasted for a few hours until Aegon has gotten tired and decided to sit down.

Aegon told Criston how he can make it up to his beloved, Aellara… how he can fix things with her once again, it took Criston a few moments to figure out something and tell him, he told him that he can invite her somewhere she wants to go, no questions or anything, just to take her. He also added that he can divorce Helaena somehow and try to plead to his mother to let him marry Aellara.

Aegon who listened to Cristons words decided to do exactly what he said, he had got the cooks to pack him and his mistress a meal, one of his liking and of her liking so he can make it up to her, after the meals have been cooked and brought to him Aegon bumps into Aellara and tells her to come with him and he has a surprise, she was a little bit suspicious of what he was doing but never declined, just giving short answers like “Ok”.

He wanted to take her dragon to go and eat but Aellara took a liking to his dragon and insisted that she would like to go on his dragon, he could never decline anything his beloved wanted, so he decided to take her on Sunfyre and fly off to the destination he planned to take her.

Once they arrive they got to a garden that they both enjoyed going to here and there for dates, it was also the same garden he also took her to on his first date with her. They start talking like they normally do and after some time after talking there’s a silence, but Aellara decides to break that silence and lean over to kiss him, and then Aegon gives her a few pecks back and they both smile sweetly to each other.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

After their pleasant little picnic they enjoyed Aegon takes her to go walk up a hill, enjoying the view of the sunset, he tells her “Do you ever wanna just run away?” Aellara giggles at his silly question and jokes back with him, causing him to start joking back with her and telling her (terrible) jokes that make her crack up.

After they stop laughing at some point Aellara decided to tell him something that she needed to tell him (before the argument never happened) but she was nervous to, after getting him to listen to her she decided to tell him that she is with a child…

His smile fell, but after a few seconds his smile came back and he picked her up and started spinning her around in joy and starts celebrating a little that he’s gonna have a child with her! But he sooner realizes that the child might be a bastard and is worried about how she’ll react, but Aellara reassures him that she doesn’t care as long has their child has their father with them in their life.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

After Aegon heads back he immediately tries to talk with his parents and his grandfather, Otto Hightower. Aegon immediately tells them that he wants a divorce with Helaena and to let him marry Aellara, she was also of his blood too and it would strengthen more of the bond more.

Viserys refuses this at first because of their traditions and tells him that he shouldn’t try to do that, to keep the tradition going and he focuses on his legos after that 💀. On the other hand with Alicent and Otto also persist and they start bringing up the history of the Dawn’s Empire between House Dayne and House Targaryen (which was kind of stupid to compare that to…)

But after some time, Viserys will allow him to marry Aellara and get divorced with Helaena (much to his sisters joy, she can finally be free from being queen and go back to focusing more on her insects).

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

After some months, Aellara and Aegon are officially married! They got married in the way of Old Valyria since it would strengthen them more through soul and no one would be able to separate them at all, not even the gods.

Their party was amazing and so much fun, lavish but the room was filled with joy, there was a lot of singing, talking and dancing, there was no bad stuff happening at all, all anxiety and fear was gone, it was a refresh for a better life they were about to have. Aellara and Aegon were made for each other and no one could ever separate them, no matter how much they try.

[nicollekidman]

abby, sorry to get extremely real on a friday night but like how do you deal with feelings of environmental existentialism (for lack of a better term) that you may have. It feels like it's hit especially hard this week and I'm sure Tuesday is a factor in that but I do not enjoy the feeling, at 28, of time accelerating into an uncertain but generally unpleasant singularity, actually

i love this question because this is one of the biggest fears of my life because of my debilitating fear of death and yknow my general love for being alive and the people on this planet. the short term direct answer is that i often don't deal at all. i often feel sharp pain and edge into true panic until i distract myself, and looking at my weather app often makes me choke.

but the larger answer is that it's actually our responsibility not to (over)indulge in climate grief. we are not speeding headfirst, heedless and uncontrolled into a singularity. the trends are not good, the damage is making itself known, but things are never hopeless. there are thousands and thousands of human beings who have dedicated their lives to studying, remedying, and speaking out about the damage done to our climate. and there are solutions. there are breakthroughs every single day! succumbing to depressive existentialism is not only not helpful, but does actually ignore a lot of the progress that is being made! things are dire and have been dire but they are NOT hopeless.

i find that these feelings hit hardest when i have been the most isolated, and that they piggyback on feelings of despondency about other things i see going Wrong in the world (and there is a lot!). but everything is connected. finding ways to spend time with others, spend time outdoors, use your voice/money for Action (whether protesting, volunteering, working, even just having conversations with others), all these things ease the emotional burden. recognizing that everything feels #unprecedented because we are more connected to global information than any other time in history while simultaneously becoming increasingly isolated and individualized helps ground the feelings in context in a way i find helpful.

climate grief is inexorable from grief over genocide, capitalism, racism, misogyny.... everything is connected. and just as we have the privilege and responsibility of never giving into the urge to hide away from any of the other things, taking action and feeling connected to community around you makes fighting these things feel possible.

being alive is SUCH a gift and whatever the future holds is never a guarantee, even if the climate was exactly the same as it was when you were born. we are only given so much time, and the best way to experience literally anything other than terror and rage (i have found) is just to move outside my own self a little. to take a deep breath and sink my toes into the earth and try to remember there are so so so many people making both incremental and massive change every day, and that giving up on someone you love before they die is never the right choice. we can always do something, and/or amplify those who are.

and sometimes? it's a simple as calling it quits on the scrolling and just creating something, even just. cooking. or watering a houseplant. or closing your eyes and singing as loud as you can while crying. you know?

(if i remember tomorrow i will link some pieces about dealing with climate grief/hope, because it actually does help that everyone who works in the field is absolutely uniform in saying outlandish extenstial dread is not a useful space to live in)

[melanieph321]

Dominik Szoboszlai x Black Reader - First Sight Part 2/8

The corner shop challenge

This story is about the night reader met her boyfriend Dominik and the series of crazy events that led up to the beginning of their love story.

Enjoy!

The conversation between you never died out. It's not like you fought to keep it alive as the two of you were walking side by side, it just refused to die.

"Okay, let me ask you a question." Dominik said, walking beside you, warming his hands in his pocket.

"Shoot."

"It's a hypothetical one."

"Yes, ask away."

"Alright, but the rule is that you must answer truthfully."

"Rules to answer a simple question? How intriguing." You smiled.

"Yes, but it's like a game. You can ask me anything afterwards, I promise to give you my sincere answer."

"Got it, just get on with it." You said, a bit excited to hear the question.

"Okay so, would you rather fuck a goat without anyone finding out, or would you rather have people believe you fucked a goat even though you didn't actually do it?"

Your steps altered, your eyes batting clueless at him. "Um...come again?"

"Like, would you rather have sex with a...."

You held up a silencing hand. "I heard what you said, I just...just why?"

He grinned. "I told you that it was a hypothetical question. It's mostly for me to get to know you better."

"Right, because asking 'Hi, what do you like to do with your life', doesn't cut it anymore?"

"It doesn't though." He chuckled. "People don't dig deep to answer those kind of questions, therefore they aren't sincere. I'm asking you to be sincere with me Y/N."

There it was again, that stupid spark. During your short walk to the corner shop you noticed that whenever your name escaped his lips your heart simply jolted. It was an amazing feeling and an annoying one at the same time.

"Fine." You sighed, allowing yourself to ponder the question.

You emerged in front of the corner shop, the question not yet answered as you stepped inside. However Dominik was patient with you, letting you take your time. Perhaps he really did want to know how your mind worked?

"I'd let people think I fucked the goat." You nodded. "How traumatizing it would be for both me and the goat if we actually did it."

Dominik nodded, just taking in your answer, not really judging you for it.

"What would you do?" You asked.

"Ah ah." He shook his head. "You can't ask me the same question I asked you."

"Why not?" You frowned.

"It's the rules of the game."

What a silly game, you thought.

"Ask me something else."

"Okay, okay."

You took a walk around the shop, thinking of interesting questions to ask. The bell above the door rang as people were coming in and out. Dominik looked conflicted of what kind of six-pack beer to choose from the many brands. Now and then his gaze lifted, glancing over to you, chuckling when he saw that you were already staring back at him. "Got a question for me yet?" He teased.

"Okay I got it." You said, leaving your aisle and joining his. "But it's more so a challenge then a question." You cleared your throat. "If that's allowed?"

"To challenge me?" Dominik's stance changed, his eyebrow twitching with his curiosity. He went from respectfully flirting with his eyes, to now leaning against the beer shelves, with a look that said, if you challenge me to go down on you, I will.

"Yes." You nodded, with your hands behind your back as not to give away your trembling hands. "I challenge you to strip naked, pop a can of beer and chug it down right here in this aisle."

"What?" He blurred out. More so surprised by the question itself then appalled by it. He was still smiling. "You want me to do what?"

"You heard me." You said, hands on your hips. You regained some of your cool following his quite hilarious reaction. "But if you're not up for the challenge Dommy, I won't force you to do anything."

"Please don't call me that." He said, kicking off his shoes.

"What? Dommy?" You tried to ignore the fact  that he was doing exactly what you asked him to do, stripping down, right there in the beer aisle of a corner shop somwhere in Liverpool.

"Yes, that." He sighed.

You chuckled. "What, you don't like my new nickname for you?"

"No, so stop calling me that before it catches on."

"I bet Trent would like it." You said, but quickly held a gasp from escaping your mouth as Dominik's hands gripped the hemn of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Your eyes widened at the sight of his hairless skin and outlined abs. He had tattoos on his arms and across his chest, one tatto running up his sleeve, the other cutting of just below his elbow. And whatever the ink on his chest meant you were here for it.

"Like what you see?" He smirked, catching you staring as his hands went to the strap of his belt. "One thing you should know about me Y/N..." He said,  removing his belt with a violent jerk. ".....I never say no to a challenge."

The air in your lungs disappeared, your heart beating fast as Dominik stripped himself of his pants, along with his underwear, leaving you to stare blankly at his dangling dick.

"Hand me that beer can will you?" He arched his back, standing proudly in the nude. He gestured for you to hand him one of the cans of beers behind your back. You did so with your eyes squeezed shut.

"What's the matter Y/N, you didn't think I'd do it, did you?"

Along with his teasing you heard the sizzling of the can of beer as he opened it. You heard him tilt it's content upside down and chug it down his throat. Although a loud burp let you know that he was finished, you refused to open your eyes until you knew that he had gotten dressed again.

"Hey, you there! Stop that!"

Your eyes flung open, only to see Dominik with panic in his eyes.

"What are you doing in my shop?"

Turning your head, you saw that an older man was charging down the aisle with a field hockey stick in his hands, looking more than keen to bash your heads in with it.

You looked to Dominik and he looked to you. "Run!" You said simultaneously. But as Dominik took off in one direction, butt naked by the way, you dropped to the floor, gathering his clothes. You then ran for your life, out of the corner shop and onto the lit streets. You and Dominik got separated as he ran out before you, but then you saw a pale figure shivering behind the nearest dumpster. It was Dominik, crouch down, covering his dick with his hands.

"Oh my god, Dominik!"

You rushed towards him, handing over his clothes, helping him get dressed.

"Fuck me." He muttered, still shivering to the point of his teeth rattling.

Suffering from terrible guilt, you did the only reasonable thing by pulling him towards you, wrapping your arms around him tightly. "I'm so sorry Dominik, so fucking sorry."

His chest vibrated when he chuckled. "Don't regret a challenge well done Y/N."

How could he be laughing and making jokes, you thought. Dominik was basically on the verge of getting pneumonia because of you.

"Shit, your still so cold." You said, feeling it rub off on you. You were still hugging him tightly, no plans of letting go until his body stopped trembling against yours.

"Don't worry, I'll warm up." He spoke against your temple, assuring you that the cold wasn't that bad. Still, you refused to let him go, at some point becoming one with his heartbeat slowly pulsating against your ear. His hand went to stroke your curls, the soothing sensation indescribable.  "You know..." He whispered. "If you wanted to see me naked you could have just said so before we left the apartment. Hey, I would've joined you for a quick shower in Sami's bathroom if you had...."

"Fucking dickhead."

Dominik couldn't help but to laughed as you pushed him off of you, breaking up the hug. The tender moment between you lasted briefly, his body having stopped shivering. He was back to himself.

"So were to next?" He asked as the two of you left the back of the corner shop.

"Well we still haven't bought any beer." You said. "Not that I'll ever recover from the sight of you chugging one down naked."

"Oh come on, don't lie." He smiled. "You loved seeing me complete your challenge. I'm surprisingly impressed how your mind works Y/N."

You lowered your head, hiding your smile.

"I say we head downtown, I know a guy that can hook us up."

"Fine." You muttered, trying not to make it obvious that you were happy that your night with Dominik wasn't over just yet. Little did you know that it was only the beginning.