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zepskies · 2 days ago

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@lamentationsofalonelypotato

I'm so excited for you, my friend!! Thank you for diving in. 🥰

I like this line, because it's what made Dean stop. In my head I feel like this version of Dean has pushed away so many people and the reader is the first person in a long time to genuinely say that she was "worried" about him, and it strikes something in his chest because he couldn't remember the last time it happened. That's the headcanon in my head anyway lol.

Oh yeah, that's a totally accurate observation, poor Dean. 🥲 He hasn't allowed himself to be "worried about" in a long time, since he and Sam started up their own lives.

Also the spice was.... 😱🌶️🔥. I literally cannot write smut to save my life, but you always write it so well! I also liked that you didn't do it as intense as omegaverse usually is, because we both know how it can be 👀

ahaha thank youuu 😘 It's really not easy for me, but I write it when I feel the story warrants it. And totally, the more subtle approach was what I was going for loll! I don't think I could write the aggressive smut that omegaverse fics tend to be. 🤪

OH MY WORD DEAN SHUT UP! I promise it's okay! She loves you and she can see that you're not a bad person because you literally have been nursing her back to health with her broken ankle 😭 Not to mention you guys are fated! She's not going to let you go no matter what you do.

Lol RIGHT?! How many times do we have to go over this, Dean???? 😭

But again... on brand for Dean to hate himself and to think he's not good enough -sigh- just means that you get to spend more time wrapped up with him trying to convince him 😊😉. I also believe that Dean loves intimac, that he does crave that connection with someone, not to mention I still love what you do in your Midnight Espresso series with Dean being a little touch starved for non-sexual touch. I feel like you've also implied this here and it is marvelous!

This is where I have to beat down the "not worthy" aspect of Dean's personality when it comes to love and intimacy. 😭 But I SO agree with you -- he craves it, even though he doesn't feel like he deserves it half the time. That's a big theme in Midnight Espresso, so I love you so much for enjoying that aspect in that series and in this one. 🥹💓💓

I'm literally cackling. I can hear Dean saying this to his significant other. Meeting Baby for the first time holds the same place in his heart as meeting Sam for the first time 🤣 ALSO, I wasn't ready for the palm kiss. Palm kisses and forehead kisses DESTROY me.

LOL this part of the scene was so vivid in my mind -- I have no doubt he'd be just like this when his girl meets his Baby. 🤣🤣 Oh same. I LOVE hand kisses and forehead kisses. They're so wholesome. 🥹

I like that this was an alternate ending to the dumpster fire that was the end of Supernatural. That it's Dean and his girl out on the open road listening to a Led Zeppelin song holding hands in the front seat of Baby was just beautiful in the best way and a perfect ending to this mini-series my wonderful friend!! I am going to miss this couple so much, but it really was a fitting end for them 🥰

Honestly that's the biggest compliment I could get on this story! 💕💕 It's the two of them riding into the subset to some Zep tunes, on their way to see Sam and his new little family. I might come back to write their little reunion, but until then, I'm so glad you've enjoyed this snowy, angsty ride. 😘❄️💜💜

Against the Wind - Part 4

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: The grand finale...

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, knotting, claiming, fluff and feels.

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Part 4: Running to Live

His cold hands are warming on your skin as he slides them underneath your sweater. They move smoothly up your back, bunching up the material. You break from his kiss only to help him get the sweater off you, followed closely by his pants.

Your sweatpants slide down your legs with just a sharp tug, baring most of your body to his gaze. His eyes drag over your exposed neck and shoulders, your breasts cupped in your bra, down to your panties and bare thighs.

A shiver runs through you, both from his heated gaze, and from being exposed to the cooler air. Even with the fire going and the heater running in the cabin, the frigid air outside is unforgiving.

You have no problem with the way Dean guides you down from the chaise to take advantage of your nest on the floor, right in front of the fire. He draws you into a sensuous kiss, sucking your lower lip into his mouth and grazing with teeth.

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return. You reach up to caress his cheek, feeling the prickling of his stubble. Your fingers thread into his hair, and you pull him back down for a devouring kiss.

Dean’s brows furrow as he holds you to him, wanting to feel every part of your skin against his. His calloused fingers map their way down your side, and across your back to unhook your bra. His lips veer away from yours to burn a wet, heated trail along your neck. His teeth come out to graze your skin, down your throat, down the lovely valley between your breasts.

“Dean,” you gasp, encouraging him when his hand cups one of your breasts. He explores the other with his mouth, teasing a pebbled nipple with his tongue. Your fingers tighten in his hair, your thighs rubbing together between the cage of his knees in the mess of blankets. Already you feel slick forming at the apex of your thighs and slipping down in between.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin. “Fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You can’t help but smile. Your face warms either from the fire dancing shadows across your bodies, or from him, his attention, his warmth, and the heat in his eyes when they meet your again. His hand slides down your body, over your hip and squeezing your thigh as he opens you up further for him.

“Tell me what you want, Omega.” While I still have control, his tone implies. His voice is gravel and sin while his hand moves swiftly and smoothly up the inside of your thigh.

“Touch me,” you breathe.

Nodding, he hooks his fingers around the hem of your panties and slides them down. You help him kick them off. Afterward, his thumb brushes over your mound, making you sharply inhale and squeeze his shoulders encouragingly. His fingers dip inside your wet heat, his brows raising with a smirk, as he feels the sheer amount of your slick already coating his digits.

“Fuck. This all for me, baby?” he remarks.

You hold onto the back of his neck with both hands as you nod, biting your lip. Your hips begin to cant against his hand on reflex, urging him to touch you.

“Alpha, please…” you implore, in a ragged whisper. He swallows your plea with a ravaging kiss, but he still gives you what you want. His thumb circles your clit, earning a moan from you into his mouth.

Soon, two of his fingers plunge slowly inside you, working you open, drawing more gasps and shudders of pleasure from your body. His length continues to strain hard against your thigh, but for him, it’s worth it to draw every sound, every time your body writhes and arches against him, craving release.

With a few more purposeful strokes, your inner walls clamp tight on his hand, and a flood of slick coats his knuckles even more. You gasp his name, your hands squeezing his arms just as tight as your pussy around his fingers.

Your skin is beginning to get dewy with sweat, and he kisses some of it off you when he trails down your chest. You stroke down his arms, down his back, whatever you can reach as you catch your breath. But then, his name falls from your lips with a firmer tone.

Dean raises his head, and you gently push at his chest. His brows furrow in confusion, only for it to be replaced with a smile of surprise when you curl a thigh over his hip and guide him onto his back. His head just manages to fall on one of your pillows, but he still utters a small grunt. You giggle down at him, bowing to meet him for a kiss.

He smirks and holds onto your hips, playfully squeezing your ass. “My wily omega.”

“Thought I was your cheeky omega,” you tease.

He snorts. “That too.”

You giggle some more as you treat him to the same path of open-mouthed kisses down his neck. Except this time, you hook a hand behind his neck, and you trail your tongue around his mating gland. You feel his jolt of surprise, as well as his instinctive growl of pleasure in response to his mate. Or at least, not yet…

His heart pounds in his chest.

“Omega,” he says, a warning not to tease as his grip tightens on your hips.

The command in his voice makes you shiver, but you smile and nuzzle his cheek in affection. You kiss your way down his body, playing special attention to his nipples, his stomach, the soft V and the happy trail of light brown fuzz leading you down between his hips.

Your fingers slide down his hardened desire through his underwear, earning a grunt from him, along with a shifting of his body against the blankets. Your lips curve as you nuzzle him there as well, letting your lips drag across his impressive length.

His fingers tangle in your hair when you hook your nails around the waistband and free his cock from its confines. His boxers join the rest of your clothes somewhere, and finally you get to see all of him, as much as he takes in all of you. Your hand wraps around his girth, your thumb circling around the sensitive, weeping head of it. Dean groans, a sound from deep in his chest.

You don’t know this, but it’s been a while since anyone but his own hand has touched him. That’s not the only reason his body has been calling to yours, but it plays a part in how fucking good it feels, and how much more he wants you.

He feels your intentions when your hand moves down his shaft in a teasing caress, your fingers tracing around his knot. A shudder rattles down his spine, makes his desire burn hotter in the pit of his stomach.

He can’t fucking take it anymore. He needs you, needs to be inside you. Needs to take you the way his instincts demand.

He grasps your shoulder before you put your mouth on him. You blink up at him, with a question forming on your lips, but he hefts you up onto his chest by your arms. He cages you there with a kiss filled with abject need.

“I can’t. Can’t wait anymore,” he says. He drags his fingers through your folds and earns another moan from your when he finds your clit. “You ready for me, Omega? Need my knot?”

“Yeah,” you nod, agreeing against his lips. “Need you, Alpha—”

No sooner had the words escaped your lips, when Dean rolls you back underneath him. But this time, he guides you onto your stomach, then raises up your hips, until you’re on your hands and knees. You catch your breath as you regain your bearings, shooting an incredulous smile over your shoulder at Dean. He smirks back at you, but his gaze is intense, his pupils darkened with the alpha inside him.

Still, he soothes a hand down your back and steadies you with a hold on your hip. You feel him slot himself behind you, guiding his cock at your entrance. His chest presses hotly against your back.

“Last chance, Omega,” he says, his voice tight with restraint.

You look back at him again over your shoulder, your mouth threatening to frown. You reach back and sink your fingers into his hair with a sharp tug. “Do it.”

He sinks into you with one smooth plunge. It’s a relief for both of you, your mingled moans echoing in the near silence. All that’s left is the sound of your quickening breaths, of skin against sweat-slick skin as you move together.

Dean brushes your hair away from your neck. He kisses and licks his way along your bare shoulder, and finally the back of your neck. You’re trembling by the time his lips find the sensitive flesh of your mating gland. It echoes with the pulsing from your core as he continues to drive into you.

“Alpha,” you gasp on reflex. You squeeze his arm; he has it wrapped tight around your middle. Your pleasure builds ever closer to that crescendo, especially as his thrusts become ragged, at an angle that zips delicious tingles through your core. “Close…just…I need…”

Dean isn’t so far gone. He hears you, and helps you, reaching his hand around to strum his fingers insistently on your clit, along with his final thrusts.

Finally, it tumbles you over. Your inner walls become impossibly tight around him as he draws out your second release—one that triggers his own. Dean groans into your ear; his knot swells and locks into place, and he spends himself deep inside you. He pants hot against your neck, but even though he fastens his lips there, he hesitates, once again making you shudder.

“Do it,” you repeat, in a coarse whisper. You’re close to tears. “Please. Want you, Alpha. Need you…”

Once again, he hears you.

His teeth sink into the back of your neck, making you cry out. But your pain is quickly overshadowed by a deepest pleasure, thrumming along with his.

Afterward, Dean holds you in his arms. The warm glow of the fire paints your skin in its light, despite the utter darkness in the rest of the house.

While you both wait for his knot to subside, you revel in the fact that you know he’s content. You can feel it through the newly formed bond. He traces random shapes in your skin, which still glistens with a fine sheen of sweat. The fire he stoked doesn’t help to cool you down, but you don’t care.

Nothing else matters but this. You turn your head toward him over your shoulder. He meets you there with a gentle kiss, much more gentle than any other you’ve shared before. It feels right.

When he parts from you, he presses another kiss to your forehead. Then he leans back a little and sighs. You feel his thumb trace the raw flesh around the claiming mark on your neck. A small shiver runs through your body. Maybe on another day, you’ll mark him in return.

“It’s too damn late,” he says, breaking the silence. “You realize that right?”

You shoot him a frown. “Too late for what?”

“For me to let you go,” he says.

His words both warm you and make you sad. Just how little does he think of himself?

“Dean,” you say, endeavoring to be patient. “You’re my true mate. Do you know how rare it is that we’ve actually found each other?”

Dean remains quiet.

“And after everything you’ve done for me,” you add, “how can I not think you’re a good man? How can I not think this is right?”

He seems to consider your question. His gaze briefly falls, then meets your eyes again.

“You don’t know me that well,” is his answer, with a wry turn of his lips.

You reach back to caress his cheek. “Then tell me. Tell me about, um…tell me about how you became a hunter. From your dad’s journal, I got the sense that it’s a family thing.”

A vendetta, you wanted to say, but you keep that thought inside.

Dean chuckles, dropping another kiss onto your shoulder. You feel the pleasurable rasp of his stubble.

“Yeah, more like a family business,” he says.

He tells you why John Winchester started writing in that journal in the first place. Dean explains it in his own words, of what his family was before and after a demon broke into his brother’s nursery. Your heart continues to break for him, over and over, the more story he tells. Your shock can only reach new heights when he tells you about angels and demons and everything in between.

There are moments where he pauses, needing the time to find his words. He’s talked for so long that his knot finally softens, allowing you to withdraw from him, just to turn in his arms and be able to see his face. He bundles you in the blankets to keep you warm, but he also keeps you close, with a loose arm around your waist as he continues.

You sense that he’s not telling you everything. How could he? A lifetime of blood and wins and incredible losses; family gained, and family lost, endless saves, and so many near misses. You listen with rapt attention (and a lot of shock) to everything he can share, but your heart twinges when you see how he struggles to talk about his mother’s most recent death. Then his best friend Cas.

You realize that this man, for all his self-deprecation, is a hero. More so than you already knew.

“After the whole Chuck thing was done, I thought we’d just…go back to status quo. Me and Sam against the world, you know?” Dean says. He gives a rueful smile. “Then Sammy tells me he knocked up his mate.”

You smile. “You’re happy for him though.”

“Course I am,” Dean nods. “He never thought he’d get to have all that. A badass chick who can keep him on his toes, a house, the kid, the whole damn thing. He’s downright respectable again.”

His brotherly pride and his humor are tinged with something else though. You think you begin to understand. His losses have weighed him down, leaving him aimless and living in that in between, not unlike the ghosts he used to hunt. You know the feeling.

You thread your fingers with his, earning his attention.

“You can have that too, you know,” you say. “I mean, I don’t want to skip ahead, but I feel like things are going well here, despite the whole busted ankle thing.”

Dean slowly smiles, shaking his head. He brings your hand up to his lips.

“Okay, enough about my Hallmark movie life. What about you?” he asks.

So you tell him.

You two continue to share and explore, both in words and with your bodies, until morning comes.

It’s another week in the cabin before Dean insists on helping you down the mountain. Your ankle has gotten a little better, but at this point, you need to see a doctor. It takes a couple of days, going as slow as you need to. He ends up carrying you for most of the way anyway. You tell him over and over that he doesn’t have to, but your alpha is stubborn.

Once he gets you back to the city, you two take a shuttle to the nearest hospital. X-rays are taken, and you get a new cast for your officially fractured ankle. At the very least, you don’t need surgery. You’re able to call your mom from there and let her know where you’ve been, that you’re all right, and best of all…that you’ve found your mate.

You cry along with her on the phone, this time for a good reason. The best reason.

When you’re eventually released from the hospital, Dean picks you up in a sleek, black Chevy that has your eyes wide.

He grins at the look on your face. “Hey, sweetheart. Come meet my Baby.”

He parks the car and keeps the heater running while he comes around to you in swift strides. He takes your crutches and slides them into the backseat, then helps you into the passenger seat.

“It’s beautiful, but my God, how old is this thing?”

“She. She’s a she.”

“Oh, pardon me,” you say in amusement. “Do I have some competition here?”

Dean gives you a teasing smirk. “Well, technically, she’s been with me a lot longer than you.”

You scoff incredulously. He laughs and takes your hand, pressing a kiss into your palm. You discreetly study him and marvel at how much lighter he seems. You don’t know how much is because of this, what your hand in his symbolizes, and how much is because he’s reunited with something important to him.

“It’s okay, Omega mine,” he says, with a measure of desire in his eyes. “From now on, you’re my priority.”

Your spine prickles with the same arousal you can feel from him through the bond. You lean across the way and share a thorough kiss.

Until a horn honks loudly from behind. You both jolt, but Dean’s face falls into annoyance. He shoots up a choice finger at the car behind him in the rearview mirror. You laugh as he begins to peel out of the curved pick-up and drop-off zone in front of the hospital.

“Where are we going, Dean?” you ask, still smiling in amusement.

“Wherever we damn well please.” He turns to you with a hint of a smile reforming on his lips. “Want me to take you back home? We can sort out the logistics on, uh…well, this.”

You think about it. He poses a good idea, but at the same time, you’re not quite ready for this part of the adventure to end.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen Sam?” you ask.

Dean blinks at your question. He whistles lowly. “About a year. Jesus, since my nephew was born.”

You smile and reach over, resting your hand on his thigh.

“Let’s go see him, then,” you say. “I want to meet your family. Then you can meet mine.”

After that, you two can figure out the rest, like where to live, and how you’ll live.

Dean raises a brow. “Really? That’s like, a thirteen-hour drive.”

You shrug. “I’ve always wanted to go on a real road trip. Can we get some food first though? I’m starving.”

He laughs and nods as he stops the car at a red light.

“What do you know? A woman after my own heart,” he says. His amusement eases into a gentler smile the longer he stares at you. You smile back, and you give into the urge to lean in again, meeting your lips with his. He brushes your cheek tenderly with his thumb.

“I know what this needs,” he says lowly. Your brows draw together in a silent question.

He pulls away to reach into the side compartment along the driver door. He fishes out a cassette tape labelled Zeppelin IV. You bite your lip and try not to say anything smartassed.

Damn, this man is old school.

He skips ahead until he finds Track 7, just as the light turns green. A melodious guitar riff fills the car as he turns onto the main road with your hand wrapped in his.

Made up my mind to make a new start.

Going to California with an aching in my heart…

AN: And that's all, folks! 🥹 I truly hope you enjoyed Against the Wind!

Like I said in a recent update, I have more stories in store for you guys. January 3 will be Part 1 of Outlander -- sequel to The Honorable Choice -- a Western AU with Dean as our resident cowboy! I'll post a sneak peek on that one soon.~

But in the meantime, I hope you'll let me know what you thought of ATW! 💜💜

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#lovely review!! 💜💜💜#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #against the wind feedback

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epicbuddieficrecs · 19 hours ago

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Weekly Recap | January 27th-February 2nd 2025

Had the audacity to go on a daytrip over the border to the US and all I got was spending way too much money at Target and a cold :(

Complete

the sincerest form of flattery by canadadry (S8E3: Final Approach, Brad POV | 1,7K | Teen): “Your boy—Buck,” Brad says. “First marriage?” “Pardon?” “Well, your wife is—” Brad starts, stops. Remembers at least a third of the lecture he’s been given at least a dozen times by his publicist on the danger of making assumptions. “He calls your wife by her given name—I mean, does the same to you, but I’d reckon that has more to do with professionalism than personal grievances, given the fact that you clearly get on.” — in which Brad Torrence only almost passes out, and observes the aftermath.

The couch is a lawless place by paleredheadinascifi (Getting Together | 1,8K | Teen): Eddie had kissed him. He knows it happened, because the smudge of chocolate on his pants is still there, courtesy of the peanut butter cup he’d dropped when Eddie lent over and kissed him.

Call Ended (beep beep beep) by paleredheadinascifi (Wine Nights, Getting Together | 2K | Teen): Or, Buck wakes up to a series of increasingly horrifying calls from Eddie. He gets to the bottom of it.

Who you gonna call? by scarmaddiewrites (Post-S8A, Buck&Ravi | 1,7K | General): Buck has his first bad leg day since Eddie moved to Texas (Part 1 of The Chainsaw Gang)

Avoidance or Denial by scarmaddiewrites (Post-S8A, Getting Together | 4K | Not Rated): Eddie is back from texas and has some theories about Buck and Ravi....he's never been good at theories (Part 2 of The Chainsaw Gang)

and i'd do it over and over again by playinginthunderstorms/ @playinginthunderstorms (PWP, S8E6: Confessions | 4K | Explicit): Gun to his head, Buck honestly doesn't think he could say which one of them made the first move, but somewhere in between the six-pack he'd brought over and whatever was left of a dusty bottle of tequila in the back of a kitchen cupboard, Eddie—beautiful, radiant Eddie, with his pink shirt and tiny underwear—had ended up in his lap, thighs bracketing Buck's, gasping and grinding helplessly into Buck's hips, the most delicious whines spilling out of his mouth and straight onto Buck's tongue, white-hot pleasure spiking through him as potent as the lightning bolt, so he figures he'll at least die happy.

We’re Looking For Something Dumb To Do by scarmaddiewrites (Bachelor Party, Secret Marriage | 5K | Not Rated): “We should get married.” “What?” Buck chokes, his heart doing some weird fluttering thing in his chest. “Really?” “Yeah, I mean… I’m not a redhead or double your age, but maybe I still have a chance?” In the background, Buck hears someone chuckling—probably Ravi, whose drunk giggles have turned into full-on cackles. “Please, Eddie,” Buck says, his voice a mix of exasperation and something warmer, something fond. “Have you seen your ass? To hell with all the other requirements.” Or Buck and Eddie get married during the bachelor party and Ravi encourages it.

Your Life Was My Life's Best Part by saveyourblood/ @saveyourblood (S6E10: In A Flash | 5K | Mature): A neglected child. A soldier who saw people die. A veteran with PTSD. A first responder. A single father. A widower. Eddie Diaz became everything that was supposed to break him. What is he supposed to call this? What does he call the thing that may actually destroy him? - The one where Buck dies, then he doesn't, and their life flashes before Eddie's eyes.

lights will guide you. by dylaesthetics (Social Media, Eddie Sexuality Crisis | 6K | Mature): Am I (M33) comphet or an impostor???!!! For the record, I am straight. I think so, anyway. Or I did, all of six hours ago, before my coworkers introduced me to the term ‘comphet’. And now my entire world has kind of spun on its axis and I’m wondering if I’ve been secretly craving dick this whole time. - OR after breaking up with Tommy, Buck goes on a deep-dive on sexuality. He needs to tell someone about all he learns, of course, and Eddie seems like the best option.

Golden Morning Sunbeams by Buddiesmutslut (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Getting Together | 10K | General): Or: As Eddie is debating his move to Texas, a few texts from his son in the middle of the day set him on a course to getting everything he's been wanting.

🔥 An Angry Blade by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-8x05: Masks, Cursed Buck | 43K | Mature): Buck finds out that the curse of Billy Boils is VERY real, and far more complicated and dangerous than he could have expected.

🔥 oh brother, I see (you burn like me) by canadadry (Adriana & Maddie POV, Post-S7E10: All Fall Down | 47K | Mature): Adriana doesn’t tell their parents that she’s going to LA. She doesn’t tell Eddie, either—or ask, for that matter. She does ask Chris, and he thinks it’s a good idea—says as much, on the phone, and doesn’t say much else. “Buck will probably be hovering,” is what Chris does volunteer. It still surprises her when the man who opens the door is not Eddie. It’s—Captain America, is the thing that actually comes to mind—a man close to a foot taller than she is, if not more than that, with blond curls and broad shoulders, and he’s got a question in his very blue eyes that’s probably less friendly than the one he actually asks her. “Uh,” he says. “Can I help you?” — Or: Adriana arrives in LA. Maddie has been here the whole time.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, Divergent Post-S6 | 472K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

WIP

🔥 Doe & a Drop of Golden Sun by ohstars/ @oh-stars (Canon Divergent, Dad Buck | 10/? | 45K | Teen): Buck doesn't mean to keep secrets from everyone, but he also can't talk about the pain he experiences on a day to day basis. With his nine-year-old living across the country and his custody limited to one monthly visit, Buck doesn't know how to share this part of himself. How does he tell his team of six years that he's had a kid this whole time? How does he tell his sister? How does he tell his Edd-- best friend? It's fine. The universe isn't going to give him a choice in the matter when the worst thing imaginable becomes his reality.

🔥[Podfic] Promising Light by cottagepodfics @cottagepodfics / fic by @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Time Travel | 80min | 2/3 | Mature): Buck and Eddie fall asleep drunk and in separate rooms after the night of Buck and Tommy's breakup. They wake up seven years later, in an unfamiliar future, only to find out that they're married.

#epic buddie fic rec #buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #buddie fanfiction

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roachliquid · 1 day ago

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An incredibly pernicious anti-transmasc argument that keeps making the rounds is that everything we do was plagiarized from trans women.

Coining a term to describe our unique and gendered experiences of oppression? We're just copying trans women.

Complain that we're often rejected from queer circles for our perceived violent maleness? We're just parroting what's happened to trans women.

Forcemasc fetish blogs? We're just copying One Specific Trans Woman-Run Blog that got popular.

These claims are annoying on their own, but together they paint a clear picture of what transandrophobes want you to believe: that trans men and transmascs are incapable of creating anything ourselves, or if we did, it would have nothing in common with what trans women and fems are doing. The function of these claims is to convince you that trans people of seemingly opposite identities are equally opposite in experiences, and any evidence to the contrary is actually cultural appropriation fueled by jealousy.

This is gender essentialism. It's fueled by the radical feminist belief that "woman" and "man" are not so much terms that get abused to justify people's oppression as they are positions in a class conflict, one where All Men seek and/or directly benefit from the oppression of All Women, and that indeed, manhood and womanhood themselves are defined by this relationship to one another. To be a man is to be an entitled parasite; to be a woman is to be an overworked victim.

That notion is racist and transphobic on the face of it, and that is equally obvious in these arguments about trans men - all of which are predicated on the idea that the average trans man is white, well-off, and able to go stealth whenever necessary, and therefore benefits from the maximum amount of male privilege a trans man can be afforded. Following from that logic, any trans man or that you encounter online can be reasonably assumed to share that experience, and any mention he might make of trans men who fail to meet those qualifications is nothing more than a rhetorical cudgel that we use to deny our own privilege.

I'm sure you can see the problem there.

It's not surprising that I typically see these claims made by white women, frequently about Black and Indigenous men. Speaking from the perspective of a white person, it can be very easy to fall into a trap of thinking that our specific experiences with oppression makes us general experts, and grow defensive when someone provides knowledge that shows we were wrong. It can like we're being victimized on the basis of the oppression we do have, and it can be incredibly hard to stop, listen, and admit that we fucked up. This is doubly difficult when the person criticizing us is a member of a demographic that seemingly contributes to the oppression we face.

But just because we think it's happening doesn't always make it so. Yes, there are times when people are acting in bad faith, or overlooking their own areas of ignorance - to err, as they say, is human. But often, we're the ones in the wrong, and need to recognize that fact before acting. So where do we draw the line?

The thing that I've always found crucial is to stop, breathe, and think. We have to honestly ask ourselves whether the other party is saying "your experiences are not real", or just "your understanding of these issues isn't as all-encompassing as you assumed". Simply asking yourself "am I really being harmed, or do I just feel like I'm being harmed?" can often save you from a massive foot-in-mouth situation.

It's necessary to remember that people whose identities are different from our own have their own experience and knowledge. Unless they are coming out and telling us what problems we do or don't have, we need to trust that they're coming from a place of good faith and genuine knowledge, and be willing to listen and change our minds if necessary.

We have to make ourselves comfortable with the fact that we are not always the most, or only, important voice in the room.

That's something that a lot of anti-transmasc women love to remind us, and I wouldn't say they're always wrong. Simply being a man can and often does incentivize people to engage in misogyny, to talk over women and disregard their experiences, when we find them uncomfortable or irrelevant. Again - everybody fucks up sometimes. But it crosses a line when you start demanding that courtesy from others while refusing to extend it back to them; when you treat any information they offer as automatically inferior or entirely invalid, based solely on their perceived relationship to privilege.

In fact, doing so is literally an ad hominem argument.

Aside from that, I must point out that these arguments are being employed specifically to silence trans men's and mascs' voices. This is not an honest misunderstanding; it's an act of profound self-centeredness at best and outright malice at worst. How do I know this? Well, stop me if you've ever heard one of these before:

"Women don't have real interests; they just like silly frivolous things. Men's hobbies are real and meaningful."

"Women are inherently wired to be emotional. Men are logical and level-headed. I'm not sexist, it's just science."

"If you hear a woman say anything smart, you can bet she learned it from a man."

These, too, are silencing tactics, historically (and currently!) used to devalue and silence the voices of women. In fact, they're things that I have personally heard and been affected by, as a trans man who has spent the vast majority of my life being seen and treated as a woman.

I didn't fall for it then, and I sure ain't falling for it now.

#anti-transmasculinity #transandrophobia #bad faith #intersectionality #transgender #long post

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fadelbison · 19 hours ago

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#A READ#but a deeply loving one - @chicademartinica

oh man it is SO deeply loving what can I say about it?

bad shows and mediocre shows and boring shows are necessary for the artistic process. the truth is that sometimes Jojo Tichakorn will make a boring show. bless Never Let Me Go but I don't remember a single thing about that show other than Pond and Phuwin sat on the beach soulfully looking out at the sea in sepia adjacent coloring. But that was simply his artistic impulse. there's no THK without only friends without NLMG. And in that VERY same interview from TWO years ago Jojo revealed that Ninew originally wanted Only Friends to be set in an acting class while Jojo pushed it to Business. and now??? Ninew gets to direct Only Friends: Dream On. HIS vision of only friends. It's mind boggling, for a queer person to live such a sweet life, training under a mentor, working towards and achieving their dreams I just dgaf if it's horrible I love OF: Dream On with all my being already.

I don't know if P'Golf will ever construct a story where they don't pretend that the villain is not the villain? Like they build such compelling narratives of conflict and intimacy and the intimacy to be found within conflict and then completely forget to set up the motivations of their antagonists (RIP Thua and Ter plywood beams supporting so much of the narrative's weight) but like I really dgaf the person who submitted Thailand's marriage equality bill, an act that changed the course of history can do whatever the fuck they want lol

I mean many such cases?? I didn't watch Last Twilight despite Aof being one of my favorite directors period is because I knew his protagonists tend to follow lakorn logic, he did it in ATOTS, DBK, MLC and even in Bad Buddy (random shooting my beloved <3), like idk if it's the shared enthusiasm for RPF or traditional asian narratives but I feel this man's vision on an atomic level and I knew from the trailer how that show was going to end and I didn't watch it because I know his artistic limitations. But then it suddenly became about how GMMTV hates disabled people. Like??? Not only did Aof Noppharnach present such a beautifully compelling and deeply celebratory representation of queer disability in MLC he named his queer disabled character Heart idk how to explain the shock I felt when faced with people's short term memory regarding this.

I'm not surprised that Nuchy is the one directing Burnout Syndrome, a three-way entanglement with gun atthaphan as the centerpoint. The exclusion of GramBlack, outside of its social reactions and implications, was a significant failing of her narrative. Gram was in fact in love with Black, that's what how it was in the original story from which Not Me was adapted and that's how it was in the show. To change who a character is in love with is changing the whole character which she simply hadn't done but she compromised her art against social pressures and like I don't have proof but im not surprised that the keys to Gun's Off Jumpol chastity belt was handed to Nuchy.

it's incredible, make your shitty pots my dears I'm here to witness it. we are nowhere near the peak for any of these people. Hayao Miyazaki was 47 when he directed My Neighbor Totoro. Jojo is only 40 years old that's a baby in artist years. They are pioneers in an entirely toddler of a genre, they have countless more life experience to collect and tonnes more stories to tell imperfectly and I am simply so happy to be here. I like to acknowledge GMMTVs hand in creating this reality.

I think one of the most incredible things about gmmtvs artistic direction *is* their dedication towards the commonplace the steady the familiar. Not only do they make boring gay shows (in addition to the exciting and interesting imo) but they do it consistently every single year. Every single year they make terrible shows and boring shows; shows you can put on in the background and promptly fall asleep during shows that I consistently forget exists or even aired (in addition to the great!).

Will P’Golf ever stick the landing in their shows? idk but they certainly will be directing till we find out 😂 Is New Siwaj on some quest to turn his low stakes college anthology style into like a degrassi or skins-esque staple? idk gonna find out during gmmtv2026. Which formative media for Jojo is going to become his next aesthetic centerpoint? Idk but we gonna find out. Will Aof Nopparnach ever stop directing like he wished he was making lakorns instead? maybe if it’s RPF but idk we gotta find out.

Like??? I am following pioneer creators on their creative journey *as* they’re taking it. I’m watching them fumble and pirouette as they sculpt their pieces; flaws and all.

man what an incredible place for queer media to be and what good luck to be experiencing it when I am

#I was so busy yesterday I couldn't elaborate #I was not expecting this to leave my circle of circus goers #who are long used to the way I talk #people were confused lol #nani's hot takes

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hurtspideyparker · 1 day ago

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For a request how about a fluffy winterhawk doing shopping to refill their first aid kit? I imagine between the two of them it sees a lot of use.

The pair walk at a leisurely pace in the 24 hour CVS.

There's a number of odd characters, including themselves, but that's what they get for shopping at 2 am. There's the goth cashier, a man in an oddly tall cowboy hat, a couple of teenagers messing around in the chip section, and of course the two Avengers with blooming bruises from the fight they just finished. Which is really not their fault. I mean, who does crime after midnight? Bad people, probably.

"Wanna get some ice cream?" Clint asks while tossing some frozen peas into the basket Bucky is carrying.

"I don't think we'll have enough room."

"Come on man, one Ben & Jerry's isn't gonna break the bank."

"One, really? For both of us? You threw a spoon at my head last time I poked in your pint. I just wanted to try the flavour."

Clint thinks on that.

"Hm, you're right, you're right. We'll do a wrap around at the end and I'll just carry it."

They leave the icy doors and head straight for the first aid aisle. They spot the gauze and bandages first, taking a moment to analyze the different brands, sizes, and types, before Clint takes an arm to the shelf and swipes the entire thing into their basket. Bucky nods approvingly before speaking up.

"This is your fault y'know, you procrastinate."

Clint scoffs, "I'll have you know it was your week to do the shopping."

"The first aid kit's been empty since last week, when you sprained your wrist. Remember when you tried using a compression sock as a wrap. Also, you're bleeding on the flyers."

Clint looks down at the paper. That indeed is his blood. Another drop falls from his nose onto the shelf, "oop, my bad." He grabs Bucky's sweatshirt and uses the corner to wipe up the blood.

Bucky rolls his eyes and grabs a box of band-aids off the next shelf.

"Just for that I'm getting you the hello kitty ones," Bucky pulls out an evil looking purple bunny and then tosses the box into the basket.

He peels it open and places the bandage with care over the bridge of the archer's nose.

"Joke's on you, Kuromi fits my colour scheme."

Bucky stares at him blankly for a moment.

"I speak 7 languages and yet I still manage to not understand you in your native one, which is honestly more impressive."

"Why thank you," Clint gives a cocksure smile.

They move along, tossing in some medical tape, 4 types of pain meds in giant bulk containers, and heat packs.

Bucky picks up a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

"Woah man, that stuff isn't right for you anymore. It's all about good ol' soap and water now. Don't you keep up with medical news?"

"No, and I doubt you do." he says with a raised brow.

"Okay fine, Bruce told me, but still."

While Bucky doesn't trust anything Clint finds online, he does trust Bruce Banner, so he puts the bottle down.

"Vaseline's in the beauty aisle, brb."

Clint jogs around the corner and Bucky calls out to his back, "stop saying abbreviations out loud!"

Bucky continues wandering on his own, collecting a few random things into the quickly filling basket.

"Incoming!" Bucky doesn't even react as a jar of Vaseline and some tweezers come flying over the shelving and land perfectly on the pile.

Bucky isn't even in his original spot anymore, how did—nope, not going there. If he asks, he'll just get told "because I'm fucking Hawkeye," with that stupid charming smirk that secretly gives him cuteness aggression.

Bucky Barnes does not get cuteness aggression.

He turns around the corner the same time Clint steps back in front of him.

"Hiya, did you miss me?"

"No," Bucky says, placing a little kiss on Clint's lips.

"Aw, you totally did." Clint fists Bucky's top and pulls him in for another kiss.

The man goes easily, melting into the familiar taste of copper and the sting in his lip from where someone hit him in the face with the butt of their rifle. The stubble is an even more familiar roughness, closer to a tickle. Clint pulls back with a salacious pop, bringing his thumb up to wipe away the spare saliva in the corner of Bucky's mouth.

They hear a strong tone of throat clearing nearby, looking up to see cowboy hat staring at them in disgust with a cart full of dog food.

"Evening sir," Clint waves, then gives a little tip of his imaginary hat. The man just shakes his head then needs moving.

"C'mon, get your ice cream and lets go."

Clint acquiesces, reluctantly pulling away from Bucky's warmth.

After getting the promised ice cream they head straight for the self checkout. The last time they went to a cashier-only pharmacy to restock their first aid they got stared at like they were planning on cutting up the cashier and selling her kidneys (the sewing kit really didn't help), so dumping the pile of gauze away from the employees prying eyes saves them from talking to the cops.

The receipt takes ages to print, Clint grabbing more and more of it like a magician pulling scarves from a hat.

"Babe, will you tie me up with the CVS receipt and do dirty, dirty things to me later?"

Bucky huffs out a laugh and pushes at the other's shoulder, "shut up freak."

Cowboy hat decides to pull up to a nearby checkout just at that very moment, freezing and sending the pair a look like he's personally casting them to the depths of hell.

Clint turns to him, a mischievous smirk that could mean nothing good.

"Sir, would you tie me up with this CVS receipt and—"

Bucky clamps a hand over the man's lips and forcibly drags him out of the building.

#winterhawk #bucky barnes #clint barton #marvel #marvel ficlet #ficlet #hawkguy #ask #anon #im super swamped with school rn but im thinking about the other asks and will get to them on the weekend!#this one was fun to write :D

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littledesertfox · 2 days ago

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Hello, I hope you're having a wonderful day! My name is Marlowe/Atari! I come to you to expose another neo-nazi in the community. His name is Paul, and his goes by @dertotalenkrieg on Tumblr.

Now, why am I saying this now? Well, I noticed that this user was in the same reichblr server as I was. As I was scrolling through the Neo-Nazi Community under the reichblr, I noticed that Paul posted there.

Content Warnings for Nazi Imagery and Holocaust Denial in the Screenshots

Before anyone says, "This wasn't supposed to be taken seriously/this is out of context." Counterpoint, the implication of the post's caption is that Paul had to obtain this from Telegram. It also implies that he has experience with the platform and its neo-nazi communities contained within.

And this isn't a one-note incident either. I looked through Joseph's likes and saw these posts.

Obviously there are more posts that aren't shown in the screenshots that are noteworthy. The only one I can remember is one that was about cutting a swastika on one's skin.

What initially set off alarm bells was this guy's Discord profile;

I immediately detected the dog whistles within this user's profile. The SS's, the extraterrestrial imagery referencing neo-nazi pseudoscience, and the quote are obvious signs that this person is serious about this.

I deliberated on doing this since I didn't want to be the bringer of bad news, and the fact that this could possibly be traced back to me. I'm hesitant on associating my blog with this community (even though I'm a part of it.) and getting called a Nazi (despite this entire ask pointing to the contrary). I know you guys don't like Nazis, and I'm not gonna call you bad people for having unconventional interests.

The obvious way of avoiding any nazis joining this community is looking for dog whistles, that's your best method of exiling them quicker from your community.

Also, if you're gonna refer to me in your post, my pronouns are they/them + co/cos.

Thank you for reading my ask!

Hi, first of all sorry it took me a bit to respond, I had some busy things going on in real life.

Secondly ew, that's fucking nasty. I wasn't aware that this community existed (I never really looked much into the communities feature in general), but that's just gross and shouldn't have a platform. Immediate report, I don't know if this will just result in (hopefully) the deletion of the community, or if it will also have an effect on the people who are members of it, but as it is public to everyone here's a free block list I guess:

Formerly, I didn't take a direct issue with this dertotalenkrieg guy personally, maybe I'm also confusing him with someone else but at least a few months ago I reckon he posted just historical photos and fairly "normal" reichblr stuff. Never really interacted with him as Goebbels isn't really a focus in my interests, and since a while I had him blocked anyway because he definitely did get weirder (and I just didn't want to see him anymore). I first noticed when he commented on my post to defend that other neo nazi, which should have been a clearer sign to me, however, I always had a hard time telling if he was ever genuine about something or if his entire account was just one big shitpost (personally I also don't believe in the whole reincarnation stuff, at least not in the way that he claims it to be, so the way he behaved about that might also be another reason why I couldn't really take him serious).

However this of course changes that, I never thought of looking through the guy's likes (I frankly didn't even notice that he had them public), but the things he engages with plus obviously the fact that he is a member in that neo nazi community makes it pretty obvious (that photo he posted there has literally nothing to do with historical interest). I kind of wonder now if him believing that he's the real Goebbels is what made him become a nazi (because he thought he had to replicate his "former self" or whatever) or vice versa that him being a neo nazi made him at some point think that he's one of the actual historical nazis. Regardless, he should not have a place here anymore. Thank you for letting me/us know!

#reichblr #also had to go on these people's profiles to block them and bro I think most if not all of them are literal teenagers💀

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wrathful-reptile · 1 year ago

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Good dreams are a double-edged sword.

On one hand I love them. They're good dreams.

On the other hand they're not happening and then I wake up and feel sad.

#not fr #dreams #I had a dream that I had a secret admirer who wasn't actually secret.#Like she acted like I knew her in her notes n stuff and sent me cream puffs dipped in like a delicious strawberry chocolate coating #But I couldn't for the life of me remember her because like... I'm bad at remembering folks #Her name was Robyn and hell she did some good baking #She sent me such sweet notes and little gifts as well #My friends in the dream knew her too! I just couldn't remember who she was #Because I REALLY am bad at remembering people #But like damn #I want some delicious desserts baked for me and for someone to send me notes telling me they love me #I want to be loved

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robot-roadtrip-rants · 1 day ago

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Because I am a CHUMP and a FOOL I went and watched the short after I finished your video. It brought up a lot of memories from my youth. As some of your commenters noted, Amberlynn is a stereotype from the aughts, not from the 20s. I saw jokes like Amberlynn all over the place when I was a teen. I remember the fandom and the fangirls who inspired the Amberlynn jokes. Let me tell you about the world--well, the US--that the real-life Amberlynns grew up in.

This is the era of abstinence-only education. Purity balls are in the news, and Disney Channel pop stars are wearing purity rings. When Amberlynn is a teenager, her teachers tells her that people who have pre-marital sex are like chewed-up gum. When she turns on the TV, she hears Miley Cyrus announcing that True Love Waits. If her family goes to church, she may have been issued a promise ring. Amberlynn is a nerdy girl; she may be reading fantasy/sci-fi novels with smutty content, like I did when I was a teen. And she may have to hide those novels from her parents, like my friends did, or else they'll get taken away--she's too young for that filth.

But there's this wonderful new thing called the Internet. It opens up all kinds of amazing doors. Amberlynn has been composing adventures about her favorite characters in her head for years, and now she learns--she's not the only one! There's this whole site, fanfiction.net, where people post all the adventures they composed for their fandoms. Some of it--gulp!--is pornographic. And there's this thing called a "blog"--it's sort of like an anonymous online diary. Amberlynn can post whatever she likes, and no one will know it's her! Best of all, her parents have no idea what she's getting up to on the computer. They're probably not Internet literate. If Amberlynn is careful, they'll never find out about all the filthy, disgusting smut she's reading and writing, they'll never know all the fucked up, angsty thoughts that she lets out on her Livejournal.

And all that filthy, disgusting smut that she's writing...well, there's kind of a running theme. Whether het or slash, the top is always a dominant, sexually aggressive man forcing his attentions on a shy, innocent, submissive bottom (either woman or uke). The bottom always cries and struggles and insists that they totally don't want to have sex, but when the top keep harassing them, they slowly give up the fight. They can't help themselves, it just feels too good to be kissed, felt up, penetrated. Pretty fucked up, right? Why on earth would anyone write such problematic, rape-excusing shit?

I want you to go back and reread my second paragraph, and I want you to think about what that does to a teenage girl. What it's like to be told that having sex is like being chewed up and thrown away like gum, to hear pop stars on TV tell you that "not everyone, guy or girl, wants to be a slut!" You're looking at the boys around you and you're wondering what it would be like to touch and be touched, and everything around you tells you those desires are Wrong and Bad and Slutty. That's what Amberlynn is going through right now. Good Girls don't have sex. Good Girls don't even want sex. But hey...if a really hot guy forced really good sex on you...well...it's not your fault, right? Not even if you enjoyed it.

Amberlynn isn't the first girl to unconsciously follow this line of thought. This shit predates the Internet by centuries. I'm dead serious, you can find Regency romance novels that follow the same formula. Dubcon/noncon gives women who have been raised in repressive environments an excuse to enjoy sexual fantasies without feeling shitty about their natural urges. A lack of agency means a lack of guilt.

Now, the Internet offers Amberlynn a degree of freedom to express herself that she may not have felt beforehand. But it isn't 100% free. Early on in her geeky Internet journey, Amberlynn is going to learn that not all geeks are created equal. There's a hierarchy.

See, geeks in the aughts really REALLY want everyone to know that they're Not Like Other Geeks. Society hadn't atomized into a million little niches yet; there was much greater pressure to conform to "normal." Geeks weren't "normal." And the way we handled that was to cannibalize our own.

One of the best ways to demonstrate normality is to find an even weirder person and mock them for their normality. So that's what we did. I say "we" because I definitely participated. I laughed at all the furry jokes. I sneered at the OCs and the self-inserts. I'm guessing Vivziepop did, too. We were geek kids learning how to be geek adults, and our only model was, well, The Geek Hierarchy. And it was really, really important to reaffirm our normality because, deep down inside, we knew we were at the bottom of the hierarchy.

Geek girls are abnormal. Geek girls are intruders into male spaces. Geek girls write fanfiction (ew!) about boys kissing (EW!), and they obsess over hot male characters (EW EW EW!!). It's normal for (straight!) dudes to thirst over sexy female leads, to draw dirty fanart, or to even write their favorite male character kicking ass and getting allllll the pussy in 50-chapter sagas that everyone praises. But a woman doing the same to male characters? Or worse, writing them as a f****t? Disgusting.

(I'm sticking to the cishet perspective here because that was my experience, but TRUST ME, there were queer issues a-plenty. Not a few of the Amberlynns of my era were using fic spaces to figure out their sexualities and/or gender identities. I don't think I can describe those experiences, but I want you to know they were happening.)

So if you're a geek girl in the aughts, you never, ever, ever talk about your fic to anyone outside your fanfic circle. You definitely don't discuss dirty fic, or self-inserts, or slash. You never talk about your ships, you never crack certain jokes, you never give people your Livejournal (or Tumblr, or AO3, or...). And when other nerds mock those FREAKS and WEIRDOS obsessing too much over their smutty headcanons and ships and whatnot, you nod and smile. You comply with the Geek Hierarchy.

Amberlynn doesn't comply. Amberlynn chooses violence.

By the time we meet Amberlynn in her twenties, she has long since abandoned any pretense of normality. She proudly wears her fandom merch. She covers her walls in monsterfucker posters. She has the gall to watch pornography. And--gasp!--she has kinky, gross fantasies, and she wants to be desired. She is every stereotype of gross girl geeks piled into one character.

Are we going to discuss how geek girls have used fandom spaces to explore their sexualities for decades? Are we going to discuss how purity culture has impacted those explorations? Are we even going to bring up how so, so many people who have issues with organized religion will latch onto Hell/paganism/magic/whatever their childhood faith told them was Bad? No. Amberlynn has grievously violated the Geek Hierarchy. She needs to be punished. She needs to be made an example of what not to do.

I may be swinging a bat at a hornet's nest here but comparing the Weeaboo-boo short to literally any Hunter: The Parenting episode, especially Boy Story or any episode with Grimal in it, really makes the difference clear. That short sucked so much ass, mostly due to mean-spirited misogyny.

#helluva boss #amberlyn pinkle #geek hierarchy #I still have baggage over this #I still have hang ups over SIs and OCs #Or how couples interact with each other in a fic #I assume Vivziepop does too #I don't think this episode would exist otherwise #and I get it #shit's ingrained #but we shouldn't pass our generation's hangups onto the next

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