#But here you can have this before anything else lol

[bruisedboys]

dead of the night — bucky barnes

bucky calls you, his loyal assistant, in the middle of the night, asking for your help. he’s got four assassins with him and they need a place to hide. you’re too in love with him to say no. SPOILER WARNING!! set during thunderbolts so big plot spoilers

note: I’m honestly not sure how good this is but I’m posting it anyway we ball! disclaimer I totally made some stuff up to make the scenario make sense lol hope u can forgive me

thunderbolts!bucky x fem!reader, fluff, kissing, one bed trope, 4k words

You wake to the shrill sound of your phone ringing. At first you think it’s your morning alarm, and wonder why it feels like you’ve only been asleep a few hours. It takes blinking yourself awake to realise it’s still dark out, the street outside your apartment dead quiet. Your phone continues to ring, piercing through the quiet of the night, the screen lit up and flooding the corner of your room in white. You groan. Who on earth is calling you in the middle of the night? 

You sit up dizzily and grab for your phone. You stare blankly at the bright white screen, blinking hard until your eyes adjust and you can see the name that pops up. 

Bucky Barnes. 

You blink at your phone. Your boss? Well, he’s not really your boss, but you are his assistant, and you’re not really sure whether you’re friends or something else entirely, so he might as well be. 

You hit the answer button. 

“Bucky?” You’ve long passed the stage of calling him Congressman Barnes. Besides, any ounce of professionalism left between the two of you has probably now turned to dust, given the ungodly hour of his call.

“Hey.” He sounds tired, his voice strained. “Hey, I’m so sorry, doll, I know it’s late.” 

No kidding. You ignore the fact that he’s called you doll, ‘cos if you think about it too long you’ll be here all night. ”What’s the matter?” You ask. “It’s one in the morning, Bucky.” 

“I know, I’m sorry, but it’s urgent. I need your help.” 

His words make you sit up straighter. Bucky’s been, for lack of better words, distracted lately. On edge, like he’s been waiting for something to happen. He’s been continuously disappearing at important events, and he keeps taking mysterious calls in hushed tones. You hope this has got nothing to do with the call he got from Valentina’s assistant (Mel, you think her name is) last night. He only told you about it because he’d wanted you to cover for him today while he “took care of something,” in his own, ominous words. He’s been MIA all day and you haven’t heard from him until now.

Somehow, you think this has got everything to do with the call from Mel. 

“Are you okay?” You ask on instinct.

“I’m okay, yeah, I’m fine,” he says, brushing you off. “We, uh.. we just need somewhere to hole up for the night.” 

Your brain ticks. “Hold on, we?” 

You can almost hear him wince on the other end of the line. As if on cue, you pick up some muffled voices in the background. A man’s rough voice followed by a woman’s smoother one — and is that a Russian accent? What has he gotten himself into? 

“There's, uh, five of us,” Bucky says, like that makes it any better. 

There’s a long beat of silence. You sit in the dark, still half foggy with sleep, waiting for your brain to catch up with what he’s telling you. He … wants to bring strangers to your place? To what, hide? From who? You’re dumbfounded.

“I— what?” Is all you can manage. 

There’s another short silence, and then Bucky must realise how ridiculous he sounds, because he starts to backtrack. “I’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “I shouldn’t have called, I’ll just—“ 

“No, wait,” you interrupt before you can stop yourself. For reasons unbeknownst to you, you find yourself wanting to help. You trust him, and know he’d never do anything to hurt you. Whoever these people are who’re with him must really need your help. And who else can he call, anyway? “It’s alright, I can help. Come over, okay? How far away are you?” 

Twenty minutes, as it turns out. You spend the time making your apartment and yourself look somewhat presentable, less for your visitors’ sake than your own, and because it’s Bucky.

Bucky, who’s been to your apartment three times now. Once when he got you flowers for your birthday. Another time when you’d mixed up your laptops, and accidentally come home from the office with his instead of yours in your work bag. (He’d come round to pick it up and you’d cleaned the whole place, even though he only stood in the doorway for five minutes.) And the most recent time, when you’d gotten too drunk at the bar after work, and Bucky had walked you home, deposited you in your bed, and locked the door behind him. You don’t remember most of it, but you do remember feeling so so in love with him it made you feel sick. Or maybe that was the whiskey. You doubt it. 

You’re tossing the trash from your takeout dinner in the bin, and trying not to think about how you felt that night, when there’s a knock on the door. Your phone dings on the counter, a text from Bucky. 

It’s me. 

You laugh to yourself. He can be so accidentally ominous sometimes. You cross the living room to the door and open it. 

Five people stand behind it, all in varying states of disarray. Bucky’s at the front, probably the least beat up looking, though his jacket seems to be torn in some places. Two women (girls? They don’t look very much older than you), one with a blunt blonde bob, and one brunette with pretty eyes, both looking a bit worse for wear. One very tall, older man in a red getup that makes him look like Santa Claus - it’s absurd, but somehow you feel even more absurd in your plaid pajama pants. And bringing up the rear is… John Walker? 

“Um, hi?” You say to the group at large. When Bucky said we, you didn’t expect John Walker, of all people, to show up. You try not to stare. “What can I do for you?” 

The blonde girl opens her mouth, looking amused, but Bucky beats her to it. “Funny,” he says bluntly. Then, softer, “Can we come in?” 

You share a look. Bucky has a very intense default gaze, but it seems to soften whenever he looks at you. And right now, he’s looking at you like I’m tired, I need help, just let us in please and I’ll explain. 

You step back with little objection. Something about the way he seems to say trust me with just one look — it gets you every time. If he was a serial killer, you’d surely be dead by now. 

“Alright,” you say. “Wipe your shoes, please.” 

Everyone files into your living room. It’s not a huge space but it’s enough. Walker closes the door behind them. No one sits down. 

“Who is this, again?” The brunette girl asks Bucky, breaking the silence. You assume she means you. 

“We work together. She’s my assistant,” Bucky explains, throwing you an apologetic, somewhat strained, look. “Y/N.” 

“Hello,” you say awkwardly. 

They all just stare at you. You know what they’re thinking. Why on earth would Bucky, former winter soldier, avenger, and now congressman, bring them to his assistant’s place in the middle of the night as if it was a safe house? You’re asking yourself the exact same thing. 

“Y/N, this is Ava, Yelena, Alexei, and John.” Bucky names them off, pointing them out to you as he does. “They— I mean, we just need a place to stay until morning.”

“Remind me again why we couldn’t just go to yours?” Walker pipes up, addressing Bucky. You hate to agree, but you were just about to ask the same question. 

“Valentina’s watching my place,” Bucky explains. “She knows by now that I’ve got you guys with me, she’ll have her people on us in no time if we go to mine.” 

This only confuses you further. Valentina is … watching his house? This is not what you signed up for when you applied for a job as an assistant — it seems both you and Bucky are in over your heads. Though maybe you should’ve expected it, Bucky being a former Avenger and all.

The others seem to understand Bucky’s explanation far better than you do, and they all look to you expectantly. 

You look at the group of strangers, then at Bucky, then back at the strangers. They’re all standing there rather awkwardly. At their best, they’d probably be the toughest looking group you’ve ever seen, but right now they look dead beat, covered in bruises, dark bags under their eyes, and you suddenly feel very sorry for them.

“I— yeah, okay,” you say. They’re already in your living room, already know where you live, what’s it matter now? “You can stay for the night. Make yourselves at home, guys. There’s water in the fridge and the bathroom is down the hall to the left.” 

The brunette — Ava, Bucky called her — gives you a tight smile. “Thanks,” she says, and collapses on your sofa. 

The others follow suit, though Walker stays standing with his arms crossed. 

Pleasantries over, you grab Bucky’s arm and tug him down the hallway. He follows willingly, though you don’t give him much choice. You end up in your bedroom, where you corner him. 

“Bucky, what’s going on?” You whisper harshly.  “Who are those people? Why would Valentina be watching your place? And why is John Walker here?” 

You’re so busy bombarding him with questions that you don’t notice the way he’s holding his arm, not until you’ve finished speaking. Your eyes drop to his forearm. The fabric of his jacket has been slashed open, and there’s blood all over the sleeve. 

“Oh,” you say stupidly, then even more so, “Bucky, you’re bleeding.” 

Bucky grimaces. “I know, doll.” 

You grab his arm, forgoing politeness, and hold it up to your face. 

“It’s looks bad,” you say, forgetting you’re not supposed to care about him as much as you do.

You look up and find your face inches from his, his arm clutched between you. You suddenly feel very hot.

“Let’s, um,” you flounder for a few seconds, flustered not only by everything that’s happened in the last half hour but also his closeness, and the look on his face. “I have a first aid kit in the bathroom, I think. Come on.” 

You guide him out of your room and across the hallway into the bathroom. You forget to ask why he’s bought a hoard of what look like trained assassins into your home, and force him to sit on the lip of the bathtub, pushing him down by the shoulders. He scrapes hair out of his face with his metal arm and looks up at you where you’re rummaging through the cupboard above the sink. 

“Y/N, I’m—“ 

“Don’t say you’re fine,” you interrupt. He shuts his mouth and you go on, “Are any of your friends hurt?” 

Bucky pulls a face. “They’re not really my friends,” he says. “And no, none of them are hurt, they’re just tired.” 

You nod, accepting his answer for the meanwhile, even though it only opens up about a million more questions. A moment later you finally find what you’re looking for, a red and white first aid kit tucked away at the back of the cupboard, collecting dust.

You move to stand in front of Bucky, opening up the kit and setting it on the toilet lid. 

“Show me?” You stick your hand out for his wounded arm and he gives it to you with no objection. 

You hold his wrist and carefully push his sleeve up over the wound, revealing a harsh cut across the length of his forearm. On closer inspection, it’s not horribly deep, the blood only makes it look that way. 

Still, you frown. “How did you manage this?” You ask him. 

Bucky looks for a second like he’s reliving whatever happened to cause such an injury. He searches for the words, then, “I sort of flipped a truck?” he says. “Long story.” 

Flipped a truck? Whose truck? You raise your eyebrows at him but ultimately decide it's fruitless to keep asking questions, at least until he decides to explain what’s going on. 

“Right… I’m gonna clean it, okay?” You drop his arm to pull out a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the first aid kit, unscrewing the lid and dabbing the liquid onto a cotton pad. “It might hurt.” 

Bucky looks like he’s trying not to roll his eyes. “I’m tough, doll.” 

You clean his wound as best you can. You only sort of know what you’re doing, a half remembered first aid course you took in college sitting at the back of your mind, but Bucky doesn’t protest. Actually, he doesn’t make a sound at all, just watches you with those dark eyes. It makes you nervous, like he’s looking right through you and reading all your inner thoughts. The worst part is, he’s always looking at you like this, like he can read your mind, to the point where you’re pretty sure he knows all your secrets. Like how you’re desperately in love with him and have no idea what to do about it. 

You continue your work, quiet. The silence is heavy, a sort of unspoken feeling floating between the two of you like a white hot star. You want to reach out and grab it, see if Bucky will follow, but you keep your mouth shut. 

You’re unraveling a roll of bandage to wrap his arm when you finally speak. “So, are you gonna tell me why you brought a bunch of assassins into my home In the dead of the night?” You laugh at your own joke, but the look on Bucky’s face stops you short. “They’re… they’re not assassins, are they?” 

Bucky purses his lips. “Well, you’re not very far off…” 

He launches into an explanation, finally. First, of what Valentina’s really been up to. Project Sentry — putting a gold ribbon and a promise of a better life on a special super serum, and testing it on the most vulnerable subjects she could find. Then, how she rushed to eliminate all proof of the project, including the four people in your living room (who turn out to actually be trained assassins, though Bucky promises none of them will hurt you), and Bob, one of the test subjects. 

Then he tells you about how he tracked Mel’s phone to a site in the middle of nowhere, where he found Yelena, Ava, John and Alexei in a “predicament,” and “saved their asses,” as he puts it. He spares you the details, but it's how he sliced his arm open, and why they’re now retreating to yours to regain their strength before going after Bob. Bob, who’s vulnerable but much stronger than he probably knows, and who Valentina now has in her clutches. 

By the time he’s done explaining, you’ve realised how much bigger this is than just you and Bucky. For days this has all been happening without your knowledge and Bucky has been dealing with it all. You’re not annoyed, you get why he didn’t tell you. Still, you wish he’d asked for your help earlier. 

“So, you’re going after Bob?” You ask, carefully tucking in the end of the bandage. You spent half of his explanation just staring at him, hardly believing what he was saying, and the other half wrapping his arm, trying to believe what he was saying, no matter how ludicrous it sounded. 

Bucky nods. “I guess so. He could be dangerous in Valentina’s hands, you know?” 

You nod back. “Yeah, I get it. Won’t it be dangerous, though? Going after him? 

You say it before you’ve thought about it. You realise right after that it makes you sound like you care far too much about the man sitting in front of you, who’s really just the guy you file documents for. You don’t owe him anything. 

Bucky smiles. “Don’t worry, doll. We’ve got four assassins on our side, five if you count me.” 

You frown. “You’re not an assassin.” 

You don’t care what he’s done in the past, you can’t see him as anything else but lovely. He’s brave, kind, and so thoughtful it aches. 

Still, Bucky shrugs. “Used to be.” 

You pack up the first aid kit and put it away. Bucky watches you, his gaze like a burning fire on the back of your head. When you’re done cleaning up, he stands up and crosses the room, meeting you by the sink. 

“Thank you,” he says, earnest though his voice is rough from exhaustion. “You make a good nurse.” 

For some odd reason, butterflies erupt in your gut at his words. You look up at him. He’s very close now, only a step or two away from being chest to chest. You manage a grin. 

“That’s me,” you say, faux casual. “Best nurse and assistant you’ve ever had, huh?” 

You might be imagining it, but you’re pretty sure Bucky’s eyes flicker to your lips. He’s distracted as he murmurs, “Uh huh.” 

A beat of silence, and then Bucky takes a step closer. Your chest burns. He raises his vibranium arm, and you watch as his silver fingers close around your forearm. You can’t feel it through your sweater, but you can imagine how smooth the metal would feel on your skin. 

“Bucky,” you whisper. 

“Mm,” he hums back. He’s definitely looking at your lips now, and moving closer by the second. “What, doll?” 

You blink rapidly. He’s so close now you can smell him, sweat and dust but underneath that something heady, a bergamot cologne you’ve smelled on him before. 

“I— what are you doing?” You whisper, starting to panic. 

Bucky looks at you, this intense look of yearning in his eyes, like he’s being pulled towards you and can’t stop, and you almost melt into the bathroom tiles. 

“I want to kiss you,” he murmurs, so quiet it’d be impossible to hear him if he weren’t this close. “Can I?” 

You sort of guessed as much, but to hear the words coming from his mouth is something else entirely. You find yourself nodding. You don't know why. Well, actually, you know exactly why. You like him a lot, and you’ve imagined this moment a million times over in your head, though in your imaginations he certainly wasn’t bleeding out in your tiny bathroom.

“Okay,” you manage, heartbeat turning frantic. 

You see a flash of his smile before he’s pulling you gently forwards by the wrist and then kissing you. It’s chaste, gentle, but you can almost feel him holding back, his grip on your wrist tightening as he moves closer still, almost like he can’t help himself. The pressure of his kissing pushes you backwards a half inch — your back hits the edge of the sink and you don't care, you really don’t, because Bucky is kissing you and his thumb is rubbing a rough circle into your inner forearm, and his lips are so warm they leave yours buzzing.

Too soon, Bucky pulls away. 

You blink at him. He’s still agonisingly close to your face, and still looking at you like he wants to eat you. Your heart’s a riot, worse when he reaches up with his freshly bandaged arm and tucks a rogue piece of hair behind your ear. 

His hand lingers at your jaw. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs. His hand is warm. His fingers are calloused and rough, but he touches you like you’re made of starlight. “Is it okay that I did that?” 

You nod. “Yes,” you manage. Even to your own ears, you sound breathless as anything, but you’re so dizzy that there’s no space to be embarrassed about it. “I— yeah.” 

Bucky smiles, but it’s not smug. If anything, it’s achingly fond. “I’m sorry I called. I shouldn’t have roped you into this. I just … didn’t have anyone else I could call.” 

You shake your head. You won’t say it, but right now you’re infinitely glad he called. Even in the dead of the night. “It’s okay.” 

Bucky strokes your jaw with his thumb, slow and intentional. “No one will hurt you while I’m here, okay? And we’ll be out of here before you even wake up, I promise.” 

You nod around his hand. It’s hard to digest anything he’s saying while he’s touching you like this, and looking at you like that. You think you get the gist, though. 

“Okay,” you say. You desperately want to kiss him again, but you’re much too shy to ask. Before you can work up the guts, he’s moving away. 

“I think you should get back to bed,” he tugs his phone from his jacket pocket and checks the time. “It’s past two.” 

“Right,” you nod, not wanting to, but you’re too dizzy and too tired to protest. 

You and Bucky leave the bathroom together. You follow him still half in a daze, not understanding how he can be so nonchalant when you literally feel lightheaded as a direct result of the kiss. You suppose he’s just better at hiding it, or maybe you’re just very sick in love. 

You and Bucky step into the living room to find probably the most absurd scene to ever grace your living space. Yelena and Ava, both knocked out on the couch, Ava’s head on Yelena’s shoulder, drool falling from the blonde’s open mouth. Alexei sprawled out on the floor in front of the TV, snoring like a bear. And Walker sitting at your kitchen table, bent in half with his forehead resting on his crossed arms, fast asleep.

Both you and Bucky seem to realise at the exact same time that there’s nowhere other than a much too small chunk of floor for him to sleep. You turn to each other. 

“Do you want to—?” You start. 

“I can sleep in the—“ he says at the same time. 

You both pause. 

“Sleep in the what?” You ask him, incredulous. 

Bucky grimaces. “The car?” He at least has the decency to look guilty as he says it. 

You roll your eyes. “You’re absurd. Come on, you can sleep in my room.” 

It’s ridiculous, you know, but the words leave your mouth before you think about it. The truth is, you’re both dead tired and you’ve got no other option. Besides, you don't see how this night could get any more ludicrous. What’s it matter if Bucky sleeps in your room? He’s just kissed you, hasn’t he? 

You start to pull him towards your bedroom, but he stays put. 

“Y/N—“ 

“You said you wouldn’t let any of them hurt me,” you say firmly. “How’re you gonna do that from the car?” 

Bucky opens his mouth, closes it, then opens it again. 

“I… don't know,” he mumbles lamely. Then, at your I told you so look, “Are you sure?” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. He’s too gentlemanly for his own good. “Yes, I’m sure. Come on.” 

You pull him towards your bedroom, much too tired now to be flustered about it. In the dark of your room, Bucky insists on sleeping on the floor. You let him, because he’s stubborn, and because you think if he were to sleep in your bed, no matter the distance you know he’d put between you, you’d be much too consumed with nervous energy to even shut your eyes, let alone sleep. 

It’s half past two when you finally crawl back into bed, Bucky lying on a stack of pillows on the floor at the foot of your bed. Though you can't see him, you feel his presence like a weight over your chest. 

You settle down on your pillows, already feeling the tug of sleep behind your eyes. Before you can fully succumb, Bucky speaks up. 

“Y/N?” He sounds just as tired as you, but you can't ignore the way he says your name like it's something special. 

“Yeah?” You hum back. 

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. You suppose he’s thanking you for everything from housing a bunch of strangers, to letting him kiss you. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” 

A pause in which you think about how to respond. Then, 

“With a pay raise?” You joke weakly. 

Bucky sighs loudly, but the smile in his voice is evident when he murmurs back, “Whatever you want, doll.” 

You grin to yourself. Now that’s something you can fall asleep to. 

[yumeka-sxf]

After the exciting start of a new Garden arc last time, today's new chapter did not disappoint either! First thing I noticed upon reading is - Yor's new outfit! (though you're not being very discreet with that "Garden" badge 😅)

Also that little lemur guy in the upper left of the panel is like "Wtf?!" I would think that too if a person suddenly leaped onto the tree branch next to me 🤣 (you can see him scurrying away in the next panel underneath...nice little detail from Endo there.)

Before I get into specifics of this chapter, I wanted to analyze the exchange between Yor and Hemlock in the jeep - namely, the Hemlock/Nightfall parallel, with Hemlock accusing Yor of losing her edge due to "playing house" for too long, which is exactly what Nightfall said to Twilight when she first appeared.

This made me think of an interview with Endo that was shared in the recent iterations of the SxF exhibition that's going on in Japan: when asked which character has changed the most in the series so far, he said Yor while also mentioning that Loid has barely changed. And I can see why that's the case with how Yor responded to Hemlock. Her experience during the cruise arc made her understand her own development - that now more than ever she wants to continue her work because she has more people she desires to protect.

She actually recognizes her own change and embraces it, while Loid...still hasn't gotten there yet. If we compare this exchange between Yor and Hemlock with the one between Loid and Nightfall, Loid clearly doesn't have this same self recognition about how living with the Forgers has changed him. He either genuinely doesn't know or he's in denial, which is why Nightfall is the one who points it out, and even when she tells him, he doesn't have a response.

One could argue that this may have been the case in old chapters, but ever since the mole hunt arc, he has recognized himself how he's changed. I do agree that the mole hunt arc made him realize that he's "softening" in a way, but he sees this as a detriment more than anything else. Unlike Yor who sees how her love for the Forgers has made her stronger, Loid sees it as something that will make him weaker rather than fuel his resolve.

We haven't seen much of Loid's deep inner thoughts since the end of the mole hunt arc, so only time will tell if he'll start to see his own development as something to be accepted rather than pushed away (just a note that I don't have a specific link for this part of the interview, but Fasionnessutsu shared screenshots of it in a thread here).

But anyway, back to other thoughts about this chapter, it was no surprise that even though Yor and McMahon changed into these safari-looking outfits, Hemlock is still wearing his suit. Why am I not surprised someone like him would totally refuse to wear that? 😂

And omg, the fact that Yor is still hung up about the "welcome home" kiss 😂 The fact that she's so earnest about it all this time later means...something, lol.

Also McMahon having a wife...it was kind of vague here but I wonder if she knows about his undercover work? Probably not, but would be interesting to see how much of his marital situation mirrors Yor's.

We apparently got another minor character introduced in this chapter - McMahon's pet falcon (and scouting assistant) Keekee.

In the Japanese version he calls her "Kiki-chan," with "kiki" being the sound she makes. It's nothing big, but I just found it amusing that a stoic, no-nonsense guy like McMahon calls his pet bird "-chan" 😅

The flower that Damian and company found has returned! I mentioned in my last chapter post that it may have some connection to Anya's past - we'll see!

This chapter ends on quite the cliffhanger, with Hemlock attacking Yor because, according to him, she's an impediment to his work and he's allowed to get rid of such impediments. We've already seen several examples of how quick to kill he is. Compared to Yor who tries her best to only kill "bad guys," Hemlock's first notion for anything in his way is to kill, whether it's the deer he's supposed to protect, or a fellow assassin he thinks is dragging him down.

Again, there's parallels that can be drawn between him and Nightfall, but unlike Nightfall whose obsession is fueled by idolizing Twilight, Hemlock's obsession seems to be fueled by animosity for Yor. Where that animosity came from is something we'll hopefully see in upcoming chapters. My theory is that, at some point, Hemlock idolized Yor and is now upset that she seems to have "softened," or he's always been jealous of her and now is even more enraged that she's not taking her job seriously anymore. Whatever the case is, I look forward to seeing how it plays out 👀

[cowboy-robooty]

This is the 5th time im trying to post this damn masterlist. fuck my baka life. It straight up deleted your ask last time my apologies.

i didnt respond for 10 days because it made me so happy to get an ask like this that my little heart ceased to beat so i flopped over and died grandpa on the lazy-boy with a bucket of chicken on his lap style. im ok now tho dont worry. anyways, heres a current compilation of my exceptional itager doujin comics and such (not singular fanarts), although this list hasn't updated in forever since... idk... people don't really scanlate itager comics from pixiv much anymore (>3<) at least not on tumblr since the R-18 ban! I'll put this all under the cut since it'll be a bit long

FULL DOUJINSHI:

Hiraite Musunde Ishuukan! - R (corolla)

This is the best itager doujinshi ever. Hands down. I've never read anything that has topped this it is literally perfect. It's created by overlord R who's only critical fault is that she ships gerita.. but ngl i think she was just born in the wrong time. You'll see a lot more work by her here and i genuinely think that if she was born in an era that didn't push for uke italy she would've been an itager warrior. shes like how a lot of people who aren't racist in this day and age (thank god) would've TOTALLY been super racist 50 years ago (you know what i mean? sometimes you just can tell when you know somebody). Poor R was born in the wrong generation.

Her other doujins are also excellent (found below)

Lettera d’amore - R (corolla)

Very close second to her best one

Gattiino Nante Iwasenai - R (corolla)

This one is also great but I'd say it's only a tinyyy bit more behind the other two because of the knowledge she is a Gerita believer (it spoils the taste of some bits when you think about it). If you ignore her beliefs though this is a just as high quality of Itager doujin as the other two

Temperatur - PB (Neri)

What's this?! A doujin that's improperly sorted on [MANGA SCANLATION SITE] under gerita?! This is Itager LOL you can literally see it on the title and on Otaku Republic its labled as itager as well. Although it has fully proper intentions behind it, it's still not nearly as good as R's above doujinshis or my favorite Itager fanartist (who will come up later in the pixiv comic section). This isn't because it's itager of course (im going to fucking kill you if you go "durhhh its worse because its itager since gerita is supreme") NO. It's because this author isn't willing to keep "it" in their pants! This is a shounen ai but there's still too much eroticism for the sake of sexiness rather than humor which takes away from the critical broship aspect of itager! I have nothing against ero (if you know me im SUPER pro-ero) but yaoi is a science! Erotic scenes are like chilli crisp in a doujinshi... YOU MUST USE THEM PROPERLY OR ELSE IT'LL RUIN THE YAOI INSTEAD OF ENHANCING IT! Also there is pruaus jumpscare which ranks it down for me too.

HONORABLE MENTION

I have two Itager doujinshis I bought off Otaku Republic that have never been scanlated before. They are the last of their kind on the website, so I'm too afraid to tear them open for scanlation. I also don't know how to translate Japanese and it probably would be a nightmare to contact the original authors of these doujins since they're so old... but the art looks so good... especially for strawberry sex. I will make a point to put an effort in this over the summer (if I cannot get permission, then I will translate it for myself and you will need to personally contact me to see the translation, out of respect for the original author).

TRANSLATED PIXIV COMICS:

Before we begin, everybody, please say thank you to yumekotan. I have no clue where you have gone and I think you probably shipped gerita (another case of being born in the wrong generation perhaps), but you have done an incredible service for our world with your scanlations. I will be providing links to yumekotan's tumblr post scanlations for your easy enjoyment and grouping the links by author.

モツ (MY FAVORITE):

this motherfucker is my goat. my on god goat. i think they hate hetalia now or are just average japanese embarassed of their past bc they deleted all their hetalia work and i would literally do anything to put them in a time machine and make them go back to when they liked this shit so i could commission them to make a whole doujinshi with my entire year of part time job pay. Perhaps I'm wrong, since this is all we have left of motsu's legacy in the itager wars, but this is SO freaking itager i think my eyes would start rolling to the back of my skull if i found out they're another gerita victim of the era. because almost everybody else on this motherfucking post is a victim to being born in the wrong generation, but they do have comics and fanarts that show symptoms of their gerita truth aids (and the comic gets really weird or bad suddenly when it kicks in like you can pinpoint it). Motsu has never faltered. And whats even more impressive is that this is absolutely canon. The best itager doujinshi by R is incredible and perfect because it's exactly canon, but I think that motsu takes it a step further by being able to create mundane comics that still have the same level of canon atmosphere. I'll admit that R's best Itager doujin relies on sticking close to things himaruya has already written to keep it standing strong. Motsu doesnt give a single fuck. bro said no pads no helmet no condom we whip out dick out in the wind raw and see who gets pregnent. and it turned out himaruya did because these comics are absolutely perfect they are a true extension of the real webcomic itager which i think i have a SUPER SUPER long way to go until i can get there. (at this point I kind of embrace that my itager is colored in the way my way of writing and humor is, but that is because i draw itager for fun too much these days due to heavy school and work. my career is studying classical #true webcomic himaruya style itager which requires actual skill).

R (corolla):

These above three are very good quality R pixiv comics (going from best (top) to great (bottom))

^ Good tier comic. nothing excellent but nothing bad in its flavor

The below four are itager comics I would consider OK, but they have some form of gerita AIDS that causes it to be a bit unpleasant to eat (to varying degrees, going from OK (top) to what is this gay shit <- derogetory (bottom)). R was born in the wrong generation... and it really starts showing how the environment influenced them to add some really bad components to their version of the ship

^[This comic seems to have problems, so click this LINK to see it]

To clarify, none of these are absolutely terrible awful "killed my grandma" kind of things. All of these comics compared to the average gerita comic are WONDERFUL. But if we are looking at it alone without the context of the gerita invasion our world is suffering from, these OK-bad tier comics do have key components wrong with them. If anyone is interested I suppose I can make another post annotating what is wrong with these comics, but I feel like that is unnecessary and a bit cruel considering R doesn't seem interested in the ship anymore. Sometimes people live and die in the wrong era, and you must acknowledge their faults, but still be understanding of the situation they were in.

Hakoniwa:

^[This comic also seems to have problems, so click this LINK to see it]

If you've read all the English translated doujins for this ship floating around online, you probably recognize this author and are surprised this is here! Yes, they have a billion jillion gerita doujins and i hate all of them LOL. But this one pixiv comic is the one time they got something right. Hakoniwa seems to have this problem that (aside from gerita... although I think this is a symptom of having gerita aids) they make this ship way too emotional in an angsty sadness manner! I understand that their focus is that they prefer exploring the emotional depth of ships rather than making humorous situations, but they're doing it all wrong! (this isn't even to mention how I think that humor and emotional depth are things that can exist side by side; even complimenting each other if executed properly....) I feel like people get the idea with ships that sadness/angst = depth, which is untrue. emotional components that twist your heart around and bring you to tears can come from sad AND happy things, it just seems to be that it's much harder to execute with happiness. People think angst and fluff are opposite things when really, they're two sides of the same coin, with both of them being done terribly most often LOL. I don't consider myself someone who likes fluff or angst at all actually, because it seems that when people describe something as either of those things, neither of them provoke the feeling im supposed to have. I think that with itager, it has lots of depth in its emotional components, but these components are made of things that make you feel so heartwarmed that you could cry. This comic does not reach that level, but it is for once an emotional comic that Hakoniwa gets RIGHT. This is canon compliant. This is something that would happen. This is ITAGER!

FANFICTION:

There is no good itager fanfiction. There is very few mid ones. maybe one or two OK/almost good ones. but no solid good ones. and this is coming from a guy who spent the last 6 years scouring ao3 and fanfiction dot net. In my opinion, hetalia fandom has this wretched curse that it will uniquely be the only fandom with so much fanfiction with none of it being good. Good hetalia fanfiction does not exist for Itager and Romapru. For other ships maybe, but at least for the two I'm into hell No. Everytime I come back to ao3 it just leaves me upset and unsatisfied like that stripper that i KNOW doesn't actually love me and just wants my money, but I keep coming back hoping shell change her mind. NEWS FLASH! SHE WONT!! SHE JUST NEEDS TO PAY HER BILLS THIS MONTH!

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Hidekaz Himaruya:

Webcomic Kitayume era. Basically anything before the World Stars serialization. I often reread this era whenever I'm feeling like I want to consume some itager

Hetalia (anime - Studio Deen):

Seasons 1-4 (APH to World Series... in other words before the artstyle changed.) + bits and pieces of beautiful world are good (but some are BAD... LOOKS AT THAT ONE SCENE THEY ADDED THAT I FUCKING HATE).

Bloody Moimoi:

I'm not a bloody moimoi expert, but of course I've read their doujins how could i not. They have pieces of real goodness in them, but basically all of their work is R-18, so of course the gerita aids is too much for my palate to handle. I'll take a closer examination at them if somebody asks me to, but for now I'd say if you haven't read their work yet you should, since during their non R-18 scenes I remember theres some good parts, but the R-18 totally kills my boner *cries*

IN CONCLUSION:

I hope this was helpful!! I'm SO HAPPY I GOT THIS ASK WWWWW IM SOOOO HAPPY EEEEK EEEK EEEEEEK SQUEE IM SO HAPPY TO TALK ABOUT ITAGER THANK YOU GUYS. I LOVE ITAGER I LOVE TALKING ABOUT IT I LOVE IT I LOVEEEE IT AUGHAKSDJF *BLEEDS FROM EYES*. This isn't itager connected at all, but you should read Killer Crush (manhwa) if you like Itager. To me Killer Crush is as close as an independent completely unrelated manhwa can get to being an Itager AU. Seriously. To me it's an itager au ngl and in the ranks of my absolute favorite comics. 10/10 read it. it's a nicotine patch.

[new-age-cassandra]

Apologies for how long this is about to be

I am currently in college getting a dual minor in History and Gender and Women’s studies, and that future degree is calling to me telling me I need to talk about the historical context of Malevolent and how the time period plays a bigger role in the story than most people think about specifically when it comes to diversity in minority characters (Will not be talking about season 5 because that is whole other can of Cassandra’s history brain worms). 

Real quick, this is honestly just word vomit, truly just me rambling, I don’t want to start shit these are just my observations as someone who is currently studying related topics. Sorry for the hot takes ig. 

adding cut here before I get into it lol

A thing I love about Malevolent is that Harlan Guthrie made an effort to do research and be as historically accurate as he could while telling a supernatural story. One of the things anyone will quickly learn when researching any history, is that most of the time life was not fun unless you were a straight, white, upper class, cisgender man. Even by the 1930's America was extremely segregated, women had the right to vote but not much else, not to mention homosexuality and gender transition was criminalized until around 1964. 

I have been seeing a lot of talk about Faroeverse and people saying it’s just the same story but yuri and guys… Malevolent would not be the same story at all if Arthur was a woman. As I said before, women barely had rights, they also had completely different lives. Women in the 1930’s were still working incredibly hard for their rights.  Not to mention that the female experience in any time period is just so much different from that of the male, I could write a whole other rant just about the differences there but we’ll save that for another day. Swapping Arthur’s gender and trying to keep Malevolent historically accurate changes e v e r y t h i n g. Faroe/Bella/whatever you wanna call her, would not be able to be a PI, she would not be able to buy a gun and a new identity, she would not be able to hitchhike with the confidence Arthur did, she would not be able to enter the freemason’s building,  and so much more. If Malevolent is about a woman in the 1930’s it is a very different story. 

Only going to briefly touch on race because anyone can picture Arthur however they want and tbh this is the internet, anything I say someone will have a problem with… Just like don’t complain that majority of people see Arthur as a white man, because unfortunatly…  historically speaking  if he wasn’t a white man he would almost certainly not have made it out of Arkham. Also I don’t think that Harlan (you know a white man from Canada) wants to write about racism in 1930’s America, and honestly I think he’s not in the wrong for that.

My final thing is I feel it is unfair to point at Malevolent and say it’s “queerbait” or be mad that there are not “canonically queer characters”. The 1930’s were not safe for queer people like at all. A character will not just go up to another and say “I am gay and in love with you” because if someone in the 1930’s did that there would be a non-zero possibility of them being beaten, lynched, or even burned alive for it. Malevolent is not queerbaiting, because also it was not intentionally written to be queer. Does it have like an insane amount of subtext and queer coding similar to media from the time? Absolutely.  But it is just not queerbait guys, Harlan is not teasing us with a “Will they won’t they” he has gone on record to say they won’t, but that we all are free to enjoy it however we want. 

If you read all of this… I’m sorry. Hope you enjoyed. Again I say I am not here to start shit, these are just my thoughts. Gonna go write an essay about Malevolent for fun now, if I publish that one it will be much more refined and professional than this mess lol.

[deangirlsstuff67]

Oops… Wrong Number Part 3-

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Who knew texting the wrong number could be so much fun !

Warnings: flirting, meet cute, fluffy Jensen, leading up to smut

Authors Note: I love Jensen and his family. This is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes only. Sorry it’s short and sweet, the next on won’t be I swear ;)

Catch up here

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You'd been here a week already and honestly you never want to leave. Texas is breathtaking, the atmosphere is intoxicating, sourthern hospitality at it's finest.

“Y/n can I get you anything to drink sweetheart?” You tilt your head back as you stare into mossy green eyes hovering above you. Legs in the pool as you sit on the edge enjoying the cool water while soaking up the sun.

Jensen throws you his signature panty drenching smirk, waiting for your reply. How the fuck did you end up at this man’s house, hanging with his friends, thinking about all the filthy promises he has made to you when everyone goes home for the night.

Oh that’s right. You accidentally text the wrong number. Pure luck was all it took to be living your dream.

“Whiskey please.”

“Anything for you baby girl.” As he walks away towards his house, you remember the day you met him a week ago.

—————————————————————————

Jensen: I’m not that scary to meet lol.

Me: Says the famous person whose job it is to meet strangers. You’re a freaking walking sex god dude.

Jensen: Sex God ;) I like the sounds of that.

Me: Of course you do.

Jensen: One coffee. Keep it simple and easy. I promise I don’t bite… unless you like that ;)

He’s been like this for two days. Flirty comments and begging to meet me. The man has balls the size of Texas and now that your dream is becoming a reality you can’t get out of your own head long enough to agree to meet him.

Wishing you could blame anything else besides the fact that your ex boyfriend screwed with your confidence so bad it wasn’t even funny at this point.

However, fate had a funny way of working itself out and after not so gracefully avoiding another day of meeting him the universe had enough.

The following day you went on a walk around your friends neighbour hood with your morning coffee in hand. Gorgeous houses, manicured lawns, large SUVs parked in the driveways, you have to admit she did good for herself. Lost in your own little world you didn’t notice a man yelling behind you to watch out before it was too late and a 80 lbs ball of fur ran straight into you from behind. Wagging his tail and giving you kisses the dog was so excited to meet you.

Once you caught your balance you looked up coming face to face with the friendly dogs owner.

Shocked coloured your face, “Jensen…”

—————————————————————————

Turns out your best friend and Jensen are neighbours. Just your luck right? Since that day early this week, you’ve been hanging out with him daily.

A pair of tanned legs join you at the pool as he sits on the edge with you. “Whiskey for the pretty lady.”

“Oh such a gentleman.”

“Not always sweetheart. I have my moments though.” He sends a flirty wink your way. You can’t help but giggle at this beautiful man beside you.

As awkward as you thought it would be to actually meet your celebrity crush, turns out you were worried for nothing. On more than one occasion he has proven to you he is simply just a man. Good looking man but a man.

… well more like a giant child and the even taller best friend of his does nothing to help hide this fact. The two of them together are ridiculous.

“It’s been what, just over a week now, how are you enjoying Texas?” He asked while sipping on his tumbler of whiskey.

Smirking with your head down, “honestly, I’m going to start looking for a place to purchase down here. Should have moved with y/f/n when she did in the first place.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“At the time I was with the ex boyfriend. Thought he was the one. Boy was I wrong there.”

“How long were you two together?”

“Six years.” Sighing you take a sip of the amber liquor in your glass, “lived together, bought a house, talking marriage and babies, building the life we wanted together, then boom, he’s best friend gets drunk on my birthday with us and I’m assuming gets jealous and lets slip how they’ve been fucking the whole time him and I were together.”

“Fuck, she did it on your birthday. That’s rough sweetheart.”

“It was a shock, I’m glad for it though,” shrugging your shoulders as you lean back on your arms. Your boobs popping with the motion, leaving little to the imagination with your bikini top on. Beside you Jensen lets out a soft moan, sending warmth surging through your body.

Just as you’re about to say something, both you and Jensen are sprayed with water as Jared canon balls into the pool right beside you.

“Oh my bad, I didn’t know I was going to get you.” Jared popped back up from under the water laughing as he apologizes. Kicking your feet in his direction you get him back a little.

Jensen throws his best friend the best bitch face he can conjure as he fights back laughter of his own, “oh I bet you don’t.”

When Jared turns his back to swim away is when Jensen jumps into the pool to attack his buddy as you sit on the side and watch the two giant children wrestle.

—————————————————————————

Everyone has gone home for the evening besides you. Jensen had convinced you to stay a little longer and watch a movie with him. Some one on one time as he put it, to try and convince you to stay in Texas instead of going back home.

You were in his shower while he was making up snacks and drinks for you both. With the water running you never heard the knock on the door or it opening and closing as Jensen walked in to ask what you wanted to drink. The moment he walked in was the same moment you were getting out of the shower to dry off.

Shock was all over both your faces when your eyes met. There he was in a simple T-shirt and sweatpants while you were completely naked with water dripping from you.

As you stared into his eyes, you watched as they turned from shock to desire within seconds. You watched as he was fighting back his need to pin you against the nearest surface, as he readjusted his large erection, you also saw when he lost the battle and started towards you like a predator stalking his prey.

—————————————————————————

Taglist:

@barnes70stark @lessons-of-red @chilledbabydoll @bitchykittenconnoisseur @spnaquakindgdom @yvonneeeee @syrma-sensei @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @deansimpalababy @nancymcl @tspmoff @idontwannabehere78 @foxyjwls007 @senjoritanana @leigh70 @neii3n @maggiegirl17 @jamerlynn @mostlymarvelgirl @kimxwinchester @multiversefanfics @supershygirl @impala67rollingthroughtown @justwhisperingfantasies @tmb510 @n-o-p-enever

[electricgg]

Hiiii I’m a new reader of the “ancient dreams in a modern land” fic and can I just say IM OBSESSEDDDD the way that you write like over all is SO scrumptious im left in SHOCKK everytime i re-read it 💕😔 also can I just say I’m very much excited for peewpaw Erik to make an appearance 🙂‍↕️

(Also that bobby fan cast?? U COOKED 😩☝️)

Thank you so much for dropping by to say this!! It warms up my heart that people like my writing so much (and the fact that you have RE-READ IT??? COUPLE OF TIMES??? I'm so flattered and about to faint omg-)

I am also very excited for Peepaw Erik (guess he is staying with that nickname bc everyone keeps calling him that lol). Look foward to after the next two chapters, that's all im gonna say before I spoil anything else jsjsjssj.

AND ANY FAN CAST IS ON MY BESTIE!!! She should def be a casting director and sent to jail for cooking SO GOOOD- She has a batman blog here, pls check her out and give her some love.

[ineffablecabbage]

for the domestic prompt... Benton/Carter #47 🥺

(lol I was trying to keep these drabble, double drabble or triple drabble size. Messed around and fucked up. ~ 1459 words)

Jackie didn't like being wrong about things, but at certain point, she had to admit that Walt had the situation with John Carter figured out long before she ever did.

Neither of them quite knew what to think when Peter brought the gangly… young… white med student home for Thanksgiving dinner. But Peter had insisted that their mother had invited him - something that their mother confirmed once or twice, though her word in those days could never truly be taken at face value - and the kid had the look on him like someone had just kicked his puppy, so Jackie had served him a plate and tried not to ignore how … close he clung to everything Peter said or did.

"He doesn't know any of you, and he had a rough day," Peter told her in the kitchen. "Give him more of grandma's mac and cheese that you perfected, and he'll warm up to you."

Men always compliment you when they're up to something, Grandma had said once.

"That's true," Walt agreed. "White people do love their cheese."

And to his credit, John Carter did look up at her with those sad little puppy eyes and tell her how he'd never had anything this delicious in his life, and thank her for her hospitality, and well… it was easy to see why her brother and her mother had been so easily charmed.

Her brother would deny being charmed, but Jackie had known her brother all his life, thank you very much, and if anyone else had looked at him and said "I've never had sweet potato pie," he would have called them a tasteless heathen. Instead, Peter gave the boy two slices and told him not to insult anyone by telling them pumpkin was better.

"Pumpkin is a little heavier on the spice," John Carter had commented. "The sweet potato is lighter and sweeter. Some people might prefer the spice."

Walt had elbowed her in the ribs then, and she had told him to be quiet. "It's a metaphor, Jackie. We should tell Peter that he's just been compared to a pumpkin pie, so he can be furious that he got to be the inferior pie," he whispered, because Walt never listened to her good advice.

Later when John Carter listened to each of her children in turn talk their various levels of nonsense - despite the heavy lids that the carb coma and turkey were giving him - Jackie sat between her mother and Walt and listened to Peter cleaning up the dishes in the kitchen. Her mother patted her hand and said, "Peter has nice friends, don't you think, Jackie?"

Walt had chuckled, and Jackie had elbowed him and told him to be quiet again. "Yes, Mama," she'd said.

"Ate all his pie," her mother had said. "Cleaned his whole plate. You know, you and Petey were both fussy eaters. Gave me and your father such fits."

"Well, family takes all types," Walt said, and Jackie elbowed the man again, because he didn't know how to be quiet at all.

Later, after company had gone and Mama had gone to bed, Walt declared, "That man is gonna be coming to Sunday dinners before all is said and done, mark my words."

"You talk too much, Walt," she said. "And that'll never happen. Peter's never even dated a white woman, and you have him out here dating a white man. And a student at that. That boy can't be much more than what? 23?"

"He won't always be his student," Walt answered. "And it's the 90s, Jackie. Your brother works with white people in a white hospital all day long… to borrow John Carter's metaphor, maybe he might decide he wants to try a different flavor of pie."

"If you use that metaphor again, you're sleeping on the couch until next Sunday dinner," Jackie grumbled.

Walt had laughed, and they had dropped it.

~*~

Time passed, of course, and Peter decided to make all sorts of terrible choices in his dating life. First, he decided to date a married woman. Oh, Walt loved to talk about that. ("You suppose that little white boy was married?") Then there was Carla, and oh, Lord, she was even worse. That was a fact. Now, Jackie will always love her nephew, but his mother was an entire mess and a half. Walt loved to talk about that, too. ("John Carter never insulted your cornbread.")

And after that, Peter apparently decided to dance on their father's grave and date a white woman, after all.

On the day they found that out, Walt did have to sleep on the couch, he was so insufferable.

~*~

More time passed, of course, and eventually, little brothers left to their own devices will almost stumble into making the right choices. Peter even started to date a stable, sane Black woman for a while - a fellow doctor and pediatrician.

"She seems nice," Jackie told him, during a Sunday dinner in which they were actually graced with his presence for a change. "Couldn't she get the day off?"

Peter shrugged. "It seemed a little early to be inviting her to Sunday dinner, don't you think?"

Walt laughed, and as they were doing the dishes, Walt told her firmly, "That man is never inviting that woman to this house for Sunday dinner."

"Oh, he will too."

"If she ever shows up, I'm gonna ask her if she's ever met John Carter."

"You will not."

~*~

There were only a few times that Jackie remembered hearing her little brother's voice break, and those are moments Jackie didn't like to think about at all. So when the phone call in the middle of the night woke her, asking if she could keep an eye on Reese for the night, because "something has happened," she knew it had to be bad.

She knew, because her little brother's voice broke in the middle of his request; he cleared his throat twice trying to regain composure.

She gave him the dignity he was trying to get back. "Sure, Peter. It's not a problem."

Later, when he came to pick Reese up, he would tell her that John Carter was injured, but he wouldn't tell her how. He will tell her that John Carter's useless parents had stayed in Tokyo.

Now, Jackie couldn't imagine either going to Tokyo or staying there if one of her children needed her. If one of her children were hurt, she would sooner try to swim the ocean herself than stay away from them.

She hadn't seen John Carter in years, but did remember that sweet boy who had been kind to her mother, to her children, and to her, and she knew he didn't deserve any hurt. She also watched the way her brother's fists shook with unleashed hurt, fury, or a combination of the two as he clenched them during his retelling of the failures of these sorry ass parents that John Carter had been given.

"When he gets out of the hospital, stop by, and I'll fix him a plate," Jackie told him. "Nobody should have to go home to take-out."

The hug Peter gave her on the way out was as tight as the one he gave her at Mama's funeral.

Walt haunted the doorway while Peter poured out his heart. After Peter left, Walt didn't say anything, but he didn't have to.

~*~

It was two years and two deaths after that fateful night that John Carter did in fact show up for Sunday dinner.

Now, Jackie didn't like being wrong, but a lot of years had passed since that Thanksgiving evening. John Carter was still very gangly and very … white and very … male, but he was no longer very young. And their family had shrunk enough by that point that Jackie could not see the point in shrinking it even further.

Then, of course, there was Peter.

Peter, who looked so damn happy with John Carter by his side that Jackie could almost forgive the fact that her little brother had fallen in love with a man who had never had collard greens in his life.

Their father would be scandalized.

But daddy wasn't here, and little Reese was. Little Reese who was no longer as little as he once was. Little Reese, who sat next to John Carter after dinner and signed excitedly to him, the same level of nonsense that Jackie's own children had, years before - including the one who will never attend another Sunday dinner again.

"What did I tell you?" Walt said, triumphantly, after the three of them had departed for the day. "Sunday dinners, Jackie. I called it. Years ago, I called it."

"Yes, you did," Jackie agreed. "Looks like you were right."

"You aren't gonna argue with me about it?" Walt asked in surprise.

"No," Jackie answered.

She was not, because while Jackie didn't usually like being wrong… every now and then… there were exceptions.

[chocobje]

I love Madilyn Mei songs

Alt under cut:

This was actually for an application to something. I only made this for that plus I love Brightney and drawing grass and plant stuff

[vaguely-concerned]

ingellvar must have so many strange off-putting little personal habits in their day to day life that they don't even realize come across as weird, especially if they haven't ever dated outside of the watchers much. in rye's specific case I think lucanis has a capacity for such immaculate 'sure my life is already so fucking weird this might as well happen' energy that I believe he'd be able to roll with the punches admirably given the time, but it really would be a situation like

(what was going on there was that rook was placing down some experimental wards, by the way, it's what he does to calm down before bed and if he wakes during the night. what with the necropolis itself being a liminal space of lf sorts on a cosmic scale, watchers take the additional liminal space between wakefulness and dreaming extremely seriously b/c they know there are things drifting through that would just love to get their foot/tentacle/conceptual spores in that particular half-ajar door that should not be allowed inside. or outside, I suppose, depending on your point of view. rook and lucanis are also experimenting with whether solid wards can help any with lucanis' weird post-spite dreams even if they can't do anything for the more mundane ptsd ones. third reason because in my worldstate they still live in the lighthouse after the game: unless gently dissuaded wisps will sometimes drift by while you're asleep and hover over your face curiously as they sense your mind doing stuff in the fade, and no one likes waking up on an eldritch sneeze with a well-meaning yet terrified wisp zooming about the room. important watcher novice 101 lessons.

blessed mental image of rye cross-legged on the floor, barefoot in his PJs with his hair down and no makeup, peaceably tracing out elaborate geometric shapes that somehow make your eyes scared when you look at them* while lucanis sits on the bed and reads out loud to both him and spite and occasionally sneaks some carnal looks at rook's fully unleashed curly hair and bare wrists & throat...... okay I think I've found the thing that will help me through the day thank you for coming on this journey with me)

*what is the paint he's using made out of and why is it such a deeply unsettling colour? don't worry about it! :) patented mostly well-meaning yet also borderline condescending mortalitasi hand wave of 'don't worry your sweet little non-nevarran head about it we both know you don't actually want to know. do not ask questions lest you learn the answers, especially if you're going to be annoying at me and freak out about it. let the things man was not meant to know stay unknown. unknown by you I mean I'm built different'

[b0amagination]

Did somebody say Custody AU?

I did. I said Custody AU.

Surely this has nothing to do with the car whump excitement of this past week.

This is a universe where Nat breaks down and agrees to spy for Eric. They're required to report back to him about what's going on at work and what the police are planning. In a move of typical bastardice, perhaps Eric picks them up one day unexpectedly and forces them to drive to his lair in his fancy ass car.

They look fine with this, as well as the way that bruise on their shoulder is being pressed into :)

Of course, Custody is written by Kirsten @whumblr !

[theygender]

Having a dermatologist-prescribed skincare routine after never really doing anything with my face for my entire life is so funny. Like did you guys know you can use more than one product on your face? Potentially even as often as once or twice a day? I feel like one of those cishet men being introduced to the concept of a wash rag

[neriyon]

Small test run of Infinity Nikki done! Mostly just finished the tutorial (and kicked Momo around), but it so far it seems pretty fun~

Also photo mode is so nice ♥

[chiimeramanticore]

waow

[tateytots]

the duality of me ig lol

[penitenteyeball]

Dum de dum dum

Gonna add max tags and max characters to each cause who cares