#I really needed a day in to do my own home shit

[hedwig221b]

Hi! I’ve been slowly making my way through your fic rec master list and I was wondering if you have any recs for fics that are modern ranch hand/cowboy au?

Thank you for all that you do for us!! You’re the best!

Thank you for the kind message! 💖

Drive Home (The Long Way 'Round) by Queen_Whovian

The two hour drive that should have brought him to Ashburn was interrupted by a squeal from under the hood. The lights on the dash flashed before a warning code blinked on. “Oh, you’ve gotta be,” Stiles pulled over just as soft gray smoke started to billow from under the hood, “fucking with me.” Just as he pressed his foot to the brake, a grinding shook the jeep’s body. Stiles groaned, letting his head fall back against his seat. He pushed the parking brake and shoved himself out of the car, “Some type of fucking car. How far away are we, Roscoe? Like ten minutes? Couldn’t just make it to Scott’s place, you just had to break down in the middle of nowhere. God-fucking-damnit.” Life seems to be having fun fucking with Stiles, stranding him in the middle of Nowheresville, Tennessee after a Hellish six months at the office, but Scott is here. And there's a guy willing to help him fix his car. So it can't be all bad. He hopes.

They Just Ride Away by pinkhorizon

Derek comes home from the long cattle drive to his brown-eyed, honey-drawling lover.

Dusty Boots and Saddle Sores by eeyore9990 

I don't know how to summarize this fic, so here are the things you need to know: Derek wears boots, rides a horse named Wolf, and everyone has a low, slow West Texas drawl. Isaac plays the piano and Boyd says "ain't." Stiles is a little shit. So that part hasn't changed. ** The Old West AU you didn't know you needed.

the trees call your name by spaceprincessem 

“That was a long time ago,” Derek finally said, his face falling into its usual cool facade. Stiles felt like he had been punched in the gut. Two worlds, right? Except, it had never really been two worlds at all. If they lived in two worlds, Stiles wouldn’t feel this unexplainable ache that ran deep in his bones. It had always been one world, with water slipping into the cracks, until there was an ocean between them. Stiles was always caught in the riptides, dragged out to sea where he was left to drown, sinking below the surface as Derek grew further and further out of his reach. “Yeah,” Stiles agreed, forcing his lips to turn up in the corners, noting the slight crack in his voice, “long time ago." aka the high school friends to lovers ranch au that no one asked for, but the one that i wrote anyway. This fic is finished, I will just be posting it in two parts!

Wild Horses by thepsychicclam

Derek's a drifter with no home, no destination, and no will to live. Stiles works on his family's failing cattle and horse ranch while all his friends are going off to college. When Derek falls asleep in a random barn, exhausted and half-starved, he doesn't expect to wake up on the other end of the sheriff's shotgun. And Stiles sure as hell doesn't expect his dad to invite the drifter in for breakfast.

back again (for the first time) by hot_damn_louis

“There was a—” Stiles shook his head, unable to believe it himself, “— a ghost.” It had been years since Stiles had seen a ghost with his own two eyes, and not through a fancy camera or on pictures. He saw it, the column of light, at the end of his bed. If he wasn’t frozen, scared to even move, he might have been able to stretch his leg out and kick it. He was that close to it. aka Stiles is house sitting with his sister Lydia for the summer on a farm in the middle of a ranch in Texas. And even though he's a retired ghost hunter, the rumors of the Mad Monk ghost on the Hale ranch are too enticing to stay away from.

Mail Order Stiles by Green 

Stiles laughs. “The day I become a mail-order bride is the day I eat my hat.” “You don’t even wear a hat." “I’ll buy a hat for the occasion,” Stiles says. “A white one with a veil.” (Stiles doesn't eat a hat, but that's just because he's too busy with his new husband, his five children, his new husband's ex, and a deadly feud with the neighboring ranch)

Holding On & Letting Go by orphan_account, Winchesterek

Derek Hale is an Alpha without a pack, on the move with memories haunting his footsteps. When he answers an unusual ALPHA WANTED ad, he finds himself somewhere unexpected, finally able to rebuild a family and his hope for the future.

One Door Closes by KouriArashi

Derek knows that Stiles is too young for him, but Stiles doesn't agree. Eight years after Derek rejects him due to the age gap, they meet again where Derek has settled in Wyoming as a ranch hand, and Stiles is the new deputy, and still pissed as hell about the way Derek turned him down. Things don't go as either of them planned. (I'm sure a million fics have been written about older Stiles and Derek, but this one has cowboy Derek, does that help?)

light returning by lilysaid

Derek skips town just after the Nogitsune. When he realizes his mistake, he sets off to find Stiles, make amends, and keep his feelings for Stiles hidden. Two out of three isn't bad. Pining, bed sharing, highly-suspect platonic touching, and shameless adoration of Derek's beard.

[masterlist link]

[beanarie]

Writing asks 👀👀👀👀

22, 26, 34 please and thank

including questions from @meibhin @gladdecease @eidetictelekinetic @frogsinflannel and @o0anapher0o thank you for the excuse to ramble ❤️ i'm still working on my other asks it's just that this past week has been really draining. turns out having someone you love in the hospital--even if they're relatively okay--uh, sucks

6: What element of writing do you find comes easily?

dialogue. it's always the first thing that coalesces in my head.

8: Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

for my current fandom, tommy. his dry humor and history of being a snippy piece of shit really speaks to me.

9: Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

athena, i guess? she's "family" as karen said, but she's on the periphery. involving her in bucktommy shenanigans requires threading a needle.

17: A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

sleep sex/somnophilia. i find the concept viscerally upsetting.

19: Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between?

now, they are equal in quality. i've read and written a bunch of au fics. but i gravitate more towards canon compliant, especially when i first jump into a fandom.

22: Do you listen to anything while you write?

if i'm at home, no. when i'm on the train, i put something on to limit distractions. here's my latest playlist

25: Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

yesss i had some outtakes of bucktommy on the road in the temperature of becoming something. i'll go more into that in my director's commentary asks.

26: Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

nothing right now, but i stewed over like a detuned radio for several days. it's really self indulgent.

32: Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

tommy also breakup bakes.

34: Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

(Buck): It might be better if I join another house

(Hen): Is that what you want?

(Buck): Not really

(Buck): But I can't go back to whatever that was. No one would talk to me. I felt like I was on fire.

Hen bubbles him for quite a while. Buck finishes his apple and brushes sand from his pant legs. He drinks another cup of peach cider from the jug he got at a farm stand outside the Outer Banks. The sun is strong today, but there's enough of a breeze coming off the water that it doesn't feel overwhelming.

(Hen): I think because we knew your grief would be a lot, we didn't know how to handle it on top of our own. So we didn't even open the door. Then enough time went by that it seemed like you were past the worst of it, and bringing it all up again would just send you and all the rest of us back to the square one.

Buck stares at her words and listens to the waves crashing.

(please i need hen and buck to hash this out so bad. without any explanation it just looks like willful cruelty. also shoutout to the north carolina farm stand with the very addictive peach cider. ah, summer vacation memories)

35: Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

i fuckin love it here so much. not since the early days of elementary fandom have i felt so at home. yeah, there are dickheads in this corner just like there are everywhere else, but there are also so many lovely, hilarious, talented, kind people and idk it's 4:30 am and i've been going through some shit but yeah 🥹

[t-folklore13]

Stay

Daryl Dixon x oc

Fluff + angst

Pre apocalypse

Both are 19 years <3

Not proofread

Word count - 974

~

Cara never really had her parents around her house for various reasons. For one her dad left when she was young and her mother is a doctor, a cardiothoracic surgeon to be specific so she made sure her daughter at least knew basic medicine.

Daryl Dixon always had his dad around in the dead of morning till that late of afternoon, waiting for the evening where he would leave to go on some bender or get kicked out of some bar. Daryl cherished those moments because he knew that he was safe from him and Merle wouldn’t be giving him shit for his only friend being a girl he met through their mom. Daryl had only said that he loved someone a few times and to the same person, his mom. Although she had her own problems of addiction he never hurt him, physically.

That night William Dixon was drinking hard as usual but when he got home Daryl was on the porch having a smoke. As Daryl saw him he knew that he wasn’t gonna leave without some sort of injury “did ya’ steal one of ma damn smokes boy” Daryl sighed taking one last draw “nah cuz yurs are shit anyway” the older Dixon grabbed him by the collar dragging him through the door “you ain’t talkin to me like that boy, fuckin piece of shit” closing the door and gabbing his belt

~

Cara was reading in the den fighting sleep while a small fire was burning. She knows she shouldn’t wait up for her mom but she can’t help it, the drive from Atlanta is already dangerous and with all the shifts her mom takes it makes it almost impossible for her to sleep. She readjusts the blanket when she hears a faint tapping noise coming from the door

12:37

A chill in the air is still noticeable from the days rain but when she opens the door it’s not the reason for her blood running cold, there stands Daryl Dixon in a white shirt stained with red and a bruise sporting his cheek leaning weakly against the door frame “hey Cara” he gives one of his side smiles as she rushes up to him tears in her eyes “D who’s done this to you?” Lightly hovering his face with her fingers she gasps. “I need to fix you up please don’t just leave again” he waits a beat and nods letting her help him walk

As she sets him down the couch and runs off to grab whatever he can feel his heart racing she’s gonna’ see my scars he grabs his shirt lifting it slowly to see how deep the gash on his chest is, he winces I’ll need damn stitches putting his shirt back down he can feel an ache on his back “Dar? Can you please take your shirt off? I need to get this done so you can rest, so I know you’ll be okay” he stares at the floor then at her with something she hasn't seen before. While he slowly takes off his shirt tears are running down her face but she gets to work silently disinfecting, stitching, and wrapping then finally just holding his hand

When she’s fully done they sit in a cold silence for what feels like hours, she takes in a deep breath and sighs taking her hands from his and placing them on both sides of his face minding the bruise “daryl” he cuts her off with standing up and shaking his head “don’t Cara please jus’ let me go” she stands up quickly and grabs his hand “don’t do this again don’t just shut me out because this time is different, I knew he hurt you but Daryl this is-“

“This is nothin and you don’t gotta worry” he trys to pull away but she relents holding on tighter “don’t say that D we have been together through so much but you didn’t let me see this you suffered through this alone when you didn’t need to im here I’ll always be here” he lets his head hang low because she’s right but he just couldn’t let her see them, how they marred and ruined his skin “but they ain’t pretty their ugly and bumpy, I hate em’ so much I jus couldn’t let you see somethin’ so disgusting on me, m not pretty”

He tenses as she wraps her arms around his neck lightly holding him “Don’t you ever say things like that about yourself Daryl Dixon, prettiest boy I’ve ever met no matter what you think. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you” he wraps his arms loosely around her waist “I’ll never understand why I get ta have someon like ya, too good fer me”

“No I think you have it completely wrong because I’m lucky to have someone like you, you are the sweetest most understood person I’ve ever got the privilege of knowing. Yes you are a bit rough around the edges but so am I, and Daryl no matter what anyone says you are you not your father”

“I don’t know where to go after this” she slowly let’s go and grabs his hand once again “then stay here don’t ever go back, you can move in here my mom loves you and I do too” that grabs his attention and he looks up “you love me?” She hears his voice barely a whisper and leads him though the door “yes” she eases him down on the bed and lays next to him as he looks at her “ I, I care for ya a lot” she smiles as he bites his thumb. She doesn’t mind that he didn’t say it back because she knows how hard it is but it means the world to her he said that

~

Pt 2?

[jottingprosaist]

Took a sick day today because I felt like microwaved garbage yesterday afternoon... then woke up feeling pretty all right, actually. Spent a while in bed with the cats wondering what I'd be doing with my unexpected free day off.

Turns out, what my brain really wanted to do with a healthy body and a responsibility-free day was clean the house and cook for 8 hours. No, really.

I juiced some oranges and a lemon that were going bad and made a big pot of spiced tea, then zested the peels and baked a lil cranberry orange scone for breakfast. I took all the celery trimmings from cooking class and put them in a pot to make some vegetable stock, and while that was simmering I looked around the kitchen and decided to mop the floor. While it was drying, I grabbed the vacuum and did a thorough job on the rest of the house, finally including under the couch. (Gross. GROSS. Dust bunny civilizations.)

I damp-dusted and threw out so much cat hair. Washed the bathroom walls and baseboards. Scrubbed under the tub mat. Took a break for tea. Strained the veggie stock and threw in some carrots and onions for soup. About this time, my friend dropped off some groceries after work and I had supper.

The discount produce box I bought gave me a ton of red peppers, so now I'm gonna roast and jar 'em. (If nothing else, buying discount produce has given me a huge appreciation for old methods of preserving fresh food-- anything to extend its lifespan and keep it in tasty condition for later.)

Now some knitting and youtube, I think, because I am secretly 80 years old. I do need those new gloves sooner than later though.

Meanwhile, the cats have been synchronized napping all day 🥹

[dragontamer05]

Had a fun little interaction at this Beauty Store I dropped a resume at, never been in before but seems like a nice chill place and people seemed nice.

I mean I'm sure even they have their busy times and moments but if I have to do retail type work it def feels like the kind of store/place I'd do better with compared to you know like bigger stores n stuff.

They seemed to really like my resume- at least in terms of commenting on how well organized it looked.

Dunno if anything will come of it - at the very least they did say they were actually accepting so that's something.

That said might go back at some point anyway see what nail polish they have, properly browse a bit.

[orcelito]

Bought a stupid suit thing. Disgustang.

[exopelagic]

okay I severely misjudged spaghetti guy he’s actually just really cool

[doom-dreaming]

how do i tell my mother that coming into my room calling me "lazybones" if i'm still in bed at any time past 7 a.m. for YEARS has done near-irreparable damage to my self-esteem and created shame about being able to just fucking relax?

[lizardho]

Before I knew I was bisexual I was just insanely dramatic and weird around guys I liked. I had a crush on this guy in my ward - he was older than me, he played bagpipes and had a cheerful dog and an old Volkswagen bus that he worked on all the time. He also had nice scruff and unnaturally attractive hands and a good sense of humor, so I was like FULLY smitten.

I talked about him a lot and about how he was just so dang COOL, dang it, because he was so frickin’ cool. And I really liked him. I thought he was funny and smart and interesting and cool and fascinating and a bunch of other weird feelings I barely had the attention span to think about (I think my ADHD may have prevented me from coming out for a while tbh).

One day, I’m like 14-15, his dad is called to be my Sunday School teacher. His dad is this ex-military hardass with a chip on his shoulder for absolutely no reason and unattainable standards for his children. He spent most of Sunday School talking shit about his eldest boy and how he was rebellious and didn’t listen to him and how that was going to make him a bad adult and a bad son forever. How his son was too lazy and unmotivated to be successful because he didn’t listen to his advice on how to read the scriptures. He complained about how our generation was too weak to do things right and that our generation would surely be the one that brought the world’s downfall because of our laziness and sin.

And like, first of all, that guy can already go fuck himself for that. To clarify, that’s already stupid. BUT. He was talking about the man I had uncomfortable dreams about at least once a month. I couldn’t stand it. I’d get so mad I’d go home shaking sometimes because how fucking DARE he insult his hardworking stunning son by calling him lazy? For not reading the Bible the way his dad wants? When he’s already spending his time learning bagpipes? And fixing cars? And being cool? And cute? Who the fuck even cares if he uses the footnotes in the Book of Mormon? Who gives a rotten rat’s ass if he doesn’t use the scripture study manual his dad uses? He’s so cool he doesn’t even need it? So fuck off?

And eventually I got fucking Sick Of It and decided to mutiny. And by mutiny, I mean skip class. I’d just not go. And after a bit, adults started noticing and bugging me about it. At first, this was put off by small talk and excuses, but as my absence from Sunday School became more well-known, my excuses began to be rejected.

“Oh, Lizard, why aren’t you in class?” Uhm idk because my Sunday School teacher is mean to his kid and that makes me so mad wtf do you want from me? 🫠🤔

“Where’s your class, I’ll go with you!” Oh no ty I’d rather peel my own eyes than have my taste in men critiqued tyty 🩷

“Lizard, you should go to class, I’m sure they miss you!” And I miss the innocent days where my stomach didn’t hurt when a cool boy I knew was being belittled but unfortunately for us both those days are LONG gone and all that’s left is a budding psychosexual clusterfuck that will render me almost fully incapable of functioning for the better part of a decade so Bye Bye, sister Smith 🙂‍↕️

It had gotten to the point that ward leadership was involved. I was being approached by members of the Young Men’s presidency and the Bishopric to try and make me to back to class. They were telling me God had told them to find me and instruct me on my rebelliousness. This is where I implemented my secret weapon - women. Mormons are weird as hell about a lot of things, but especially about women. And I was GREAT with women. So to combat the leadership’s attention, I started helping women.

Our ward had a lot of new moms with babies who were, as babies tend to be, fussy. But for Mormon women the church is often their only social outlet, so they try to power through as long as they can even if it means enduring the exhausting ordeal of taking care of a fussy baby at church.

For what it’s worth, I have a lot of sway with babies. I got baby street cred. Me and babies have a rapport. I have always known this. I have always loved this. And in this crucial gay time in my faggot life my baby mind powers came in clutch - Every time I saw a member of the bishopric getting close, or a young men’s leader giving me side-eye, I’d start walking slowly towards class, passing by relief society. I’d wait until a mom’s baby had gotten too fussy and needed to leave the room, and I’d swoop in like a knight. “Oh, don’t you worry sister, I’ll bounce him a bit. You go back and hang out with your friends in class. You deserve a break.”

If it was a diaper change or something they’d tell me no. But if it was just some good old-fashioned baby fusses, I mean, they’d be moved almost to tears. They just got their social time back AND a free babysitter who is renowned as the Baby Whisperer. And because I was holding a baby as a favor for someone else, I of course could not reasonably be bothered to return to class.

So just like that, I was out of everyone’s sights. This went on for about a month before the straw that broke the camel’s back, which was that without my class participation the classes were quiet and awkward. I’d often take the brunt of Sunday school lectures by answering questions impulsively and over explaining myself enough that the clock could run out without anyone needing to do or say much. My absence meant everyone else was getting hit with the full unpleasantness of this guy’s bullshit. And so slowly, one-by-one, I had a group of about 8 kids on baby-holding duty. These new moms were so overjoyed, they and their husbands were both so actively in our corner that now chastising us was untenable. Now we had bargaining power. So the Bishopric approached us, confused beyond confused and uncomfortable beyond uncomfortable, and said,

“What’s it gonna take to get you back to class?”

The POWER I possessed in that moment was addictive. By being kind to the women of the ward and ignoring the Mormon de facto Rule of Law of following rules en-masse so the rule breakers feel left out, there were now so many people breaking ranks that we had effectively enacted a church boy labor strike. And they crumbled so fast it was almost like we had swayed God himself to our cause.

“I want brother assholedad gone. He sucks at teaching.”

I didn’t even have to say it. One of my rebels said it for me. I just nodded sagely and said “Yes, his class is not edifying. It’s better to not go and hold babies.”

And just like that, with a snap of my limp-wristed, Christ-wounding, bottom-brained fingers my faggot will was enacted. God’s revelation that brother shitdad was his chosen Sunday school teacher flipped on a dime. Suddenly brother shitdad was asked to be an usher and the fun dad of another one of my crushes was called in to teach us. I still stayed to hold babies a lot, but the rest of the class returned and all was well again.

Although I didn’t recognize it then, I think that was a formative moment for me in a lot of ways. I learned that being really persistently annoying will get me what I want from authority eventually. I learned that God’s will can be swayed by going in strike. I learned that ignoring men’s made up authority forces them to level with you as a person. I learned that caring for women, especially vulnerable women, can make a whole world happier. I learned that letting women rest can help them feel more love for the things that matter in their life. I learned that social bonds make everyone stronger and happier. And I learned that loving others in a gay way can change the world.

Be gayer. Read Terry Pratchett. I love y’all 💕

[tinquacan]

You know how Dick gives everyone hugs like an octopus, what if his hugging habits rubbed off on everyone else. Like everyone just clings to Bruce's legs, arms, and the like.

Before Jason came home, Bruce was the tallest, and Dick was the one initiating these hugs. Basicly Dick has shown everyone that whenever anyone wants to get picked up, they all go climb Bruce.

One day, a few days after Jason agreed to stay at the manor long-term. Bruce pulls Jason over to the side.

Bruce, whispering: There's something you need to know if you're gonna stay here– Jason, in his normal voice, cause why the hell is he whispering in his own home: Yeah yeah no killing, rubber bullet yahda yahda Bruce: No it's not that I trust you not to kill people. It's about the others. Jason half distracted: huh, what about the others? Bruce trying to find a polite way to talk about his children: ah well you see they really like hugs– Jason: you pulling over to warn me about hugs?  Really old man? You've lost your edge Bruce ‘I love my children’ Wayne: When I say they like hugs, I mean that in a kinda kaola demon way Jason cracking: Really is that what they are? God Bruce this is a new low I thought you wanted stay here? Bruce: I do! More than anything but I wanted to warn you– Jason: that children like hugs? Cause who could had thought of that. Bruce with a very serious expression: yes that but you dont understand– they, they climb Jason: What the shit are you talking now? Bruce: They climb me and latch on. They climb the doorframe of the manor to jump on me, they koala onto me in the damn batsuit, and now I fear they will climb you. Jason: oook, and how did you decide this? Bruce: Jaylad, you're taller than me and almost as much bulk in their eyes; you're a freaking Jungle gym. Jason: What about Dick? He's not that much shorter than you? Bruce: Who do you think started this?!

[coldweatherhater]

i dont feel like dating like not at all lmao but i do wish i had someone i could just spend my entire day having conversations with ..

[weaselle]

there are two kinds of cat dislike. The first is by people who don't understand consent and don't understand personal space and don't like having to change their own behavior even a little bit to make anyone else more comfortable, and honestly huge red flag there's nothing you can really do for those people except don't date them and probably don't be friends with them either.

BUT

the other kind of cat dislike is the "my dad hated cats until i got him a kitten" kind of cat dislike, and the funniest thing about this kind of person is that cats actually get along really well with them... because that kind of person usually acts like a cat.

and that's what usually wins the person over too. Because that person can be like "hey fine we can snuggle or whatever, okay this is actually kind of nice, OW FUCK YOU THEN GET OFF ME I HATE YOU" and to the cat this is a perfectly natural feline interaction.

a dog will usually be like "oh no, figuring out what has gone wrong or continuing this argument is now the most important thing in my day" You ever try to get a dog to leave you alone after they've done something like accidentally kick you in the face, or on purpose punch you in the stomach with both front legs? They turn in to one of those people who you ask to give you some alone time and they spend the next hour on the "are you mad at me" treadmill. Unless it's a husky or something, and then they're more like "ha ha, i'm not touching you i'm not touching you" about it.

Either way "get off me and leave me alone" is all about them.

But a cat? You're suddenly over cuddle time and need to be alone? you seem upset for no reason? normal shit, i'll check back later.

With a cat you can be snuggling and then jump up irritably and walk away and the cat will be like "hey! whatever. I'm gonna go do my own thing then". Try that with a dog? lol no. They need to know what's bothering you now, it is more important than ever that they be in your face

of course these are generalizations and there will be cats and dogs who react somewhere on the range of different to opposite to this, but. I've seen a few people who "don't like cats" wind up with a cat in their home, and it's hilarious how their similarities are what wins them over.

Because, like, you know who else doesn't like you at first and takes a long time to work out a personal relationship before being willing to be friends? you know who else is often totally over dealing with cat bullshit? cats.

So they just take it in stride, and in fact often wind up better friends with "i don't like cats" people than they do with people who want to be friends with them right away. And the person often winds up appreciating the cats willingness to understand "i don't like you right now, check back later"... with the end result being: besties for life

[koi-fish-boy]

My limbs were bandage city today y'all I kept gettin hurt 😭

First I accidentally burned my leg w a drill. I just finished using it and was checking the hole and accidentally brought it too close to my leg

Then I nicked my knuckle on some semi circle thing trynna get it off something else, forgot what it was called. But I bled a bunch and had to get a bandaid :P

After that I stabbed my finger with some wire on accident. It's like the cable thing that's made up of a bunch of tiny metal wire strung together I also forgot what that was called but I bled again!

Then I scratched my knee on the back of a hammer and, guess what? I bled again!

And when I got home the remains of a blister fell off and left me with just a hole in my heel so that kinda sucks :P

[absentlyabbie]

seriously, though. i work in higher education, and part of my job is students sending me transcripts. you'd think the ones who have the least idea how to actually do that would be the older ones, and while sure, they definitely struggle with it, i see it most with the younger students. the teens to early 20s crowd.

very, astonishingly often, they don't know how to work with .pdf documents. i get garbage phone screenshots, sometimes inserted into an excel or word file for who knows what reason, but most often it's just a raw .jpg or other image file.

they definitely either don't know how to use a scanner, don't have access to one, or don't even know where they might go for that (staples and other office supply stores sometimes still have these services, but public libraries always have your back, kids.) so when they have a paper transcript and need to send me a copy electronically, it's just terrible photos at bad angles full of thumbs and text-obscuring shadows.

mind bogglingly frequently, i get cell phone photos of computer screens. they don't know how to take a screenshot on a computer. they don't know the function of the Print Screen button on the keyboard. they don't know how to right click a web page, hit "print", and choose "save as PDF" to produce a full and unbroken capture of the entirety of a webpage.

sometimes they'll just copy the text of a transcript and paste it right into the message of an email. that's if they figure out the difference between the body text portion of the email and the subject line, because quite frankly they often don't.

these are people who in most cases have done at least some college work already, but they have absolutely no clue how to utilize the attachment function in an email, and for some reason they don't consider they could google very quickly for instructions or even videos.

i am not taking a shit on gen z/gen alpha here, i'm really not.

what i am is aghast that they've been so massively failed on so many levels. the education system assumed they were "native" to technology and needed to be taught nothing. their parents assumed the same, or assumed the schools would teach them, or don't know how themselves and are too intimidated to figure it out and teach their kids these skills at home.

they spend hours a day on instagram and tiktok and youtube and etc, so they surely know (this is ridiculous to assume!!!) how to draft a formal email and format the text and what part goes where and what all those damn little symbols means, right? SURELY they're already familiar with every file type under the sun and know how to make use of whatever's salient in a pinch, right???

THEY MUST CERTAINLY know, innately, as one knows how to inhale, how to type in business formatting and formal communication style, how to present themselves in a way that gets them taken seriously by formal institutions, how to appear and be competent in basic/standard digital skills. SURELY. Of course. RIGHT!!!!

it's MADDENING, it's insane, and it's frustrating from the receiving end, but even more frustrating knowing they're stumbling blind out there in the digital spaces of grown-up matters, being dismissed, being considered less intelligent, being talked down to, because every adult and system responsible for them just

ASSUMED they should "just know" or "just figure out" these important things no one ever bothered to teach them, or half the time even introduce the concepts of before asking them to do it, on the spot, with high educational or professional stakes.

kids shouldn't have to supplement their own education like this and get sneered and scoffed at if they don't.

[honeyblackberries]

In the back seat (18+)

caleb x fem reader/mc smut

minors dni | inspired by diet pepsi by addison rae | cross-posted to ao3

word count: 1466

cw: simp caleb, soft dom caleb, he also likes to bite, pantie freak caleb, reader enables him, praise, oral (fem receiving), p in v, responsible car sex <333 (don't get freaky in a rental car irl), irresponsible intercourse (caleb doesn’t wrap it before he taps it), porn with feelings, porn no plot because idk how to write plot but i also can’t really write porn so maybe this is a secret third thing, no set pov.

names used: pips (pipsqueak but cuter), good girl, pretty girl, my girl

If Caleb is being honest with himself this moment is something straight out of his teenage fantasies. Driving along the coast with you in the passenger's seat, listening as you sing along to a song that’s been on repeat for the past half hour. Hair softly blowing in the wind as the late afternoon sun glows behind you like a halo.

You’re an angel he thinks, how else could you bless him with such a gift on one of his rare days off. The keys to his dream car—with the disclaimer that it was only a rental during his visit to Linkon—and that short sundress… His gaze unconsciously drifts from the road and onto you.

Maybe wet dreams are a better description for this. The way the hem of your dress rides up your thighs while you shift to find a more comfortable position, cotton panties peeking out underneath it.

Your eyes meet his and Caleb feels his pants tighten.

Today was supposed to be a well deserved break from all the demands that come with being the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel. Something relaxing. Yet he can’t help but feel inclined to the complete opposite. Back ramrod straight and hand, previously loose and confident on the wheel, now gripping it so tight that his knuckles strain.

“I'm happy you’re here,” you say sweetly and he has to stop himself from acting like a horny dog. “Is there anything you wanna do before we head home?”

“Eat you out,” he thinks dreamily.

“..What?”

Shit. Shit. How could he say that out loud!? He’s an idiot, a depraved fool—

“Well, okay.”

He almost crashes the car.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to—I mean—I didn’t mean to say it out loud,” you laugh at him and he isn’t sure whether to be mortified or turned on.

“Pull over.” He does.

Caleb doesn’t realise it but despite the less than innocent circumstances his silly reaction makes you smile. Happy at the expression that settles on his handsome face. How his eyes light up in a way you never really see anymore, giddy and unrestrained.

‘Cute,’ you want to tease, but he’s already rolling the tinted windows up. Undoing his seatbelt and moving into the back seat. Oh how could you keep him waiting when he’s just so eager? You undo your own seatbelt and amusedly follow along. Moving to get on top of him.

“Don’t hover pips,” he instructs—in that know-it-all voice he’s used since you were kids—and you don’t get the chance to consider it. Not when his hands trail under your skirt to grab your thighs and impatiently bring you down onto his face.

“Fuck you smell so good,” his nose presses right against your clothed heat. He inhales deeply. “I could get off just from smelling you, just from smelling these,” his lips part to let teeth graze the thin fabric of your panties.

“I can keep 'em when we're done, yeah?” His hot breath makes a shiver run through you in anticipation. His tongue licks down the centre where a wet patch starts to form. “I’ll cook dinner in return.”

You want to argue that he always cooks dinner. But you want what he’s currently offering more.

Your small hum of agreement is all he needs.

Safe to say, Caleb does mouth at you like a dog. Desperate, hungry, tongue heavy and slobbering. You have to push yourself against his chest to keep steady. The toned muscles there flexing as he eats like he’s been starved.

“Good girl, sittin’ so pretty for me,” his praise is barely understandable. Voice muffled and lower than a moment ago.

One of his hands leaves your thighs, his fingers moving to the fabric separating you. He teasingly pulls it back and lets go, a light snap against your skin. You flinch and he chuckles in response. He then pushes it to the side to expose you bare to him. Continuing to lick, this time with the addition of his thumb rubbing directly against your sensitive bud.

“Delicious,” he moans at the taste and sucks at your clit for more.

You’re not sure how long you last before everything crashes down all at once. Your orgasm racking your body and leaving you trembling. Dripping right into his open mouth.

The way your breath hitches and small whines you make when you cum always remind him how he could spend the rest of his life between your thighs. Forever wanting you pliant in his hold like this.

As you start to feel yourself coming down from the high, Caleb lightly bites at your tender flesh, making you yelp. He places a soft kiss in apology, even though you both know he isn’t sorry in the slightest.

In an act of revenge you start to reach for where he needs it. Fingertips barely brushing the large tent in his pants before he grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Next time pips, I’ll go crazy if I’m not inside you soon.” At that you’re suddenly flipped around, back pressed against the leather seat. Wedged in the cramped space afforded to you between the car and his large body.

Caleb looks down at you with a wide grin. The lower half of his face damp with your arousal and his own saliva.

“Let me put it in?”

Even when he’s like this the words come out as a question. He’ll only do it if you let him, only if you want it half as much as he does. His silver necklace dangles in front of you and reflected in it is your lips, curled up into an affirmative.

Caleb wastes no time. Hurriedly undoing his pants and freeing his hard leaking cock. Leaning over you with one hand beside your head as the other grasps his reddened tip and nudges you panties to the side with it. Lining himself up he sinks into you slowly.

“You’re heaven,” he yaps, already pussy drunk. "You feel like heaven, ugh—like you were made for me. Weren’t you?”

He shakes his head at his own words, as if a better explanation came to him. Then he resolutely bottoms out inside you.

“No, I was the one made for you.”

“Caleb—” you whine at the feeling of being so full. Arms moving to wrap around his torso, not sure if to hold him closer or push him away.

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to fight off the orgasm that would have had him cumming from the way you say his name. Testingly, he pulls out slightly just to push back in. Repeating shallow thrusts to get you comfortable.

“More,” you beg.

“Of course,” he kisses you and you can taste yourself on him. “I aim to please.” His pace quickens, becoming rough. You can’t help but clench at the immediate change.

“Oh shit—loosen up pretty girl.” You try to.

Over and over you feel his cock try to make your cunt give in to him, and when he feels the grip of your walls ease up slightly he angles his hips to hit deeper.

You claw at his back, the fabric of his shirt catching under your fingers. The feeling of him too much.

“You like that huh?”

The car windows are fogging at the spike in body heat, neither of you letting up until you both get your fill. The sounds of shallow breathing and skin against skin the only thing that can be heard.

Caleb bites your lip when he kisses you in between thrusts. Like he wants to devour you in every way possible.

“I’m—close,” you bury your face into his neck, trying to ground yourself.

He nearly slips entirely out of you. Hips starting to lose their rhythm, a sign that he is too.

“I know—fuck—cum with me.”

Your release comes first, and he doesn’t last long after.

“That's my girl.”

His movements slow as he spills into you. A white ring forming around the base of him as a mix of both your cum tries to leak out. He grinds a few times to make sure it stays then collapses on top of you.

The two of you remain like that for a few minutes, relishing in the feeling of your chests pressed together as you cool down. Caleb’s cock slowly going limp inside you.

His hands move to cradle your face, gently stroking your cheeks as he kisses all over with cherishing lightness.

“I love you.”

“Love you too Caleb.”

Then he has to go and ruin the moment.

“Panties please,” he holds out his hand. Asking for a treat.

You sigh, the post-nut clarity kicking in. “I’ll give it to you after I wash it.”

“Don’t wash it.”

“...”

a/n: rip need everyone to know this was initially supposed to be a sylus fic. also what do we think do we like me actually trying to make the layout nice/not write in all lowercase??

[kunasthiast]

bathroom meetings

you were finally in the tub.

bubbles everywhere. hair piled up. candle lit. mood set was divine. perfect silence. peace. it was your me time. after a ridiculous week that felt like being hit repeatedly with a spreadsheet and then lit on fire, the only thing you wanted was solitude and maybe for your skin to absorb enough lavender oil to knock you out for twelve hours.

sukuna had been in full corporate tyrant mode the past few days. buried in meetings. constantly yelling into headsets like he was declaring war (he might’ve been).

there were moments you’d pass by the home office and hear him through the closed doors: “i said quarterly projections, not emotional projections. are you fucking with me?”

in that same low, terrifying voice he used when he was threatening that random guy on the street who once slapped your head thinking you were his friend. and obviously, that’s the tone that meant someone’s career was about to combust.

not that sukuna had been ignoring you, though. there were still sleepy kisses in the morning. half-asleep cuddles at night. coffee mug swaps between meetings. the quiet, steady kind of love. but you missed him. his annoying, smug, feral ass. just a little.  

so when the bathroom door creaked open mid-bath, you didn’t even flinch. you just knew. and yep, there he was.

dragging in his entire goddamn office chair. into the fucking bathroom.

yes, a literal, high-backed, leather executive monstrosity. the one he always dramatically called ‘the only chair that respects my spine.’ he wheeled it in like he was about to conduct a strategy meeting in your bubble sanctuary. and then he parked it casually beside the sink, facing you.    

you blinked at him from your lavender-scented cocoon of suds, “what the hell, babe… are you serious right now?”

“hi, baby,” he said, already settling into the seat like this was perfectly reasonable. “i wanna spend time with you. so i brought my chair.”

“…in the bathroom?”

“yeah, got a problem with it? you’re hot. the lighting’s warm. the air smells like that purple crap you love. it’s a vibe. this is my happy place.”

you stared at him. “you brought your chair.”

“‘course I did,” he said, already opening his laptop (he fucking brought one) and clicking away like this was just another thursday. “i’m swamped. figured i could do my stupid shit and look at you. productivity. efficiency. serotonin. and dopamine. win-win.”

you squinted at him. he never used that many words to justify something unless he was spiraling. which meant that he’s fucking really drained for today – an oddity. sukuna never gets drained. he had the chaotic stamina of a toddler with an espresso machine. weird visual, but whatever. 

“you just wanted to watch me and pretend it was multitasking.” you teased.

“baby, i don’t need to pretend to watch you,” sukuna replied without shame, eyes flicking down over your shoulders, lingering for a breath too long. “i’m your husband. it’s practically in the vows.”

you groaned and slid lower into the bubbles. “you’re so annoying. you have zero concept of personal space.”

“bold of you to say when i was balls deep in you last week,” he muttered, eyes back on the laptop screen.

you rolled your eyes. “rude. that was emotional love-making, actually.”

“you cried after,” he added helpfully, with a teasing grin this time, looking at you.

“i was overstimulated and exhausted!”

“from all the love,” he said, voice dropping slightly as he winked. “you looked so fuckin’ pretty like that, by the way. all whimpery and soft. should’ve taken a photo. mental health purposes.” he then turned back to his laptop and continued doing whatever shit he was doing like he hadn’t just shattered your dignity. 

“god, you’re insufferable,” you sighed, watching him lean back and spread his legs like he owned the damn place (he does). shirtless. and just in his boxers. basically, a menace in soft lighting.

“only for you,” he said, then paused, dragging his eyes down again. his fingers slowed on the keyboard. “you always sit like that in the tub when you want me to look.”

you froze slightly. “‘kuna, i’m literally just bathing.”

“uh-huh. with your knees poking out of the bubbles like that. water dripping down your collarbone. are we pretending you’re not trying to make me fail this report?”

you stared him down. “you’ve been shirtless all day. i haven’t said a word.”

“you bit me earlier. for no reason.”

“you were walking around with a pen in your mouth like a chew toy!”

he grinned and stretched out in the chair, legs wide, muscles relaxed. “ohhh, my bad, madame la professeur. je m’excuse.” his voice dipped, teasing. “would you prefer I recite conjugations again?” 

you choked on a laugh, bubbles shifting. “no... baby, stop. i don’t wanna heart it,” you said as you covered your ears.

“sweetheart, you threatened to drown me with a beret when i said ‘voulez-vous coucher avec moi’ in class.”

“because you said it in front of the TA! and winked at me after saying that, who does that?”

“me, obviously. and now look at us,” he gestured vaguely between the two of you, “still conjugating. still undressing with language.”

“gross.”

“grammatical,” he corrected smugly.

“anyway,” you huffed, “this was supposed to be sacred alone time.”

“correction,” he said, typing, “this is now sacred us time.”

“i can’t believe this is what my marriage looks like.”

he looked up again, glasses low on his nose. hair messy from a full day of stress-yanking (not love-making). dark eyes locked onto you like you were another report he was ready to manhandle. “consider me your emotional support office chair. i’m quiet. i click keys. i’m shirtless. it’s a wellness experience, brat.”

you gave him a deadpan look. “remind me again why you’re still doing reports when you own the entire damn company?”

“because my exec team is full of morons and apparently need their daddy to babysit the fucking budget.” he muttered, his eyes back on the screen.

“… so you really say that in meetings? ‘don’t worry, daddy’s here with the spreadsheets’?”

he gave you a withering look. “baby, don’t make me come over there and show you why they call me that.”

you sat up straighter, mock-scandalized. “you are not turning my bath into a boardroom kink.”

“oh, please,” he snorted. “you’d let me reorganize your filing system if i said that it in that voice.”

 “try me,” you puffed your cheeks and threatened, “i will throw a loofah at you. and for the record, ‘kuna? this is ambush. i was having sacred time, you bulldozer.”

“and yet… you married me.”

“temporarily lost judgment.”

“five-year lapse?”

you rolled your eyes in annoyance. “shut up. you’re ridiculous.”

“correct. and in love.” he said easily, shifting the laptop onto his other lap. and you let out a soft laugh at that because you know it’s true. 

for a moment, he didn’t say anything. just watched you, still half-soaked in warm light and bubbles. his eyes lingered, not with hunger and mischief, but with something softer. like he was memorizing. or making sure you’re here.

“you good, babe?” you asked.

he blinked, like coming back from wherever his head has gone. “yep, just…” he shrugged. “you’re the best part of the day, baby. seriously though, i missed you,” he said voice quieter now, like it didn’t just knock the air out of your lungs.

you blinked and froze a little. not because he said it, but because of how soft he said it. you rolled your eyes again, but your heart was already melting. “i’ve been busy. you’ve been busy. it’s fine.”

“it’s not fine,” he said, not looking up from the screen. “i like working. but i like you more. well, love. whatever, you know.”

that... shut you up a little. for a whole minute, even. you stared at him as candlelights softened the hard lines of his face. he was typing again, brows furrowed, but his jaw was tight.

“… okay, damn. for someone who threatened brad from finance with a stapler, that’s surprisingly romantic, ‘kuna.” you said quietly.

he cracked a small smile. “brad’s an idiot. you, on the other hand, are my peace.”

you were silent for a second and sighed out relief you’ve been wanting to let out for the past week. “well, you’re a clingy little bitch.”

“only for you, baby,” he said without missing a beat. then he smirked and cocked his head, eyes sliding over your shoulder, chest, legs – all barely hidden under the bubbles. 

“also, this bath is really doing things to my productivity levels. like, negative productivity. you gonna stand up at some point or do i have to pretend i dropped something in your bathwater?” he added, clearly back to his cocky self.

you threw the loofah at him. he caught it one-handed. “you’re such a menace.”

“only for you, brat,” he repeated again, softer this time. then added, “also, your left boob’s out. always a ten out of ten.”

“get out.”

“i just got comfortable,” he grinned. “and again… i’m your husband. my perving is legally protected.”

––

a/n: lol i went thru a writing slump last month and i can't think of anything – and thank heavens i've maxxed out my scrolling that i was able to come out of that coping (from a failed subject and delayed grad) lol so here's another husband!sukuna just bc and this ain't proofread