#If i was rich and retired i would just do this with my whole day

[evildeerboy]

i feel like my life would be greatly improved if i had the time space and money to care for a small flock of pet ducks

[xoxojuyo]

Nanny | jjk (m)

✦ summary: you take a babysitting job for the wealthy Jeon family, one night you get to see Mr. Jeon in the kitchen, finding him much more attractive in person than in photos. Despite his seemingly disinterest in you, he comes to you one night, summoning you to his studio.

✦rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

✦ pairing: dilf!Jungkook + f!reader

✦ warnings: married!jungkook, dad!jungkook, he is a father of two, older!jungkook, power imbalance relationship, he is your boss’s husband, mistress!reader, cheater!jungkook, swearing, kissing, boob play, finger licking, slight choking, fingering, degradation, penetrative s3x, no mentions of contraceptive use, he cums inside.

✦word count: 3.5K

✦a/n: this is written in first person, oopsie. hope you enjoy.

The clock indicates 9PM as I tiptoed out of the children's room, my steps light and cautious, mindful not to wake the little ones. I was the Jeon’s trusted babysitter.

My sister worked as Mrs. Jeon personal trainer. The woman would spend her whole day at the country club, pilates in the morning, then tennis and swimming lessons at the afternoon. She spent zero time with the kids, she is finally home after 7pm, but it was almost like she warded off her kids, I’m convinced she hates interacting with them, at nights she went to her room or to the patio to have dinner while FaceTiming an unknown man, that was my second hint that she could be cheating on Mr. Jeon, actually at that point I was pretty convinced. She went out with her friends during the weekend nights, going on clubs, bars or some girls night, she always had a plan, some days she wouldn’t come back until Monday morning, with her hair tangled and unkempt, pumps off and a dry colorless face.

She had fired the previous babysitter after she found out she was stealing some of the kids clothing and selling them online, she was an old lady who pretended to be a retired and experienced children psychologist, Mrs. Jeon never cared enough to read her resume, turns out she wasn’t, and it only took the effort of googling her name to find news about her other scams on rich families pretending to be a kind babysitter, and not only she was stealing the kids’ clothes, also Mrs. Jeon’s jewels.

Shortly after she hired a young kindergarten teacher, only lasted a week. Mrs. Jeon thought she was too flirty when she greeted her husband, truth is she never saw them interact, it might be the fact that the girl had a rising onlyfans page that Mrs. Jeon found about because the gardener had recognized her, and also because she was an impolite vegan, the girl demanded rudely to the chef to make her a special vegan meal, so Mrs. Jeon told her to not come back the next day.

Once the door clicked softly shut behind me, I let out a quiet sigh of relief. Babysitting could be exhausting, but I cherished these moments of tranquility after the children had drifted off to dreamland. I made my way to the cozy living room, settled onto the plush sofa, eager to enjoy a few moments of relaxation.

My sister received a call for help from Mrs. Jeon. Desperate because if she didn’t find a new babysitter before the kids finished their school day she had to stay with them for the rest of the day. My sister said she sounded as if someone had died, in complete panic. I got my sister’s call for help, she wanted to be in her boss’ good side and also to get my ass out of the couch once and for all.

I had just graduated, and conveniently unemployed. I had tried my luck in a big city, completely failed and had to return home. Had been rotting in my family home for almost a month until my sister told me she had a job opportunity for me.

- Just focus on taking care of the kids, don’t engage with the male employees on the house, she will think you are fucking them, she hates sharing her men. And if you get to see Mr. Jeon when he arrives early from work just say good night without making eye contact, no more exchange, understood?

In fact, I had never seen Mr. Jeon in person. There were huge family pictures all around the house walls, and small frames on the shelves that portrayed his beautiful face.

Mr. Jeon is a handsome man, with youthful features and athletic physique. From chatting with the maids I learned that he goes jogging at 6 AM, to the gym at 7, has breakfast at 8, then heads to work until 9 to 10 at night when he arrives home, takes a shower and goes to bed.

As weeks went by, my love for the kids grew, just as much as my curiosity for their gorgeous father.

The couple didn’t share a room, in fact, apparently they hated each other. They were a happy pair until she was “forced” to bare his children. Both families had agreed to unite in all aspects including business, but the warranty was to have at least one male that would take over everything one day. They did, the youngest of the two children was a beautiful and healthy boy, but Mrs. Jeon was left traumatized and deformed after the pregnancies, which caused the fall of their successful marriage.

Linda, their oldest maid said that it all started even before they got married, because both were compulsive cheaters that enjoyed to have interaction with people bellow their status, such as maids, trainers, secretaries, drivers, bodyguards, etc.

As I reached for a book from the nearby shelf, I heard a faint rustling sound coming from the kitchen. I paused, my heart skipping a beat. Perhaps it was just the house settling.

This weekend I had been tasked to stay over and take care of the kids while Mrs. Jeon was on a girls trip to Indonesia, she’s coming back on Monday.

I’d say Mrs. Jeon trusted me, I was her beloved personal trainer’s sister and I’ve been doing a good job taking care of the kids, acted as if the chef, the gardener, the drivers and the new pastry cook didn’t exist. She was happy with my work.

Her instructions were to just normally complete my Friday - Saturday routine with the kids, but to stay over to keep an eye on them at night, she didn’t trust the maids, one time she had a nightmare in which they all grabbed forks to kill them and fed her a broth made with their bones, ever since she’s been paranoid, she says they hate her so much she believes they are capable of doing it.

It was Friday night, the kids already asleep, I would usually go home after this, but I had to sleep on one of the guest rooms to check on the kids, and Saturday morning prepare them for their swimming lesson and entertain them for the rest of the day.

But then I heard it again, unmistakably—a soft shuffling, like footsteps moving across the tiled floor. My breath caught in my throat as I debated whether to investigate or retreat to the safety of the children's room. The staff had already ended their activities, they were all supposed to be in their chambers.

Summoning courage, I rose from the sofa and tiptoed towards the kitchen, my pulse quickening with each step. The dim light from the living room cast eerie shadows against the walls, adding to the sense of uneasiness that gripped me.

Peering cautiously around the corner, My eyes widened in astonishment. Standing in the center of the kitchen was a figure—Mr. Jeon, very alive and kicking.

He was so much more handsome in person, an unreal beauty. Blazer and tie off, sleeves up his elbows revealed his tattoos, they covered his whole right arm and hand, first three buttons undone letting me see part of his chest, he was bulked. A piercing adorning his lower lip, another on his right eyebrow, a couple more on his ears.

I had heard he did that to his body after he found out guys with piercings and tattoos gave Mrs. Jeon the ick. Apparently he really wanted her away from him.

- Who are you? He asked confused, looked like he already had a few drinks, was peering at the fridge looking for a beer.

- The babysitter.

- What happened to Ms. Barlowe? he asked while opening the beer can and pouring it in a glass.

- She was fired two months ago. I tried to respond as concisely as possible, but this man was making me feel things that would put this job on risk. He liked getting inside the staff’s panties? Then he could take me right here.

- What’s your name? How old are you?

- y/n, hadn’t you heard it’s impolite to ask a woman’s age. I’m old enough.

- Old enough? For what? He chuckled.

- To be your children’s babysitter. I said jokingly, nothing matters anymore, this man has me on my knees acting all flirty.

- Once we had a 16 year old. He said looking at me, taking a sip of his beer.

- Not that young, more like old enough to buy alcohol all that stuff. I said while looking down at my feet, shyness taking over me all of a sudden, I shouldn’t have said anything.

- Are you staying the night?

- Yes, I have to keep an eye on the kids while your wife is away.

- Then I’ll see you around doll, I need a shower. He winked and walked to leave the kitchen, when he passed by me he patted the top of my head.

What?! The nickname got me all confused and flustered, but then the way he touched my head, was it all in a “oh how cute” way? Or a “let’s fuck till daylight”?

I stood there, still processing the whole conversation we had, now I feel embarrassed.

Headed directly to the guest bedroom and took a shower too. I felt so hot, cheeks red and teary eyes. Got my pajamas on, don’t I own a prudish set? Pair of pants and an oversized tee. If he were to walk into the room and saw me wearing this, I bet he would laugh.

Of course I couldn’t sleep a wink. Thinking the hot man was somewhere under the same roof. Foolishly kept imagining things, the way his hands would feel against my skin, his big hands around my throat, long fingers inside my pussy. Oh god!

The mere three or four hours of sleep I got, I slept them like a dog, after about three orgasms I achieved by rubbing my clit. It felt awful afterwards. He was a married man after all, he didn’t love his wife but they were together, he got two children who I adored and spent a lot of time with.

Mr. Jeon would never look at me like that anyways, I bet he had a bunch of women already. Models, celebrities, escorts.

Saturday morning I had breakfast with the kids, I usually arrive after they had finished. Once done we head upstairs to get ready for their swimming lesson. They had a private instructor every Saturday to teach them how to swim, I sat on one of the pallets by the pool.

After the lesson ended, the kids wanted to stay and keep playing in the pool, it was a hot day since summer was around the corner.

- Pleaseee! You can grab one of mom’s swimsuits. The oldest daughter insisted I should join them on their little chasing game inside the water.

- I’d like to but it’s almost lunchtime and then we have things to do remember? You wanted to go to the supermarket and buy snacks. I insisted that it wasn’t a good idea, even though I really wanted to jump into the fresh water, but maybe it would seem shameless.

I ended up getting in. One of the maids brought me one of the many Mrs. Jeon’s bikinis, she told me she grabbed it from a big bag full of clothing she was about to throw away. It was a tiny black Valentino bikini with a white outline.

We played for a while and then got out to have lunch, we sat in the outdoor dining table, all soaked, the tips of our fingers wrinkled from spending too much time on the water.

And then he comes out from inside the house, wearing a black polo shirt tucked in a pair of navy blue jeans, black Saint Laurent sunglasses. He took them out and looked at me from head to toe, licking his lips.

Was he home the whole time?! I’ve never ran into him on Saturdays. I was standing up beside the table, opening a can of sprite for the youngest son.

The kids waved at his father and continued eating, he gave each a kiss on their forehead and stood in front of me.

- When is my mother supposed to pick them up? He said, head lowered to look at me in the eyes.

- Tomorrow morning.

- I’ll tell her to take them today, have everything ready. He said putting his glasses on and heading to the garage.

I’m already imagining things, foolishly thinking he might have a hidden intention to ask his mother to take the kids early, maybe all he wants is my ass out of his house and I’m here all nervous believing he might want some alone time to fuck my brains out, very unlikely.

Once the kids were gone I went to my room, packed everything. I was meant to leave after the grandma took the children TOMORROW, now they are gone and I’m confused on what should I do.

More like expecting Mr. Jeon to come home and…

Toc, toc, toc.

He opened the door and looked at me sitting on the edge of the bed.

- On my studio, in five. He said and quickly closed the door and left.

What the fuck?!

I was almost having a panic attack before I knocked his studio door three times. I decided to change into a white tank top, no bra, white cotton panties and a pair of blue stripped pants, what I had intended to wear tomorrow.

Heard a small come in, and opened the door to enter.

He was sitting in a grey loveseat, manspreading, left hand on his crotch, right holding a cigarette between his lips, such a breathtaking view.

- Come sit with me. He ordered patting the couch.

I walked slowly, still shaking from the nervousness. Sat next to him, hands and eyes on my tights, I couldn’t look at him.

- Is this what you want? He took my hand with both of his, which made me look at his face. He was waiting for an answer.

- What do you mean? Of course I knew what he meant, I guess I just wanted to hear him say it to be sure.

- Do you want me to fuck you? Here, right now?

Yes.

He grabbed my face by my chin and pressed his lips against mine. He let me set the pace at first. His lips were soft, breath tasted like tobacco. I could feel how at times he was struggling not to kiss me harder.

So I let him slide his tongue inside my mouth. He grabbed my hips to place me on his lap, groaning at the feeling of my covered pussy on top of his crotch. He bit and dragged my lower lip, his kisses started to descend from my chin to my neck.

- From the first moment I saw you, your eyes were pleading me to fuck you, then I saw you in that tiny bikini, so naughty.

My pussy was throbbing, his words and his desperate kisses against my skin had me drunk in pleasure already.

He took the hem of my top to remove it, tits bounced right in front of his eyes. He chuckled and looked at me with a smirk, grabbed them with his huge hands, caressing them as if they were two stress balls. With his thumb, he started rubbing my nipples, eyes on mine the whole time.

- You like that princess?

I was a moaning mess, nodded and arched my back. It felt so good, a numbing sensation right into my pussy hole, soaking wet.

He left my nipples to grab my buttocks, automatically started to rub myself on his bulge. He closed his eyes and moaned, then kissed my lips hungrily. Grabbed my waist and helped me pace my movements, he laid back on the couch, locking his eyes to mine.

I stood up to remove my pants, once off he grabbed my hips and sat me on his lap, this time my back against his chest. His rough hands start to brush my body, from my breasts to my stomach.

- Open your legs princess. Obeying immediately to his command, I was already desperate for his touch down there, couldn’t help but to feel powerless under his touch.

I whimpered as I felt his hands pushing my panties to the side, and started to stroke my clit. He then took his fingers to my entrance only to remove them quickly. I moaned and turned my head to look at him in disbelief. He brings his fingers up to my mouth, coated with my juices.

- Lick them.

I slowly wrapped my lips around his long fingers, doe eyes staring at his while circling my tongue against his digits. Spit dripping from my chin and his hands, such a filthy sight. He then removed them from my mouth producing a popping sound.

He took those two fingers down my pussy again, inserted them into my pulsing hole. His hands are skilled, every move he makes hits the right spot, I dropped my head back in pleasure and let out an embarrassingly loud moan, he started kissing my neck, sucking and licking.

- Such a filthy whore, you like my fingers? He said with a deep voice, groaning in my ear. His eyes were fixed in my pussy the whole time, he seemed to enjoy watching his fingers going in and out of my hole.

He had been fingering me for a while, when I felt that familiar response down my pussy, a numbing sensation signaling my orgasm was close to take place.

Jungkook thrusted and curled his fingers hitting the right spot with insane accuracy each time. His cock throbbed underneath me, my thighs trembled as I tried to keep them spreaded. The sight spurred him on as he added another finger, I groaned loudly at the stretch he was now giving me with three fingers.

- Come on baby, cum all over my hand. He mumbled against my ear. It didn’t take long for my release to come. Jungkook groaned, shifting his hips to get some friction himself as he helped you ride it out.

He laid me against the couch before his mouth littered hot kisses across my chest only pausing when he felt my fingers delicately trail along the waistband of his pants, looking forward to undo the button. Jungkook met my gaze with a smirk on his lips.

- Please sir, can I have your cock now? I asked, my eyes innocently blinked up at him. Jungkook groaned at my words, he felt himself twitch desperately against his cotton prison as he looked at my doe expression patiently waiting for him. He gently pushed me on the soft silk couch before beginning to free himself. His cock slapped against his stomach, pre cum already leaking from the tip which he used as lubricant as he gave himself a few pumps.

My legs automatically opened for him to slot himself in between. I felt his tip prod at my entrance, he began to rub, coating his hard dick with my juices. Jungkook sunk himself into my throbbing heat. He started off at a slow pace, kissing my neck softly. Once he felt me clench him, Jungkook started to move faster.

My moans caused him to thrust harder as he found himself wanting to draw more of them out of my pretty lips. It didn’t take long for me to become cockdrunk as I clutch at his forearms, the intense arousal forming again in your stomach. Jungkook felt his balls tighten at my chants.

- Fuck! Yeah sir fuck me harder, I love how your cock feels inside me. My words spurring him to drive himself deeper inside me. My eyes rolled back and my body went limp in his arms as I came for the second time that night. My body was sensitive as he kept thrusting through My orgasm trying to chase his own. He watched my eyes roll as I let him continue to use me like the a slut.

- Oh my god! Sir, please cum inside me, I want your cum inside my pussy. My willingness to submit to him caused his hips to sputter and coat my walls. I could feel his cum warming me from the inside causing me to smile at the feeling of being full of the essence of my boss’s husband. The action solidified the new dynamic between the two of us.

Jungkook pulled his softening cock out of me gently, I heard him get off the couch and leave the room to get a wet cloth to help clean up the mess in between my legs. I snuggled my head into the pillows behind.

- You did so good for me baby, was this okay? Is this what you need? Jungkook asked, sitting next to me on the couch. He moved some hairs away from my face and began stroking my cheek awaiting a response.

- I loved it, thank you sir. I spoke with a soft smile. Jungkook’s helped me slip into the comfort of the bedding in the guest room, he laid in the bed scooping me into his embrace. I laid on his chest whilst he stroked my back, lulling me to sleep with his actions and for the first time I slept peacefully in the embrace of my new lover.

[cloveroctobers]

HOW DOES IT MAKE YOU FEEL — RIO [Summer Prompts]

A/N: I was debating between making this Rio or Manny based and usually I like to alternate but for this prompt it felt more Rio like 😂 so hopefully for my October prompts if I write for Mayans again I’ll probably write for Manny. Anyways! Hope you guys get a kick out of this as much as I did writing it.

WARNINGS: language & things actually got a little 🌶️ towards the end which isn’t normally my thing but I guess I got inspired 😈 Enjoy!

SYNOPSIS: Rio’s so productive he hardly gets a day where he can get enough rest in…what happens when you disrupt that over something so irrational? He swears he loves you but he’s also not putting up with your shit.

PROMPT IS FROM HERE & I’m using: "what's the point of the blanket being on the couch if it can't be used?" "it's for show!" "oh for the love of god-"

<- check out my previous summer anthology writings here.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎ

Rio preferred it cold.

It just made sense for the weather to be cold or cool rather than as hot as Diablo’s breath. He wasn’t made for hot weather and he couldn’t get away with his dark attire in the hotter months either. That’s where you two deferred, you loved the heat over the cold any day so as soon as the first day of summer hit…you seemed to glow more even when it wasn't golden hour.

You were outside way before the official day of summer hit because the warm weather was actually sticking around in Detroit and usually Rio was down for whatever, in fact he already booked a trip to Grenada in August (which his skin would probably regret as soon as y’all touched down in the West Indies), but for this particular outing felt like a waste of a time. A older Australian couple that the two of you became acquainted with when the two of you picked up the sport of pickleball—Rio still liked tennis better—invited you two to celebrate their furbaby’s (a Chinese Crested) birthday.

Thats right a whole ass birthday party for a dog who was now widowed, you two attended the wedding just last year and the Chinese Crested, Harlowe was still dealing with the loss of their loved one so the couple thought a party would uplift his spirits. It was ridiculous what rich people got up to but you liked to entertain it sometimes.

For Rio? It was all about networking considering that the wife of the pair was a retired attorney and her husband owned a billionaire company. You knew it wasn’t really a genuine friendship (more so out of convenience) they were the couple you mainly chatted with just to past the time when you all appeared at the same events. So the both of you didn’t appear that disappointed when the husband called Rio up just fifteen minutes before the both of you were getting ready to leave telling you that they, “regretfully want to inform that their beloved Harlowe was not up for a party and rather a intimate gathering with just his parents.”

“Do you think they’re still having something but much smaller and we got uninvited?” You asked, already stepping out of your heels when Rio came back into the bedroom to tell you the news.

Rio lifted his shoulders, “we’ll find out if they did but I didn’t want to go no way.”

“I know you didn’t,” you laugh as you spin around motioning for Rio to help you out of your dress, thanks to a old shoulder injury that had you attending PT from time to time.

He pauses with his fingertips brushing against the nape of your neck, “whatchu getting undressed for? You don’t want to find other plans for tonight?”

This wasn’t shocking, usually when plans got dropped the both of you always found something else to get into. It was rare for either of you to just take cancelled plans for what they were since the both of you stayed busy as a couple and separately.

“Nope…we can stay in. We’re hitting the gym in the morning anyway right?”

“I did say that didn’t I?” Rio sighed while you laughed to yourself, knowing he would prefer doing his own workout at the park or even in the backyard of your contemporary colonial—when you were with him—rather than at the gym.

He already had to put a few people in check for looking at you too long or even turning a friendly conversation into flirtations. Of course you loved Rio letting his protectiveness come out but you drew the line at him causing a few to lose their jobs when it was never that serious (to you). In this economy?! He even tried to persuade you into another gym—which was about an hour AND thirty minutes away from home but you liked the set up of your current gym and already made a few friends there as well.

Which is why he was putting in that work to get ownership over the building these past few months (which went from professional to lethal) but that was a need to know basis for you.

“Uh huh,” you nodded holding the front of the now slumped cowl silk aqua dress, “I know you can’t hang with me, so I’ll let it slide and you can enjoy your PTO.”

“Thank you for your permission, mama.” Rio rolled his eyes playfully, which then proceeded to follow you as you disappeared into the closet by the bedroom door.

Rio leans against the doorway just watching you as you shoved into some loungewear.

“I think I washed these on the wrong setting, ain’t no way these shrunk after only having them for a month.” You stated, pulling at the ends of your plaid boxer shorts with a huff.

Rio hummed, tugging his bottom lip into his mouth while he viewed the length of your legs in those shorts, “nah…that ass is growing and it’s giving me and those shorts something more to eat.”

Throwing your head back with a shake of your head you sharply exhale through your nostrils in warning, “behave.”

“It’s kinda hard to when you look like that.” He licked his lips, tempted to pounce.

“Please, I’ll put you to sleep as soon as you get up in it.” You tease as you step to cradle your husband’s face, “get some rest first honey and then we’ll talk.”

Patting his cheek, you went to squeeze by him but Rio caught your wrist to gain your attention once more. Peering up at him, Rio let his eyelashes flutter as he took his time analyzing the shape of you which was part of the many reasons he loved you, “you’re lucky I could use a few hours.”

You just smile at the heaviness in his raspy tone, leaning forward to press a kiss right to his plump and always moisturized lips. “I’ll be downstairs deciding on bourbon chicken or honey pineapple salmon for dinner.”

Rio kept a straight face as he fought back a yawn but still nodded his head at your retreating form. It felt like as soon as you told him to take his rest, his body was underneath your spell and normally he liked having that effect on you more so but he’ll fight you on it later.

What he hoped you didnt fight him on was taking a spot right on the couch to get these much needed hours in. He couldn’t exactly hide it as the kitchen and living room were basically side by side in an open floor plan but once you got on the phone with your girlfriends…that Kiking was unstoppable and lengthy. Moments later it only took you placing the fillets into the oven, sides done and covered to keep warm, with you getting off the phone and finally glancing to your right to notice the lanky frame of your husband snoring on the sofa. His limbs were always too long for the couch in the living room, which is why majority of the time he spent time on the 2-piece sectional downstairs.

Thankfully Rio wasn’t much of a snorer but sometimes when that sleep really hit? It came out and you knew he needed it. Rio was always sitting on ready regardless of his laidback but cardinial personality but you knew his profession as a, “businessman,” was anything but sweet—unless it came to counting the bag that is. You didn’t get much into his business, always being the one to turn the other cheek until necessary.

The both of you shared words a few times at the start of your relationship when you became serious and found out that Rio had people (before Mick) following you. You were an artist with a successful art gallery, which contained half of your artwork along with other local artists, new and young, and you even had some imported from all over the world. Rio tried it with the import portion of your gallery once before but you shut that shit down and the both of you didn’t speak for at least a week—almost two until the gym became his second focus—after making things right with you. Take that how you will. At the beginning you didn’t appreciate being followed and figuring out that Christopher had something to do with it after pulling out your own piece—something you hated to do but you knew how to handle your own business—Rio tried to persuade you later on that it gave him comfort knowing that his men can keep a eye on you when he can’t.

Some may have felt like that was a red flag (half of your girlfriend’s being the “some,” but one of them always had something negative to say about anything you had going on…which is why you weren’t friends at this point in time) but with a love so immense? And a career like Rio’s? You grew to accept it as a source of another security blanket since you didn’t like to get your hands dirty. Having that kind of power where someone could do that for you? Was indescribable. Sure Rio’s methods of getting to the money may require things you didn’t really agree with, you kept your own business clean just how you wanted but the way you felt about Rio was not something that could just vanish. You knew what his business entailed but you didn’t need to see the grit of it.

So maybe you did get off just a little at your man having that kind of pull on these streets.

Somebody should sue oh wait…they tried that and were part of a missing person’s report but that case was closed back in January.

You leaned against the white marble countertops, another small smile playing on your lips as it was your turn to watch your lightly snoring of a husband on the couch. He didn’t even get the chance to turn the tv on to fall asleep to, another opposite of your relationship, he needed some noise while you preferred it quiet and no light. His ankles hung off the sofa, one hand crossed over his chest as he held onto his shoulder in slumber. It wasn’t until you noticed the bright colored fiesta floral blanket pulled up and slanted underneath his chin that had you entering the living space.

You almost stopped your actions as you stared down at him in peace. You hated him watching you sleep and here you were doing the same but that didn’t last long as you shifted the spatula in your hand.

SLAP!

The stinging Rio felt against his forehead jolted him awake. His lengthy lashes popped open, making him sit up some as he tried to figure out what and who just assaulted him. He blinked a couple of times, trying to focus his vision before he shifted his view to you and that teal silicone spatula.

A furrow appeared seconds later, hand going from his shoulder to rub at the spot in between his thick brows. “What’s goin’ on?”

His voice is groggy and you almost felt bad for slapping the mess out of him. Yet he should be thankful that you didn’t slap the eagle tattoo right off the skin of his throat. The blood rushed to that spot on the center of his forehead but him rubbing at it only made it worse.

“I can ask you the same thing, why are you cuddled up with that blanket?” You motioned to the item with the cooking utensil.

Rio licked his lips, glancing down at the peach, orange, yellow, green, and navy blue blanket. He clears his throat, “Whatchu mean? I’m sleeping and the air’s on.”

Not Mr. Cool needing a blanket when he’s the one who loved having the house set on: icebox where his heart used to be, Omarion needs to slide glide and collect his boy real talk.

“Whose fault is that? I told you it didn’t need to be lower than seventy.”

Rio side eyed you a bit and proceeded to close his eyes again, ready to check out but you kicked at the cushion he laid against. Which made him sit up on his elbows, pinching the space in between his brows, “what’s good wit you? You think that makes sense to have the thermostat set on seventy when it’s damn near ninety out that front door?”

“Yes. It’s all about comfort.”

“That’s what I’m tryin’ to do with this blanket, thank you.” He went to plop back down, ready to pull the fallen object back over his shoulders.

You snatch it right off his body, “this blanket isn’t for you to get your drool on.”

“I don’t drool and wait a minute…did you hit me with that? A used spatula? You’re about to mess up my skincare and that’s feelin’ a little disrespectful to me.”

You scoff as you proceed to fold the blanket how you previously had it tossed along the couch, “No it wasn’t used! You know me better than that and I know you take pride in self care. I wouldn’t do you like that but it’s clear you’re disrespecting me by using this blanket that abuela gave to me.”

Rio felt his eye twitch as he exhaled his rising nerves, “…what's the point of the blanket being on the couch if it can't be used?”

“It’s for show!” You exasperated as you finished brushing over the fur of the oversized blanket.

Rio snorted, “oh for the love of almighty!”

You huffed with your hands on your hips, pulling your attention away from the blanket that was back to the way it was, “What?”

“Be real with me.” Rio jabbed a thumb at the direction of the blanket, “you want me to believe that you’re being this extra over a blanket my abuela got you from fucking Marshall’s?”

You tilted your head to the side, “oh no you didn’t, not you being uppity Mr. Serena & Lily.”

“I didn’t even mean it like that.”

“Now you’re disrespecting Abuela!” You pointed at him accusing, “Just wait until she hears about this!”

“Nah you’re not telling her nothing!” Rio latched onto the waistband of your shorts, yanking you right on the couch as you squealed feeling the air hit your lower back.

You elbowed him as you collapsed right on his lap, “are you trying to get me to moon you? What’s wrong with you?!”

He shushed you with a smirk, “Thanks for confirming just what I needed to hear…” his hands slip down your sides and towards your bare hips beneath the fabric, squeezing the sides of your ass.

“No, we have beef now you pervert.” Your attempt to get off his lap was not working for you, at all.

His lips are at the space beneath your earlobe and the way he’s sucking on the skin is definitely leaving some tingles all over your body. Rio chuckles as he feels you shudder in his lap, “what beef? I think we should talk it out, don’t you?”

He moves one hand from the side of your ass to travel up the valley in between your breasts, grabbing a hand full of the one on the left and his right. Your breathing is picking up now as Rio settles you both back against the couch and it isn’t until you feel the plush of the blanket against your shoulder that you come back to your senses.

You pull yourself from Rio’s hold, snatching the spatula back to aim right at him in defense, “that wasn’t talking.”

“Well I disagree and thought it was until you rudely interrupted me.” Rio briefly rests his elbows against his knees as he sizes you up while you cautiously step back towards the kitchen, “you clearly don’t want me getting in that overtime of sleep anymore so I guess I’m well rested enough to spend quality time with my wife.”

Rio has his eyes set only on you and he can visibly see you gulp at the distance you put between you. That feeds his ego enough, he sniffs as he pushes himself to his feet, stalking over you to pluck the spatula out of your hand and to slide it against the counters towards the deep sink. Rio towers over you, using his fingertips to grip your jaw firm enough to get your sight back on him. Quickly he latches onto your thighs, lifting you against the counter and making space for himself right in between.

His forehead is pressed against yours breathing you in as he yanks you right to the edge of the counter, his hands caressing the warmth of your upper thighs, “you care about that damn blanket so much, I want your eyes to stay only on it while I sample my appetizer, you got that?”

A finger ran over your clothed center and you pushed your moan back down your vocal cords. The both of you were famous for your poker faces but eventually one of you would take it off of the other.

Your heart was pounding against your chest along with the adrenaline also running wild at the way Rio was looking at you, seeking to devour you while biting down on his bottom lip as he fought to keep his eyes on you and not on the increased rise and fall of your chest.

His hand snakes up to your throat, squeezing just enough to let you know what time it was, “I said, do you got that?”

You sucked your teeth, “I heard you—

You started just for Rio to push you by the throat with the swiftness against the counter, other hand flying behind your head just in time to protect the back of it while your thighs instantly latched around his hips in alert.

He laughs a bit, “yeah I knew you’d like that shit,” as he lets go of your throat after turning your head to face the living room, right where your blanket sat then using both of his hands to nudge your thighs apart so he can leave you bare from your shorts.

Curiosity got the best of you as you tried to take a peek to see what your husband was up to. Usually he was the light sleeper but you didn’t miss the sound of the pop of his lips, making you turn your head to see two damp digits.

“What did I say?”

Quickly shutting your eyes, you shielded them with a free hand trying to fight back a smile and still holding your “innocence,” as you waited to open your eyes again.

“Wait!” You called out, just knowing what was to come, “…check the timer for the salmon.”

Rio barely let the annoyance hit as he gazed over his shoulder to the clock on the stove, “ten minutes left. That’s all I need for right now…desserts a different story.”

And with that being said you let his touch be felt in the most pleasing of ways, folding at the way Rio knew just what to do to set you right.

Sitting in the dining room, since you refused to sit at the island—which Rio found humorous and promised he would clean—you can’t be eating at everybody’s house y’all—the both of you sat face to face with you on the bench and Rio in the navy chair across from you.

He chewed on his last piece of fillet, hand underneath his chin as he stared at you slouched over a bit. His long limbs tapped against you underneath the table, watching you flinch as you pushed your shoulders back, which added to more of Rio’s amusement.

“What’s the matter?” He questioned, his dark eyes can’t help but to falter down to your white tank top, “you look cold and might need a blanket? There’s one not far from us actually.”

You scowled while he laughed grinning at you, “you’re such a dick!”

“And you took it so well.”

A gasp fell from your lips while you tossed a folding napkin right towards Rio’s smug face, who snatched it before it could touch him. Leaving him to mockingly kiss his lips at you, “it’s all love.”

“We’ll see.” You chewed back a smirk but Rio can read you just by looking into your eyes.

Rio raised his brows, “That a challenge? I can guarantee you we can make it happen.”

Rio loves leaving you a crying mess and talking you down from your high. His drive was hardly ever low but he thought it was respectable for the both of you to get some nutrients in before the full rounds started.

You held up a finger, grabbing your glass to chug the rest of the water, making Rio rest his cheek into the knuckles of his hand with a glint in his eyes.

“Okay,” you exhale, “but it’s my time to set it off.”

Rio nodded his head ready for whatever you had in mind although he’s envisioning reverse cowgirl, “cool, no complaints on my end.”

“I bet,” you raise a foot to caress his lap, “Can help you back to sleep in some blankets that are actually meant for sleeping with.”

Rio groaned for two separate reasons of course, reaching one hand down to grip your ankle, “lead the way, mama.”

“Not until you do the dishes and clean the counter. I know how much you hate going to bed with a dirty kitchen and we ain’t got shit to do so…get to it. I’ll be waiting.” It was your turn for some small payback as you hopped up from the bench, a glare crossing Rio’s features.

You laughed as you gripped his shoulders, leaning down to press your lips against his. The both of you tilted your heads just right as your lips battled against each other soon before you slipped your tongue against Rio’s. It was getting nasty again and he was ready to pull you right in his lap and let you do your thing right there but you pulled back with a bit of saliva between your lips.

“Hurry up, I’ll be ready to take my own nap myself soon.” You wink at him before you quickly pulled yourself from his grasp.

Rio swallowed his own breathing down, hands rubbing at his wet lips first and then the tension in his jaw all while feeling the twitch below again. Looking at the dishes and feeling the pull towards you was another battle within itself. Usually he wasn’t the clean up crew, he had people for that professionally and personally and as he started cleaning one dish he checked his own pocket to book a cleaning service for the morning. However he did take his time cleaning down the island, he wasn’t that cruel.

And who needed the gym anyway when you had his heart pumping enough?

He didn’t have to cancel that too.

Rio always ran shit.

The gym was just as much as his now as you are.

Just how he liked it.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎ

Continue with my summer anthology prompts & writings here.

[3liza]

(many of) the guys who get hoodwinked by nfts and crypto rugpulls and virtual real estate etc are being victimized by the same strategies used by cult and MLM recruiters but laser-targeted to the class of extremely dissociated business boys who have been raised in climate controlled terrariums since they were IVF pipetted into their surrogates by parents who would frown and shake their heads every time any sort of non-alienated labor or craftwork was mentioned in the presence of their child, to denote disapproval of "impractical" skills. these guys are very rich, do not have social skills except for "networking", are borderline illiterate, and inevitably have some sort of disastrous parasocial emotional affair with a sex worker in their 50s. the ones who are not sociopaths by the clinical definition are pathetically lonely and the rugpull offers a form of instant ingroup buy-in which lasts for as long as the business boy chooses to HODL.

is it their fault/do they deserve it/should we feel sorry for them? complicated series of questions. materially i think it's a waste of time to feel sorry for someone who is actively gentrifying and paywalling and enshittifying as we speak, however, there is maybe something to be said for leftists considering some kind of active outreach to victims of these scams as a form of coalition-building, but im always thinking something like this and i have yet to run into an actual real world example of "my whole life i hated hippies and then one day, one reached out and saved me, so i have decided to retire from making money by being evil" so i think i'm probably wrong and the only answer is actually just full scale class war and also probably putting a lot more leftist resources into running scams targeting the business boys.

[undercovercameron]

sunspent

summary: you're relaxed and calm in the obx summer heat, and rafe simply cannot have that.

notes: filthy filthy filthy! sorry not sorry bout it. also minor obx 3 spoilers; ie his parents are on that damn island and its just him in their big ole house. semi public sex kink and def a choking kink beware or be scared! i truly cannot write anything without that damn hand around reader's throat.. that's my b. enjoy! also thank you so much for all the love on my fics and the followers... so excited for all i will write in the future and so incredibly full of love from you guys <3

tags: rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count: 2542

The whole day had been perfect. 

You woke up around 9:30, brushed your teeth, and went downstairs to have some oatmeal. By 10:30 you were in a bikini and setting out a towel on the back deck. 

The sun was fairly hot, but the early warnings of a storm gave a cooler breeze. Your towel was in the perfect spot between the shade where you could get full sun coverage without moving too much. 

Gentle music was playing from your speaker, something that sounded like what your mom listened to in highschool, and a couple vodka seltzers laid unopened in a small cooler for you to enjoy later. You were also halfway through a mystery book, and between the pages of every chapter you let the time drift away from you. 

The most relaxing part of the start of your day? Rafe had left the house around 9 and had yet to return by the time you cracked open your seltzer at 1 o’clock. No ranting, no typical Rafe-isms— just sunshine and Paula Abdul. You wished he was able to do this with you. 

It was so relaxing that you drifted off to sleep a little more than halfway through your drink, head resting on your folded arms. 

“Y/N.” Something rigid and distinctly shoe-like nudges your arm. “Baby.”

You just groan and turn over onto your back, arms following to protect your eyes from the sunlight. 

“Hi,” you croak, squinting, and peer up at him. He looks like the Statue of Liberty in this light— if the statue of liberty wore light wash jeans and slutty little beer brand t-shirts. (So on brand for him.)

“How long have you been out here?” He asks, bending to pick up what’s left of your seltzer for one final swig. 

“Since like 10:45.” Your face breaks in a yawn and your arms fall to the deck as your eyes get used to the light. A smile creeps onto your face. “What’ve you been doing?” You sit up on your hands, scanning his body. He looks kinda sweaty. 

“Um,” he starts, scratching at his forehead with a sigh. “Buncha shit. Went into a couple places to close Ward’s accounts with them—oh, I saw your mom at Cold Stone by the way.”

“Why were you at Cold Stone?” You grin, crossing your legs and pushing at his calf with your foot. He makes an innocent face, hands on his hips. He looks to the trees, playfully exasperated.

“Sometimes I need a milkshake, Y/N. What kind of question is that?” You snort. “Anyway— I think we should go out for dinner. It’s getting to be—shit, it’s almost 4.”

You’re silent, save for some puny, whiny noise you make at the mention of going out. You struggle to get up, a little wobbly on your feet, but Rafe catches you and hauls you up with a hand on your waist. 

“What?” He brushes the wispy hairs out of your face. “You don’t want to go out?” He searches your face, blue eyes squinting down at you, and you just pout. In the most mature way a 20-something can when faced with leaving her very rich boyfriend’s very nice house who has asked her to stay with him graciously for the very near future while his parents are retired on some island in the middle of the ocean. 

You curl a finger around the collar of his t-shirt, playing with it while you formulate an answer. 

“Where would we go?” Is what you settle on, ever the people pleaser. 

“I don’t know…” Rafe thinks, gaze drifting from you as he chews at his lip. You wind your arms around his shoulders, hands splayed across his wingspan. You pet the skin of his neck with your thumb, warm all over. You’re content just looking at him forever. 

“What if I’m hungry now?” You ask, ever so innocently, and Rafe thinks you’re serious until he catches the look on your face. 

“That right?” He grins, hand sliding down your back. He grabs at your ass and you squeak. “How hungry? Wait until after dinner?” He’s just teasing you honestly; it’s almost a hobby to see how desperate you get for him. 

“Rafe.” You pinch his shoulder. “That’s not funny.”

He just hums noncommittally, and dips to press a kiss to your neck. You shift up onto your tiptoes, wanting to be closer, and he hikes one of your legs up onto his hip. You can’t help the noise you make. 

“Rafe,” you breathe, grabbing at him. “We have to go inside.” He bows forward, dangling you towards the wood of the deck, and you just hold tighter onto his shoulders. 

“Why?” He murmurs, lost in your taste, and presses a kiss to your mouth that makes you shiver. “I don’t see why we have to.” He falls into a kneel, bringing you with him, and you suck in a surprised gasp. “Nobody’s around.”

“Somebody could be, baby,” you say, chancing a look around, and huff out a sigh when he lays you onto your back. This man. 

“I don’t care,” he says, shrugging his shoulders with not a care in the world before following you down. 

This bikini might be his favorite. He likes anything that will leave as little to the imagination as possible, but this one is his favorite shade of blue. Almost matches his eyes. 

Your warm skin feels like silk on him, and when you wriggle when he presses a hand to your inner thigh, his dick jumps. 

“Relax, Y/N,” he breathes. You roll your eyes. 

“How can I, Rafe? You’re so—aggravating.” You huff. He’s still wearing his shirt, too. You tug at the sleeves of it. 

“Oh, yeah?” He cocks his head, lips pursed. You just nod, pulling again at the fabric of his shirt. “Why’re you so wet, then?” He fumbles with the buckle of his jeans and your eyes lock on it.  

“I’m not.” You look back up at him, self-assured to a fault, and try to will the dampness between your legs away. He just stares down at you, unimpressed. “I-I’m not.” Your thighs close. 

“That right?” He murmurs, and wrestles your legs open again with an arm. His fingertips brush the crotch of your bottoms and you jolt, breathing hard out your nose. He lifts your hips and pulls them clean off, tossing them to the side. 

He’s silent then, gaze locked between your legs, and he carefully guides your legs back until you can grab them by the back of your thighs and keep them out of his way. 

“Not wet, my ass,” he murmurs to himself. His thumb rubs at your clit, and your sigh of pleasure ends in an impatient whine. He spits. “This pussy—,” he starts, but can’t finish. 

He just bows and gets his mouth on you like he’s been thinking about since he left the house. Your head slams back against the deck almost immediately. 

His large palm flattens to the back of your thigh and pushes your leg even further. The muscle strains but you can handle it. 

“Fuck, Rafe,” you cry out, eyes squeezing shut as his tongue pushes hard through your folds. You’re really fucking wet. You wonder briefly if it’s because of how hot it was today, then cast that out of your mind completely when you hear Rafe groan. Your body vibrates with it. 

His hands suddenly drag you by your hips, closer to his face, and he hums again. 

“Taste so fucking good,” he muses, spitting at you, and glances up at your face. You can barely keep your mouth closed like this. “Brat, lying to me.”

You whine, every second of him talking taking his mouth away from where it so desperately needs to be absolute torture, but settle when his thumb begins tracing circles into your clit. 

“Fuck me,” you breathe, back arching and leg muscles straining, and Rafe just laughs into your cunt. 

“I will,” he murmurs, and you would roll your eyes if you could— but he pushes two fingers into you. His thumb spurs back into motion as you sing, throat already sore. He knows exactly where and when to curl his fingers, and you let him know right there is where they need to be. 

“There you go.” He spits a third time, watching it mix with your slick. “Squeezing me so tight, honey,” he assures you, smoothing a hand down your thigh. If you could find words you’d agree. 

You manage a “yes, shit,” before you go mute and your eyes roll back into your head. You squeeze around him like a vice, your legs flooding with warmth, and he fingers you through your orgasm. He can’t pull himself away when you get like this— you’re so soft and warm and perfect that he genuinely wonders if he could ever fuck someone else again. He knows the answer is no. 

Your abdominal muscles spasm and jolt as you come down, neck straining to look at where his fingers give you a final stroke and find their way to his mouth. 

“Fuck, Rafe,” you half-laugh and half-moan, head falling against the deck. You chest heaves as you catch your breath. “This is embarrassing.”

“What?” He says, voice hushed, and presses a kiss to your mouth. “Being on the deck or how quick I can make you cum?” He grins. 

This time you can and do roll your eyes. 

“Both,” you sigh, legs falling to their place around his hips. You curl up into a sitting position and pet his arm, coming back to reality. He smells like sunshine. “But you still haven’t fucked me yet.”

Your fingers trail down to his jeans, fingertips ghosting over his zipper. He hums in agreement, eyes following. You play with the button for a second, just wanting to tease, but pop it and unzip the fly. 

“Wanna know what I’m thinking about?” You ask, reaching up his shirt to feel his hot skin. “That time on the beach,” you purr, voice hushed and eyes wild. 

“Yeah?” He bites his lip and sits back on his ass, taking you with him in his lap. Your knees bend and you sit comfortably on the seat that is only yours. “You thinking about my hand?”

“Mhm.” You lean and kiss at his cheek, trailing down to his jaw. “And something else.” You dig a hand down into his boxers and curl your fingers around his dick. 

He’s hot and almost slippery, so hard you’re sure it’s painful. Your wrist slides against the tip and his hand on your ass curls into a fist. 

You lean back, wanting to see his face, and watch as your touch washes over his body. He blinks rapidly, eyes focusing, and you smile sweetly. 

It’s then that you shift into your knees, hand squeezing his dick, and sink down onto him.

His fingers fly up to your strained face and grasp your neck, immediately tight around your throat. Not tight enough to suffocate, but tight enough for your pulse to quicken. 

Exactly what you’d imagined. 

“You like that?” He pants, breath fanning over your cheek when you turn slightly and grip his shoulder for stability. You just nod and circle your hips. 

His thumb on your chin guides your face back to his, wanting to see you fall apart, and you make a whiny noise. He feels where it starts and ends between his fingertips. 

You ride between the strain of his hand around your throat and the movement of his body, head tilted back and mouth wide. Your fingers grip his shoulder and bicep as you ride. 

It’s a difficult job, balancing the rhythm of your hips with the ache blooming from the muscles in your thighs, but you make it work. 

You hear the bashfully whiny groans he’s exhaling into your ear and you make it work. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper hoarsely as his hold tightens, chin tilting towards the sky. He grits his teeth and pushes his hips up into yours. 

You scramble to grab onto his forearm and hold back your shriek. 

The tightness of his fingers around your throat blur the lines of pleasure and pain, making it hard to catch a deep breath and ride him at the same time. 

“Fuck, harder,” he stutters, almost whispering, and you nod furiously. Your thighs meet his lap, over and over with a noise that makes you blush even more than you already are, and you’re sure you’ll have bruises or at the very least a red mark. 

He releases your throat and anchors himself with your hip and the small of your back, and when you finally gasp for air at the loss of his pressure on your neck he uses all his lower back strength to wedge himself deep into you. 

You know you’ll have bruises there. 

You push hard against his forearm as your back arches and the tension in your lower abdomen comes to a peak. Your toes curl where they are at his side.

Your vision comes in and out of focus as you cum again, blood white-hot in your veins. The climax is almost numbing. Addicting. 

At this point you have no idea the noises you’re making, probably all gibberish and definitely humiliating, but the rushing in your ears is too much. 

Rafe shudders and groans loudly into your ear, spending himself inside of you with a grunt, and you follow him as he falls back into the deck. You catch yourself with a palm on the sun scorched wood. 

“Jesus Christ,” he pants, heart pounding and chest heaving. Sweat coats his buzzed hair in a shiny sheen, and your whole body is so sticky you feel like you could peel the layer of perspiration off of your body. 

His hands still lazily hold your waist and they begin their ascent to your neck. He feels your pulse with the space between his thumb and forefinger, and his face splits into a grin at the feeling. 

“I definitely am going to need some food after this.” You push yourself back up into a sitting position and put your hands on your hips as you finally catch your breath. 

He looks so beautiful, half in the shade and half in the sun. Laid out beneath you. Still inside. Like some kind of god. 

The hot sun is in his eyes, and his body is numb with the tension spent in his muscles. Rafe half wonders if his dick is still fucking there. 

He barely feels when you crawl off of him and stumble into standing. He jerks up into a sitting position, that familiar ache in his back present, and grabs for your leg. He winces at the stretch. You should really be paying his chiropractor bill. 

“Where are you going?” He accuses, voice scratchy in his throat. 

“I need to shower, baby.” You bend to pick up your bikini bottoms. “We’re going to dinner, aren’t we?” You smile and turn back around to go inside, ass bare and a huge red mark in the shape of a large hand curved around the trunk of your throat. 

Yeah, drive-up it is.

[missvelvetsstuff]

No Benefits

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Reader and Bucky are best friends until a drunken hook up. Bucky wants a friends with benefits situation because he doesn't feel ready for a relationship but reader knows that will lead to a broken heart.

Then Sharon Carter comes to work with them.

Notes: Steve, Nat and Tony are around but retired, everything else is mostly canon

Chapter 9

Warnings: Swearing, angst

Bucky spent the next week the same way he spent the previous week, since Cookie left, seeing Dr Raynor every day and writing to Cookie after his sessions. Raynor had suggested it. Of course, she told him to bare his soul and dispose of the letters but he felt the need to finally reach out to Cookie. He needed to tell her the whole truth even if she had moved on with that rich guy in Boston.

So he wrote everything and mailed them to the new address that was listed for her on the SWORD employee directory. He wanted to go see her but didn't know if she wanted to see him so just kept writing and sending the letters, almost every day.

A couple of nights after she disappeared, Natasha showed up in Bucky's room in the middle of the night, waking him up as she sat on his groin. Before he could even think about anything he had her pinned to the wall with his vibranium hand around her throat. He kept her there as he shook the sleep off, his hand tight enough to hold her there but not so tight that she couldn't breathe or speak.

"Nat? What the Hell?"

She smirked "I was going to wake you up with a surprise." Licking her lips "Do you remember how much I loved the arm? This feels different than the titanium but not in a bad way." and moaning "Show me what it does, Soldat."

Bucky flinched at the name and pulled his hand away from her.

"No, Natalia, I don't want you. After everything that's happened I don't want anything to do with you. Why can't you understand?"

Nat snapped back "I was being controlled and manipulated too you know. Where's my forgiveness?"

Bucky shook his head "I know you were but you keep acting like you were before so I have to wonder how contrite you really are." He sighed "You need to get to medical. Sharon was checked out and that serum was still affecting her but the docs gave her something to counteract it and she's better now. You're still under some level of Antonia's control, don't you want to get out from under it?"

Nat rubbed up against him "Please, I'm fine. Besides Buck, we were good together before. Don't you remember?"

Bucky sighed "I remember two people in a completely fucked situation that needed some human companionship. That's all."

Nat tried to convince him, reaching out "But, Bucky-"

"No!" he grabbed her outstretched hand and didn't let go when she twisted around and kicked him in the gut. Instead he grabbed her ankle with his vibranium hand and pulled so she hit the floor, knocking the wind out of her, then sat on her straddling her hips and held both wrists.

Nat caught her breath before she realized the position they were in. She smirked and started to wiggle under him "This is definitely something I can work with."

Bucky quickly stood and pulled her up with him just as Sam showed up.

Sam smirked "Looks like the Wolf caught a spider. We can take her to a holding cell until Dr Cho gets here in the morning."

He held up some zip ties and after a short struggle they secured her wrists.

Nat started to squirm "Come on Barnes, let me go. I can't believe you would lock me up after all we've been through."

As he pushed her ahead of him Bucky scoffed "All we've been through is even more reason to lock you up."

He flinched when Nat kicked back and her heel hit his shin "Dammit Romanoff, knock it off. It's only till morning and Dr Cho will take care of you. Sharon had additional treatment and is back to normal."

When they arrived in the holding area Bucky cut the zip tie, pushed Nat into a holding cell, made sure the cell was properly secured and turned the lights off. "Sleep tight."

Nat started yelling and banging on the wall as they walked away which made Sam chuckle. Bucky sighed in relief knowing there was more work to do but getting Nat neutralized was a great start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Monday, Cookie was the topic of all the most interesting water cooler conversations but she tried to ignore it and get her work done.

Until Tyler knocked on her open office door.

Cookie looked up smiling "Good morning, Tyler. Come on in, have a seat. What can I do for you?"

Tyler looked grim as he stood over her "I'm sure you are aware of the current office gossip."

Cookie shrugged "Yes, I know but it's gossip. I don't pay it much mind."

Tyler glared at her "It's disruptive. You can't just run around doing whatever you want, you know. You don't have the Avengers to protect you here so better learn to behave appropriately on and off the clock."

Cookie stood to her full height and rolled her shoulders back before she spoke, looking straight in his eyes

"I'm only going to say this once, since my arrival here seems to have thrown you off of your groove. I don't report to you, you are not my boss and you have no seniority or rank over me. I don't need anyone to protect me because I'm the best at my job and I've done nothing wrong. I went to a book launch and was seen with the grandson of the author in question. Fully clothed, barely touching the entire time we were in public."

Tyler smirked "And in private? Drysdale has quite the reputation."

Cookie bristled "None of your goddamn business. That's why it's called private. If you can't control your staff then I'd be happy to offer some ideas in that regard but don't come in here trying to shame me for my legal actions in my personal time."

She sat back down and started going through her in-box for a couple of minutes before realizing he was still there.

She scoffed "Was there anything else? I have work to do."

Tyler's face flushed red, he shook his head and stomped away to his office.

Cookie sighed, so many men thinking they have power over women just because they were men. Fewer than before but still too many for her taste. She hoped Tyler would get the message and grow up.

Cookie went to the diner on the first floor for lunch with Annie, who insisted on all the details so she could live vicariously since her life was all marriage and a teething baby right now.

Annie sighed "How fun. Sounds like he really swept you off of your feet. When are you seeing him again?"

Cookie chuckled "Beats me. That wasn't the first chapter in an NC17 fairy tale, it was just two people having some fun, so I don't know if I'll ever see him again. I suppose the odds are good since we work a few buildings apart but I have nothing planned. He doesn't really seem like the prince charming type anyhow."

Annie frowned "Aawww, that's too bad seeing how he is rich and hot but his reputation does precede him. At least he was a good one nighter, I've had plenty that couldn't even be bothered to make me cum."

Cookie laughed out loud "I didn't know that was a problem with women partners."

Annie winked "I never said they were all women but some women are just as bad as some men."

"Well that's depressing."

Cookies alarm went off "That's time, back to the salt mines."

When they arrived back on their floor, there was a crowd by Cookies office and excited murmuring.

Annie stayed back by her desk to watch as Cookie worked her way through the crowd. "Alright folks, nothing to see, everyone back to work becau-" she stopped at the doorway to her office and her eyes grew wide when she saw him sitting at her desk "Oh, hey you" she smiled and rushed into his arms, shocking everyone who was watching.

Nick Fury smiled at her "I wanted to come check up on you before I go to the compound and kick some Avenger ass."

He glared at the people still gawking "Don't you people have some work to do?" and chuckled as they all scattered back to their desks.

Cookie grinned "You should have told me you were coming, I would have waited for you and we could have had lunch."

Nick shrugged "I don't know if anyone has told you but I'm the boss so do things when and how I like."

He closed her office door and they both sat.

"So I know what happened at the compound but why don't you tell me your version."

Cookie shrugged "Nothing really happened. I just realized how difficult seeing me around, reminding them of what they were forced to do, was for Bucky, Sharon and Nat. I didn't want to make their recovery any more difficult."

Nick sighed "What about you and your recovery? Your trauma started before Antonia kidnapped you. I know you and Barnes-"

Cookie shook her head "No, no. I don't want to go there. I'm fine recovering here."

Nick looked at her pointedly "I was going to say you and Barnes were good friends, not to mention Wilson. Now you're here in a new town, new office and separated from your friends. I don't think thats great for you.

I want you back at the compound, asap."

"No, Nick I just, I can't, I-"

Nick softened his tone "Look, not today or even tomorrow but this isn't a permanent move. Stay here a bit, get the analysts in line and please, please keep your boot on Tyler's neck as he has gotten too comfortable thinking he's top dog. But 6 months. A year tops and I want you home. If they have issues I'll deal with them." He looked at his watch and sighed "Speaking of, I need to go ream me some super heroes."

He kissed her on the cheek and left.

A couple of hours later when she went to get more coffee she saw Tyler glaring at her from his office. Jackass, she thought to herself as she gave him a cheery smile and wave. She saw him get up and felt him slam the door because it made the whole floor shake. She laughed all the way back to her desk.

When Cookie arrived home there was a stack of envelopes on the floor under the mail slot. She sighed, picked them up and sat down at the table to go through them. Most went to the trash but there were 3 plain white envelopes with the same writing and return address as the one from the night before.

She sighed and put them with the first letter Bucky sent here, unsure if she was ready to deal with that yet. She ordered Thai for dinner and went to take a quick shower before her food arrived.

Clean and dressed in pj's, Cookie sat on the couch with a glass of wine, a plate of food and the letters from Bucky next to it. She drank, ate and watched the news while regularly looking at the letters, trying to decide what to do about them.

On one hand she was curious about the contents. Especially because there were four now. Why would he write four times? What did he have to say that couldn't have been said in the first letter?

On the other hand, she was feeling more at peace than she had any time in the last,  well however long since she slept with Bucky and wasn't sure she was ready to risk disturbing that peace yet.

Cookie knew that eventually she would need to deal with all of this. Bucky and her feelings for him, plus Nat and Sharon and that whole drama.

She finished her dinner then refilled her wine and grabbed a special brownie to help her sleep.

Eventually but not tonight.

@erelierraceala @capswife @ozwriterchick @cjand10 @wintrsoldrluvr @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @browneyedgrli @greatenthusiasttidalwave @hhiggs @dontworryboutitsweetheart-blog @behindmygreyeyes @pattiemac1 @calwitch @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @ordelixx @blackhawkfanatic @casey1-2007 @scott-loki-barnes @selella @hiireadstuff @winterschildren8

Chapter 10

[starlightingsss]

disposable - patrick bateman x reader

ur a budding starlet and hes patrick bateman and he loves you 😋

(its literally just you and him having a conversation then him overthinking the last part and convincing himself you didnt love him)

(hes so silly and dramatic in this story fr)

she crawled over to patrick's laying frame, wrapping her arm over his stomach and snuggling into his chest.

"im gonna be famous, patrick." she told him, hope oozing into her voice. "the whole worlds gonna know my name."

"yea?" he said, amused by her antics.

"mhm! ill be in hollywood.. people are going to recognize me in the streets and everyones going to love me." she told him, her eyes bright as she spoke of her future.

"what about us then?" he replied, his voice stern - almost emotionless.

"huh? what do you mean?" she mumbled, propping herself up on her elbow.

"when you get famous and move to hollywood." he said again, disliking the idea.

"well.. we could make long distance work! plus we'll both be rich so we could travel to see each other!" she told him, still optimistic. "it'll be so perfect. ill be so happy!"

but to patrick, this was like a knife in the chest. he loved her, hes known that since he saw her, he would drop anything for her. he would give up his whole career and retire to the countryside for a life with her - if that's what she wanted. she was his only choice, his favorite, his everything. he would kill for her. if she said she liked a billion dollar dress, he would pay the billion. he would do anything for her, and she was his future. for him, nothing was certain. stocks were tricky and often unpredictable, he could lose his wealth and his whole lifestyle in a matter of seconds. and naturally, he wasn't very close with anyone else, no work friends, nothing. but he had her, the light of his life. and when because he had her, he had everything.

she was the certainty of his life, his rock. and she was just going to leave? when her career takes off, she would just leave him like that? what if he needs her and she's on the other side of the country? how was long distance going to work for either of them?

she knew he wasn't moving to LA with her. how could she say that it would make her happy? was she tired of him after all? was her "eternal love" for him actually not eternal? he couldn't even be away from her for more than a day without worrying so much he got sick, did she not share that same sentiment?

how could she be so happy about leaving him? once she got famous, would he just be out of the picture? would she forget him?

and how could a life without him be perfect? he knew he couldn't live without her, so how could she be so fond of the idea of being away from him?

he turned to look at the girl, engulfed in sleep. her features looked angelic as the light danced on her skin, highlighting her beauty. realization seemed to strike him, as he watched her breathe steadily - he fell for a trap.

a carefully woven web she had coaxed him into. how she broke down his walls and burrowed herself a hole deep into his heart, a hole that would be left empty once she left. her "i love you"s were lies mumbled into his ears, a trap he had fallen for. maybe he should have been more cautious, a little more guarded.

tears flooded the mans eyes, she was his everything.

how could her love be a trap? she was everything he had ever wanted, his perfect. but he wasn't that to her, he was disposable. something she would get rid of for fame, and as he came to that realization - it shattered him.

he could feel it. he could feel his heart shattering into a million pieces. the strain in his chest, the tears in his eyes. all he'd ever wanted was to be loved like she said she loved him, all he'd ever yearned for was the peace of her embrace, but all he ever knew was the lie of her love.

he was nothing to his everything.

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

I'm a 20 year old indian young guy who just moved to the US. I originally came here to study and get a job but it's been so hard... can you just turn me into a rich old guy? I know it's a lot to ask for so you can make me as fat, ugly, bald as you want. I just wanna live out my retired days

That’s right up my ally. It sounds like you’re jealous of the older men in your life. Not just your father. No you want older. You want to be your grandfather ! I can tell. And as luck would have it he has been watching the young 20 year old you have become and has made the same wish. Wanting to relive his youth as a young Indian man. So it seems like you 2 should only take a walk in the others place…for good.

You are siting on your sofa in your small apartment. You’ve made your wish and you don’t see any flaw with it. You’re tired of always struggling and you just want it to end. You want to be able to be rich. To live out a good life.

You are watching tv when it occurs to you that your are breathing heavy. And rapidly. It’s burning up in your apartment and you stand up to turn on the ac more but lean forward holding your back screaming as your back seems to be cramping. It’s the worse pain you have ever felt. It’s not even occurring to you the pain is coming from your spine becoming shorter. Older. As you height goes from 6’3” you realize everything is so much taller when you stand straight again. Now standing at 5’9”. It occurs to you that it’s started. You run to the bathroom feeling you body beginning fatten up slightly. You can feel you stomach bulging out. And you arms begin to jiggle slightly while your chest does the same. Turning on the light you are shocked. Is it possible you got shorter !? Now standing at 5’7” you can see your skin beginning to age. But this is what you wanted you tell yourself. Slamming your fists on the counter you screaming out “bring it on!” And your voice stuns you as it comes out as older. Harsher. But it’s familiar somehow.

You watching the mirror as your body hair gets thicker. Very thick. Like a carpet as the beard on your face becomes grey. You feet begin to shrink from the large size 15 they once were down to a meaty size 11 wide. Your hard feeling yourself becoming something else. Something that you wished to be. Your knees begin to hurt as old age begins to set in and you back begins to ache. You don’t grow a gut though. You wear your brow with a hairy arm. Sweaty building but thanking all that’s holy that you dodged the fat curse with this wish. Looking at the mirror though. You begin to see something familiar. Getting closer and closer you eyes bulge out. You step back and begin to say no no no. Your hair falls from your scalp on top leaving a horseshoe hairline and you as your changes begin to slow down your horrified. Seeing the familiar face of your grandfather staring right back you.

This can’t be ! This can’t be your wish! You wanted to be rich! He’s wasn’t rich!! You had to undo this ! But then your door bell rings. And you hear the door open. Close and get locked. “Hello”. Your older heart stops. You hear your voice. You slowly walk from the bathroom with the towel wrapped around your waist. Turning the corner you see your body staring at you. And slowly begin to grin at you. “How you liking it short man!” You demand to know what is going on and your grandfather laughs. “I’ve been watching you for struggle this whole time here. Never taking advantage of the life you had. And I met someone and I told him how I had this ungrateful grandson. And how I deserved to me him. How it was really me that should in that young Indian body! And lo and behold. He agreed and apparently you made a stupid wish”. You were shocked. He began to feel his bigger body in front of you. Your body ! What was he doing !! You tried to rush at him. Beg him to swap back but he pushes you asside with a large 15. Pinning you to the floor. He smells rancid just like your body did. “I’m you now. And I’m going to make this body a proper Indian man. I have great genes after all GRAMPS!”

———————-

That was one month ago. At first you faught the changes. You didn’t want to be your grandfather. This is what you expected when you made this wish! You found out though that your father wasn’t poor by any means. He was actually loaded which made it easier to accept being in his old hairy body.

You enjoyed going to the beach. Letting the sun warm your old joints and soothing the pain away. You didn’t realize how hairy you were though for the first few days and your now grandson had to teach you how to take of the body that was once his. In fact. You have grown to love being his body.

Snd just like he told you. He was making your old body the stereotype of an Indian man. That beard you prided yourself on keeping trimmed? He threw out all the razors in the apartment on the first night in your body and told you he was never going to shave again. And that hair you kept so short. He start taking vitamins and all other weird stuff to make it grow.

You seen him in your last video call and you couldn’t even believe that this was really the old you. A big beard. So thick you couldn’t believe and curly hair so dense it looked like a mane. He really was making that body the ultimate Indian man. He even told you that he planned to start wearing the turban soon. Changing your clothes completely.

You went to visit him tonight. Opening the door you were greeted by some intense incense smells coming from the palace. You couldn’t beleive what was happening. You rounded the corner and seen the hairier man you have ever seen. It was him. And he was speaking Hindi. He glanced at you and for the first time since he was in your body and you were in his. You were afraid.

His hair was longer. Beard was thicker and he was way more Indian than ever before. And oddly. In broken English he said “I made another wish. I wished for the wish master to take away our visa. To send us back to our mother land. A real man like me should live in the desert with these big feet and big body! And gramps. I didn’t forget about you. It’s time to gain that weight you wished for!” And as soon as he said that it’s as if your mind flipped a switch. No longer knowing any English at all. I able to speak it anymore as Hindi is the only language you knew. And you intestine began to knot together and you stomach bang to bulge while he laughed the entire time. Becoming more hairy as his clothes were replaced with robes. You look down and you stomach shot out in front of you. Covered in hair so dense you couldn’t see skin. You beard got thicker and your skin got even darker. Then you grandson walked and slapped you on the gut. Speaking in hindi “how’s it feel to be illegal gramps.”

[candywife333]

My Little Saesang (Part 1)

chubby reader x idol jungkook

Summary: Y/N had been a super fan for a while. Some would say bordering on saesang or creep level. She didn't think she was one, till she experienced an incident that made her stop being a fan. She had never thought that Jungkook or any of BTS ever noticed her, as she was part of the masses of obsessive fans. But they had. Especially, one doe eyed idol in particular. He never thought he would miss his fan, or shall we say saesang. Yet, he couldn't help but notice her absence. And he didn't know when her presence started to matter to him so much.

Disclaimer: The Jungkook represented in this fic does not reflect the true actions or thoughts of the real life Jungkook. Please treat this fic as exactly what it is, fiction

Triggers: Critique of fandom culture and kpop as a whole, identity crisis, eventual smut

Note: Not proofread. Slated to be approximately 4 parts or less.

"Y/N, what the hell are you still doing in that cafe? Didn't we come over here to spy on Jungkook at his house before he heads off to M-CountDown for his performance? I don't remember scheduling a pit-stop for you to have a second lunch", Kim-Hee glared down at me through her thick framed black glasses that honestly sort of made her look like a sexy principal. Anger at being diverted from her goal of catching the tan pop-star in his sweaty excellence seemed to cloud her vision.

I retorted back with a snort, "You know me very well at this point, after being my fellow saesang comrade in arms for close to 2 years girl. I am digesting my food baby as we speak and will soon be ready for delivery in that nasty garbage ass smelling toilet. I have a date with the shits, so to speak. Don't you see that my jeans are popped open and the zip down ready to go. I don't got the energy to chase this man today. Our stunt at New York was bad enough, don't you think"? Shaking my head at her idiocy even after knowing me for so long, I exclaimed, "Feel free to chase him in time for his ending fairy if you feel like it though. I am just not feeling it today".

Kim Hee, my bestie, stared at me with squinted eyes, black tiny eyes glittering in the harsh sun, "Girl, you were the one who had this all scheduled out a month back? How could you not bloody commit at the crucial time!!!! Our fucking junior fans are counting on your stupid ass". I waved my right at her in dismissal, ramen sauce covering my lips like a new Fenty lipstick that I just could not afford right now with my measly ass job as janitor at KBS.

I snarled back in irritation, "Tell those kids to go and study in college, that's more important than following his dumb ass anyways. He won't remember them for their troubles. At max, he will remember a few fans from their initial debut days , get married to a rich ass plasticky actress, have beautiful spoiled kids, and die a rich philanthropist. Saesangs don't get paid if you catch my point. Honestly, if it paid as a job, I would consider it. But I think I may have to retire". I patted my distended stomach in contentment, satisfied with the first proper meal I had in 3 days, stalking JK with my team all over New York and then catching a flight to Korea for his album showcase.

My bestie stared at me now in shock, with wide eyes, hands waving in the air, clearly confused at my statements, "Didn't you just say a week ago that this was all worth it? That supporting our faves, especially BTS, and the lord and savior himself , Jungkook, was a noble passion to pursue? Why have you suddenly done a 180 on us and him like this"? I flinched visibly at her reminder of what I used to be and who I used to be. The person she described felt foreign to me now. Ever since I opened my eyes and saw what fans, especially super fans like us, who didn't have a life outside of BTS suffered, I was a reformed woman. A reformed woman who had decided as of now to save all my money for some botox and a dental appointment, some clothes for mom and dad, and a hot meal for my younger sister. I was going to go from being a crysallis to a butterfly. In essence, I was going to woman the fuck up. That's what the fuck I was about to do with my life.

With this aim in mind, I slammed my fist against the plastic table, startling Kim Hee. "Bestie, you never got close enough to JK to see how much he hated it, okay? He hated us in those moments that we invaded his privacy. Remember that one time I snuck up on the set of them filming "Black Swan" to give him a godiva chocolate my mom had brought back from Sweden?" Kim Hee nodded in assent, clearly knowing how much of big deal it was for me to part with food of any kind, for any reason, for anyone (Even my own family). I loved luxury chocolate and food in general. Nobody could rip it out of my hands , as evidenced by Kim Hee and all our friends in middle school when I slapped a guy stupid and hit him in the nuts for taking a ferrero rocher out of my hands---the motherfucker.

I continued ,"Well I gave it to his hands while he was waiting outside at the entrance of the set. Even normies like me are allowed on that area, it was not a restricted filming area. I just left the chocolate next to where he was sitting, with a red bow (his name engraved on it) wrapped around it. He legit stared at me in confusion, like he had not seen me for the past 9 years, sneered at me, disdain in his beady black eyes and threw the chocolate in the dustbin like it was as figment of his imagination". Kim Hee stared at me in dismay, clearly knowing that what I considered the foremost cardinal sin in life was throwing away food, particularly expensive food.

I wrung my hands in the air, holding in my tears, "Bestie, it was white chocolate, do you understand? It was limited christmas edition. I could never afford that chocolate in my dreams , if not for one of mom's colleagues gifting it to her. Chili ,(my sister) was yapping about it for days, salivating, thinking she could bite into it. And I sacrificed it to an undeserving multi millionaire". I sat back down on the bench, numbly, tears streaming down my face. I was so done with him and the entire group at this point. I understand that what we do, Saesangs, stalkers, whatever they like to call us, is not correct. We should not be so invasive. But I always told the kids who followed in my footsteps that we could support them, but just not to the point that we impinged on their personal lives. I had done some fucked up things as a newbie army, but two years into their debut, I understood that limits were required.

The most I had ever done since then, was to gift the members things as a fan. Whatever I could afford. Whether that was their favorite convenience store snack left by us on the set of one of their music video shoots. Or a pack of gum or their favorite desserts when we attended fan meets. I and the girls who followed me on these adventures, as I used to call them, never snuck into HYBE. We were of the more benign variety, not on par with the crazies who took the same flight as them (not that I could afford that), or collected saliva, sweat, and urine samples. For goodness sakes, we didn't even run after their vehicles, we just waved politely and jumped up and down like rabid dogs that had treats waved in their faces.

The moment I was compelled to stop following my fave, or I guess my former bias as of now, was simply when he casually looked at the chocolate I had left next to him as though it were poison, and tossed it in the trash without looking back. That was when I knew, I was worthless in his eyes, along with the rest of the fans who tried so hard.

We shelled out money saved up from little jobs and pocket money accumulated for months together, to buy expensive albums, merchandise, and anything else they put out. We forgo the little luxuries like nicer shoes and warmer coats in winter to buy tickets for outdoor showcases and shiver in the cold wind to just catch a glimpse of one of their half smiles. We stream their music that speaks of love that we do not comprehend, love whose face is so unfamiliar in our youth that we would pass it by as though it were a stranger. When we don't have anyone in our lives to hug us and hold us and kiss us, to wipe our tears and pat us on the back when we are down and to tell us that everything will be alright, we stare at them in the tabloids extrapolating who they could be in love with, fantasizing about a love that could never be ours. We live our lives, living for them, living around them as though we are satellites caught int he orbit of a bigger planet, and now, it does not make sense to me anymore.

It may just be a chocolate, stupid worthless and insignificant to him. It may be cheap, a show of cheap love that he wishes to spit on. But it wasn't cheap to me. My love wasn't cheap. Food isn't cheap, especially food bestowed with love. And I was done giving my love away for free, as though it meant nothing. As though it were a cheap cigarette to be smoked and discarded, ground under the foot of someone who had finished using it for a fleeting high. Cheap and dispensable and convenient, that's what we were, what I had become.

I cringed internally as my gaze redirected towards Kim Hee. I croaked out in determination while chewing on the remnants of soggy ramyun, "We are done babe. I am through with this horrible, parasitic relationship. I am going to figure out how to make myself rich or get rich through marriage. I am done being stupid, falling over myself for a guy or a group of guys who don't see or appreciate me. They get rich on my desperation, and I don't wish to give them that power anymore".

[neeterloveschenford]

Since I'm the little old lady of the fandom, I'm going to put my two cents in and then go to bed.

Honestly, I'm not letting the picture thing bother me. The show is not exactly known for attention to details. (I mean Aaron became a P2 in like 6 months while Celina is apparently going to retire in long sleeves.) And I never would have even thought about the picture if someone hadn't pointed out there was one there. But if it bothers you, then that is completely valid and you have every right to be offended by it. It's a TV show. Everyone can enjoy it in whatever capacity they want.

As for the constant discourse over age in fandom...... who really needs to grow up? I'm a Gen X lady. I've been enjoying fandoms and flailing over blorbos and OTP's since I was 8 years old. And my generation didn't even invent fandom. Guess what? You owe that to Boomers! That's right kiddies. You owe the very concept of fangirling to a bunch of Boomer housewives who sat around their homes daydreaming about Spock and Kirk knocking boots. So simmer down with the whole "You're too old" schtick. I saw someone earlier being attacked for being 31! Seriously!? Get to be my age and you'll understand that a 31 year old is a baby! Your thirties are some of the best and most productive years of your life. That is until you get to your forties. Which are even better! Y'all need to stop buying into the cliche that life ends at 29. You would have to offer me Bezos levels of riches to get me to even think about re-living my twenties. And the good Lord willing, Congress doesn't ruin my retirement plans, guess what I plan on doing when I retire? Spending significant portions of my days watching TV, movies, reading books and generally being an obnoxious fangirl.

So the moral of this particular little rant, is let people enjoy what they enjoy. As long as they aren't hurting anyone else, it ain't none of your business. If it bothers you that bad that you just can't stand to read the opinion of someone who plans on getting the Shingles vax on her next birthday, then please, BLOCK ME! Cause trust me, if you have the guts to come after me off anon, I'll be blocking you.

[fictionalcreator]

…okay i was convinced to read The Greatest Estate Developer and i have THOUGHTS and FEELINGS about it!! Only it’s 6 am and I haven’t slept in like 2 days because Gotta Read Story so not all of them are coherent

First and foremost (not really but for the bit) ORV has already established that the optimal throuple is a Weird Man, his aggressive but protective boyfriend, and an equally Weird Lady. We have Javier and Queen Alicia, both of whom have a deep trust and even respect for our resident Weird Man. Javier has been by his side constantly, watching him change and grow, has seen past his facades, pledging to lay down his life for him, and even learned to take a page from his book. Alicia intuitively understands him better than anyone else, is eager to see him thriving, owes him her life several times over, and is totally DTF. We are set. Also Relatively Normal Lady Siluria is there in the background (but she could be much more)

Also, Javier learned to do a Lloyd!! I’m so proud of my boy! And even as he’s doing it, he’s doing it with a base of absolute sincerity. Truly taking after his Lord in every way, from how they villainously spared people’s lives, extracted compensation from the wealthy, and improved people’s living conditions…in the end, even while acting villainous, all Javier really did was…ask the Heavens to not undo all their hard work and help save the life of his closest friend. He just did it without groveling and owing them a favor.

The same way that, in the end, Lloyd ended up saving a lot of people, even setting them on a better course in life, all while saying “this doesn’t make me a hero, because I only did it for selfish reasons.” Aaaand those reasons are (checks notes) living a life of peace, comfort, and happiness, surrounded by his thriving loved ones in a beautiful city that he personally helped to flourish. He didn’t even imagine fucking off to travel the world or anything! In his wildest fantasies he’s still managing a few things here and there! Javier was right, he has a poor man’s vision of being rich.

Honey…you talk big about aspiring to be a “rich bum” but you don’t even realize how quaint of a dream that really is…work until you save up enough for retirement is. Like. Normal. That’s just a normal thing to do. So what if you want to retire early? You don’t need to work ‘til you’re dead. You’re a nobleman in a feudal society. Not to mention, by this point (ch 167 of the webcomic) you’re put yourself through enough that you more than deserve it. Literally no one (except the Queen and perhaps Javier) would raise a single complaint about it. They’d just give you their well-wishes, saying “makes sense. He’s already done 100 years of work within 10. Lord Lloyd has done enough for us already. We’ll handle things from here.” (Though, at this point, I feel like Javier would appreciate the idea of Lloyd not facing any more life-threatening dangers, he would also be suspicious that Lloyd would end up getting himself into trouble anyway)

It’s just…god…self-sacrificing protagonists who convince themselves that they’re a fundamentally bad person for Wanting Things and handling their affairs in underhanded ways really get to me, especially when their first instinct is to be underhanded precisely because they were burned when they tried to be upright before.

And then the scene with the Jewel of Truth oooohhhhjjjkkh

He received a vision of doom from one of endings, heard from the legendary Dragon King (who apparently knows more about the world then anyone could have guessed) that this things would have his answer, LITERALLY went to Hell and back just to obtain the pieces to BUILD the damn thing, has to fight a whole-ass Angel just to finish it, and when, at long last, it’s completed, what does it say??

“Either you or your best friend have to die. No other way.”

God. It might as well have said “kys lmao”. I can see why he went into shock. All that, and he wasn’t even looking to be done and over with it, he was just looking for a way forward, something he could actually do, anything! And that bastard hunk of rock said “the way forward does not exist.” Just. God. Makes me kind of angry just thinking about it. The fact that THAT was the result of ALL of that effort. The moment Javier hears what that damn rock said it is going to be smashed to smithereens.

‘Cause he’ll make the connection. You know he will. He’s smart enough for that. He’ll hear what the damn rock said and go “ah. So Master Lloyd was preparing to resign himself to death.” And after he smashes the rock he is going to be ROYALLY pissed that Suho would even THINK about harming himself.

And then they’re probably gonna have to stop Javier from making good on his promise to lay down his life for that guy…ugh…they care about each other…

I saw that look of panic when Lloyd thought Javier had vanished for a split second, and we just saw how Javier will take matters (even outside of fights) into his own hands if it means protecting Lloyd. They just…they’re the only ones they can show their true faces to. Javier can be both sharp-tongued and sincere, Lloyd can be both scheming and sincere…heck, not even Queen Alicia has had the chance to see Lloyd actually cry. They care so much…

…to be honest I wanna see one of the “bad endings” be Javier (and Alicia) absolutely fucking shit up because someone killed Lloyd…like…do you know how much you mean to them???

(At least it looks like he’s starting to understand)

Ooohhh I have so many Thoughts and Feelings…

[yayroos]

anyway i've been saying this in like replies and tags but here's my take on the MCR thing here's my theory ok

so according to the caption under the video

a) it's been 17 years since the band The Black Parade was sent to the MOAT

ok so 'MOAT' is clearly an acronym but also they were sent there they didn't go, so someone did this one way or another.

b) In that time, a great Dictator has risen to power

ok so the fascist and the regime came about at some point after The Black Parade was sent away - if it was fairly soon after, then i would say the MOAT is probably complicated fascist political prison for people who might be useful someday. I don't know what it stands for but i have a vibe of what it is.

c) bringing about "THE CONCRETE AGE", a glorious time of stability and abundance

ok so that's a song title. like. come on.

d) in the history of DRAAG.

so 'DRAAG' is another acronym, presumably for the name of this country. It's phrased to imply that the country existed before the regime, but fascists like to make shit up to make themselves look good, so I'm gonna say maybe there was a very different place called that in the past and then the regime took over and is basically co-opting that because that's what regimes do

e) His Grand Immortal Dictator wishes to celebrate our rich and storied culture, fine foods, and musical entertainments by welcoming you to these great demonstrations of power and resolve.

politicians across the spectrum and for a very long time have taken and twisted and used music and culture to serve their own ends. This happens all the time. Other people have said it better in the last day or so but like think of who's played what songs in campaign rallies and on tv ads and shit over not just recent election cycles but for 30+ years at this point. This is a constant of politics, and only gets amplified when fascism enters the picture. This is propaganda, this is using people's memory of what The Black Parade used to be before to give legitimacy to the regime.

f) And lending voice and song for the first time in six thousand two hundred and forty six days,

that lines up with the 17 years, and IRL with their last Black Parade performance and 'the black parade is dead'

g) their work privilege ceremonially reinstated

this tells us a huge huge amount about the nature of the regime and makes it clear that the band was, we'll say, forcibly retired, at some point

h) will be His Grand Immortal Dictator's National Band... The Black Parade

the regime and the dictator have claimed them, even though we know from the start they 'were sent to the MOAT' before the regime actually rose. That means that after 17 years and a complete change in regime, the cultural identity still tied to The Black Parade is still valuable enough to bother wheeling them out at this point. That's a long time for a seemingly inactive band to stay relevant.

Knowing what we know about MCR and politics and the current political moment, The Black Parade then were political enemies of the rising regime. They've been off hidden away somewhere but the people still remember their music, which makes them prime material for the quiet little rebellions from which revolution grows. The regime then gets word of this, and brings the band back to a) take away the power of it being from before by rebranding it under their own banner, and b) try and squash the resistance by demonstrating that their rallying cry is actually totally on the regimes side (no don't worry about how they were 'sent to the MOAT' 17 years ago they were totally on board the whole time...)

So The Black Parade will perform, but we know MCR and we know Gerard and we know the moment we're in, so that's not the whole plan here. The show will start heavy on the regime themes, but the band will break out somehow and instead of doing what the regime plans for and shutting down the rebellion, it will fan the flames and tear the whole thing down.

[siryouarebeingmocked]

Carter and Lovecraft, by Jonathan L. Howard (2015)

I really wanted to like this book.

I've read a few Lovecraft novels and stories, and I liked them. So when I saw this on my friend's bookshelf, I borrowed it, and read it.

Tried to.

The first real fly in the ointment? NYPD protag sees his partner take a 9mm retirement in front of him on a creepy case, and becomes a private detective. Mysterious lawyer shows up at his office one day and says there was a bookstore owner in Providence, Rhode Island, who has been missing and just declared dead.

The protag gets the bookshop. He's not sure why.

Protag goes to the bookshop. Owner's niece, Emily, is there. She's been running the shop alone since the owner vanished, and she co-ran it when he was alive. Also, she's biracial. Would be played by Zoe Kravitz in the movie, he thinks.

Her name is Lovecraft.

As in, she's a descendant of ol' Howard Philips.

She notes the irony; a black-ish "mulatto" descendant of an anti-black racist.

"Okay," I think, as I checked the publication date. "You've gotten that token bit out of the way. Now, can we move on?"

Apparently not.

As protag starts looking into the disappearance and other weird stuff, he decides he needs to get his eye in. So he goes to a gun range, where he needs to sign up for the NRA first

and ends the session by "re-engaging the safety" on his Glock.

Fun fact: stock Glocks don't have manual safeties, AFAIK.

In the next chapter, protag thinks about how he used the gun. He hates the NRA and the whole "gun fetish" thing, but he needs the iron, just in case.

Two strikes. Three if you count the safety thing.

Yes, I know an NYPD cop might be a bit bigoted about the issue, especially considering how his partner died. But it really feels like the writer's opinion.

In fact, let me just-

Yep. The writer is British. This sounds awfully familiar.

It was about this time that I realized something. The protagonist has no traits that aren't directly related to being a cop or detective. Absolutely none.

I don't think we know what he does in his off hours. No friends. Nothing but the job.

Heck, Miss Lovecraft has more personality than him, and she takes up a lot less screen time.

Protag decides to give Lovecraft half the business, so he can become a silent partner. People start dying in physically impossible ways - like the dude who drowned in his dry car in a parking lot - our hero looks into it.

He also ends up learning about a local family, the Waites. Rich, keep to themselves on their own land, been around since before the area was officially settled, apparently.

The local who tells him about all this says the younger ones are oddly attractive. The family has distinctive big eyes.

Anyone remotely familiar with HP Lovecraft just went "Oh, right, they're fishmen. Got it." I've seen this trope done better before, like in the comic Shadowgirls.

Hero looks into the archives, finds records of a racist Town Council rant by an early Waite, back when they were still into trading. Including slaves. Specifically, patriarch Newton Waite went to a council meeting and said black people should serve others, and shouldn't have self-determination.

The archivist intern says it's was "a different time", and that's just how people were back then.

Of course, he adds "People who talk like that now - no pass for them."

End scene.

Like this extremely mainstream, boring opinion is some kind of

In the next scene, protag chats about the fit he had near the Waite place. Learns about another mysterious death. When he chats about it with Emily, he suddenly realizes she's hot.

Then the narration tells us that he was a racist bigot in his teens, though he thought he was being sensible at the time. He now knows he was wrong, but he still feels sparks of it when he reads about some black kid doing some stereotypically black thing, which gives certain white people "a hard-on of righteousness".

And, of course, his time spent walking away from "instinctive racism" means his dating pool opened up. Like Emily Lovecraft, for example.

The most stereotypically black thing would probably be crime. Or being a single mom or deadbeat dad.

 Sadly, I know of plenty of black people - from my black majority home country - who fall into one of those categories. Or two. Three if you include "poverty", but we're Developing, so that barely even counts.

Also, this basically came out of nowhere. Not Emily being hot - I mean, look at Zoe Kravitz - but his unsolicited thoughts on racism.

All of these issues have also been issues for many concerned black people. For decades. The 'stereotypically black things' might be bad themselves, not because they make racist white people feel smug.

This is precisely where I closed the book for good. I would've put away the bookmarks, but I needed the page so I could write this rant.

Honestly, writing all this made me realize that I should've given up long before I made it halfway through the book. But I just kept hoping it would get better.

Doing the same well-worn cliches in a modern setting doesn't really make them interesting. Neither do the little 'racism is bad, mmmkay?' bits.

[batsplat]

hi bat<3 i feel like you’re definitely not a die-hard fan of the big 3, but for someone like me who’s been watching men’s tennis since the early 2010s, they’re like everything.

so i wanted to ask: out of the big 3 (or big 4?) pairings, which duo do you think is more interesting? like which one feels more worth exploring in your opinion?

i just watched roger’s docu recently, and omg he gave novak a solo moment. not like a story about them, just a montage of novak yelling and screaming on court. then roger went, “this might not reflect well on novak.” it lowkey gave me vale/jorge vibes, not a perfect parallel, but within the big3/big4, they’re the duo that feels the least… connected. and yet, when it comes to tactical and technical richness, they’re at the top. roger’s obviously way more arrogant than vale, like he just doesn’t see novak as special or even interesting. meanwhile, novak used to be that guy who wanted everyone to like him, but now he’s completely over it. over the years, there’s just been this constant low-key, non-vibe-y energy between them. but their matches? they somehow deliver these insane moments at the most unexpected times. at the laver cup, roger said something to novak, and then novak cried.

i’m less into roger/rafa, partly because i’m not a rafa fan, but also because they suddenly turned into this ideal rivalry narrative, and honestly, that kinda freaked me out. i’m slowly starting to understand the feelings between them, though. like, i still don’t buy into the whole “greatest rival” thing because, let’s be real, on both the competitive and career-defining levels, it’s just not that mutual. but yeah, their pairing definitely had its advantages—sorry for saying this, but it’s true. the 2008 wimb F is obviously historic, but if you actually watch it all the way through, it’s not that great. it’s the unpredictable weather that gave it that epic feel.

and then there’s andy/novak, who’ve always been my fave because of their history and the emotional layers in their rivalry. like, when viktor troicki recently said novak was looking for a “big name” coach, my friends and i joked about it being roger, but none of us thought of andy. and then it happened. i still can’t believe it. from my very limited tennis perspective, andy’s kinda feels like a subset of novak’s. i don’t really know what qualities do coaches even need in tennis, and how do they maximize a player’s potential? so i’m really curious to see what they come up with together. their dynamic peaked in 2016, which was also the only time the big4 rivalries genuinely made me sad. so yeah, they totally deserve this heartwarming closure.

okay so first off, I have to confess I get a failing grade as a hater because I read this ask reading ?? eating breakfast with this on

I dozed off to the 2019 wimbledon final last night so idk. this isn't nadal retirement-prompted nostalgia, I actually failed as a hater there too and completely missed his last match happening so like. arrived to dance on the grave a day late. BUT the djokovic/murray coaching news DID awaken something suppressed in me. I'll probably watch the 2012 uso final next just to feel something

anyway, what this does go to show is that for all that I am obviously extremely not a fan of the big three, as a tennis fan it's also not like I can pretend to be completely immune. I grew up watching them!! I remember watching so many of their matches! often with my family! I would argue about them all the time as a fan, whether with my family or people at the tennis club or indeed my maths teacher. I was always rooting for SOMEONE, like I did have an order of preference. and... uh, it should be mentioned that I am also not a complete neutral who just intellectually hated the big three because I thought they were shitty sources of narrative tension. I was a massive murray fan as a kid so I did also just get my heart repeatedly broken by them. we're talking 'cried during murray's speech at wimbledon 2012'... I actually watched the wimbledon 2013 final at the tennis club where I trained and was EXTREMELY smug (and delighted) when murray won because EVERYONE including my coach thought djokovic would win and had been extremely annoying in my direction throughout the experience. but also I have never enjoyed a men's australian open final in my life, except 2012 I suppose. that venue holds nothing but pain and misery for me

so with my biases stated up front, where the big 3/4 rivalries are concerned, I'm basically in the 'anybody but fedal' camp. that one I feel nothing for and its popularity continues to absolutely baffle me. no hate to anyone who enjoys it but I do treat its continued dominance basically like a psyop. idk who's responsible for this or why they're doing it, but SOMEBODY is pursuing some kind of nefarious agenda. call me casey stoner because I've cracked the code. I understand they're both individually rather popular and I suppose in a detached unemotional way I do get how that could happen, but as a unit? idk man. also, EYE am a rivalry enjoyer, but I get very suspicious when too many fans are an enjoyer of a particular rivalry... (or y'know, sometimes you've got rivalries that have a lot of 'theoretical fans' but you can kinda tell they do basically hate one of the competitors involved and will immediately throw them overboard if they have to take a side, which also passes the test.) just shows to me that there's zero edge there. most partisan fans of an athlete hate anyone who is a threat to their athlete, that's just how people are. if there's this little hate then that tells me that there's too little threat which tells me the stakes aren't quite there competitively or emotionally... which tells me that there's no real reason to care. I'm well aware that federer fans used to be more likely to be nadal haters back in the noughties (david foster wallace coming through for me again on that front) and that nadal fans are more into that rivalry than federer fans and that they're both retired now... but still!! if it was a proper fun rivalry, more partisan fans would still be bitter. fundamentally the rivalry is good for both of them in terms of legacy and pr and all that shit and they both clearly agree so it's just... empty

which yeah, so full agree on the stuff you say lol. I HAVE watched the wimbledon 2008 final (and I... think?? must have watched it at the time, I was still pretty young and clearly it wasn't a defining enough experience it stuck in my mind lol) but it's been years by now. so I can't actually reallyyyy speak to its quality and I'm probably not going to rewatch it any time soon. I do also just think it's the most boring match-up tennis-wise... partly this is because my favourite big three playstyle is djokovic's - I love how he moves around the court, I love the compact backhand and the emphasis on counterpunching... the nadal/federer match-up was mostly defined by federer attempting to figure out ways to prevent nadal from bullying his backhand. which I do know is oversimplifying things lol but it's. kinda true. djokovic/federer is the best match-up tennis-wise even if it's a bit one-sided in the biggest moments (which, whatever, that was narratively engaging too)... federer's full artistry against djokovic's precision was just more exciting to watch. then comes djokovic/nadal which is a bit of a counterpuncher-off, like they are quite tactically similar in a lot of ways, extremely optimised baseliners... but that means they were always going to push each other the furthest - they were already half a step ahead of federer in the evolution of tennis and everyone now is obviously basing their tennis primarily on how they changed the game. and, y'know, nadal's biggest rival is djokovic!! I get why if you're a nadal fan, you'd want it to be federer, but well! tough!

and YES yes I ABSOLUTELY agree that federer/djokovic is the most interesting interpersonally because federer was SO arrogant towards djokovic. the worst thing that happened to federer is that he became a pr merchant, like at least being a cunt was INTERESTING. he used to be absolutely dreadful about murray too!! aggressively unpleasant!! but that one was also frustrating because... murray didn't end up surpassing him... (I genuinely have like. traumatic flashbacks to watching their atp finals 2014 match. I don't think my soul ever quite recovered from that day.) but with djokovic!! people used to be so unpleasant about him - and okay, by now unfortunately he's given everyone plenty of cause, but BACK THEN it was a completely different story. it was so much fun rooting for him when the crowds were being horrid to him and he stuck it in their faces... before he did all the boob throwing business - staring icily at them when he beat their hero? hot

and federer was so so snide about the guy... pepperidge farm remembers when he accused teenage djokovic of faking his injuries in 2006

The 19-year-old Djokovic called his trainer multiple times. He had hamstring issues, but Federer thought he was faking his injuries to disrupt Wawrinka’s rhythm. “I don’t trust his injuries. I’m serious. I think he’s a joke, you know, when it comes down to his injuries,” Federer said.

OR in 2009

Djokovic, the No. 3 seed, threw in the towel midway through the fourth set of his quarterfinal with Andy Roddick, trailing 6-7 (3), 6-4, 6-2, 2-1. But in pointed comments, Federer, the No. 2 seed, noted that it wasn't the first time Djokovic has withdrawn midway through a match in a Grand Slam. "He's not a guy who's never given up before ... it's disappointing," said Federer, who will face Roddick in the semifinals. "I've only done it once in my career ... Andy totally deserved to win that match." "I'm almost in favor of saying, you know what, if you're not fit enough, just get out of here," Federer added. "If Novak were up two sets to love I don't think he would have retired 4-0 down in the fourth. Thanks to Andy that he retired in the end. Andy pushed him to the limits. Hats off to Andy."

'if novak were up two sets to love I don't think he would have retired 4-0 down in the fourth' ...? what are you even saying

and like, on a moral level I do actually think this is pretty gross and have a massive bone to pick with federer on his whole 'look at me aren't I amazing for never retiring from a match' schtick, which continues to have lasting harmful consequences in this sport. this kind of record isn't heroic, it's just fucking stupid. but also, it's hardly the first time or the last time tennis players accused each other of playing up their injuries - it's very much part of the sport, we've all done it or at least thought it. I am also on the record as being pro beefing with children. and it's very strong set-up for that rivalry, especially given how bloody often djokovic went on to crush federer's spirit! it's better set-up than the payoff, quite frankly

that being said, perhaps my favourite match they played is us open 2011 semis - y'know, the match where djokovic saves two matchpoints in the fifth set en route to beating federer... oh, I suppose that doesn't completely narrow it down!!

ah well!

back to 2011, that match did lead to just some really strong snarking in the press:

Djokovic was honest enough to admit the shot was a gamble – but Federer was reluctant to give him credit even for that courage in a crisis, preferring to regard it as desperate. "Confidence? Are you kidding me?" he said when it was put to him the cross-court forehand off his first serve – described by John McEnroe as "one of the all-time great shots" – was either a function of luck or confidence. "I mean, please. Some players grow up and play like that – being down 5-2 in the third, and they all just start slapping shots. I never played that way. I believe hard work's going to pay off, because early on maybe I didn't always work at my hardest. For me, this is very hard to understand. How can you play a shot like that on match point? Maybe he's been doing it for 20 years, so for him it was very normal. You've got to ask him." Djokovic was in a more relaxed mood. "Yeah, I tend to do that on match points," he said, reminded that it was exactly what he did to Federer last year. "It kinda works."

IT KINDA WORKS jhgjhgjhgkf get him again from me

here's the matchpoint save in question ofc

"someday the little twins will grow up to hear about matches like this" well -

which, I mean, federer's being extremely annoying in press! 'oh I'm above taking risks when I'm down on the scoreboard' says the man who ended up with one hell of a reputation for choking. it's also silly!! sometimes it's worth taking a swing at it!! also psychologically, because you're making things less complicated for yourself!! in individual matches, you won't necessarily be rewarded for your diligence and hard work, just not how anything works you moron. but y'know, this was the REAL federer. by the following year he'd already completely clamped down on this kind of thing and it felt like really djokovic could have also been WAY more bitter about this stuff than he publicly was... but yeah, this I did enjoy

and yeah, I do kinda see the vale/jorge comparison! like you say, federer is kinda... more arrogant, more contemptuous towards his younger rivals, also just more of a sore loser until pr got to him? tennis is infamous for its frosty handshakes, but you compare some of those with how warm valentino generally was when he lost... federer's problem was that he lacked self-awareness and was just so committed to this image of the gentleman's sport, which is why he ended up shying away from all this stuff. the unpleasantness with djokovic was actually like... still fairly late in the game, all things considered, it wasn't even really like 2011!federer to say stuff like that. which does show djokovic was capable of really really getting under his skin! and on djokovic's end, where the jorge comparison very much applies is how much he wanted the people to love him (ik his fans hate this narrative but like,, obviously he did). and how they had all already decided he was the enemy for beating their beloved federer and nadal. I do find it a bit easier to stomach with valentino because he deliberately plays with this stuff, weaponising the crowd and all that, whereas federer and nadal just pretend like it's not happening. (also morally it might be worse to boo at a motogp event because of the danger they're putting themselves in, but practically booing at a tennis match is far far worse - you can actually influence the competitors in a way you obviously cannot in motogp.) but that WAS one of the most interesting storylines in the big three era... djokovic slowly catching these two greats who were always so far ahead of them, however much people didn't want him to, even though he didn't have the love of the people on his side, and eventually managing to surpass them altogether. I do think there's plenty of interesting stuff there!! good groundwork! it's just... nowhere near enough, given how bloody long these guys ended up dominating

on djokovic/murray - MY favourite combination of guys as well, just in terms of how much I actually like both of them. it's an interesting relationship where it's like... they knew each other quite well when they were young, then inevitably grew apart a bit when they were competing for big titles? obviously they were also born exactly a week apart from each other, which is narratively fun. I suppose it's the equivalent to jorge/dani which... actually wait, no, I realise that would assign nadal to casey and certainly not my god. it's a rivalry that's a bit tough to stomach from a murray fan perspective because... I mean, it's not quite 'this is not a rivalry, they always kick our ass' territory... but when I started following tennis as a kid, it felt completely plausible that murray and djokovic would have similarly successful careers. which obviously. did not happen. still remember that kind of controversial 2015 australian open final -

- and, y'know, it's a bit frustrating!! this was the tone of a lot of that era, where you kinda just wanted to take them all aside and tell them. my god. maybe a little bit of feuding is okay, no? but well, it is what it is, mostly they had a good relationship. 2016 was kinda the best of times and worst of times because murray was pouring his heart and soul into scraping all of his potential out of himself, got another slam, year end #1 etc... but it also probably did end up fucking up his body permanently, in the quest to fight djokovic. and there IS something compelling and sad about that, but yeah. still a bit of an old wound as an actual sports fan lol

and yeah, they're two closely related playstyles!! counterpunchers with particularly excellent backhands - and if a wing falters, then it's the forehand. it was lendl coaching murray and getting him to properly go after his forehand, be aggressive enough off that wing, that got him his biggest successes. djokovic's weaknesses are less pronounced and especially these last few years, he's often been lethal as a serve + 1 forehand merchant. roland garros 2023 is a good example of that... murray was the tactician, generally thought a lot on court and had a lot in his arsenal - ofc most famously his excellent lob. djokovic does also have more to his game than just baseline pushing, even if sometimes that involves just spamming dropshots when he feels uneasy. obviously, as can be seen from the slam count, his game ended up being just a bit better... but, well, these are very fine margins. murray's slam count is deceptive, he really was the one guy who could consistently hang with those three year-in year-out. whatever revisionism people try to do now, it really was a big four era

as for the coaching relationship, I'm very curious!! coaching can take a lot of different forms and sometimes there's a bit of a distinction between the... bread and butter coaching, the people who are working with you day to day, and these more high profile gigs where sometimes it really is just localised to specific tournaments. it's all very individualised, depends on the specific demands of the player - obviously, given where djokovic is at in his career, you won't be seeing particularly major adjustments, like murray isn't going to come in and suddenly suggest djokovic revamps his serve, right. (though sometimes players still tinker with this stuff late into careers, especially if they're managing injuries.) given the particular stresses of playing in a match, what an odd experience that is in its own right, sometimes you do just need someone to be observing you, give your game a critical once-over from a little bit of distance. now, admittedly from what I've seen of djokovic's coaching relationships, I do feel like one of the coach's roles in THAT particular camp is also just 'being yelled at continuously during matches'. which...? a little curious if djokovic has that same tone when murray's standing there lmao. also one of the reasons for the yelling is when djokovic feels like he's not getting enough enthusiasm from his box. which... ... uh. I mean. murray wouldn't have been top on MY list for that particular metric. but he can get passionate at davis cup from what I've seen!! so maybe it'll work out

anyway yeah I'll cut it off there lol. obviously I spent half my childhood thinking about tennis and inevitably that involved a lot of thinking about the big four and that means I have a lot of thoughts on them so. basically it's fedole > rafole > fedal as far as I'm concerned. good luck to djokovic/murray in their endeavours, I will be there no matter what

[fiera-writes]

Alright, so. I finally rewatched Megamind after meaning to for like two weeks or so, basically ever since the sequel movie came out. And for several reasons, nooot a fan of how the sequel was handled honestly. So, I thought with the original movie fresh in my mind, I could try to brainstorm a couple things I might have done with a sequel.

To start with, the Doom Syndicate. The original movie makes no reference to Megamind knowing any other villains, let alone ever working with them in the past. So, if they were to be included I feel it should be more in a "Oh I've heard of them, they're from that one town a couple states over" way. Acquaintances at best.

But then again, the original movie also seems to imply that if there are any other superheroes or villains, they're pretty dang rare. This isn't The Incredibles where some people are just born with super powers. I mean, no one from out of town came to try and stop Megamind after he "killed" Metro Man. With Titan/Tighten it all happened within a day so less time for outsiders to react, but Megamind had control of the city for a good while there.

So, if we want to keep the Doom Syndicate... it would need to be handled differently. Also get rid of that brain "Mentor" character. I don't really have any ideas for how, except...

Perhaps they're originally fictional in-universe, from a Saturday morning cartoon or a video game or something. One way or another, they're made real and now Megamind has to stop them and probably make them fictional again. Could also be achieved with a different set of villains.

Another way to do a new villain could be Dimensional travel. Say there's some sort of a Bizarro universe, where Metro Man was evil and Megamind was good to start with. Or both were evil and teamed up to do evil. In any case, Alternate Universe Evil Metro Man gets transported to the main universe, causes mayhem. Might even force the Metro Man we know out of retirement temporarily, or not. If he does show up in public, would probably make an excuse of how he's also from some other universe specifically summoned to help out, thus explaining why he's gone again afterwards. Dude just wants to make music.

To add, the dimensional traveling villain doesn't even need to be a version of Metro Man, they could also be anyone else. Some other alien, a dude who fell into acid and got powers from it, idk man.

Hear me out, an Evil Spider-Man of sorts. That is, someone who starts out as a normal human being, perhaps an outcast, and by some twist of fate receives powers, which they proceed to use for evil. Might be re-treading Hal's deal a little but idk what I'm doing anymore.

Evil Bruce Wayne? A rich guy with weird gadgets and the skill to use them, for evil. Would probably be harder to pull off since Megamind's whole deal is how smart he is.

A Mad Scientist type. Megamind is an Evil Scientist, but not a "mad" one, he just builds a death ray powered by the sun because he's that smart. Put him against someone whose ideas make no sense to him but somehow still work.

Misguided hero? Not really a villain but would be an antagonist for the story, someone who's convinced that Megamind's redemption is all an act maybe? Would probably need powers of some sort to be an actual threat.

Alright then, let's move onto something else for a change: MegaRox. My shipper heart needs them either clearly together or clearly working on that. But the original movie does seem to imply they're already together by the time the new museum has opened. I mean, the way she jumped into his arms and then kissed him? Sure it was on the cheek but that wasn't a platonic thing. It's about the context!

No further notes on that, so I present to you... Prequel!

Takes place before Metro Man fakes his death so he can retire, and therefore Megamind is still Evil.

MegaRox wouldn't be an established relationship but did y'all see them at the start of the original? That was practically flirting anyway and that dynamic should be present.

Maybe it could even be early into his villain career? Show how he really got started as a Super Villain, the first kidnappings of Rocanne Ritchi, gaining notoriety, and how Roxanne learned that she's honestly in more danger of getting hit by stray debris from Metro Man's dramatic entrances than from anything Megamind aims at her.

I doubt I'll ever develop any of these ideas into a coherent story but if anyone wants to yoink a thought, go wild. I'm also down for discussing any of these.

[tomorrowusa]

Nikki Haley intentionally contorts her positions in order to keep voters from knowing where she really stands.

Nobel economics laureate Paul Krugman in the New York Times had a good column about Haley this week.

So it seems worth looking at what Haley stands for. From a political point of view, one answer might be: nothing. A recent Times profile described her as having “an ability to calibrate her message to the moment.” A less euphemistic way to put this is that she seems willing to say whatever might work to her political advantage. “Flip-flopping” doesn’t really convey the sheer cynicism with which she has shifted her rhetoric and changed her positions on everything from abortion rights to immigration to whether it’s OK to try overturning a national election. And anyone hoping that she would govern as a moderate if she should somehow make it to the White House is surely delusional. Haley has never really shown a willingness to stand up to Republican extremists — and at this point the whole G.O.P. has been taken over by extremists.

We pointed out about 10 days ago that Haley is just as anti-abortion as the other GOP candidates. As president, she would appoint justices to the US Supreme Court just like the Republican justices who struck down Roe v. Wade.

She is consistently with the radical right when it comes to economics and income equality.

Haley has shown some consistency on issues of economic and fiscal policy. And what you should know is that her positions on these issues are pretty far to the right. In particular, she seems exceptionally explicit, even among would-be Republican nominees, in calling for an increase in the age at which Americans become eligible for Social Security — a bad idea that seems to be experiencing a revival.

Do you wish to end up having to support your parents because President Haley got a Republican Congress to raise the retirement age to 70?

Republicans say there's a funding gap when it comes to Social Security. But instead of raising the disproportionately low taxes paid by their billionaire donors, they want to slash benefits.

[T]he system would need additional revenue to continue paying scheduled benefits in full. But the extra revenue required would be smaller than you probably think. The most recent long-term projections from the Congressional Budget Office show Social Security outlays rising to 6.2 percent of gross domestic product in 2053 from 5.1 percent this year, not exactly an earth-shattering increase. [ ... ] Anyone who says, as Haley does, that the retirement age should rise in line with increasing life expectancy is being oblivious, perhaps willfully, to the grim inequality of modern America. Until Covid struck, average life expectancy at 65, the relevant number, was indeed rising. But these gains were concentrated among Americans with relatively high incomes. Less affluent Americans — those who depend most on Social Security — have seen little rise in life expectancy, and in some cases actual declines.

Not only would Haley not raise taxes on her billionaire buddies, she would cut them even further.

Haley, of course, wants to cut income taxes. My guess is that none of this will be relevant, that Trump will be the nominee. But if he stumbles, I would beg political reporters not to focus on Haley’s personal affect, which can seem moderate, but rather on her policies. On social issues and the fate of democracy, she appears to be a pure weather vane, turning with the political winds. On fiscal and economic policy, she’s a hard-right advocate of tax cuts for the rich and benefit cuts for the working class.

The libertarian extremist Koch network has endorsed Nikki Haley. That's further proof that she's no moderate.

Koch family-backed PAC endorses Nikki Haley for president

Nikki Haley, a onetime member of the Trump administration, is little more than a more socially acceptable version of Trump. That does not make her moderate. She is to the right of George W. Bush who appointed Samuel Alito, the architect of the Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization decision which killed Roe v. Wade, to the Supreme Court.

As Tara Setmayer indicated in that video, just saying that somebody is better than Trump is a very low bar. A snake could walk over that bar.

Don't confuse what Paul Krugman calls Nikki Haley's "personal effect" with her actual far right views. We're voting for a President, not Ms. Personality.