#This is from sometime last year i think?? enjoy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aquaticmercy · 1 day ago

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Full Throttle

Summary : Bucky thinks he hooked up with a really pretty mechanic.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x motorcycle racer!reader (she/her)

Warnings/tags : cursing. Sex is implied. Bucky on a motorcycle. Purely self-indulgent fic.

Word count : 3.9k

Note : reader is a MotoGP rider! I’m still reeling from the championship battle last week that I just needed to write this. Also I apologise for everyone who wasn’t tagged in waste a moment! I lost half my notes and I’ve been trying to recover it. Hopefully it’ll be resolved by tomorrow. Enjoy!

Bucky Barnes wasn’t just drawn to motorcycles because they were fast or dangerous— at least not entirely.

He loved them because of the freedom they gave him, the sense of control when everything else in his life felt it had spiralled into oblivion. Riding demanded focus and precision—all the things he’d spent the last couple of years training.

When he was on his bike, the world faded away. There was only the hum of the engine, the wind in his hair, and the open road.

And sure, being on the road was fun, but sometimes, all he wanted was a challenge.

That’s when he found the dirt track in the edge of town— a place where he could train for missions that called for high-speed chases— a place he could lose himself for a while.

It was something fun to do once in a while, you know? Sam would call this a hobby.

The roar of engines and the earthy tang of kicked-up dirt felt like home. In a way, it was strangely meditative. It reminded him of what it felt like to be human— to push himself to the limit, to make mistakes and learn.

Every Tuesday, after training, he came to the track.

And every Tuesday, so did you.

The first time he saw you, Bucky had to do a double take. You were standing by your bike, helmet tucked under one arm, dirt streaked across your padded leather jacket.

Bucky was no stranger to beautiful people, but there was something about you that struck him differently— maybe it was the confidence in the way you carried yourself or the fire in your eyes when you looked his way. Either way, he was floored.

At first, he figured you were just another skilled rider trying to forget the world. That it was just a hobby, like it was to him. But as the weeks went on, you realised this was your life.

It must be.

The way you rode was… incredible. Every turn was sharp, calculated. Precise.

And despite your obvious talent, you never made a big deal about it. Just like you never made a big deal out of the fact that he was the fucking Winter Soldier.

Of course, you knew who he was—he’d caught the occasional glint of recognition in your eyes. But you never brought it up, never asked for autographs or photos. Instead, you treated him like just another guy at the track.

That didn’t mean you didn’t flirt, though.

Every now and then, you’d throw him a cheeky grin. You’d playfully tell him things like, “Nice lap, soldier,” and Bucky would just blush (which you found adorable, of course).

He would always try to laugh it off, but the truth was, your teasing left his heart racing faster than his bike ever could.

—

Bucky had been working up the nerve for weeks, and today, he thought he would finally bite the bullet.

Today he was going to ask you out.

You were wiping the sweat from your brow when he leaned casually against his bike, trying to look more confident than he felt.

“You’re always here on a Tuesday,” he said, before mentally groaning at himself

What the fuck was that? He thought. Is Always here on a Tuesday really the best flirty opening line he had? It was not even an open-ended question. It was just an observation. Nice one, Barnes.

But instead of brushing him off, you paused, setting your gloves down with an amused spark lighting up in your eyes. “Could say the same for you, Barnes.” You tilted your head and gave a casual shrug, acting as if having a stunning super soldier gawking over you wasn’t flattering. “You stalking me?”

The corner of his lips curved upward, the nervous tension melting away ever so slightly. “Maybe I just like the view.”

That earned him a smirk. You let your eyes descend over him—his dark hair falling in perfect disarray, his shirt clinging to his chest under his jacket. “Sure,” you teased.

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ve got a good reason to show up.”

“Oh?” you asked, stepping closer, tossing your helmet onto your bike seat with a little dramatic flair. “Don’t tell me the Winter Soldier needs more practice catching bad guys on a bike. Thought you had that down.”

“Yeah, well,” he drawled, letting his gaze linger on you. “Never hurts to train. Especially when there’s someone like you around to keep me humble.”

“Humble?” You quirked an eyebrow, folding your arms as you leaned a hip against the leather seat of the bike. “Looked pretty cocky last week, pulling that stunt to take down the bad guy.”

He blinked, genuinely surprised. “You saw that?”

It had been a theft— some guy thought he could steal experimental weapons from an old Stark warehouse and get away with it. Not his cleanest chase, but he did the job.

“Please, it was all over the news. Did you not see the four helicopters following the chase?” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. “I gotta say, you’re not bad, Barnes.”

“Not bad?” he echoed, feigning offence.

You leaned in just a little, dropping your voice. “I’ve seen smoother turns. If you want pointers, I could teach you a thing or two.”

His lips parted, but no words came out for a moment as he processed how close you were. “You offering lessons now?”

You laughed before gesturing at his bike.

This was his dirt bike, a recreational bike— not the one he used for the chase last week. Still, it could use a bit of… fine tuning.

“Tell you what, soldier,” you said, “Fix that lag in your throttle response first. Then I’ll teach you a thing or two about taking corners.”

Bucky tilted his head, narrowing his eyes “There’s nothing wrong with my throttle response.”

“Oh, honey,” you purred, stepping just close enough for your shoulder to brush his. “I could hear it lagging from halfway across the track.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

“You saying I need a tune-up?”

“I’m saying,” you said, your voice like velvet, “that if you wanna keep up, you’re gonna need a better setup.”

He couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. He still didn’t have the guts to ask you out that day, but he walked away with hope, that maybe, this could grow into something more.

—

“So, you gonna tell me why you’ve been walking around with that goofy smile lately?” Sam asked, leaning back in his chair with a knowing look.

“What smile?” Bucky muttered, immediately defensive.

“The one you think nobody notices,” he shrugged. “Spill it, Buck. What’s her name?”

Bucky hesitated, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t planned to tell anyone about his little crush. least of all Sam, but the look on his friend’s face said he wasn’t getting out of this conversation.

“Fine,” he said, exhaling. “There’s this girl.”

Sam grinned.

“She goes to the dirt track I go to every Tuesday,” Bucky said, staring at the bottle in his hands like it held the secret to not sounding like a lovesick idiot as he told him all about you.

—

From then on, Tuesdays became his favourite day of the week.

Bucky found himself counting down the hours until he could see you again, his mind replaying every smile, every laugh, every teasing touch.

You became bolder, not afraid of calling him handsome, of touching his arm even if it wasn’t necessary.

And damn it if didn’t make his heart race.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling session on the track, Bucky decided he’d had enough of dancing around what he wanted.

Leaning casually against his handlebars, he called out, “Race me.”

You looked up, one eyebrow raising in surprise. “What’s in it for me?” you asked, folding your arms and tilting your head in that way that always made his stomach flip.

“If you win,” he started, “you get bragging rights for a week.”

“A week, huh?” You repeated dramatically, “and if you win?”

Bucky’s lips curled into a slow grin, trying to appear confident even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “I get your number.”

Your giggle rang out, bright and sweet, and for a second, Bucky forgot how to breathe. “You got yourself a deal, soldier,” you said, shaking your head.

—

The two of you lined up at the start of the track, engines growling.

Bucky’s focus sharpened—he wasn’t just racing for pride; he was racing for the chance to finally take a step toward something he had wanted for months now.

When the signal came, you both shot off like bullets, dirt kicking up in clouds behind your tires. Bucky pushed his bike to the limit, leaning into every corner, his muscles strained with effort, grappling the dirt bike for control. But no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were holding back.

You were supposed to be faster, more precise than this sloppy performance you were giving. He’d seen you before. What happened?

As you neared the final stretch, you slowed, just enough for him to surge ahead and cross the finish line first.

He skidded to a stop, panting and exhilarated, but the smug grin on your face told him everything he needed to know.

When you walked over later and handed him a scrap of paper with your number scrawled on it, you leaned in close enough for him to catch the faint scent of sweat and motor oil. “You won it fair and square,” you said.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, his lips twitching with a grin he couldn’t suppress. “You let me win.”

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing,” you feigned innocence, but couldn’t help the grin widening on your face.

He tucked the paper into his pocket, shaking his head.

As you put on your helmet back on, you casually remarked, “Throttle’s still lagging, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Bucky groaned, pretending to be annoyed. Secretly, he was thrilled to keep the conversation going. “I think it’s the fuel filter, but I haven’t had time to swap it out.”

“I’ve got one at my place,” you told him, turning on your engine, “Why don’t you come by?”

His head snapped up, surprised at the offer. “Now?”

“Why not?”

—

When arrived at your place, he had braced himself for something simple—a cosy apartment, maybe a small cluttered corner dedicated to your bike tools.

What he hadn’t expected was this.

Standing in the doorway, he blinked at the modern yet homey design laid out before him. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in golden evening light, reflecting off polished floors and expensive-looking furniture. The view of the city stretched out like a postcard behind you as you stood, arms crossed, watching him with a hint of amusement.

“This… is your apartment?” he asked, taking a step inside. His greasy leather jacket suddenly felt so out of place. His gaze darted over to a marble countertop in the kitchen, a plush couch, and then the walls— lined with the kind of art he’s only seen in high society auctions.

You tilted your head, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Not what you expected, Barnes?”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Not really…”

“Ah,” you replied, moving toward a door off the main living area. “So just because I work with bikes, I can’t have nice things?”

“I didn’t say that,” he countered quickly, following you.

You threw a sly glance over your shoulder. “Didn’t have to.”

He tried to think of a witty response, but he was distracted by the thought of you—the way you moved, confident and unbothered, like you belonged in every room you entered.

You led him to a heavy door and pushed it open, revealing a contrast to the rest of the apartment— your workshop.

The workshop smelled like oil, grease, and faintly of rubber, the air swirling with the comforting scent of metal and machinery. The walls were lined with shelves holding neatly organised tools, spare parts, and bottles of lubricants. A stripped-down high-performance bike stood at the centre of the room, its engine exposed, wires and cables hanging loose.

Now this room, he thought, was undoubtedly you.

“This is more like it,” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint smile.

“See?” You smirked, moving to grab the replacement part he needed. “I’m not as fancy as you think.”

After pulling his bike through the back, he leaned against the wall, watching as you crouch next to his bike and get to work.

For a moment, he was quiet.

He watched in silence— the way your hands moved with precision, the way you were entirely in your element.

“So,” you began, glancing up at him. “What’s the Winter Soldier doing on a dirt track every Tuesday, anyway? Don’t you have, I don’t know, a world to save?”

He chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “The world can wait.”

You laughed softly, returning your focus to the filter.

“I get it, kind of,” you replied, loosening a bolt. “Wanting to get away from everything.”

From then on, the conversation came effortlessly.

At first, he kept it light, sticking to anecdotes about the track or the occasional joke about his less-than-smooth bike handling in the beginning. But there was something about the way you listened—your easy, genuine curiosity—that made him feel safe, like he didn’t have to keep everything locked away anymore.

At one point, he couldn’t help but ask how someone who worked with bikes could afford a place like this. You only shrugged with a smile, giving the same answer you always did: “I got lucky.” He didn’t press, though he was curious—the ease in which you sidestepped the question intrigued him.

Before long, the conversation drifted again. He found himself sharing more than he ever thought he would. He told you about his missions, the chaos of his Winter Soldier days, the things he’d done and the memories he was still piecing together.

And you listened—not with pity, but with an understanding that felt rare, even among the people he called friends.

“You’re good at this,” he finally said.

“Bikes?”

“People,” he admitted, his eyes flicking to yours.

“Well, bikes are like people,” You tilted your head, studying him with a small, curious smile. “Both require care, attention, and understanding to perform at their best.”

When you finally finished, you stood, wiping your hands on a cloth. “All set,” you said, gesturing toward his bike.

“Thank you.” he said, though he made no move to leave. Instead, he lingered, his eyes on you as you leaned back against the counter.

“So,” you said, breaking the thick silence, your voice dipping into something almost playful. “You gonna stick around, or do you have somewhere to be?”

“Nowhere important,” he admitted quietly.

He took a step closer, then another.

The space separating you seemed to dissolve, his eyes locked on yours, pulling you in like gravity.

“Careful,” you murmured, teasing. “I might think you’re stalling just to spend more time with me.”

His lips curved into a faint, almost shy smile. “And if I am?”

The words hit you like a shot of adrenaline, your heart beating out of your chest. There was no humour in his tone, no hint of the usual back-and-forth banter that had defined so many of your conversations. Just desire staring back at you.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely audible. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He was close now, so close you could feel the heat rolling off him, his metal hand brushing against the counter as he leaned in.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice rough, a low growl in his throat. He cupped your jawline, mustering all the courage she could possibly gather.

You didn’t.

Instead, your lips parted in anticipation as he leaned in. Unable to bear it any longer, you tilted your head up, meeting him halfway.

The first press of his lips against yours was gentle, and the second was anything but. The restraint shattered immediately, giving way to something feral. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer, his lips moving with a hunger that’s been brewing since he first saw you on the track.

Your hands found his chest, sliding up to his shoulders, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. You tugged him closer, your chest pressing against his. He let out a low moan that sent a shiver down your spine.

When you finally broke apart for air, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mixing in the narrow space between you. His voice was husky, as if he was still recovering. “I should really take you out on a date first.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your hands still fisted in his shirt. “You can still do that.”

His lips brushed yours again. “Aren’t you trouble?”

“You love it,” you whispered, grinning wickedly as you pulled him back in.

The next kiss was hotter, hungrier— it consumed you both. His hands slid to your waist, gripping you firmly as he backed you out of the workshop and into the apartment.

Your movements were uncoordinated, messy, your lips never leaving his as you stumbled against walls, furniture, and whatever else got in the way.

By the time you reached the bedroom, nothing else mattered.

—

Bucky woke to the soft light peeking through your curtains.

The scent of coffee reached him first. When he stumbled out of your bedroom, he spotted you at the marble kitchen counter, leaning on your elbows with a steaming mug in hand. You were dressed in one of your oversized shirts— and looked far too innocent for all the filthy things you did to him last night.

“Mornin’ doll,” he greeted as he sat across from you.

“Morning,” you chuckled at his adorable tousled hair.

“So…” he started, his voice thick with sleep, “about that date…”

You smirked, setting your mug down and sauntered around the island kitchen. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“Sunday?” he offered, watching you with a lazy smile as you perched on the stool next to his.

You shook your head, “I work weekends.”

That caught him off guard, but he didn’t let it show. “Remind me what exactly it is you do?”

“Bikes,” you said simply, the corner of your mouth twitching like you were holding back sensitive information.

He chuckled, assuming you were talking about your mechanic work. “Fair.”

You hummed, but the mischievous glint in your eyes didn’t escape him.

He tilted his head, curiosity tugging at the edge of his thoughts, but he decided not to push. You’d tell him when you wanted to. Instead, he flashed a small grin. “I’ll text you to arrange something, then.”

“You better,” you teased, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You won my number, Barnes. Don’t make me regret giving it to you.

The challenge in your tone made his smirk widen, his hand slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “Oh, I won’t.”

—

That Sunday, Bucky was slouched on Sam’s couch, one leg kicked over the side of the coffee table, a book resting on his chest. Sam, on the other hand, was waging war with the TV remote, flipping through channels at record speeds.

“Just pick something already,” Bucky grumbled without looking up.

Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring him.

“Oh, MotoGP’s on,” he said suddenly, tossing the remote aside.

Bucky didn’t even glance at the screen at first, the low growl of engines and the commentator’s frantic observation was little more than background noise. But something about the sheer speed on display tugged at his attention. He finally looked up— and when he did, he could not take his eyes off the screen.

The camera focused on a Ducati weaving through the pack with a relentlessness that looked… familiar. The rider’s movements were fluid, each turn carved with precision, every overtake risky but calculated.

“Holy shit,” Sam muttered, leaning forward. Sam wasn’t the biggest fan— but he did watch these races from time to time. It always intrigued him, the danger they willingly took to win a race. “Look at—did you see that overtake?”

Bucky didn’t respond, his eyes locked on the rider. There was something about them—the way they leaned into each corner, never hesitating, always pushing for the absolute edge of human limitation.

The commentator’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“And there it is! The factory Ducati taking the lead with that beautiful overtake from the inside line! Unbelievable control!”

The Ducati was now in front, pulling away from the others as the final lap approached.

Bucky watched, as they flew through a sweeping right turn, knees and shoulders skimming the asphalt like it was second nature.

As the Ducati roared down toward the finish line, the chequered flag waved.

First place.

The crowd erupted, but Bucky barely heard it. The rider slowed, their gloved fist pumping the air, before coming to a stop after the cooldown lap.

The other riders were congratulating them, patting their helmet with friendly taps.

Soon, the camera zoomed in, capturing the moment they pulled off their helmet.

And Bucky’s stomach dropped.

It was you.

No helmet, no visor—just you, smiling that confident smile that he knew so well.

Oh. He was stupid. Bucky Barnes was so incredibly stupid.

Of course you were a motorcycle racer. The sleek apartment, the effortless style, the way you moved on the dirt track. The way you told him you worked on weekends— it all made perfect sense.

And yet, somehow, he'd convinced himself you were a mechanic. Of course he did.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, bolting upright.

Sam shot him a confused look. “What?”

“That’s her,” Bucky said, his voice low in disbelief.

“Who’s ‘her’?”

“The mechanic,” he said, gesturing at the TV, as you celebrated with your team of race engineers. “The girl I told you about. That’s her.”

Sam blinked, staring at the screen, then back at Bucky. “Wait—you’re telling me she fixed up your fuel filter?”

Bucky didn’t answer, still staring at the screen. You were heading toward the press now, handing your helmet to a crew member as reporters swarmed you.

The camera cut for a post-race interview. You looked exhilarated, but still composed as you answered questions about your strategy— about the win.

Then the interviewer threw in a curveball:

“You’ve been on a hot streak lately. Is there anyone you want to dedicate this victory to?”

You hesitated just long enough for a sly grin to tug at your lips. Then, you looked directly into the camera.

“This win’s for a super soldier,” you said, your tone as playful as ever. You made a phone gesture with your fingers and winked. “Call me, Barnes.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped.

Sam burst out laughing, but in no less shock. “I cannot believe you hooked up with her! Bucky, You lucky son of a—“

But Bucky wasn’t listening anymore.

He couldn’t believe it. Of course he could keep up— you were literally leagues ahead of him.

And somehow, you were still into him.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sam said, nudging him hard enough to make him wince. “You gonna call her or not?”

Bucky didn’t answer, already scrambling for his phone. His hands trembled a little as he unlocked it, a smile already tugging at his lips.

He wasn’t sure what he was gonna say when you picked up, but he knew one thing for certain: Tuesdays just got a whole lot more interesting.

-end.

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lizardkingeliot · 3 days ago

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Hello, lovelies, and happy WIP Wednesday! I'm just here to drop off a tiny sneak peek of the first chapter of my upcoming rockstar Lestat/photographer Louis fic. I have no clue when I'm going to start posting but I'm hoping to have at least the first chapter up sometime next month.

But for now, I hope you all enjoy~

—

Louis felt his heart stop dead in his chest. All my songs are about you, Louis. “Twenty-eight tracks,” he heard himself saying somewhere far away. Suddenly—it was like he was floating just outside of himself. Spirit leaving his flesh like a burden lifting. “About me.”

All Lestat said in response was a breathy little—“Oui.”

Louis drew an enormous breath and let it leak back out. His heart was in his stomach. His stomach was flopping around on the floor. “About how pissed off you are at me.”

“Why would I be upset with you, Louis?”

Louis couldn’t help the laugh that puffed from his nose. “Bitter, then,” he said, trying to sound irritated but unable to keep the tenderness from his tone. “About someone else suckin’ me off a hundred years ago.”

Lestat was silent for a second or two. The rustle of him shifting crackled on the other end of the phone. “You analyzed the lyrics,” he said at last, every syllable coming out unbearably tender.

Louis laughed again, a little harder this time. “I listened to the lyrics, Lestat,” he said, and shut his eyes, and called on the image of Lestat’s face from the video. Called on the image of Lestat glowing in the dark on the other end of the phone. “Not exactly an academic pursuit to understand what you meant with that one.”

Louis pressed the phone to his ear. He could hear the drum of Lestat’s heart on the other end. Calling out like a siren ten time zones away in New Orleans.

“And so now you are angry with me,” Lestat said, his voice a purr in his throat. He sounded far too pleased with himself.

“No,” Louis said. And meant it. There were a thousand feelings roiling inside him and anger was the least of them all. “But I’m startin’ to think you want me to be.”

#interview with the vampire #loustat #otp: all my love belongs to you #myfic

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d-z20 · 7 hours ago

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The Agent Next Door part 3 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agent Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: When a ghost from Rio's past resurfaces, the safe haven you’ve built together is threatened. As danger edges closer, your bond deepens in unexpected ways, testing your trust and strength in each other. Amidst fear and uncertainty, you discover just how far both of you are willing to go to protect what matters most.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, smut, fluff ending, fingering (R recv), oral (Rio recv), praise kink, slight power bottom Rio

Words: 4.2k

A/N: The angsty third (and final?) part as promised

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Master List

Under Her Protection

You’re sprawled out on Rio’s couch, nestled comfortably against her side as the TV plays in the background. It’s the kind of night you’ve both come to love—no plans, no rush, just the two of you together, half-watching some crime drama. You can feel the steady rise and fall of her chest as you rest your head there, her arm slung casually around your shoulders, fingers absently tracing patterns on your arm.

It’s a rare, peaceful moment, one that you’ve started to cherish more and more. You glance up at her; she looks different like this—softer. The usual tension in her jaw has melted away; her sharp features relaxed in a way you rarely get to see. You smile to yourself, the sight of her at ease filling you with a quiet kind of joy. She’s not just the composed, authoritative FBI agent you first met. Here, she’s Rio—your Rio—and you could watch her like this forever.

You press a kiss to her jaw, feeling her smile against your lips.

“Enjoying the show?” she asks, her voice teasing. You know she couldn’t care less about what’s on the screen, but it’s a running joke between the two of you—mocking the exaggerated, overly dramatic FBI agents depicted on TV.

“Oh, absolutely,” you drawl, playing along. “I just love how accurate it all is. Clearly, every case is solved in a day, and all agents wear heels and leather jackets.”

Rio chuckles, pulling you closer. “It’s ridiculous,” she snorts. “Half of this would get thrown out in court in a heartbeat. And don’t even get me started on the ‘enhance the grainy footage’ bullshit.”

You grin, enjoying the rare, playful side of her. “I bet you’d never pull a stunt like that. The great Agent Vidal would never dream of cutting corners.”

She raises an eyebrow, her smirk sharp. “Oh, you’d be surprised what I’ve pulled off. Sometimes rules are more like... guidelines.”

You laugh, leaning into her, and she squeezes your shoulder lightly. For a moment, everything feels easy—peaceful.

Then her phone buzzes, cutting through the quiet. She lets out a small sigh and picks it up, her expression immediately shifting as she reads the message. The shift is so sudden it makes your stomach drop. Without a word, she gets up and walks to the window, peering through the blinds like she’s expecting to see something—or someone—out there.

“Rio?” You ask cautiously, sitting up. “What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t answer right away, her shoulders visibly tense. Finally, she lets the blinds fall back into place and turns to you, her expression grim. “That was work,” she says, her voice low and controlled. “Someone I put away years ago just got released on parole. He... wasn’t supposed to get out this soon.”

You frown, confused. “Why is that a problem? Didn’t he serve his time?”

Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think she won’t answer. Then she sighs, running a hand through her hair. “The last time I saw him, he threatened to ruin my life,” she says quietly. “He’s dangerous. And vindictive. If he finds out where I live... who you are... how much I lov—.”

She doesn’t finish the sentence, but she doesn’t have to. The implications hang heavy in the air. You swallow hard, suddenly very aware of the weight of her job and the risks that come with it.

“Hey,” you say softly, standing and moving to her side. “I’m sure it’s fine. He probably doesn’t even know you’re here.”

Her eyes meet yours, and for the first time since you met her, you see real fear there. “Maybe. But I can’t take that chance.” She pauses, her hand brushing your arm. “I want you to stay here. At least until I figure out what’s going on.”

The seriousness in her tone leaves no room for argument, and you nod. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

You settle back onto the couch together, but the atmosphere has shifted now, an unspoken tension lingering in the room. Rio keeps her phone close, her other arm wrapped protectively around you, her eyes flicking back to the window every so often.

You try to focus on the TV show, but your thoughts keep drifting. It’s unsettling, this shadow of a threat hanging over the two of you, and you can tell Rio feels it too. Her grip on you tightens every time she hears a noise from outside, her thumb rubbing circles against your arm as if she’s trying to soothe both of you.

Eventually, you turn your head to look up at her. “You know, I don’t need a TV show when I’ve got my own personal action hero right here.”

Rio snorts, shaking her head. “Is that what I am now?”

“Yep,” you say, grinning up at her. “Neighbour, fashion critic, and now... bodyguard.”

She rolls her eyes but leans down to press a kiss to your lips, soft and lingering. “Just stay close, okay?”

You nod, your heart fluttering at the protectiveness in her voice. “I’m not going anywhere, Rio.”

Relief flashes across her face, but it’s fleeting. She takes your hand, leading you to her bedroom without another word. The silence between you is heavy but not uncomfortable—it’s charged, humming with unspoken worry and a need for closeness.

When you get to the bed, her hands are on you immediately, tugging you close. There’s a new intensity to her touch, her fingers gripping your hips firmly, almost possessively. She kisses you hard, like she’s trying to stake her claim, her mouth moving with an urgency you’ve never felt from her before.

“Rio—” you start, but she cuts you off with another kiss, her hands sliding under your shirt, nails raking up your skin. Her lips move to your neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks that you know will last. It’s not just passion—it’s something deeper, rawer. Like she needs to prove to herself that you’re here, that you’re hers.

You let her take the lead, your own hands roaming her body, trying to reassure her in your own way. But she’s relentless, her mouth trailing lower, her teeth grazing your collarbone. She pushes you back onto the bed, her weight settling over you as she pins your wrists above your head.

Her gaze is dark, her eyes searching yours. “I need to know you’re safe,” she murmurs, her voice rough. “I need to feel it.”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper, and it’s the truth.

Her grip on your wrists tightens briefly before she leans down, kissing you again, slower this time but no less intense.

The night is a blur of heated touches and whispered reassurances, her possessiveness never crossing the line into discomfort. Instead, it leaves you breathless, the depth of her need for you pulling you even closer.

When you finally fall asleep, tangled in her arms, the weight of her protectiveness wraps around you like a shield. Even as your mind drifts, you know this is only the beginning of whatever storm is coming. But with her by your side, you’re ready to face it.

—

You’ve been staying at Rio’s apartment for a week now, and every night, her hold on you seems to grow tighter. Even in her sleep, her arms remain locked around you, as though her subconscious refuses to let you out of her grasp. It’s a level of protectiveness you’re not used to, but you can’t deny how safe it makes you feel.

The days are a strange mix of normalcy and subtle unease. You run errands, cook together, and share quiet moments on her couch. But in the back of your mind, there’s always a faint sense of being watched. You’ve chalked it up to paranoia—Rio’s warning had a way of sticking with you, and you tell yourself you’re just imagining things.

Still, it’s hard to ignore the nagging feeling when you start seeing the same person more than once. A tall figure with a hood pulled low over their face, lingering at the edge of your vision. You’ve seen them on the street, at the corner store, and now again as you leave the grocery shop, arms full of bags. You glance over your shoulder, your pulse quickening as you catch sight of them just a few steps behind.

You quicken your pace, gripping the bags tightly. Your heart pounds in your chest as you cut across the street and head for the apartment building. You take a chance and glance back again. They’re still following.

By the time you reach Rio’s apartment door, your hands are shaking so badly you almost drop your keys. You fumble with the lock, finally getting the door open and slamming it shut behind you. You lock it, bolting the deadlock for good measure.

You text Rio immediately: I think I was followed. Just got back. Door locked.

The response comes quickly. Stay put. Don’t answer the door for anyone. I’m coming back now.

You breathe out, trying to calm yourself, but as you read her words, a new sound sends a chill down your spine. A faint rattle at the door.

Your stomach drops, and you freeze, staring at the door as the sound grows louder. It’s not your imagination. Someone’s trying the handle. Your mind races, and you grab the closest thing within reach—a table lamp. It’s not exactly a weapon, but it’ll have to do. Your grip tightens on the lamp’s base as the rattling stops, replaced by a loud bang.

The door crashes open, splintering the frame, and the hooded figure steps inside. They’re taller than you thought, their broad frame filling the doorway as they pause, scanning the room. You take a shaky step back, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Well, well,” he says, his voice dripping with malice. “Look who’s made themselves right at home. You must be the little pet she’s been keeping around.”

Your mind races, and you instinctively take a step back, trying to put the kitchen island between you and him. “Who the hell are you?” you demand.

He smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “You don’t know me, but Rio does. She’s the reason I spent the last ten years rotting away in a cell. Thought I’d pay her back by taking something she cares about.”

He lunges at you with a knife, and you barely manage to swing the lamp, hitting him across the face. He staggers back, but only for a moment, then charges at you again. You fight back, kicking and screaming, but he’s strong—stronger than you expected. He pins you against the wall, one hand around your throat.

“That’s right, scream for her,” he growls. “Let’s see if she gets here in time.”

You’re gasping for air, your vision blurring, when suddenly, the already broken door is rammed open again, falling off its hinges from the force of the action.

Rio barges in, her gun drawn, her expression a mixture of fury and fear. “Let them go,” she says, her voice deadly calm, the kind that promises retribution.

The man tightens his grip on you, pulling you in front of him as a shield. “Shoot me, and you’ll hit them,” he taunts.

Rio’s eyes meet yours, and you can see the raw, helpless anger there. You’ve never seen her look so terrified.

The man tightens his grip on you, and your vision starts to black. Your pulse pounds in your ears, the lack of air making your limbs feel heavy. Rio stands frozen in the doorway, her gun unwavering, her eyes locked on the man holding you.

“Let them go,” Rio repeats, her voice low and seething with barely restrained fury.

The man smirks, his grip loosening just enough for you to gasp for air. “You really think you’ve got the upper hand here, bitch? You’re so predictable—always running to play the hero.”

Rio doesn’t flinch. “This is the last chance I’ll give you. Let. Them. Go. Now.”

He sneers, then suddenly shoves you away with all his strength. You stumble, hitting the edge of the kitchen counter hard before crumpling to the floor, pain flaring in your side. Rio’s shout of your name echoes through the room, but you can barely focus as you clutch at your ribs, trying to steady your breathing.

The distraction is all Rio needs. She lunges at him before he can turn back to her, knocking the knife from his hand as they crash to the floor. The struggle is brutal—a chaotic blur of punches and grunts as Rio fights with a ferocity you’ve never seen before.

He manages to pin her briefly, his hands going for her throat, but Rio uses the momentum to roll them over, her knee pressing into his chest. She grabs the cuff of his wrist and twists him onto his stomach, forcing him to let out a pained shout as she pins his arm behind his back.

“You should’ve let them go,” she growls, forcing his face against the floor. He thrashes beneath her, but her grip is unrelenting, her strength fuelled by sheer fury.

She pulls her cuffs from her belt, snapping them onto his wrists with a finality that fills the room. She grabs his hair and yanks his head up, knee still pressing into his back. “And now you’re going to pay,” she says coldly before smashing his face into the ground, breaking his nose, and knocking him unconscious.

Her eyes flick to you, her expression softening with worry. “Are you okay?”

Before you can answer, Rio pulls out her phone, calling for backup. Her voice is calm and clipped as she gives the necessary details, but her free hand remains clenched at her side, still shaking from the adrenaline.

When the call ends, she crouches next to you, her hands ghosting over your body, careful not to touch the areas where you’re clearly in pain. “Hey, let me see,” she murmurs, her tone gentle now. “Where are you hurt?”

You wince as you shift, trying to sit up. “Just... my side. Think I hit the counter pretty hard.”

Her jaw tightens, and for a moment, you think she might explode all over again—but she just exhales, brushing a hand over your hair. “Backup’s on the way. He’s not going anywhere. I promise you’re safe now.”

You nod weakly, and she leans closer, her forehead briefly touching yours. The tension in her body doesn’t ease until the distant wail of sirens signals that help has arrived. Even then, her focus stays on you, her protective presence a shield between you and the man who dared to threaten what she holds most dear.

With the chaos finally under control and the intruder hauled away in handcuffs, Rio keeps a steady arm around you as she guides you back across the hall to your apartment. You can still feel the tremors in your hands, the echo of fear and adrenaline in your veins, but her presence is grounding.

As the door closes behind you, she doesn’t let go. Instead, she leads you to the couch, sitting beside you with her arm securely around your shoulders. “You okay?” she asks softly, her fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

You nod, leaning into her touch. “Yeah. Just... processing.”

A flicker of guilt crosses Rio’s face. “I never should’ve left you alone.”

“You couldn’t have known,” you reply, reaching up to squeeze her hand. “And you came back in time. That’s what matters.”

She exhales heavily, her arms tightening around you protectively. For a while, neither of you speak, the silence broken only by the rhythmic sound of her breathing. Then she shifts, her thumb brushing against your knuckles. “I mean it, though—I’m not letting you out of my sight for a while.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. The truth is, you don’t mind the idea of her staying close.

As the evening wears on, you begin to feel a sense of normalcy returning. Wrapped in her arms, you finally let your guard down, the weight of the day melting away. You tilt your head up to meet her gaze, your heart skipping as you notice the way she’s looking at you—soft yet intent.

“You’re staring,” you tease, your voice quiet.

“Can’t help it,” she murmurs, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re kind of hard to look away from.”

Your cheeks flush, but before you can respond, her lips capture yours in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate, like she’s savouring every moment. You respond eagerly, your fingers tangling in her hair as she shifts to deepen the kiss.

Somehow, the two of you end up lying on the couch, her body pressing against yours as your hands roam freely, exploring the familiar territory with renewed fervour. She pulls away just long enough to catch her breath, her forehead resting against yours. “Bedroom?” she whispers, her voice husky.

You nod, your heart racing as she helps you to your feet. The walk to the bedroom is brief, but each step feels charged with anticipation.

You guide her to the bed, her hand sliding into yours as you both move with an unspoken understanding. She lets you press her down gently so she’s sitting on the mattress, her signature smirk tugging at her lips. “So, this is how it’s going to be tonight?” she teases, her voice low, challenging but still laced with warmth. Her eyes glint with curiosity, though you can sense she’s enjoying this shift in control. “Guess I can let you take the lead. Just this once.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, leaning down to press a playful kiss to her lips. “Call it a thank you for saving me. Hero perks, right?” You reply, your voice just as teasing.

Her chuckle rumbles low in her throat as her hands settle lightly on your hips, grounding you. “You’ve got an interesting way of saying thanks,” she murmurs, tilting her head to expose her neck—an invitation and a challenge all at once. “But I’m not complaining.”

You take her challenge with a grin, leaning down to press your lips to her neck, your kisses starting soft but quickly growing more heated. You find the spot just below her ear where her skin is most sensitive, and when she lets out a low, pleased hum, you focus your attention there. Your tongue darts out, followed by a sharp nip of your teeth, before you suck on her skin, leaving a mark to match the ones she gave you just nights ago.

She tilts her head back with a soft gasp, her fingers tightening their grip on your hips. “You’re getting good at that,” she murmurs, her tone teasing but breathless. Her words spur you on, and you trail more kisses down her neck, each one deliberate, each one claiming her in your own way.

As your lips continue their path, your hands slide over her body, unbuttoning her shirt and tugging it off. Your eyes roam her, taking in every inch of her toned body and the way her muscles flex under your touch.

“Enjoying the view?” she teases, arching a brow, but there’s a flush on her cheeks that betrays her confidence.

“Absolutely,” you reply without hesitation, earning a quiet laugh from her.

Your hands move to the waistband of her pants, your fingers brushing against her skin as you pull them down, leaving her bare before you. You grab her hips, pulling her into you so she’s perched on the edge of the bed, your legs pushing her knees further apart. Her dark eyes meet yours, filled with a mixture of anticipation and challenge, and you can’t help but feel a surge of affection and desire for her all at once.

“You look good like this,” you say softly, your hands trailing up her thighs as you kneel between them.

Rio leans back on her palms, her smirk widening. “Show me just how grateful you are, sweetheart.”

Looking directly into Rio’s eyes, you drag your tongue through her wetness.

“That’s it,” she breathes, her voice huskier now. Her nails coming to dig lightly into your shoulder as her body shifts beneath you.

Hooking your arms under her legs, you push your face further into Rio, tongue pressing firmer against her clit and she rolls her hips at the sensation. Your tongue swirls over and around her bundle of nerves, eliciting more praise. “You’re so good at this, sweetheart,” she says, her tone uncharacteristically tender.

The praise makes your stomach flip, and you press your thighs together, feeling your arousal soak your underwear.

You notice the subtle change in her demeanour, her usual teasing grin replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. Her hands grip you tightly, but there’s a gentleness to her touch you hadn’t expected. “I don’t give up control often. But with you... it feels right.” Her voice falters slightly, and the admission makes your heart ache with tenderness.

As her orgasm builds, she finally lets go entirely, her usual defences falling away. Her head tilts back, her breathy praises and quiet gasps filling the space. After she reaches her peak, she pulls you up to her, her arms wrapping around you tightly as if grounding herself. “You’re incredible,” she whispers into your ear, her lips brushing against your temple as she catches her breath. “But don’t think I’m done with you yet.”

Her smirk returns, this time sharper, more determined. Before you can respond, she drags you down on to the bed, flipping you gently onto your back. Her strength is firm but careful, her lips curling in amusement at your surprised expression. “Your turn,” she murmurs, her voice low and promising. She begins to trail kisses down your body, her actions deliberate and knowing. “Let me show you how grateful I am,” she adds, her grin growing as your body arches beneath her touch.

With that, she strips you, her soft hands feeling all over your body. When her fingers trail up your thigh, she lets out a soft chuckle at the feeling of your arousal dripping. “Seems like someone enjoyed the praise.”

You whimper as her fingers press lightly against your clit.

“You made me feel so good, baby.” Her middle finger slides lower. “Such a clever girl.” She teases your entrance. “You know exactly how I like it.” She pushes her finger in.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you moan as it curls inside you. “More.”

Rio slides another finger in, biting her lip and groaning at how easily you take it. "Oh, darling, you’re taking me so well,” she praises, starting to pump her fingers in and out. She adds a third, and you feel the familiar tightening in your stomach. She picks up the pace, fucking all of the tension from the night out of you both. “You look so good like this,” she coos.

Arching into her touch, head pushing into the mattress, you keen, “Oh fuck. Rio, you’re going to make me cum.”

“That’s it, sweetheart; you’re doing so well, cum for me,” she whispers against your skin, kissing your neck.

Your mouth falls open, a breathless cry escaping as your orgasm overtakes you. The tension that had been building within you shatters, a wave of heat and pleasure coursing through your body. You arch into her, every nerve alight, the sensation so overwhelming that it renders you momentarily weightless. A strangled gasp follows, your voice raw and unrestrained, her name slipping from your lips like a plea and a prayer all at once.

—

Later, as the two of you lay tangled in the sheets, Rio’s arms wrap tightly around you, holding you, refusing to let go. The tension of the night seems to fade, replaced by a sense of closeness you hadn’t fully realised until now. She presses a kiss to the top of your head, her fingers tracing absent patterns along your back.

“You know,” she begins softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t usually do this—let people in, I mean. I don’t let myself feel this way.” She hesitates, her grip on you tightening slightly. “But with you... I can’t imagine not having you here.”

Your chest tightens at her words, and you tilt your head to meet her gaze. The raw vulnerability in her eyes makes your heart ache. “Rio...” you begin, your voice trembling slightly as your hand brushes against her cheek. “I love you.”

Her lips part in surprise, and then her smile grows, soft and genuine in a way you rarely see. “Took you long enough to say it,” she teases, though her voice is thick with emotion. She leans down, brushing her lips against yours in a kiss that’s slow and tender. When she pulls back, her eyes lock with yours. “I love you too, you know.”

You crack a small smile. “So, I guess you’re gonna be the one crashing at my place now, huh? Seeing as it’s your door that got kicked in this time,” you say, breaking the tender moment.

Rio blinks at you, then lets out a soft laugh. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” you reply, grinning now.

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darth-kote · 22 hours ago

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Echo Headcanons Pt. 1

Is such a sucker for any type of praise. Of course, all the clones love to hear they're doing well, but for Echo, it's almost a spiritual experience when his actions are highlighted and he gets the spotlight for a second. Even before Skako Minor, he loved hearing positive feedback from those willing to give it. Meeting Rex was like meeting a hero from a kid's story and hearing him say Echo could hold his own was exhilarating. He also remembers making ARC and all the celebrating he and Fives had done afterward. "I knew we'd do it. Thanks for never giving up on me, Ech." The eye-roll he'd given in response couldn't be helped.

After all the torture and isolation, he's much more reluctant to accept, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his heart's pace pick up. To this day, he can't help but turn a bit pink when Rex hits him with a "good job" or a particularly knowing look. It makes him feel so proud when he hears his ori'vod congratulate his skills and strategic thinking.

Craves physical connection very intensely. He sometimes feels the flames of jealousy lick at his mind when he watches CF99 all climb into a dog pile after their heavy picnics on Pabu. Each of them, even Omega, will curl into one another until Echo is left to sit alone and study their peaceful expressions. He fights the urge to stare, but he's all too aware of his metallic arm and legs. He wants to crawl closer to his siblings and let himself melt into their heartbeats and breathing; at one time, vod piles had been such a comforting way for him to decompress. But metal doesn't quite belong with flesh, and he has a hard time breaking through the barrier and letting himself be held. He sits quietly for a long while as if hit with several stun blasts. (Crosshair, ever aware, is the last to succumb to sleep and the first to notice Echo's rigidity. He likes to prove Echo wrong by resting his head on his brother's cybernetic lap; flesh or metal, they still see him as their vod.)

Okay okay... Echo got his name because he'd constantly repeat strategies or rules back to his brothers during their time as cadets. I think this would eventually be replaced with him mother-henning and nagging at every brother he gets slightly attached to. "Eat your carrots, Wrecker, Maker knows your eye could use it." (Wreck acquiesces with a grumble... When Echo turns his back to practically force-feed Crosshair a piece of broccoli - his jaw is locked shut like an activated bear trap - Wrecker slips the carrots to Batcher. Tech says nothing because the vitamins in the vegetable are beneficial for most biological organisms; he finishes his helping as he watches in silence. Hunter and Omega dutifully eat away, seeming to compete in silence as they make eye contact over the table.)

Tells Omega stories about Fives. He honors his brother as much as possible; he thinks Omega would enjoy hearing about some of her other brothers. He also talks about Hevy and the other dominoes quite a bit, but none as much as Fives... He knows Fives and Omega would have gotten along well and can imagine the passed-on Clone braiding her hair as it grows over the years.

Is similar to Rex in that he wishes to save as many brothers as possible from the clutches of the Empire. He imagines them all slowly trickling onto Pabu and finding lives there. He sometimes gets caught up in this daydream and is only brought back to reality by a cool teardrop slipping down the ridge of his nose.

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whentherewerebicycles · 3 days ago

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my baby is six months old today!!! he’s been alive for half a year!!!!! it somehow feels both like he's been in my life forever and like i just gave birth days ago. I love him so much it makes me feel a little frantic sometimes. he is down for his first nap now and I can hear him in his crib grumbling to himself about the terrible indignities they subject sweet little babies to these days (chief among them being wrapped in blankets in a soft little sleeping bag in a cozy warm room for a nice restorative nap).

I think I want to journal a bit today—six things about the baby + six thoughts about my experience of parenting thus far. baby first!

well i mean. he is just perfect. he is just the best little guy ever. all babies are the best little guy ever but he is MY best little guy you know? i love him so much. what is his personality like? i would say he has definitely retained something of the watchfulness and slight reserve he had as a newborn. he has these huge dark eyes and he studies things very intently and in general likes to Observe the Situation before wading in. but he is, so far, not especially shy? the stranger danger phase has not set in yet so he enjoys being held by a wide range of people and will warm up to new faces after a bit, especially if they make silly expressions at him or sing to him. he also definitely has His People, who he is not reserved with at all. the second my sister walks in he starts kicking his legs furiously and babbling to her to get her to come over and talk to him. he looooves my mom and is way snugglier with her than anyone else. he adores his primary babysitters (his nanny + liz's husband A) and is sooo chatty with them. he was slow to smile (liz's baby was beaming at everybody from like five weeks on but i don't think O was smiling regularly until about 12 weeks) and he is still pretty selective with them (strangers do NOT get smiles unless they make a very silly surprising noise). but his general temperament is just like… he’s a calm, even-keeled, good-natured little guy who is down for pretty much whatever. this kid can hang.

he is REALLY good at independent play. if he's fed and changed he can pretty much entertain himself for 45-60 min at a time without any input from me. he just kicks around on his mat and plays with his toys. in the morning he wakes up around 6:30 but the family does not get up until 7:20 and he will just hang out in his crib making his hands dance in the air and chattering happily to himself. i think this is probably like 80% inborn temperament... my mom says i was the exact same way as a baby, just like totally content to chill and think and talk to myself. but i think maybe 20% of it is also things i consciously did to encourage this from about four weeks on and i am proud of that! i think one of the qualities i like best in myself is that i have a high tolerance for boredom because i can just get lost in my thoughts/imagination. as long as i have something to think about or some imaginary situation to play out in my head i am content. i really want that for him too! idk more thoughts about this when i journal about parenting lol. but i appreciate that he doesn't have to be entertained 24/7 (at least at this age). he is content to just be on his own or just be in the room watching people do other stuff.

obviously i adored him from the start lol but i would say that four months marked a big turning point in terms of how much fun he was to hang out with. he just started seeming so much more alert and engaged around then. and then this last five to six months span of time has just been SO fun. he's fully a little person. he has preferences and opinions and favorite toys and favorite people and favorite animals (ruthie). he is learning ALL the time. you can see him puzzling things out and beginning to develop a rudimentary understanding of cause and effect. right now, like in the past week or so, he is extremely into TEXTURES. he must scritch-scratch absolutely everything with his little baby nails. he is obsessed with his "baby paper" (crinkly paper) and he is much more open to tummy time now mainly because it allows him to scritch-scratch all the different quilts we use as playmats. he likes to scritch-scratch the glass when i take him to the window in the morning to show him his friends the trees, and if there is any kind of graphic on my t-shirts he MUST scratch the edges of it. and he does all of this with a look of total focus lol this kid is LOCKED IN on scritch-scratching.

he laughs so much these days. he also seems to have figured out that people react positively and often rush over to engage with him when he laughs, so sometimes if i'm on the other side of the room and he wants me to pay attention to him he will just do this "huh-huh-HAH-HA! HA!" belly laugh so i'll come over and make silly faces at him. i do pretty much nonstop funny accents and comedy bits for him and i'd say i get a laugh 50% of the time... the other 50% of the time he just gives me this wide-eyed look that clearly says "ok... this lady is nutso and i seem to be trapped in her care... i need to proceed carefully here..." which is also very funny.

he is really into being gently manhandled right now haha. i think it is probably related to developing proprioception? but he loves to be "flying baby" (where you lift him over your head and zoom him around like an airplane) and he loves being a pendulum in a giant clock (where you hold him under his arms and swing his body back and forth as you lift him up and down) and he REALLY loves it when you wrap him up in your arms and roll into a ball and roll over and over a bunch of times. also it delights him when you play-wrestle with him and tickle him even though he cannot yet really wrestle back lol. bonus points if you also growl at him and pretend you are going to eat him up... that's a big hit right now. when i was a kid my dad would wrestle with us all the time and pretend to be a bear chasing us around the house on all fours and let us ride on his back and stuff and it was so much fun. so far it is also pretty fun for the grownup lol i feel like it's a great way to get some silly energy out. but also i think i need to start lifting weights lol because this kid is already so heavy and i want to be able to keep tossing him around and wrestling with him when he's even bigger!!

on a related note: he is getting much stronger!! he is a big boy (as of today: 75th percentile for weight, 98th percentile for height, and wearing 12 month clothes). some of the physical milestones have been challenging for him because he weighs a lot and has a big ol noggin, so it's a lot of work to lift/maneuver his body. but he is rolling over pretty regularly and happily now, and in the last day or two he's started pushing up on his hands a little when he's on his tummy which was the big tummy time milestone he hadn't hit yet. he can also sit up with hip support and is starting to brace himself on his hands while sitting. the contrast with my nephew has been so funny to watch... my nephew is two and a half months older and is the tiniest, springiest little guy, so it's a lot easier for him to monkey around lol. but my nephew also just has this truly nonstop internal motor that seems to drive him to MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE at all times. my baby uhh does not have that motor lol. he finds my nephew's frenetic energy a little overwhelming and is like actually i would prefer to lounge around here on my mat scritch-scratching a quilt, thank you. truly my child lol. why "move around" when you could instead sit in one place daydreaming. it's funny to watch them together and just be like ohhh kids are SO different there's such a wide spectrum of normal.

ok there are six things!!! some other rapidfire facts just for my files: he is still quite gloriously bald but he's started getting hair! no eyebrows yet though lol and no sign that they are on the horizon. he loves taking baths with me except maybe "loves" is the wrong word... he takes bathtime deathly seriously because it is Water Kicking Time and he was put on this earth to Kick Water. so bathtimes are training sessions... he does not smile at ALL during baths he is too Locked In, but he screams and screams when you try to take him out because he was STILL TRAINING. his eyes still have a little bit of that newborn dark blue left but are mostly dark brown now with perhaps the barest hint of hazel. he is really into music and will go into a trance state when you sing to him or play instruments for him. he loves to chomp on his toys. he used to "kiss" your cheek but now just wants to nom nom nom on your face. his cheeks get so rosy when he's worked up or chilly or excited. he is transfixed by his own hands. he does this sharp startled little inhale when something surprises him. he can now take his pacifier out of his mouth and sometimes put it back in (i'd say we have a 20% success rate of getting the pacifier back in the right way). he is almost always a perfect sleeper although we had a little rough patch last night so i'm holding my breath hoping he's not about to have some kind of regression. he loves to kvetch and has mastered the fine art of lowgrade grumbling and complaining. he is teething and so there is a lot of drool everywhere all the time. he likes to hold his board books while i read to him i think it makes him feel important and involved lol. he is very soft and warm and smells good. he loves to snuggle in the big bed with mom. he is the best. he is just the best!!! i am the luckiest person in the world. i love him so much and i love being his mom. what a good baby!!!

#baby tag #six months!

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needy-princass · 11 hours ago

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‎‧₊˚✧survival - first round ✧˚₊‧ sometimes when i'm edging myself, this is what i imagine

your head was dizzy and your ears were ringing a bit when you started to gain your senses again. your memories were blurry, the last thing coming to your mind was arriving home after a long day of university, then nothing.

you felt cold, your whole body was shivering so you tried to move your hands, reaching for the blanket but you couldn't. as you became more conscious, you realized that both of your hands were restrained above your head. panic flooded you and you opened your eyes. your legs were forced apart and tied to the end of the table on which you were laying. you were completely naked and vulnerable.

"now that our last contestant is awake too, let's start the show." you heard the voice of a man from behind you, he was using a microphone. but wait, what? contestant? panic rushed through you as you tried to look around and you were able to see some tables next to you with naked women on them, just as you were. as you lifted your head and looked ahead of you, in the not so far distance you noticed a whole audience. a whole fucking audience with screens in front of them. you didn't have time to panic, the announcer continued. "welcome to our annual whore competition. the rules are similar as usual. we will announce a category, you place your bets on whichever whore you think will go on the longest without an orgasm and then my colleagues will start to work on the sluts, and you enjoy the show."

what? no, no, no, no, no. this can't be happening right now.

"the first category, just for some warm up, is stimulating the clit, and only the clit until an orgasm is reached. please start placing your bets while my colleagues step next to their assigned whores."

a man, at least 20 years older than you, calmly walked next to you and smiled smugly. he was taking in your whole body with his eyes, looking hungry as hell. you were afraid. very afraid. you tried to struggle your way out of your bondage but it was firm as fuck, there was no use.

"please, please, please let me go. please i promise i won't tell anyone, just don't do this to me." you whispered with teary eyes but the man's smile just grew wider.

then, the sound of a bell, and the bets were placed. "wonderful. the gentlemen who will work on the whores will do everything exactly the same. same pace, same motions. i will tell them when to speed up or slow down. you may start the first round. use only one finger at a slow speed."

the man next to you licked his lips, then the inevitable happened. he touched your shaved, bare pussy. he pushed his middle finger to your clit and started to move it in slower, circular movements, just like when someone starts to masturbate.

you closed your teary eyes and bit your lips. you decided the best tactic would be what you do at the gynecologist. just dissociate, think about something else and it'll be over. but this was a very hard task in this situation. you felt the man's stare on your face while he was rubbing your sensitive clit.

"contestant 3 is starting to get wet." you heard a voice of a man from a distance.

"everyone may speed up your pace, you can use two fingers." said the announcer and every man did so. you felt some kind of warm feeling at your lower stomach when more of his skin was rubbing yours as a quicker pace. no, no, no.

"contestant 7 is also becoming wet." the man announced next to you how shameful you were. getting wet in this fucked up and twisted situation? really???

you bit your lips and tried to ignore everything but soon his fingers were moving a bit more smoothly as your clit, which was dry up until now, became slippery and wet.

"ah~aah~" you heard someone as she tried to quiet her moans and the man who was working on her announced that she, contestant 6, had an orgasm, finishing last place on this round. he was ordered to stop touching her completely and the girl got 2 points.

"everyone else quicken your pace, you can use 3 fingers but only work on the clit. any kind of motion is allowed."

the man working on you stopped the circling and started to move three of his fingers quickly from left to right on your already sensitive bead, which made you moan in surprise. you quickly bit your lips and tried to think about anything else. you couldn't allow yourself to cum in front of so many people.

moaning and the sound of heavier breathing started to fill the area, this third quickening of pace broke everyone who was silent until now and two girls even had an orgasm, so the got 3 points, and only three remaining contestants remained, including you.

you felt your juices reach your thighs and your asshole, which was all the more embarrassing. the hot sensation in your lower stomach was growing dangerously.

after the two girls came, the order of full speed and four fingers were given out and the man working on you started to abuse your little clit in an impossible speed.

"aahhhh" you accidently let out a moan and started to pant as you were fighting a dangerously close orgasm, while one of the girls came, so it was only you and another woman. your hole clenched around the air, you felt hot in your whole body and the sound of your wet pussy being abused was all too much, but you tried to hold on. you can't lose. you can't lose your dignity in front of these people. no. you have to hold out.

the only other girl whose pussy was being played with came with a loud moan, meaning that you were the winner, who was able to hold out for the longest time without an orgasm.

you thought the torture would stop. that the random man, whose hand was soaked in your pussy juices would leave your sensitive clit alone, but the next order to him was to make you have an orgasm, whatever it takes, but only by playing with my clit.

so, he grinned, removed his hand from my pussy and put on a black glove with bumpy tips. he circled with it around my pussy to make it wet and slippery, making me tremble because of the new sensation, then started to abuse my little clit again, with an insane speed. i cried out, arching my back, clenching both of my holes. i've never felt anything like this before.

it didn't take long for my already sensitive clit. i had a loud, messy orgasm, my hole was pulsating, i was able to hear it, it was so juicy. this is so shameful.

i will continue with the second round soon, i hope you enjoyed it.~~

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clumsybriar · 2 hours ago

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Simon “Ghost” Riley X GN! Reader — I’ll Be Home For Christmas

Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN! Reader — I’ll Be Home For Christmas

Notes: if you see any error please feel free to let me know! I made another Gender Neutral for Christmas! (If you see any mistakes with gender for the reader please let me know, I want to make sure I fix it so everyone can enjoy!)

Word count: 1340

Warnings: None!

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Christmas season was upon you. The wait was no longer needed and the holiday season was in full throttle for many people. But for you it felt like the holidays just weren’t here yet, not without Simon.

It had been months since you last saw Simon. The countdown had been brutal — each day dragging on like a century, filled with empty space and a gnawing ache in your chest. The last words he’d said to you were promises, hollow at the time. But now, somehow, a beacon of hope. Especially for you.

“I’ll be back for Christmas, I swear on it.”

You hadn’t expected it to be easy. Life with Simon Riley had always been an unpredictable blend of intensity and distance, but there was something about it this time that just felt…different.

It could have stemmed from many different things, truly. Like there was something about the way he’d held you the night before he left, the unspoken words in his eyes as he kissed you goodbye at the airport.

Maybe it was just the fact that the holidays made everything feel more…amplified.

Like the empty chair at your dinner table, or the lonely flicker of Christmas lights on the tree.

But today just felt different. Like something magical was truly going to happen like some sort of Christmas miracle. Which is kinda cheesy to think about. But you couldn’t help it, you just felt a flicker of hope. Who would blame you for holding onto that flicker of hope.

People always said miracles happen on Christmas and you hoped just this once, it would happen. Even if it was on Christmas Eve.

You found yourself standing in front of your front door, staring at the snow falling softly outside. The world felt quiet, calm, and still. In your opinion it was too still. You glanced at the clock for the fifth time in the last hour and you could just tell the hands in the clock seemed to mock you, ticking by at a pace that made the seconds feel like years.

Your attention was quickly drawn away though, when suddenly a car door slammed. It was then followed by the unmistakable sound of boots crunching through the snow. Something you had heard often when Simon was coming home in the winter. Though he wasn’t grumbling or complaining like he usually did.

You knew he hated winter, the cold wasn’t his favorite. He hated how it set deep into his bones, sometimes making him feel like he couldn’t warm up. He dealt with it though because deep down you knew he liked to have a white Christmas.

The crunching of snow got closer. Your heart skipped a beat. You couldn’t help it but to step closer toward the door, breath catching in your throat. Your hand reached forward for the doorknob and when you opened it, there he was…

Simon.

His face was partially obscured by the shadow of his balaclava, but you’d recognize that broad frame and those piercing brown eyes anywhere. His tactical gear was gone, replaced by a simple black hoodie and faded jeans. His duffel bag hung over one shoulder, snowflakes settling on his mask and on his shoulders decorating him for the vast winter wonderland.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. He just stood there, looking at you like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to believe you were real. If you were being honest you felt the same and maybe wondered if you had too much eggnog in your system.

You were the first to move, closing the distance between you in an instant. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. His scent, that familiar mix of sweat, leather, and something uniquely him, filled your senses.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Simon’s arms tightened around you, his usual stoicism giving way to something raw. “Had to make sure I did,” he replied, his voice low and gravelly. “Couldn’t miss this… couldn’t miss you. Plus I’m pretty sure I promised you I’d be home.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand coming to rest against his jaw. His eyes flickered down to your lips before returning to your gaze, something soft and vulnerable lingering there — a look you’d rarely seen from him.

“Been waiting for you,” you said, your thumb brushing over the area where his scar was located on his cheek, the mark you’d kissed so many times in the past. Now it was still covered in that balaclava he loved so much. “I thought I’d go crazy without you.”

He let out a breath, his hand coming up to cup your face gently. “I know. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, smiling despite the ache in your chest. “Don’t apologize, Simon. Just… just be here. Be with me.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The world outside might have been freezing, but here, in this moment, it felt like time had stopped entirely — just the two of you, finally reunited after what felt like an eternity apart.

“You got the tree up,” Simon said, glancing over your shoulder at the twinkling lights and the ornaments hanging from the branches.

You smiled sheepishly. “I tried. Thought I’d have someone to help me decorate it, but…” you trailed off, your voice thick with unspoken words.

Simon’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “Yeah, I get it.” He gently lifted his balaclava above his nose as you could see his red lips which were surely chapped due to the weather and his mask.

He leaned forward, pressing a slow, tender kiss to your lips. It was the kind of kiss that made everything else in the world fade away, leaving nothing but the feeling of him — your Simon — finally home. His lips were warm against yours, his touch grounding you in ways words could never explain.

When he pulled back, he took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath.

You laughed softly, pulling him inside. “Merry Christmas, big guy. You almost missed it,” you teased, “but I guess you made it just in the nick of time.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He raised an eyebrow, a rare glimmer of mischief flashing in his eyes. “That’s all that matters.”

You smiled and closed the door behind him, then turned back to him, finally feeling like the holiday season had begun. Christmas had never meant much to you before — not without him. But now, with Simon standing here, his presence filling the room with something warmer than the heat from the fireplace, everything felt right.

You let go of his hand only for a moment to grab something from the kitchen. “I made dinner,” you said, glancing back over your shoulder. “You hungry? If I know you the answer is yes.”

Simon chuckled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. “Maybe…yes.” He gave you a teasing look, one that made your heart flutter. “I am starving.”

“Figured as much, they don’t feed you enough do they?” you shot back with a grin. “They’re starving you, all my hard work of feeding you well has gone down the drain.”

Simon’s expression softened, and for a long moment, you both stood there, the weight of everything that had happened — the long deployments, the fears, the missed moments — evaporating in the warmth of the room. He was home with you.

“Yeah, look at me,” he teased, his voice full of something you couldn’t quite place, but it was good. “Skin and bone, not fluffy and cuddly.”

And as the night carried on, you and Simon settled together on the couch, the tree lights casting a soft glow over the room. The world outside seemed so far away, and for the first time in a long time, there was peace.

This Christmas, you had everything you needed. Simon, home where he belonged.

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epickiya722 · 2 days ago

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Thank you Kiya for being The Number 1 Defender of Izuku and Yuuji...😆😁😄🎖

Every time I read your posts about them, I'm so happy and proudly reblog and even show your metas to anyone who like to badmouth Izuku and Yuuji.

What I love about your metas about them are they're all based on canon. Yes, you also loce made headcanons about your favorite characters but when you defend them against those haters, all your analysis are based on canon material that most people don't really paid attention, too...🥇🏅💐

From that anon before, yes, I've read them in twitter, and got so mad, like why you have to hate Izuku and Katsuki that much?! Thanks for your posts, Kiya...💐🌻

Anon, I am sending so many hugs to you right now! You're too sweet! 😭💜

Yuji and Izuku are my boys, my faves, I just adore them, you know?

This past year or so, I just find myself wanting to ramble whether it do be meta posts or fun little headcanons and I'm glad to see you enjoy them!

Honestly, while sometimes I feel like I maybe reading a little much into the mangas (or anything), I like going back and taking in each detail bit by bit. From what I have seen, sometimes those little details do matter.

(Right now, I have two posts about the last volume covers for JJK and MHA because I have thoughts and I feel like I must say these things before they stay in my head rotating over and over.)

It's really just I have my favorite characters and I hate it when I see people hate on them for reasons that don't really make sense at all!

Like, hate them if you want, alright. Not everyone will like that character. I have characters I don't feel a lot of hype for.

However, when I see people hate on Izuku and Yuji, it's like they post anything just to be "right" about their hatred. Like "I hate this character and I'm right because of this reason." You don't hate to be right about how you feel. Your opinion of a character isn't a fact! It's based on feelings!

You don't have to throw anything to be like "my opinion is a fact".

No, your opinion is BASED on a fact.

When I have my meta rambles, they're my opinions, they're my theories. But I don't just have them and think I'm right. I have them because of what I interpret from canon and then the gears in my head get to turning.

I honestly feel like it's just the "Let's hate on New Gen MCs" trend. Which is weird to me because these some of these new MCs are no different and just as great as their predecessors.

Maybe it's just me, I don't know, but when people say they hate Izuku or Yuji I'm just like "huh".

I'm still trying to process how anybody can find Yuji or Izuku "boring" or "have no development". HUH?! I don't know if they just see that sunshine personality and they're stuck on that "nice characters are boring" mentality. Maybe it's that.

Like, they're both nice and compassionate, but they can also have their moments when they're not. Neither of them is as "pure, naive and innocent" as some people try to portray them as and when people do that, sometimes it is to say "see they're not that badass, not like my GOAT who would body their enemies".

Watching the Izuku vs Muscular fight, I thought Izuku killed that man. Yuji literally has put fear into the curse that embodies the fear of humans... HOW DO YOU MAKE FEAR FEAR YOU?!

Really, it's gotten to the point that even characters that aren't my favorites (or my number one faves) will get hate and that hate make no sense that it makes me go "am... am I reading a different manga?" Yeah, Katsuki is definitely an example. Like, I get it and as I said, hate him if you want. Not everyone will like him.

But if you actually read the manga and watched the anime from start to finish and say "Katsuki doesn't have development", I don't trust you. Yeah, he's an ass and all that but even he is aware. I have seen people defend WORSE characters and hate him..

Could be just me, but I don't know what's fun about being a hater. And I mean, someone is constantly hates and hates and post about it endlessly.

I have things I hate, too and yeah, I will express it. But to do it every single second that you're known to be a hater is wild. And then calling it being "critical"? No, criticism can be helpful. You're not helpful if you just say you hate this thing and then make up something.

That's enough rambling! 😆

Again, Anon, thank you so much!! And I hope you have a lovely day! 💜

#kiya answers #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #midoriya izuku #izuki midoriya #deku #itadori yuji #yuji itadori #yuuji itadori #itadori yuuji

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leandra-kinard · 2 days ago

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I can see your point that there's a clash of intention/topic here from your perspective. However, for me it was an opportunity to make a connected/related "counter" point (also not solely aimed at your original post but the added screenshot as well), because I also feel posts like yours could - under certain circumstances and through certain readings - be adding to a general harsher rift between the two factions than necessary. I'm definitely not saying that was your attention, but personally it's something that, let's say, slightly miffed me about this whole conversation a couple of times now, in a variety of posts.

I do understand why you think I should have made my own post on it, rather than adding to yours. But then again, I do enjoy a conversation and polite debate rather than just "ranting to the void". I believe it can be very beneficial to those engaging in such a debate in good faith and the ones reading it. But that's my POV. So I guess this is where we both clash in our preferences on how to add/debate or not debate/add to such posts, and that is fine.

Regarding the main points you made, you know how you meant it and what context you brought it up from - so in that regard it's fully valid - but some people may take it as "Ah look, this person, too, says the Buddies are homophobic (in general/often)". Tumblr reading comprehension and all, you know?

I am also definitely not saying you are erasing anyone's experience. I'm just saying, in general, this tendency to point to homophobia sometimes does that - albeit unintentionally, I assume. It is a bit of a slippery slope, imho, because sometimes the people expressing their wishes for a specific type of queer story (like what they imagine Buddie could have been like) are queer people who have made those very experiences or similar ones themselves - lesbians who fell on love with their best friend and finally gave up on comphet behavior, or people who believed themselves to be straight and realized they were bi after all (not dissimilar to Buck). I know you're not saying these people all come from a place of homophobia, but I personally see a risk of it being read that way. Of people falling into that mentioned trap of dismissing ANY pro-Buddie sentiment as homophobic /otherwise problematic.

So, regarding the last statement you quoted, this was meant more generally to the Bucktommy fandom and not per se you or your post. We are not having a private conversation here, we are doing it in front of an audience who will approach both what you and I are saying with highly individual biases and viewpoints.

There is no issue with the things you said per se, but imho the risk of certain takeaways that I have already seen expressed callously by other people, e.g. "Most of the Buddies are straight women who are deeply homophobic" or similar.

The whole Silken debacle is cringe AF, and embarrassing for the whole 911 fandom. And we really do not have to talk about some of the much more vile and toxic things that were said and done. I am in absolute and full agreement to call those instances out and, like you, am disappointed to not see enough of such calling out from the Buddie fans. That is highly regrettable and cowardly.

I also understand (through posts like yours even more deeply than I already did before, as a 44 year old queer woman who lived with a gay guy for many years and has known many gay men), that many especially young shippers have a sort of watered-down image of the "ideal gay relationship" that isn't reflective of reality. There's nothing wrong with having certain preferences when it comes to reading and writing fic, but there IS something wrong with painting things outside of that comfort zone as icky or bad (like all that shitty discourse on Tommy being predatory and similar stupid takes).

In years of shipping and engaging in fandom I've seen takes that were bordering on or veering into (unintentional) homophobia, or rather bigotry towards gay men in particular, because so much of it is based on a sexually/romantically inexperienced and predominantly female perspective. There's a difference between how lesbians and gay men live out their sexuality and love life - at least in tendency - and it's important to acknowledge that and, as you said, read up on gay culture if one isn't too familiar with some things. Or to simply acknowledge that many preferences and approaches are valid and good, and, as you said, here's not a limit to what kinds of queer representation should be present in popular media.

Anyway, I also appreciate that you replied calmly and in good faith. Just to make it clear again, I do not disagree with the things you said or with pointing out these particular examples. I just personally think it is important to also remember (and remind others - the "audience" of these debates) not to generalize as a takeaway from these very valid observations.

the more and more time i spend on tumblr and come across insane Buddie takes and behavior, the more and more i am convinced that the small, vocal, toxic subsection of shippers who don't know how to behave are, how shall i say it?

homophobic

they don't seem to actually like gay men. the situation with richard siken is an example of that. what they appear to like is their made-up version of what gay men are like and what they do. there's no concept of nuance or an actual understanding of queerness that informs their ship.

and i don't think you do need to understand it. sometimes you can just enjoy something without looking into it differently. but if you're going to be out on main talking about Buddie this and Buddie that, then you absolutely need to do the bare minimum and inform yourself on gay culture and gay issues so you don't, you know, go after a gay poet because you didn't like his tone.

sorry, there's a reason gay men of his demographic don't take shit. it's because they took so much shit that a large percentage of them died. the ones that survived don't owe you a tone when you act like an idiot.

the internet is free. wikipedia is free.

use a search engine and educate yourself, just a tiny little bit, and stop fetishizing while holding onto homophobic attitudes

#buddie #bucktommy #tevan #911 discourse

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aver-eesis · 5 months ago

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Worldbuilding stuff

#This is from sometime last year i think?? enjoy #oc #faun #harpy #felidae #aver eesis

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starflungwaddledee · 1 month ago

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did you remember to leave space for all your phantom limbs?

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☀︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ ★⋆ ┊ ◦ kirbytober 2024 #03 ★⋆ miracle // phantom // magic

#starstruck dee #bandana waddle dee #my art #my comics #kirbytober #rare un-bowed starstruck moment!! only sometimes when sleeping; mostly with company who do a similar ritual. so she participates #you would not believe the number of incredibly important monologues that occur while starstruck is snoozing!!#truly she can sleep through anything (if you can get her to fall asleep). not an easy feat #though bandee always manages it! when she can't sleep but she's trying (often) she comes to his room. she just sleeps better not alone.#i wonder if someone from last year's kirbytober will recognise this location design!! i tried to keep it consistent!#anyway! hello lore comics it's been a while! this one wasn't planned actually. was not next in my schedule for her #but this prompt worked so well for it!! so here it is. hope you enjoy!! <3 #do i need to... i mean it's obvious this is lore but i guess i should tag it:#🎀🔍#my dream is that one day i will drop something So Pretentious or Confusing or Cheeky that folks will full-legal-name me in comedy rage #“STARFLUNG!WADDLE!DEE!” etc. i think i've said this before actually. i'm getting deja vu... but i do always think it's peak comedy!

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moonkhao · 3 months ago

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hi.

#i know most of you didn’t even realize i was gone #but man…#my mental health was like in a state of 📉📉📉 in the past 30 days like we love being mentally ill and fucking insane <3 #it was mostly bc i panicked and started obsessing over possible water damage in my flat kind of out of nowhere #like it started when my landlord came to check my bathroom bc my downstairs neighbours had water stains on their ceiling back in july #which had been caused by their shower curtain apparently but i was already spiraling when my landlord told me so i was sure it was my fault #i was assuming it was bc of me bc i had sometimes been spilling some of my bathwater and i was like WHAT IF IT HAS GONE THROUGH THE FLOOR?#and it didn't help that it has been hot af and very humid in my apartment LIKE WELL OVER 25 DEGREES AND 60% HUMIDITY #anyways i couldn’t shake this not matter what i tried and my fucking insane brain made me think i was going to get arrested for like #flooding the whole building or for causing some sort of mold infestation #i had SO MANY panic attacks; i wasn't able to sleep; i wasn't able to eat; i was on edge and panicky basically 24/7 so fun fun fun :D #and i kept waking up in the middle of the night and HAD to go check my walls or the space below my kitchen #it was compulsory like i couldn't not get up and go check and tbh i would've thrown out all of my furniture if i could've to check for mold #(and shhhh i know how fucking insane this sounds but having a mentally ill brain that's anxious all the time does suck ass sometimes 🥲)#(the worst thing about it tho was that i was SO AWARE of how insane about this i was being and yet i couldn't stop losing my mind over it)#(also i was so ready to move tf outta here bc i couldn't handle being triggered 24/7 which is why my mom let me stay with her last week )#i was so out of it that i couldn't even let myself do the things i usually enjoy... like at all #like watching my shows or spending any ungodly amount of time on tumblr... or replying to messages i got from people who i love #ig this goes to show HOW bad this actually was for me mentally bc usually tumblr and my shows are like my safe place #anyways we finally had a leak detection dude come over today and we had him check the water levels in my walls #and he said everything is fine and he specifically told me i should stop worrying about any water damage BC THERE IS NO WATER DAMAGE #he also said that the weather has just been insanely humid this year so it's not surprising that the humidity levels are higher than usual #i’m still a bit scared about some possible mold but ig this is good enough for now #i am aware how ridiculous this must sound for anyone who's reading this now but couldn't let it go not even with meds so let me live pls :(#TLDR I WAS GOING THROUGH IT BUT I AM BACK I THINK AND I AM MOST LIKELY GOING TO START BOTHERING YOU WITH MY GIFS AGAIN <3 #AND I JUST REALIZED I HAVEN'T EVEN SEEN ANY OF THE HEART KILLERS STUFF YET ASIDE FROM ONE OR TWO PICS LIKE :(#OH AND I NEED TO START WATCHING SUMMER NIGHT ;_;#sabrina talks #@AIRENYAH GIRL I AM SO SORRY I WILL PROBABLY REPLY TO YOUR MESSAGES LATER TODAY OR TOMORROW MORNING ;_;<3

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bitegore · 2 days ago

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if you're not fussy about texture but like a good taste, I find that you can skip milk/shortener/etc entirely and just use flour, eggs, water and a little extra sugar to accomodate the lack of sweetness from the milk. I know I don't really notice a difference.

Also if you want a really easy gluten free dessert recipe that I use often - amaranth flour, egg, sugar, water, whatever spices you like in your sweets (vanilla extract is my only certain one here). Mix them up, taste the batter to be sure it's sweet enough, and then just put it in the microwave for 2-4 minutes (however long it takes to be 'done' if you stick a fork in it). Sometimes I make a sauce to top it with by just mixing sugar and hot water and pour that over it, but it's pretty good on its own. Amaranth flour has a kind of nutty taste and it comes out richer in flavor than it sounds.

I've done this with almond extract, with rose water and pistachios, with anise extract, and with pumpkin spice, and also if i remember right once i did it with hot pepper flakes and cocoa powder but i might've added more ingredients to that one. Wasn't nearly as good when I mixed any all purpose flour or rice flour in, it's best to just use plain amaranth flour. This is good if you want a sweet treat really badly and don't have the time, energy, patience, etc to make something "real".

you can also make rice pudding with coconut milk instead of dairy milk, it's not the kind of pudding where it changes the recipe significantly

also you can make mulled fruits (pears, oranges, apples, strawberries if you're bold, etc) by poaching certain fruits in a mixture of spices, wine/cider/etc, and sugar, which are also a good treat and have the additional benefit of being pretty unlike any other desserts people recommen and (most likely) not something you remember from your childhood... god knows sometimes the gluten free or dairy free versions of something you've had before in an unadjusted recipe are a ridiculous letdown and it helps me to broaden my horizons and eat things i've never had before instead. (I do enjoy my mulled fruit with ice cream b/c i'm not dairy free these days, but it's probably good with any rich flavors. goes nicely with some savory dishes too, i still dream about a very expensive tiny little cut of lamb with mulled pear sauce i had once years ago and plan on indulging in again as soon as i can make sure someone else pays for it lol)

finally - if you really step outside your usual wheelhouse (I have recently) acorn squash of all the things can be roasted into almost caramel sweetness in the oven, and then turned into soup. My acorn squash soup is a savory dish, but the more i make it (i have so far made a variant of the same soup six times in the last two months, it's delicious and easy if a ltitle time consuming), the more I think about how good it would be if instead of mixing it with chicken broth and hot peppers and garlic and also as many cloves nutmeg ginger cinnamon etc as i can fit in there, i put in some vanilla extract and my usual dessert spices and a bunch of marshmallow and some brown sugar and maple syrup as was suggested in the recipe i didn't follow for the first time i made the soup because it was so sweet without it that i was kind of flabbergasted... basically doing some sort of marshmallow sweet potato soup with it.

☝️ This may not be a universal experience. I've never had acorn squash before this year and this year I had it because I signed up for a local farmshare to force myself to eat some vegetables that weren't onions or grocery store arugula for the first time in half a decade. from what i have both heard and tasted myself, farm produce and grocery store produce vary, sometimes very little and sometimes huge amounts, in terms of taste and especially in terms of sweetness. Your mileage may vary.

This recipe is what i *very very loosely* cribbed my method from, but tbh i didn't use any of the recommended ingredients besides the roast garlic because i didn't have any of them in the house and i don't like to add cream to my dishes (it doesn't need coconut milk or heavy cream - the texture is very smooth on its own!) and instead of topping it with roasted seeds - side note, if you like pumpkin seeds, save the seeds from the squash and soak them in salt water for about an hour (the amount of time it takes to roast the squash), put them on a baking sheet, spritz some oil if you want but its not necessary, dust with spices or lemon juice if you want but again unnecessary, and roast for 20-30 minutes at 300F & you now have basically roast pumpkin seeds for basically free just by having the acorn squash. ive been eating a lot of squash seeds and saving lots of money on bags of chips - i put bacon on it the first time and the second time i just had it plain. its good plain. its good as fuck. im kind of obsessed with this squash and the soup. i eat my dinner and it feels like dessert.

generally i am a big kitchen experimentalist because i hate to follow recipes and i hate to buy ingredients. but truth be told, my experience is also that - having restrictive diets and such that gluten allergies do to you, not even counting dairy - the best way to get desserts that actually taste good to me and also don't cost an arm and a leg is just to fuck around with the basics of decent desserts, like spices you like and sweeteners you like and flours you like and stuff - and just keep adding new elements until you've found dishes that work for you. Most of mine are really lightweight easy things that cook quickly or without a lot of additional work, but i also spend a lot of time making burnt sugar, caramel or toffee because i like sugar a lot and it's cheap and easy and it tastes good. if you like recipes it's probably not easier but i don't like recipes and it's miles easier for me to freestyle my way into accidental glory.

oh one last one! another relatively unusual one, cook rice noodles in coconut water and sugar for Dessert Soup, especially with chopped fruits and nuts and spices in there. and a splash of red wine for body. the red wine is optional but i think it improves it a lot personally

I see you know about gluten free desserts, do you have any good dairy (milk specifically) free cookie recipes? Specifically chocolate chip? (any other desert is alright too... I just miss deserts)

So you can make the tollhouse chocolate chip cookie recipe (just search "tollhouse chocolate chip cookie recipe", it's the one ontheback of the bag) with vegetable shortening instead of butter and you can use Njoy chocolate chips and you should have a tasty, crispy, dairy-free chocolate chip cookie.

Also look up 3-ingredient peanut butter cookies, the only ingredients are eggs, peanut butter, and sugar.

You can also make pie pastry with shortening and then make a berry or cherry filling with fruit, water, sugar, lemon juice, and starch for a fully vegan dessert.

And for something different, look up how to make mango sticky rice, which is a Thai dessert made with rice, coconut milk, sugar, and mango.

#trying to recommend kind of offbeat desserts beacuse im sure you've already heard people recommend 'oh just try italian ices' or w/e #i grew up in a gf household with a sister with a dairy allergy and i also have a . minor. dairy allergy. i mostly ignore it but like i try #to avoid cooking with dairy products. i do drink a ludicrous amount of milk but i go out of my way not to use butter LMFAO

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