#as always I have SO MUCH GOOD STUFF I literally love all of my threads rn so fuckin much

[byanyan]

icb I cleaned out some really old drafts that I kinda didn't want to let go of in order to bring down my number of drafts... only to save several answers to reply to and like several starter calls until my draft number got even bigger than it was before

[fashion-runways]

hi!! new pinned post, because the last one had gotten long again-- if you want to read previous posts, here's the first one, here's the second one. the tl;dr from those is that my dad got wrongfully imprisoned abruptly, our place was raided, the cops broke a bunch of shit and took a bunch of our things and still haven't returned them, they left all the broken things for us to spend money in repairing, we had to spend money on a lawyer, trips to visit him, new clothes, medicine and food for him in jail, etc. it was a mess, way more details in both posts. he's back home now, with an ankle monitor because technically his case isn't being investigated yet, they haven't done anything about it at all, the case hasn't moved one ounce lmao it's great, always trust the judicial system and cops!! ugh, anyway!

we found a therapist for my dad who can help her deal with all the stuff he had to deal with while in prison, all the bullying, the depression, the starving, the separation, etc. he needs to get a bunch of other medical appointments, has to get surgery, among other things, but for now things are much better on that front. that being said, he did lose his job and my old redbubble account got suspended without a warning months ago, plus argentina's economy is... really bad right now. food prices rise every day, public transportation prices went up like a 200% in a couple of weeks, salaries are low and stuck there, subsidies are gone, the local peso keeps falling, we have an absolute psychopath as a president who spends more time insulting or threatening anyone who oppose him than caring about people. it's a disaster. for updates on argentina in english, this person on twitter makes very good informative threads if you're interested.

anyway, i used to make around 30/40 dollars a month in redbubble, and that used to help adding up to the donations i got here, and it got suspended, so now i make like 1/2 dollars on teepublic monthly. so... it's a huge loss. there's a lot of things me and my mom are in charge of paying-- groceries, power and water and gas, medicine (she's diabetic, i have some sort of chronic sinusitis), our dog and cat's food and medicines, wifi, phone bills, public transportation, healthcare, my dad's new therapist... so, you know, i really need anything people can donate. even if it's just a single dollar, literally any amount helps. i love fashion so much and i love this blog, i work really hard on it even when my brain says no, and i really appreciate how much you guys love it too. i love seeing people discover new styles, new designers, new things to be inspired by. so, yeah... i'm never going anywhere, but i do need help to basically stay afloat.

as usual, my kofi link is this one: https://ko-fi.com/fashionrunways and my teepublic link is this one: https://www.teepublic.com/user/dinah-lance. thanks for being around and sharing and reblogging my posts, thanks for asking questions about fashion, and of course thanks for helping to the ones who can, and thanks to the ones who can't too, i know how that feels like, don't worry about it. love you 💖

[the-fruitpunch-clown]

LOGANTOBER 2024:

DAY II: beard featuring old man! logan

tags: old man! logan, oral, again lol sorry i promise there’s more interesting stuff later this month!! ;)

logantober masterlist

old man! logan is such a munch change my mind!! it’s literally impossible to get him away from your cunt. not that you mind, mostly. 

after a long day, it’s all that’s on his mind doesn’t matter where, the second logan sees you he’s pinning you to the nearest surface and eating you out until he’s had his fill. 

this time, you’re busy making dinner when he comes up behind you, hands holding your hips lightly. you can feel the scruff of his beard as he buries his face in your neck, breathing your scent in. “missed you,” he mumbles, already laying kisses along your neck and jaw. 

“missed you too, lo,” you respond, leaning back against his chest and crossing your hands on top of his. it’s tender moments like this that you can’t help but fall more in love with logan. 

“let me take care of you, bub, alright?” logan asks, turning you around to face him as his hands rest on your hips. the look he gives you is of pure hunger. you reach up and cradle his jaw while threading your fingers through his beard, “it should be the other way around, don’t you think? you just got home from work, i should be taking care of you.” 

logan slowly pushes you back until you hit the counter, easily picking you up and forcing himself between your thighs. he rests his hands on your knees, tracing small patterns on your skin, “it’s fine, just let me have this.” 

he drops to his knees, spreading your thighs a bit more and shoving your skirt out the way. logan wraps his arms around your legs, forcing you to stay still. he leans in and breathes in your scent, making you squirm in his grasp. you can feel the scruff of his beard tickling your skin. he pulls your panties to the side and presses a kiss to your clit, and you shudder in response.

“so gorgeous, love you so much,” logan whispers against you before licking your cunt. he laps at you hungrily, pressing his mouth into your pussy as much as he can. logan is constantly moaning into your cunt, sending vibrations straight through your whole body. he has you whining and begging, calling out his name and pleading for more. logan’s beard continues to rub against your thighs, which leaves a slight stinging feeling. 

“f-fuck, logan. need more, please,” you plead. he pulls away from you suddenly, and before you can whine he presses a finger to your hole, slowly slipping in and thrusting into you. your whole

body shudders at the feeling. “that good baby? you like that?” he asks, his rough voice somehow always sounding so sweet to you. 

you moan in response and clench down on his finger. logan leans back into your cunt and sucks on your clit forcing your back to arch at his touch. your sounds of pleasure make logan even harder, and he has to keep himself from coming in his pants from how good you look, “fuck baby, keep riding my finger like that, such a good girl,” as he praises you logan slides a second finger into you, stretching you out a bit more. 

logan licking your clit, thrusting his fingers and curling them at just the right places, the feeling of his beard rubbing against you, becomes all too much as you come on his hand, whispering out a string of his name and curses. he guides you through it, mouthing sweet praises against your cunt as you ride out your orgasm. 

as you start to come down from your high, logan trails kisses from your center down your thigh, leading to your knee, before he looks up at you. he kneads the flesh of your thighs, rubbing comforting patterns into your skin. “you good baby?” 

you mumble a small, “mhm.” as he stands up, unbuckling his belt in the process. “good, because i’m not done with you yet.” 

notes: sorry that this is way later! definitely not intended, i got busy with life stuff. no logantober for tmr, sorry! i’ll be back with more on the 4th :))

all banners, dividers, and graphics are from @/saradika-graphics !!

[hungharrington]

I love to think that stevie boy cums so so much. his orgasms are always so intense… I just want to lazily stroke his cock and watch him cum for literally whole minute/two

mmmm this has been a delicious thought in my inbox for toooo long <3 have something short and sweet and hopefully subby enuf for the anon that was asking!! <3 mdni this entire blog is 18+

The sheets beneath you are warm and silky — but it's impossible to focus on anything else other than the little noises escaping Steve.

It's late. The night peeks through beneath the curtains. You're stretched out on your bed, cushioned back against the pillows and Steve's body is hot where it's pressed up against you. The television still hums from how it's recently been playing. You pay it no heed.

Every thought is of Steve. You're cocooned together on the bed, huddled against one another; you on your back and him on his side. He's shirtless, the scratch of chest hair on his chest rubbing lightly against your arm. His pretty face is all tucked into your neck, hidden away — and every noise that scrapes out his throat is high and whiny.

"Does that feel good?" You murmur, voice all sultry.

Steve moans loudly. Your hand is tucked into the front of his sweatpants, your fingers curled loosely around his cock, pumping slow and languid. It's wet and warm, his cockhead leaking precum enough to make your hand slick. His cock pulses and twitches in your hand.

"Y-yeah," His voice is breathy, his moan pressed into the hollow of your throat. "Yeah, baby, feels s'good."

You coo, letting your free hand curl up around his shoulders, tantalizingly slow. Your hand keeps working his cock as your nails scratch along the nape of his neck, dragging them down hard against the skin in the way you know he loves. Steve whines loudly, his hips bucking forward suddenly, canting into your hands. Your tummy drools with white hot lust.

"Y'look so pretty like this, honey," You say lowly. You let your lips scrape across his forehead, a soft kiss, and Steve moans brokenly— his hips thrusting forward again in your warm, wet, hand. He always was such a sucker for the sweet stuff.

You nuzzle into his hair again, letting your hand move up and up, til your palm brushes over the tip of his cock teasingly. Steve groans, his free hand which had been gripping the sheets shooting out to hold your side tightly.

"Pleasepleaseplease," His pleas fall out, moaned against the skin of your neck. You tease him for a second more before slipping down to cup his balls. Slowly, teasingly, you move your hand back up to his cock, thumbing over his slit again and reveling in the loud whine he makes. You've been tormenting him so long, his hips keep twitching forward, into your hand. It's adorable watching him trying to hold himself back.

"I'm— fuck, god, you're gonna make me—" A growl threads through his voice, his grip on your side suddenly tighter than ever. His fingernails press half-moons into your fiery skin. His voice melts away, pitching up as he wails into your neck, his words barely legible. "I'm— I'm— oh fuck, oh my god, baby, uh—"

He keens, whiny, staggered breaths in your ear as you feel the first dribble of cum spurt from his cock. His body tenses, face burying further into your neck as you keep moving your hand, fast and messy— Steve's hips meeting you midway with every thrust.

"That's it," You whisper, knowing he can hear you. "Let me have it all, baby."

"Fuuuuck," He moans, every sharp inhale laced with a whimper. A string of broken curses leave his mouth as he keeps thrusting, his cock still oozing ribbons of cum onto your hand. You slow your hand as you hear his voice go up, his lower groans turning into those whimpery overstimulated noises you love so much.

"That's it," You encourage him, still stroking him lazily. He always cums so much, always has so much to give you. You brush your lips against his forehead again, feeling how his fingers tighten on your torso when you do. "There we go, huh? Knew you needed this. Always have so much to give me, Stevie, don't you?"

Steve whines pitifully.

"I know," You murmur, lips curved into a smile. You're still stroking him, the wet sounds of your hand moving up and down, slick with his cum as his thighs tremble. "Poor baby just cums so much, don't you?"

[plaidos]

Sorry if this is going too far with turning your inbox into the children's cartoon complaint zone, but the stuff about Grenda in Gravity falls got me thinking.

I was a teenager when Gravity Falls was coming out, and it remains one of my favorite cartoons, but rewatching it recently made me uncomfortably aware of just how much mean-spirited and offensive comedy there is throughout. Grenda as a "comic relief" character is a huge one of course, but there's just a LOT of deriving comedy from people's bodies and appearances. Plus just straightforward man-in-a-dress jokes...

There's also the fact that Alex Hirsch seems to think AAVE (or like "slang" created to be a comically heightened imitation of AAVE) is the most hilarious thing ever, but also makes sure it's always coming from on-screen white characters, as if that unproblematizes the way it's mocked? It's a CONSTANT recurring thread throughout the series.

I ended up falling off a recent rewatch for a while after hitting the episode "Soos and the Real Girl." It really hit me there with the exact way they were characterizing Soos's social incompetence and "childish" interests, oh, he's straight up supposed to be autistic. He explicitly gets obsessed with the dating sim because he likes how social interactions have predictable rules in it, unlike real life. It's hammered home *multiple* times that one of his big stated social deficiencies is an inability to make eye contact, etc. Come the fuck on. And that's fine in a vacuum, the episode ends with everyone realizing he didn't need to change himself because he could still have value as a person as long as his awkwardness was charming to a quirky chubby woman.

But all the jokes in the episode are still about how funny it is that he's socially unaware and makes other people uncomfortable or frightened. And worse, it recontextualizes the way he's used as a joke throughout the rest of the series, the way he's portrayed as stupid, as a man-child, as being abused and taken advantage of by his employer while he's oblivious to it. It's just so gross. And that's not even getting into how he's also fat and Hispanic, and he's not just mocked but *dehumanized* for comedy CONSTANTLY.

Plus that episode throws in one of the show's transphobic jokes for good measure. Isn't it so funny that you can't tell if this person in alternative fashion is a man or a woman? Isn't it funny that Soos is so autistic-- I mean socially inept-- that he openly, in public, to their face, speculates on their gender? Not like for trans people that's a nightmare scenario that carries an implicit threat of violence or anything...

And all this is absolutely not to suggest that Gravity Falls is a uniquely harmful piece of media. I know for certain if you pick any network sitcom at random, before or even since Gravity Falls, you'd find way worse examples of all of this. But it's just a bummer to now be a grown-ass fat, autistic, trans woman who can recognize some of this stuff, and realize that even the media that's most special to me thinks it's funny to be hostile to people like me, that it's not really made for me. And to recognize that it's even worse for people who are marginalized in ways that I'm not.

Anon I’m in love with you — it’s like you went down a checklist in my brain of every complaint i’ve ever had about this show. i completely, completely agree with every note here — the jokes about AAVE specifically stood out to me, especially since there’s been at least one occasion where Hirsch went on a twitter rant about how (xyz aave) is the worst, stupidest thing to ever happen to the English language (meanwhile he thinks combining the words “Bill” and “Dipper” is funny enough to include as a joke despite it being just literally putting two names together. wooow how clever and funny white people are, thank god this caucasian braingenius is protecting the sanctity of the english language from black people who make up bad new words)

also dude can’t go five seconds without putting a white person in a “cowboys and indians” style native american costume. Hirsch has a fucking major problem with the way he treats his hispanic characters & how he portrays native american mythology & culture as basically this funny stupid thing to be used as set dressing for white people.

it feels a lot like he watched The Simpsons’ (sometimes effective, sometimes ineffective) satire on racism, bigotry, and the conservative tendencies in archetypical american towns and understood that it was funny but didn’t get why and just limply recreated the jokes without the structure for it to be a satire. not that the Simpsons doesn’t fall into these same problems with racism & body shaming, but i feel like they at least have a veneer of it being “isn’t it stupid how people like Homer think like this?” rather than just “haha different culture talk funny”

and the problem is, it sucks that it’s like this because it’s so good. it feels like every time i recommend it i have to be like “a lot of the jokes have aged like milk but it’s worth it”. like i love Gravity Falls. which is why it’s important to criticise it for its flaws.

[scoutofmymind]

hey loved your fics you are incredibly talented. i have a scene picture some angst reader is kinda like jo march if u watched little women and luigi is laurie in that one hill scene. basically reader prioritizes acads because of her upbringing - high achiever, academic validations, the whole package and luigi somehow is the same but he compels the reader in a magnetic way because luigi gets to be so carefree and awesome about it and turns out luigi and reader have a common thread and it's turning out rlly good but then reader is slightly scared of commitment in a relationship dare i say? because it was all acads for reader even though there were dreams of having a relationship, it all seemed abstract and unreal!! and the angst comes when luigi confesses to reader and reader reacts very defensive i suppose spitting out word vomit enumerating reasons why luigi shouldnt like her and how he's too good for her and luigi just shuts reader up by pinching their cheeks and holding them steady saying i want you all of you all that sweet stuff...this is just a thought i want to say i admire you heavily your writing is pivotal

Without Me — { Luigi x Reader}

Content: SFW, angst, yearning, pining, best friends, purest love, summer, unrequited, lowkey gut-wrenching (sorry)

Wc: 6,843 (I could not stop writing)

Notes; Before we begin, I have to say, anon, I very much enjoyed writing this!! And thank you so much for sending me this request! ✨ there are only a couple bits of dialogue that match the hill scene, but I wanted to throw them in there!

This is lowkey a mini-fic, so enjoy!

Side note: If anything is badly edited, I will likely come back to do some cleaning up. But maybe not. Also I’ve started picking songs to include in requests wherever they may fit in. I want to mention too that backstory is something I just simply can’t leave out when it comes to angsty or emotional scenes, so I’m sorry I literally can’t shut up.

The cicadas weave their summer hymn through the gentle lap of water against stone, your body stretched across whisper-soft grass beside the reservoir.

This spot holds years of you both — echoes of skinned knees and bruised elbows soothed by cool spring water, of childhood dares and teenage secrets.

"You never swim with me anymore." Luigi's voice carries no accusation, just a quiet observation that somehow makes it worse. You can picture his expression without looking —that gentle, knowing thing that always sees too much. "All you do now is torch yourself in the sun."

Your back peels away from the grass, elbows bent to prop you up. Through his borrowed sunglasses — because of course you forgot yours back at the house, and of course he had a spare —you study him.

He's summer personified: water-darkened hair curling at his temples, shoulders golden in the early evening light, wearing a smile easy as breathing.

"I just don't want to get my hair wet, Lu." You say it with the comfortable certainty of someone who's had this exact argument a hundred times before.

"Well, don't then." His retort is quick, familiar. He moves through the water with an easy grace that somehow makes the old reservoir look more inviting than it ever has, though you'd never admit it.

Your shoulders are painted with freckles from all these summer days — chasing chickens in the fields, racing bikes into the city with him riding at your back, his presence as constant as the seasons.

"But then when I get out, I'll be cold." The words float between you like lazy dragonflies, and Luigi just shakes his head, spattering droplets that catch the light.

He pouts, but not like you do.

Where your pouts are theatrical productions, his is a quiet thing — eyebrows drawn together in thought, bottom lip pulled inward instead of jutted out dramatically. His gaze fixes downward at his feet beneath the crystal-clear water, methodically toeing one stone over, then another, like the placement of each pebble might solve some grand puzzle.

You watch him wage his silent war of reorganization, using nothing but his ten toes as construction equipment. It's such a Luigi thing to do — finding the smallest tasks to occupy himself instead of splashing around like he usually does, trying to tempt you in.

"Bet the water feels incredible," he murmurs, more to the stones than to you. His toes have created a perfect semicircle now, a tiny amphitheater beneath the surface. "Like that lemonade your mom makes — you know, the one with mint?"

You do know.

The kind she only makes when the temperature crawls past ninety, when the air feels thick enough to chew. Like today. You can almost taste it — tart and cool and perfect — which is exactly what Luigi intended with that particular comparison, the sneak.

"You're not as subtle as you think you are," you inform him, but you're already sitting up straighter, your legs beginning to tingle from staying still too long in the sun.

The grass has left impressions on your skin, tiny crosshatched patterns that Luigi always says look like secret maps, his fingers drawing lines upon them.

He doesn't look up from his underwater construction project, but one corner of his mouth quirks upward. "Never claimed to be subtle. That's your department, avoiding the water like it's personally offended you."

"The water hasn't offended me," you say, though you draw your knees up to your chest, putting another inch between you and the shoreline. "We have a mutual understanding. It stays there, and I stay here."

"Mhm." Luigi abandons his stone circle, wading a few steps deeper until the water laps at his knees, stood there in his trunks, the cobalt blue ones that hit just above his mid-thigh. "And how's that working out for you? Enjoying your dusty patch of grass while I'm out here living like a king?"

The problem is, he does look a bit regal out there, all long limbs and easy grace, like he was born for summer days and spring water.

You've known Lu since you were both gap-toothed and gangly, but sometimes — like now — he seems to have grown into himself while you weren't looking.

Yet, your own limbs still feel too long, too awkward, like you're wearing a costume that doesn't quite fit.

Meanwhile, Luigi wears summer like a second skin, all easy movements and natural grace, as if the universe decided to polish him up while leaving you in your perpetual state of stumbling through doorways.

"A king of minnows, maybe," you counter, but you're already uncurling, letting your feet stretch toward the water's edge. Not to join him, obviously. Just to... test the temperature.

"Ah," he says softly, watching your toes creep closer, his voice taking on a funny narrators tone, an accent thrown in that sounded similar to his fathers. "The snail emerges from her shell."

"Shell-less snails are just slugs," you inform him primly, but dip one toe in anyway. The water isn't as cold as you expected — it never is, but that doesn't stop you from putting on this show every single time. "And I'm neither."

"No," Luigi agrees, dropping the accent but keeping that amused lilt in his voice. "You're more like- like one of those hermit crabs. The ones that think really hard about switching shells but then just stick with the same one anyway."

You splash water at him with your foot, and he doesn't even try to dodge. "Fuck, Lu —That's the worst analogy I've ever heard."

"Is it?" He takes a few steps backward, deeper into the water, like he's laying out a trail for you to follow. "Because you're still sitting there, thinking about coming in, just like you do every time.“

Luigi could easily remember all the days spent here, in this very body of water together — the secret collection of precious gems that were really just polished river rocks, the fossil that turned out to be an old bottle cap, and that infamous river snake from an overturned stone that had you shrieking and refusing to dive under for weeks.

"Can't be thinking about doing it if I'm already doing it, Lu." You roll your eyes, your shins now lapping gently with clean, cool water. The trees droop overhead like nature's own parasol, their leaves casting dappled shadows that dance across your shoulders.

He's quiet for a moment, watching you with an expression you can't quite read. And then. “Remember when we thought we found actual dinosaur bones here?"

"You mean the plastic fork?"

"A very convincing plastic fork."

The water feels like silk against your skin now, and you find yourself wading deeper without really meaning to. It's muscle memory, maybe — your body remembering what your mind keeps second-guessing.

"At least I wasn't the one who tried to sell it to the museum.” you remind him, the water now swirling around your waist. Each step stirs up tiny clouds of silt that disappear into the clear water.

He splashes in your direction, grinning. "We were tweleve! And Mrs. Henderson at the museum was very nice about it."

"She gave you a cookie and a lecture about scientific integrity."

"Exactly. A win-win."

You're deep enough now that you have to lift your arms to keep them dry, though you're not sure why you're bothering. Your bikini is already clinging to you, and that familiar weightless feeling is starting to take over — the one that always made you feel brave before.

"You know what your real problem is?" Luigi quips, but this time his voice is gentler. "You forgot how to play."

The words hit harder than you expect, maybe because there's no teasing in them now.

Just truth, floating there on the surface like a leaf.

"I didn't forget," you say quietly. "I just- I put it away somewhere."

The look in his eyes tells you exactly what's coming, but muscle memory kicks in before you can retreat, your arms already up in defense position as he sends a massive splash your way, the arc of water catching sunlight like scattered diamonds before it hits you full in the face.

"Luigi!" you shriek, but you're already laughing, already moving. Your soul remembers this dance even if your mind's been trying to forget it, and the water parts easily as you lunge toward him, years of practice making your movements swift and sure.

He tries to dodge, but you know all his tricks — the way he always feints left before going right, how he can't resist staying just within splashing range.

The water battle that ensues is immediate and fierce, both of you laughing and gasping, sending waves in every direction, limbs smacking into each other at times, your body trailing away from his while he charged closer.

"See?" he manages between splashes. "The Queen of minnows!”

You're about to respond when your foot slips on a smooth stone, and suddenly you're going under.

For a split second, panic flares — but then the tranquility and silence envelops you, and it feels like greeting an old friend, your eyes open underwater, seeing the filtered sunlight create shifting patterns all around you, and suddenly you remember why you used to love this so much.

When you surface, pushing wet hair from your face, Luigi is watching you with a grin, his sunglasses pushed away from his face and atop his head instead, nestled in his damp black curls. “You got your hair wet.” He gives you one last gentle splash, his grin so carved into his features it may as well be everlasting.

Luigi, the son of Marco Mangione, whose genius lay in transforming his grandfather's modest Milan carpentry shop into Mangione Artisan Living — now a name whispered in the same breath as Fendi Casa and Bottega Veneta's home collection.

When Marco married Sofia Bernardi in the 80’s, a celebrated interior designer, they moved to America, the local papers painting it as another wealthy foreigner's passing fancy — this modernist villa rising among cornfields and weathered barns.

But Marco had seen something in these hills that reminded him of Tuscany, in the calloused hands of local woodworkers that echoed his grandfather's.

The Mangione Mansion stands like a slice of northern Italy transplanted to American soil, with its stark geometries softened by groves of imported olive trees and terraced gardens.

It's a world away from your family's farmhouse, where the paint peels in honest patches and the screen door creaks a familiar welcome, yet Marco moves between these worlds with effortless grace, discussing the merits of different wood grains with your father across the fence line, or clearing out your mother's farmer's market stall of preserves, declaring each jar Perfetto, just like my Nonna's! with the same genuine warmth he uses to greet European royalty.

Luigi, who could have been pressed into private academies and dinner jackets, groomed for Ivy League legacies and country club memberships, had instead grown up alongside you in public school — though his future was cushioned by both financial security and natural brilliance.

You can't remember a time when academic excellence wasn't your north star — every assignment a stepping stone, every grade a battle in the war for your future.

Being a veterinarian wasn't just a dream, it was your escape route from the endless cycle of farm life that had worn your father's hands to calluses and bent your mother's back.

Perfect attendance since kindergarten, straight A's through AP Biology, even showing up on Senior Skip Day — just you and Lacey Williams, the would-be neurosurgeon, bent over your textbooks in an empty classroom.

Now here you both are in the water — you with your scholarship letters and student loan applications waiting at home, him with acceptance letters from Harvard and Yale gathering dust on his desk.

Two lives that should never have intersected, meeting in the middle of sun-warmed water, your shared freckles catching golden light, limbs tangling as Luigi feints another playful attack.

•

Summer buzzes by your eyeshot like a cicada in a hurry, the season winding down with cooler, longer nights and shorter, blazing hot days.

August comes barreling through like it always does, hot and sticky air clinging to your skin as you sit with Luigi upon the sloped side of the barn, a Birds Eye view of the farm, this very spot the first place the two of you had tried smoking weed, the very first time you ogled at a traumatizing porn everyone at school was talking about — this spot, worn from years of shared moments together is the very place you create some distance.

For the first time.

“I think I want my own party this year.”

The words land like a stone in still water, ripples of hurt crossing Luigi's face before he can master his expression.

For a moment, he looks eight years old again, standing in the tall grass with his first American birthday cake — the one your mom made because his parents were still learning that birthdays here meant homemade frosting, not elegant catered affairs and grand garden parties.

"Oh," he says, and it's the smallest you've ever heard his voice. "Yeah, of course. That makes sense. We’re turning twenty-two. Not eight anymore.” His smile doesn't reach his eyes, hands fidgeting with the bracelet you’d made him years and years ago — the same nervous tell he's had since childhood. "Actually, Ma’s been saying I should do something more — you know, formal this year anyway."

The lie sits between you like a third person.

Luigi, who once convinced his parents to move his elaborate garden party to your barn because you had the flu has never cared for formal anything.

You can see him rebuilding his walls, brick by careful brick, protecting himself the way he never had to with you before.

"Send me pictures though?" he adds lightly, but there's at least fifteen years of shared candles and off-key, bi-lingual singing wrapped in that request, fifteen years of your mom's chocolate cake and his ma’s tiramisu side by side on the same table.

"Luigi, it's not-" you start, then pause, because it is exactly what he thinks it is. A separation. A gentle fracture. "I just need to figure out who I am without- without being part of a matched set. Does that make sense?"

The words feel clumsy in your mouth, inadequate to explain this need that's been growing since your acceptance letter arrived.

You watch him nod too quickly, the way he does when he's processing something that hurts.

The same way he looked when Benny, one of the milking cows had passed three summers ago, or the way he looked when you told him you couldn’t go on the Mangione trip to Italy, desperately needing the vet clinic hours.

"My party's probably just going to be pizza with my study group anyway," you continue, trying to make it sound smaller than it is, even though you've already planned every detail — your first real birthday party that isn't shaped around accommodating both your worlds. "And you should do something spectacular. Twenty-two is a weird number, but you could make it your thing.“

He laughs, but it's his polite laugh, the one he uses at his father's business dinners. "Maybe I'll rent out that new rooftop place in the city," he says, playing along with this sudden pretense that the two of you haven't spent months quietly planning your joint party like every year before. "Very grown-up."

The space between you fills with unspoken memories — dual parties with increasingly ridiculous themes, the year you both got chicken pox and celebrated in quarantine together, or the year his mother hired a magician who pulled you both on stage as assistants.

Fifteen years of wishes and synchronized candle-blowing, and you’ve put an abrupt end to it, with not so much as a warning.

"You're not mad?" you ask, even though you can see he is — not angry-mad, but hurt-mad, the kind that makes his shoulders tight and his smile too careful.

He stands abruptly, brushing invisible dirt from his shorts. "Mad? Nah, come on. We're not kids anymore." The words come out just a touch too fast, too light. "Actually, I should head back. Papa wanted to discuss something about the company tonight."

It's barely seven, and Marco's in New York City until Thursday — you both know this. But Luigi's already stepping back, that practiced social smile firmly in place, the one he uses when he needs to retreat but is too polite to say so.

"Night," he calls over his shoulder once he scales the side of the barn down to the grass again, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

You watch him walk away, his usual easy stride now stiff and measured, leaving you alone with just the sound of the bullfrogs near the pond, and the chickens settling in their coops for the night.

The sunset feels colder somehow, and you wrap your arms around your knees, trying to convince yourself this is what growing up looks like as you sit there until the mosquitoes start biting, watching the space where Luigi disappeared and wondering if this is what independence is supposed to feel like — this hollow victory that tastes nothing like freedom and everything like loss.

•

The late August evening slowly begins to melt into night, the air carrying whispers of autumn though summer still reigns.

You breathe in deep — catching hints of hay being baled in distant fields, leaves just beginning their subtle shift from green to gold, and lake water evaporating off sun-warmed skin. The pontoon boat hums steadily beneath you, loaded with friends sprawled across every available surface, their laughter echoing across the darkening water.

You'd done your best to prepare them all, carefully explaining the separate celebrations to avoid awkward questions.

But Luigi's absence feels like a shadow you can't shake — in the pause after every joke, in the empty space at the boat's stern where he always sat, in the way conversations drift and fade without his easy charm to bridge them.

You're learning that some people leave gaps too precisely shaped to fill, and you catch yourself waiting for sounds that aren't coming —the full-bodied laughter that usually ricochets across the lake, the constant stream of Luigi's commentary that made even silence feel alive.

No one's standing at the boat's edge, goading others into increasingly ridiculous diving contests. The absence of these things sits heavy in your chest, like missing the last step on a familiar staircase.

"Good for you for doing your own thing this year," Mia offers, wine sloshing in her solo cup as she gestures vaguely. "Must be nice not having to compromise on everything for once."

Not really, you think.

The evening settles into dinner in the back garden, strings of lights casting warm halos over familiar faces — relatives, neighbors, friends who'd trickled in as the day aged and as if on cue, the peaceful scene splinters at the sound of tires on gravel and a booming voice that makes your stomach drop.

"Where's Luigi?!"

Cousin Tony's borrowed truck sits askew on the path, driver's door still swinging open like an afterthought.

He bounds toward you, one arm clutching what's clearly a wine bottle wrapped in what looks like yesterday's newspaper, his face bright with the anticipation of seeing his favorite duo.

The sight makes something in your chest twist.

He’s always treated you both as his own blood, never drawing lines between family and chosen family.

You're crushed into a bear hug before you can dodge it, his familiar cologne mixing with engine grease as you try to breathe through compressed lungs, but he’s still calling for Luigi over your head, each shout making the other guests shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"He's somewhere in the city, Tone," you manage to wheeze out.

Your phone burns in your pocket, where Luigi's latest Instagram story sits unopened — some rooftop view you're deliberately not thinking about.

"What'da ya mean?" His grip loosens just enough for you to see his face fall, confusion creeping into his features like a slowly spreading stain.

"We're... trying something different this year," you say, words feeling clumsy as you glance over your shoulder at the laden table — a spread that still unconsciously includes all of Luigi's favorites alongside your own. The sight of his mother's recipe for stuffed shells sitting next to your grandmother's pierogies makes your throat tight.

"Well, is he at least comin' later?"

"No." The word falls between you like a stone. "He couldn't cancel his reservation without losing the booking fee, so I just told him it was fi-"

"No, no, mia cara," Tony drags his hands through his hair, face crumpling like you've just told him the world is ending. "Potrebbe essere l'ultimo!" The words tumble out in his rushed native tongue, his distress making him forget himself.

"You just said that in Italian." Your voice sounds far away, even to your own ears, like it's coming from the bottom of a well.

"Shit — It could be your last time, cuginetta." Tony's sigh seems to come from his bones as he pulls out his phone, cursing when he sees the no-service icon.

"My last time?"

Tony lifts his head slowly from his phone screen, eyes finding yours with a weight that makes your stomach drop. "What — oh, Dio — do you mean to say he has not told you?"

"Told me...?” You brace yourself, chest aching with a sudden, sharp regret for all those breakfast lessons with Luigi's nonna, her patient voice guiding you through pronunciations you'd carelessly let slip away between coffee and lunch.

"He got big'a job in the big city," Tony's hands sweep upward, as if trying to encompass the vastness of a metropolis that stretches far beyond any gesture could capture. "Saying bye-bye forever to smelly farm." His hands fall, and his expression softens into something dangerously close to pity. "Sorry.”

"Leaving? Like — he's moving there?" The words feel strange in your mouth.

You're standing in the same garden where you and Luigi once buried treasure maps at age eight, where you learned to cartwheel together at twelve, where you shared your first illegal beer at sixteen — and suddenly it all feels like archaeological evidence of something that's already gone.

"That's where zio Marco is now, making sure Princess Luigi has all the things he need there for — uh—" Tony lapses into rapid Italian, but you've already stopped listening, the rest of his words fading into white noise.

You're hung up on the present tense of it all — Luigi’s father is there now, apartment hunting, setting up a brand new life while you stand here in your shared history, surrounded by people who apparently knew more about Luigi's future than you did.

The realization hits very suddenly.

Luigi was moving away, and he spoke not a word of it to you.

Tony manages a plate of food before borrowing your landline, desperate to track down Luigi in the sprawling city and when his truck finally crunches back down the gravel path, you feel it like a physical wound — as if he's taking a piece of you with him, torn straight from your core, yet, you maintain your composure with award-winning precision, a smile fixed firmly in place as guests filter away into the darkness.

You go through the motions, accepting kisses on cheeks, graciously receiving gifts labeled with just your name - no more Dynamic Duo or Thing 1 and 2 scrawled in familiar handwriting.

You help clear the garden, stack chairs, wash dishes that held food Luigi would have fought you for the leftovers of. You kiss your father's cheek goodnight, and tell your still-bustling mother you're heading out for some stargazing.

It's not entirely a lie.

You do end up beneath the stars, though you hadn't exactly planned to collapse here by the waterfront, where the distant dock creaks its lonely song, the splash of jumping fish and the bold croaking of nearby bullfrogs barely register — sounds that would normally make you jump now feel as distant as satellite signals.

You're lost in the undertow of your thoughts, barely noticing the warm tears tracking down your neck until your t-shirt is damp with evidence of a grief you didn't know you needed to prepare for — the silence holds you, envelopes you, and you’re almost convinced you can disappear here until-

"Hey, stranger."

His voice cuts through the cricket symphony like a knife, and you freeze, tears still wet on your face.

You don't turn around — can't turn around — because you know exactly what he'll look like: silhouetted against the moons full and distant glow, wearing that stupid designer jacket he bought last month that suddenly makes too much sense.

Big City boy.

The grass whispers beneath his feet as he approaches, each step measured like he's greeting a spooked animal.

It's funny — he used to just crash down beside you, all elbows and laughter.

When did you become something he had to be careful with?

"Tone called me," he says softly, still standing. "Said he found you but couldn't find me." There's a pause, heavy with unspoken words. "Told me other things, too."

The lake laps at the shore, a steady rhythm that used to calm you both on countless nights like this.

Now it just sounds like a countdown.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Your voice sounds small against the vastness of the lake, broken and confused, betrayed and disbelieving.

"Would it have changed anything?" His words come sharp, defensive. "Would you have suddenly decided to stay?"

"That's not fair."

"Fair?" The laugh that escapes him is bitter and unfamiliar. "You want to talk about fair? I watched you apply to every college more than fifty miles away. Watched you light up talking about leaving, about getting out. Never once asking—" He cuts himself off, his gaze turning up instead at the trees that sway and rustle in the midnight air, a chill taking your spine.

"Asking what, Lu?”

"If I wanted to come with you." The words hang in the darkness between you. "If maybe I had dreams too, ones that didn't involve watching you disappear."

"I never said you couldn't-“

"What do you think I was going to do, wait around forever?" His voice cracks at the end, brittle and broken. "God, I've spent my whole life orbiting you like a personal Pluto. I don't even remember my life before you." He paces now like an agitated zoo animal behind a sheath of thin glass, just out of reach. “And yet, you expect me to stay here without you? While you go to college, make your own dreams come true?"

The moonlight catches his face as he turns, and you see something break in his expression. "I would have waited. I would have always waited, but fuck—" His hands tremble as they rake through his hair. "You've pushed and pushed and pushed me away. Every college application, every excited story about your future somewhere else, the party -“ he watches as you stand, your posture ridged and nervous, but attentive.

"Lu, please -“

"So what do I do?" His voice drops lower, trembling. "I have to think of myself too. I have to accept that we won't always be this way." He watches as you scrub your hands over your face, your unsteady legs carrying you off the dock.

The cool, damp grass beneath your feet becomes an anchor, something real in a moment that feels anything but.

He follows, his body angled toward yours like a compass finding north. "But it didn't have to be like this." His voice softens to barely above a whisper, his dress shoes crushing the grass with each step.

"Well, what exactly did you expect?" You whirl around, wiping furiously beneath your eyes, moonlight catching the tears on your cheeks that refuse to be unseen. "We were going to play in the river forever? Did you think we'd just find our way without ever trying?" The words come out harder than you mean them, sharp with the kind of anger that's really just fear in disguise.

"I- you-" Luigi's voice breaks.

His eyes are bloodshot, the bridge of his nose red from earlier tears hastily wiped away in the party bathroom. In the half-light, he looks both younger and older than your shared twenty-two years — a boy trying to hold onto something slipping through his fingers, a man facing his first real loss.

"You know, maybe it might have been that easy for you, Lu." Your eyes drift to the Mangione Mansion, its windows gleaming like jewels against the dark hills, an anomaly among the endless cornfields. "You never had to lift a finger — it always just..." You gesture vaguely, bitterly. "Fell into place."

The words taste like copper in your mouth, sharper for how unfair they feel.

Because he's always shared everything.

Those lavish family dinners where his mother insisted you sit next to her, those delicate necklaces from Rome that he'd drape around your neck with careful fingers, those shopping trips where his nonna would press dresses into your arms with a conspirator's wink.

He's never once made you feel like charity.

But there are some things that can't be shared, some advantages that run deeper than generosity.

While you pieced together credits between evening classes and online courses, fighting for every inch of progress, he'd come home rolling his eyes at another Harvard letter, another Yale recruiter calling.

You take a deep breath, feeling the summer air fill your lungs, and air that smells like it always has, like corn silk and cut grass and the all-consuming night. "Did you think we'd just stay here in our bubble, Lu?" Your voice softens despite yourself. "The only place we've ever known?"

All he can do is stand there, helpless, caught between a nod and denial.

His expression crumples into something raw and pleading — such a far cry from the boy who, just last week, had painted patterns across your skin with river mud, both of you laughing until your sides hurt.

The same boy whom you could communicate with without even speaking to, who knew exactly how you took your coffee, who was born the day before you, and who could read your silences like a book he'd memorized; yet now he's looking at you like you're written in a language he never learned to speak.

"No." The word propels you forward, feet moving before your brain catches up.

His face softens into something unbearable — like watching a star collapse in slow motion, finally understanding that this isn't just another one of your theoretical late-night talks about the future.

His carefully constructed composure crumbles, leaving behind something young and scared and achingly real.

"I love you." The words fall from his lips like muscle memory, like breathing, like the thousands of times before — whispered against your hair during movies, shouted across parking lots, mumbled sleepily during long car rides. But now they land heavy between you, a weight pressing against your chest until it hurts to breathe. "I always have, and I always will—"

"No. No, Lu." Your voice cracks on his name, and your pace quickens, bare feet crushing grass beneath desperate steps.

But he matches you stride for stride.

“My life has been so intertwined with yours, when you began to pull away - I- I panicked,” He was rambling now, quick and out of breath but keeping up with you nonetheless, the two of you navigating the vast property, moon and starlight the only thing guiding your path. “I settled on what I knew would be easiest,”

“That’s the problem.” You stop again to look at him, your chest heaving. “You don’t need to settle, Lu — you’re brilliant, you’re so fucking brilliant-“ he grabs your wrists gently, taking several steps to close the gap between you.

"I have never settled on you." Luigi's voice goes rigid, cracking in the middle like ice breaking over deep water. Each word carries the weight of years — shared secrets, dreams whispered under blanket forts, and promises made in tree houses. "You have always been my first option."

You catch your breath, the familiar warmth of his hands on your wrists suddenly feeling like shackles.

Your head shakes, slow and deliberate, as you try to pull back — but his grip steadfast remains. "How would you know of the other options?" The question comes out softer than you mean it to, weighted with everything you've both been too scared to say. "Do you know yourself without me?”

"I don't want to know myself without you."

"Luigi. Please stop-“ You wrench your wrists from his loosened grip, your feet carrying you forward through the night but he follows, like an echo you can't shake, like a shadow that refuses to fade with distance.

His words tumble out faster now, chasing the shrinking space between you and home, visible through the wavering corn stalks like a lighthouse warning of rough water ahead. "I know I'm not — I know I'm not Matthew Williams, or that guy that works the stables near the Bradshaws. And I know I’m not a perfect man, but—"

You stop once again, so abruptly this time he nearly collides with you, turning to face this strange new version of Luigi — one you've never seen before, one who wears his insecurities like an ill-fitting suit.

He's brave, you'll give him that, but he's also terrified in a way that makes your chest ache.

This boy who's never had to compete for anything in his life, suddenly listing off names like entries in a contest he thinks he's losing.

"You stop that." Your finger jabs at his chest, connecting with the expensive fabric of his jacket. "You are the most-the most magnificent person I have ever met, Luigi. And you're not perfect, no-“ You swallow against the rising bile, against the irony of having to defend him to himself when you're the one walking away. "But you're honest, and you're good — a goddamn great deal too good for me."

The last part comes out like a confession, like something you've carried so long it's carved itself into your bones — the real reason you're running, the fear that someday he'll wake up and realize it too.

The night holds its breath around you, your ragged exhales mixing with his in the space between heartbeats, and the trees shiver their leaves like witnesses to your undoing, crickets falling silent as if they too understand the gravity of this moment — this closing act.

"But-“ You step into his warmth, drawn forward like a moth to flame, even now, knowing it would burn. You’re close enough to catch the familiar scent of his cologne mixing with fresh-cut grass and summer sweat. Close enough to see the moonlight catching in his eyelashes. Close enough to break both your hearts properly. "I can't love you the way you deserve to be loved."

The words tear themselves from your throat like barbed wire, each syllable drawing blood.

Your stomach twists inside out, acid creeping up your throat again, "I can't love you like that. I’m - I’m so, so sorry, Luigi — I just - I can’t,

His hands find your face with the reverence of a prayer, thumbs brushing across your cheekbones like he's trying to memorize the geography of your skin. "Listen to me," he whispers, his voice thick with desperation. "Listen."

The tenderness in his touch nearly breaks you — the way his fingers tremble against your jaw, the gentle circles he traces beneath your ears, the familiar callous on his right thumb from his tree-climbing habit.

His forehead drops to rest against yours, and you can feel his breath hitching, unsteady and warm against your lips.

"You've already loved me better than anyone else ever could," Luigi's voice cracks, splintering like ice in early spring. "You love me exactly as I am — not the heir, not the prodigy, not the Mangione name." His hands slide into your hair, “You have loved me even though I can’t remember to help feed the hens, but I can recite every constellation. And you’ve loved me even though I name every cull cow — even though you think it’s cruel.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, and the raw hope in his gaze is almost unbearable. "Please," he breathes, the word more air than sound. "Please don't decide for both of us what kind of love I deserve." His thumbs catch the tears you didn't realize were falling, smearing them across your cheeks like war paint. "Let me choose.”

“Then choose someone else!” You shake your hands at him, helpless and wishing to disappear. “I - I’m so unsure of myself - every goddamn thing I do, Luigi. I break everything, I’m useless at being a homemaker. I’m awkward, I’m a black sheep, even all the way out here.”

You aren’t made for the big city like he is.

The moonlight catches in his dark eyes, turning them to liquid as they search yours. "I don't need perfect love. I don't need textbook romance or fairy tale." His voice breaks, raw with honesty. "I just need you. But - but I can’t live like this forever" He’s speaking faster than you’ve ever heard the smooth-talking, easy going Luigi say anything.

You try to turn away, to escape the weight of his words, but his touch holds you steady — gentle but unwavering. "Luigi — let me the fuck-“

"No," he breathes, the word ghosting across your lips. "No, don't push me away because you think you're protecting me. Don't make decisions about what I can handle." His fingers thread through your hair, cradling the back of your head. "I choose this. I choose the messy parts, the broken parts, the parts you think are unlovable. I choose all of it."

I am stopping this here. Love you 💕

[booksandabeer]

Crowdsourcing a Fic Rec List: Stucky & Peter Parker

Well, look at that!

Due to the numerous responses to this post, and since things have become a little cluttered there (different reblog threads, some recs are in tags or in comments, etc), I thought it would be a shame if anything got lost. So, I decided to compile a list of all the submitted recs for Stucky fics that also feature Peter Parker. Of course, I couldn't help myself and added a rec of my own. Fics that were mentioned multiple times are only listed once, and, if one was provided, I kept the original commentary. I hope I credited everyone correctly. If I got something wrong or missed anything, please let me know.

Thank you to everyone who shared recs, commented, or reblogged the original post to get more eyes on it. You're all wonderful! 💙

Here we go:

💙 recommended by @thankssaragorn

🕸 taking my time but I don't know where by cosmicocean | 35K, T so much fun, post-TWS Bucky lowkey mentoring Peter in being a hero and then some family and healing stuff, very sweet. 🕸 Steve Rogers Is (Not) A Good Influence by attackofthezee | 4K, T a goofy oneshot where Peter joins Steve on his Bucky-hunt. 🕸 the rattle of their hearts by iron_spider | 59K, T | part 1 of 2 in rattle universe series an IW fix-it where Tony & Steve try to fix things and Peter & Bucky are trapped in the soul stone together, also trying to fix things. Features irondad if that ain't your thing. 🕸 Dear Teacher, With Love by fancyh | 61K, T doesnt ~strictly~ fit the prompt but i love it so much im always gonna rec it. Bucky becomes a HS teacher post-TWS and Peter is in his class they rlly don't interact a ton but I just love this fic i can't help it.

❤ recommended by @sparkagrace

🕸 Steve and Bucky low key adopt Peter Parker by Andthrowmethekey | series in 3 parts | 3.5K, T 🕸 Drive It Like You Stole It: A Bodyswap by AggressiveWhenStartled | 28K, E | part 1 of 2 in The Old Codgers GreatestHits Album series

🤍 recommended by @eternalspine

🕸 longing, rusted, seventeen, daybreak by honeycombclaire | 96K, M | part 1 of 2 in trigger words series Peter being raised by Bucky in Hydra as an assassin but he was Tony’s biological son that had been kidnapped as a toddler. I literally cannot say enough good things about this fic you should all go read it right now. I would inject it in my veins if I could. It genuinely took me several days to be normal again after reading it. There’s even a sequel!

💙 recommended by @arctic-turtle-cassiopeia

🕸 Astronomy in Reverse by pansley | 185K, T

❤ recommended by @maplefiasco

🕸 Make it Till You Fake It by AggressiveWhenStartled | 4K, E another super fun one by [this author]. 🕸 When I Am On Your Shoulders by Lady_Blackwater | 165K, M Steve reconnects with Bucky while going through a divorce from Tony and trying to navigate parenting their teen son Peter. I remember binging this in a day, I couldn't put it down.

🤍 recommended by @funkylittlelurker

🕸 Is this child Venomous? by rWolfWrites | 80K, M | part 1 of 4 in Stucky Shares Custody of Peter Parker series It's angsty as all get out, but it has a happy ending. Basically, it's a HYDRA Peter AU, wherein Peter is an asset right along Bucky. Peter is like, 12 at the youngest, so it's mcu Peter, don't worry. Bucky drops Peter off a Steve's house, designation Steve as Peter's new Handler. You can see why this might be bad. I won't spoil much, but the Maximoff twins also come into play! (Bucky saves them)

💙 recommended by @leihaddock

🕸 The Trials and Tribulations of the Watermelon Werewolf by BlueSimplicity | 67K, E Explicit between Steve and Bucky & Bucky basically lowkey adopts Peter. 🕸 Rainbow Dinosaurs by holla_the_forestfairy | ~1K, G short but sweet queer story

❤ recommended by @fsbc-librarian

🕸 Peter & Bucky Are Pals by DJ_unicornsrgr8 | series in 11 parts | 147K, G-T This series is set in the verse of Owlet's Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail, which is absolutely wonderful. 🕸 Steve Rogers' Dad Face and Other Common Hazards by AggressiveWhenStartled | 4K, T | part 1 of 4 in Workplace Hazards series 🕸 we leave through the fire by justanotherblond | 41K, T | part 1 of 3 in timshel series -> Also, always worth checking out the library for more fics!

🤍 recommended by @booksandabeer

🕸 Praetorian by RecoveringTheSatellites | 28K, M | part 1 of 2 in Amor Manet series Historical AU featuring Bucky as a pagan witch, Steve as a disgraced former Praetorian Guard, and Peter as a young recruit to the Roman army. Maybe a bit of a cheat, since Peter is not central to the story, but in the moments he does appear, he definitely makes an impression, and what we get to see of his mentor-mentee relationship with Steve really resonates. Also, look, this is just a banger of a fic with lots of action and romance that everyone should read.

💙 recommended by @stuckydrewx

🕸 Extra special treat! Drew shared a whole other fic rec list that she made a few months ago. Yay!

Once again, thank you so much to everyone who contributed to this crowdsourced rec list—you're all fantastic!

[dilutedconfusion]

I love the way you write! I love Kid! I need Kid!! 😩

Anyway, happy to rewad whatever you write, but if this request inspires you, by all means, I would LOVE to read it.

I'm thinking about some protective, possessive stuff! Reader gets kidnapped and subdued. Or gets beaten, life hanging by a thread.

And Kid just goes ape shit. NSFW obviously because Kid is going to rip some troaths and all that protectiveness makes reader a little crazy.

Does this tickle your fancy? Writer's choice on everything, really. I would just love a crazy protective Kid.

Kudos for all your work and thank you for sharing your talent! 👏🏻❤️

I’M SO DEEPLY SORRY FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK ME. I don’t know how long this request was sitting in my inbox but I APOLOGIZE and I hope this fic makes up for it 🧎‍♀️

OKAY besides that you didn’t have to be that nice 🫵 Like seriously making me blush and stuff you’re so sweet ilysm🤭 And since I literally cannot control myself I went a little overboard. I wasn’t planning on writing so much and I wasn’t planning on making it so intense I suppose. But you asked for possessive, life hanging by a thread, kidnapped scenario so here you go! I should’ve made it more NSFW in the more sexual way less gore way. But alas this request is more horror and fluff than anything. Oh and I also made the pronouns gender neutral because you didn’t specify so I hope that’s okay with you! I need to write more gender neutral readers anyways so it was a good excuse. I hope you enjoy it!

Shades of Red

Eustass Kid x GenderNeutral!Reader

Summary: You got kidnapped by bounty hunters. Suffice to say you and Kid aren’t taking it very well. Kid goes a little crazy and does some particular bloody things. It has a good ending though so no worries👍

Horror?? And Fluff I suppose.

Warnings: LOTS of explicit gore and blood.

Word Count: 8.1k

Water was thicker than blood.

Well, you had always known that. From your first cut as a child that was an otherworldly sting. It had felt so foreign from your previous non-existence. Pain was juvenile to you. Something to be feared in its unknowing nature. Something that would stain clothes. Stain water.

There was specific soft vignette of red reminded you of the way light looked behind your eyelids. Warm with light yellow tones around the edges. The tingle of your smooth skin left you to almost sparkle. A man adorned in all shades of red as if it was the only color that fit him.

As if it was the only color you ever wanted to look at. A color you desperately tried to view positively despite what was happening. Despite the splatters around you.

You hadn’t felt the sun in a while. Skin growing paler and colder with each passing night. The sun was a mere sixty feet above you since the earth swallowed you whole. An insistent dripping against your scalp made you want to snap your jaw in half. Digging into your skull to rip out the part of you that could still feel.

A puddle of water lay at your feet. The water from the unstable ceiling would constantly drip downwards. Drifting onto the chains that held up your arms to keep you on your knees. Swirling down your bruised wrists and dripping from your elbows. Going down your spine with a consistent cold shiver running through you. Your eyelashes dripped like crystals as your head hung low. Watching the water drip off your chin or the tip of your nose.

The puddle of water beneath you was stained red. Letting you watch as your blood swirled in its mirror-like gaze. Face to face with yourself until another drop landed and ripples formed.

The same sight over and over again. The same pain over and over again for what felt like weeks.

But you knew it hadn’t been that long despite how the hours crawled forwards. It took a lot of work being captured but at least the water kept you clean.

Your kidnappers wouldn’t want their little plaything any other way.

There was no enjoyment in watching you bleed if you were already bloody. They liked to start a fresh slate to give the blood some contrast.

Nothing has been explained to you. Not a single peep of why you were here, what they were trying to achieve, and why they decided to keep you alive. Any person who walked through the iron door in front of you stayed close to silent. Only opening their mouths to give orders or berate you. Those orders were always just to eat your food under the watchful eye of a guard. To get up and follow them to the bathroom during scheduled times. Not another beaten to near-death person in sight. It seemed like it was just you and them down here surprisingly. Either that or they wanted to make it seem that way. There wasn’t even a request made or some form of labor being put onto you.

You always listened because frankly, you had no other choice. These chains were tight and you were always guarded. As strong as you were, you were still weak. And as smart as you were, you had made the horrible decision to venture off on your own.

Some stupid fucking idea Kid would’ve called it. You could hear his yelling and screaming over you now. Pacing the tiny cell and telling you how much of an idiot you had been. How he had ordered you to stay with your assigned group on this last mission. That he expected more from you and he’d never seen you act this stupid. How he would leave you behind next time because he didn’t want to deal with your shit anymore.

Yet he cried the first time you got badly injured. Held you like a baby and took you to the infirmary just to scream and break an innocent chair. You never took his fits seriously because underneath it all you could feel guilt coming off him in waves. You could see the fear fermenting in a supposedly fearless man's eyes.

You supposed that keeping you captive, keeping you docile enough to not try anything, was a way to lure Kid into some kind of trap. He was a man with a high bounty and a lot to lose. And they must’ve guessed his lover was something worth fighting for.

But it had been too long and your throat grew tired of screaming and cussing out the world. They had you locked up tight, underground, on an island you traveled to by boat with your head stuck in a sack the whole ride there. Every box was checked off when it came to the perfect kidnapping. Nobody had even seen it happen so they had to have left some sort of cryptic note for the crew to find.

Or at least you hoped so.

There was a slim chance that they had no idea what happened to you. That this place was just a pit stop until you got sold to the Celestial Dragons. Or maybe until they worked out a deal with the navy for your head.

You desperately pleaded and hoped that these people were greedy. That whatever amount of money the dragons would pay or the small sum of your bounty wasn’t enough for them. They wanted Kid and all his other higher-ranking members so at least they would know where you are. They would be coming after you.

Yet thinking like that kept you in a whirlwind of guilt.

I fucked up. I deserve to die here. They shouldn’t…no…they can’t get involved in this. Their dreams are too important to get caught right now. Right when we were so close.

At some point your pain, your suffering, and self-loathing almost became…comical.

The mirth of it came out in crazed laughter. Looking down at yourself in the puddle's reflection as your laughing permanently bounced around the stone walls. A big smile on your face yet your eyes were screaming. Leaving an ominous, nearly insane echo to be heard throughout the facility.

The room was small and enclosed around you. Your eyes were dizzy as the world spun. Before the weight of reality struck you again, bringing you down from your manic high. Heart beating in your ears as you gasped for air, tears streaming into the bloody puddle once again.

Pain wasn’t juvenile to you anymore. But the more you lost yourself, the more you started to wish it were.

—————

This pain was juvenile. New and fresh despite being torn from an old wound. As if someone had dug into Kid's brain just to remind him of exactly how it felt to lose. Exactly how it felt to be hopeless once again.

He thought he would’ve known what to do, how to handle this. And for the most part, he did.

But in the empty cold spaces when no one was around. Whether that was the bathroom, his room, or the silent deck in the night, he broke.

There was no more sucking it up, no more biting his lips, no more anxious scratching of his skin or grinding of his teeth that could save him from the way he felt.

It should’ve been me.

Oh, how he wished he was angry and dare say he was. When Dive had informed him that you weren’t with her. That during a raid in your small group off in the safer corner of the fight, away from him you, had disappeared.

Just poof into thin air without informing anyone of where you went.

He had lost it.

That village burned that night. Warm fires in every inch, every crevice, and every person mauled. Each one of them did not know what happened. Not a boat spotted leaving the island. Not a single trace of where you had gone.

That anger hasn’t stopped. It’s still just as potent, just as ferocious and terrifying. More blood-curdling and scream-inducing than hell itself. Kid had felt more people's bodies go cold in his grip in the last few days than he had most of his life.

He wanted to feel it. He wasn’t killing for convenience so an annoying crowd surrounding him would break. He wanted to hurt people, to kill the right person as brutally as he could in case they had any chance of being involved with your disappearance. He took down that village of thugs, burned and quartered every man on a passing ship, and started bouncing to all the nearby islands looking to do just the same.

But so far he’d come up empty. Not a sign, not a note, not a welcomed reunion between the two of you. He’d walk into a building or down into the deeper levels of a ship screaming your name. Eyes blurring to find no one but the dead. All that hope in him snuffed out to embers. His crew watching little parts of him die.

So amid silence, when the pain that he should’ve been handling, that he should be familiar with resurfaced, he cried. He’d kneel over on the floor or press himself against a banister to weep. That low rugged voice gasping for air as he struggled not to choke. Wiping his eyes, his hands reaching out and grasping at the air for childlike comforts. The remembrance of your soft skin dancing along his fingers. Your soothing voice told him that it was going to be okay. He could nearly see you in front of him. Those eyes of yours filled with so much love for a fool like him. His chest hurt so bad he could feel bile building up in his throat. Swallowing it down through wet sniffles and snot-covered lips.

He was a mess. If he didn’t find you soon…he didn’t know what he would do. He wondered if you left on purpose. That you didn’t love him anymore and left without saying anything. Without taking any of your belongings because you were so utterly desperate to get away.

Finding his touch disgusting, his love suffocating, and his personality exhausting.

He wouldn’t have blamed you if that was the truth. It took a lot to love someone like him which is why it's never happened before. At least not in a romantic way.

He never told anyone that he thought this. Because he knew that they would all brush it aside. Saying that you would never leave him and you were far too in love with him to do something like that. But the idea dug in like a lobotomy through his eye. It was piercing him until he tore apart into someone he wasn’t. His face just shards in a broken mirror.

He needed to know what had happened even if you did leave on purpose. Because on the chance that you didn’t, that someone had hurt you, then there was a price to pay in blood.

And Kid intended to squeeze out every last drop of it.

—————

It had been a normal day underground.

The newspaper was in his hand as he slumped slightly in his chair. The hallway is just as cold as ever. The watch on his wrist ticked and the camera's persistent red light monitored the area.

He knew he couldn’t doze off. After the captives' recent round of hysterical laughter, he knew they were on edge. Of course, he had solved the problem as was ordered. Bringing earplugs just in case the laughing kept going on but the brass knuckles seemed to do the trick. But of course, he and the other men had made a bit of a mess. The whole room smelled of copper from the blood and could nearly smell it oozing out of the cracks of the door.

It was as if it was still painting his skin with that lovely shade of red. Darkened and dried into the cracks of his hands as he washed it off. Now leaving him without a trace, hoping to chase that high again despite this person being ‘precious cargo’.

Though you couldn’t have been that precious considering they were pawning you off to the navy. They usually wanted all bounties dead or alive. But this was a special case where the navy wanted you alive for questioning. And that no matter how much his boss wanted to, they couldn’t question the captive under certain terms. They were bounty hunters, not pirates, so any shred of information about this big-shot Eustass Kid was like gold to them.

I don’t know why we’re not interrogating them anyway. They already look like they're losing a couple of screws, might as well dig deeper and see what pops up. It's not like the navy will figure it out.

He let out a little grunt of anger, flipping to the next page with a grimace. His boss was a careful man with very specific plans. Finding this little victim perfectly alone and ripe for the taking was a strike of luck. But because his boss was always prepared for an opportunity, they snatched you up while on the run off an island. Taking to sea as a raid ensued and followed suit to their hideout so hidden not even the town uptop knew about it.

They had done this before and they would do it again. There were even a few other inmates locked up in different sectors. They were never allowed to see each other just in case they tried some kind of revolution. So they all roamed the halls and went to the bathrooms at different times. It was the perfect kidnapping scheme. Letting them slowly rake in the big money without putting themselves in danger.

He heard a rattling of chains from inside the room. Starting slow but slowly getting a bit louder. A light rumbling came from it as the unstable ceiling pinned with metal to hold up the chains groaned.

He slapped down his newspaper in his lap, turning his head towards the door with a yell. “Shut the fuck up in there! You need something, you're going to have to wait for it!”

He turned back to his newspaper letting out a little groan as the rattling stopped. Not a single word came through the door so clearly it was for nothing.

Goddamn, I swear they just do this shit to mess with me.

He shifted a bit in his seat to get more comfortable. Smacking his lips as he eased down. Taking a quick look at his watch to check how long it was until they were given another scheduled bathroom break.

An hour? I swear if this motherfucker pisses themselves again I’m going to hose them down till they bleed.

Another grumble of annoyance rose in his throat. Rolling his eyes a bit as he scratched at the back of his head. Suddenly he heard the same stupid chain rattling. This time much louder and quicker as it scraped and groaned at the ceiling. Cracking his jaw before slamming down his newspaper on the floor and getting up. Opening the small slot just at eye level to look inside.

“I swear to fucking god if you don’t quit that shit right now say goodbye to food for a while you piece of shit!” He watched you with a burning in his eyes. Your face tilted downwards towards the floor like always. Unresponsive and half-dead looking from all the wetness crawling over you. Like some sort of bog demon rattling at the chains and tugging on them incessantly.

He slammed on the door trying to gain your attention. The loud metal banging didn’t make you flinch in the slightest. “Hey! Do you hear me right now you crazy bitch? If you don’t stop I’m coming in there and you know what that means.” He nearly growled, his voice presently hungry for another beating session.

You didn’t stop, if anything you made it worse. Flinging your weak body a bit as you gripped onto the chains. Putting your weight into it so the metal slammed against itself. The stone ceiling crumbling a bit as a rumbling ensued.

“God fucking damn it!” He screamed, his slightly sweaty hands gripping the key on his belt. Ripping it off him, he undid the latch and pushed the door open. His feet walked over blood stains and wet puddles as he latched the keys back on. Cracking his knuckles as he hovered over you. “Is this what you want?! Wanna feel my fucking hands beat into you?!” He quickly grabbed you by the hair tugging your face up to look at him. Your face vacant and almost lifeless.

You finally stopped rattling the chains and pulling at them. Hands falling limping and racking against the cuffs. He held his fist in the air ready to punch you. Looking forward to that sweet silence he oh so craved. But for some reason, the rumbling didn’t stop.

Your chains had already stilled. The ceiling still shaking slightly and sprinkling dust. A crescendo of rumbling shooting across the floor and up into his bones.

He looked up and around the room. Still holding onto your hair tightly as he tried to figure out what was going on.

Is that an earthquake?

But the rumbling got louder. Nearly chattering in his skull. His grip loosed slowly, letting you set your head down but you didn’t. You stayed looking up at him. Sweat was building in his palms when suddenly the lights went out all at once. Sharp static flickers and fuses snapping in time.

But then rumbling stopped. Filling the room with a dark silence so thick he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Grabbing onto his flashlight at his side he felt this horrible feeling of anxiety growing in his gut.

I’m fine. Everything’s fine. We’re prepared for an earthquake and this power outage is probably just part of it.

His thumb traced over the button to turn on his flashlight. But through the open door, he heard it. His body freezing in place as if he was frozen in ice.

It was screaming. Not just a light yell of panic or someone barking orders. It was true blood gurgling screaming coming from somewhere in the facility. Echoing off the stone walls as he slowly turned his head around. Pointing his flashlight at the cell entrance before flicking on the light.

It quickly filled up the space with a warm circle of light. But instead of the light shining onto stones in the hallway, it hit something else.

A wall of blood in the shape of a man.

Bright and rich in color it reflected into the guard's eyes. It was visibly dripping and he could nearly feel the heat coming off of it. Not a spec of skin or clothing was visible from how thickly it managed to glob onto his wide demeaning chest.

The guard blinked as if caught in a dream. His mouth moved to say something but it was far too dry. As if all the life had been sucked out of him at that very moment.

He saw some sort of metal arm on the monsters left-hand side. His eyes carefully tracing down it in the dark to spot the shiny glimmers of blood of what looked like a human spine in its grasp, half of it trailing off onto the floor. The bones cracked loudly under his grasp, making the guard flinch backward, almost stumbling into you behind him.

The man sucked in a gasp of air. Tears filled his eyes at the horrid monster in front of him. Tilting the flashlight upwards until it reached the monsters face.

If he knew any better, he would’ve never done that.

His face was equally covered in blood. Slightly smeared around so bits of his pale skin shot through. His shiny scars and pinned-up goggles on his head gleamed light back at him. Damp hair from all the blood lying down onto his skin.

But the worst part was his eyes.

That burned into the guard's mind. So horrid. So piercing he felt his breathing stall. Almost choking on nothing as he felt himself passing out. The darkness around him turned darker but the monster wouldn’t allow that.

The monsters body bounded forward. His metal hand letting go of the spine as he dropped it with a wet thud on the floor. The wall of blood came closer with each loud thundering footstep. He grabbed the guard by the head, fitting his entire skull into his metal fist. Picking him up off the floor easily and clamping down around his skull. Feeling it splinter and almost cave under the pressure. The guards screams were muffled as he clawed at the metal arm. Kicking his feet in the air and almost hitting you in the process.

The monster turned towards the door once again, away from you before the final snap ensued. A loud deafening crack and then nothing but the sounds of warm blood sputtering on the floor. The man's flashlight fell to the ground. Rolling across the stone to cast an eerie light across you.

The room stayed silent for a while before he dropped the man's body to the floor carelessly. Blinking tirelessly to spot the monsters shadow in the dark with tear filled eyes.

“K-Kid?” you murmured. Your voice was so rasp and weak he could barely hear it. Turning around to face something he could hardly stomach to see.

His eyes traced over you like he almost didn’t think you were real. Soaked from head to toe in water, you kneeled in front of him in a pool of blood. Dark deep bruises on every visible limb. You’re lip cut and swollen as it wobbled from the tears. Tears coming out of a very prominent black eye with red lacerations all around your face. Your clothing torn and in shambles, as they stuck uncomfortably tight to your wet skin.

Kid had seen the inside of many men but the sight of you nearly broke him apart.

Your disheveled features and colorless lifeless skin made his breathing hitch. Tears instantly flooded his eyes just to drip down his face. Mixing in with the blood now drying on his skin. His heart tore in two as he nearly fell into you. His large knees hit the hard ground and splashed up the puddle of blood. Wrapping you in a warm gooey hug he gripped his hand into your hair, shoving his head into the crook of your neck.

“I’m s-sorry…I’m so sorry…I’ll never let this happen again.” He croaked out into your ear between sniffles. Your hands were still bound so you couldn’t grip him. Just tugging at the chains helplessly as you let out a wry whimper of pain.

“K-Kid…” you mumbled, the crying getting even worse, “I thought I was dead…I-I missed you so fucking much. I’m so sorry I fucked up…I..” You trailed off into a whimper. Words escaping you as reality became as sharp as a knife, yet comforting as his touch.

Hearing your voice caused him to let out a weak gasp of pain. Trying to be gentle as he gripped his flesh arm around you a bit tighter. His metal one at your side, both arms desperately trying to not put pressure on your wounds. With a little flash of purple lightning escaping his hand and tingling the back of your head, your chains came off. Bruised weak wrists getting an instant relief as your arms swung down to land weakly onto his shoulders. The blood rushed back into them as you gripped him tightly, pressing your chest flush against his despite all the blood.

Without a word, he tucked his metal arm under your legs. Scooping you up easily, he kept your face pressed against his chest. Walking out into the hallway as his feet dodged the guard's body and left over spine.

“I want you to keep your eyes closed okay baby? Just stay up against my chest until we get out of here.” He mumbled to you softly. Listening to your staggered breathing as you cried on him.

You barely even heard him. Just shoving your face further upwards until you reached the crook of his neck. Closing your eyes as you tried to take deep breaths. Fingers nearly clawing into his sticky blood-stained back as if he was going to disappear.

Kid traced his bloodied footsteps back from where he came from. Finding a few splattered bodies along the way. The worst of it was at the entrance. Clasping onto the back of your head a bit tighter he dug his hand into your hair. Glancing weakly over at the piles of dead bodies still warm and oozing onto the floor.

Every single person in this underground facility was completely slaughtered and he made sure of it. The rest of the inmates the crew found in separate cells set free. Running out into the night with a smile and urgency like never before.

Honestly, he didn’t even realize he had gone so far until it was over. Having slashed every single person that came his way into loose mangles. Usually, he’d move on to the next person when a deathly slash was inflicted on them. But he couldn’t stop, rumbling the whole underground facility as he tore into stone and bone. Effectively splattering his entire body with a thick layer of blood.

A part of him still hadn’t calmed down since then. His eyes were still jumpy as he used his haki to check his surroundings. There was no relief for him until you were home, safe, and healing. No amount of blood could quell how his heart clenched for you.

His crew, who was guarding the entrance for any extra visitors, saw you curled in his arms. Some opened their mouths to say something but Kids eyes stopped them. Your sniffles turned to silence as you stilled against his chest. There would be no grand reunion until you were home. Exhaustion covered you like a blanket as he walked you out into the warm air of freedom.

—————

It was an aching feeling. First at the crux of your back on something far too stiff then into a plush embrace. Your head lulls backward into something to catch you. Tight itchy fabric fumbling you awake. Peeling your slightly crusted-over eyes open and expecting to see that same blinding light from before. To hear only the muffled voices of those around you as you barely stayed lucid. But the world had cleared and surprisingly you weren’t somewhere sterile, you were somewhere warm.

The rafters of the wood above you creaked as the boat shifted on the sea. The room was dark and drafty as a window nearby blew in sweet cold air. That familiar scent of the briny seaweed lapping at your nose. You tried to sit up and immediately were met with a warm hand across your chest, pushing you back down.

“Quit moving.” With a turn of your head against the pillow you saw Kid lying mostly naked on his stomach beside you. His hair was loose and hung a bit over his eyes and the back of his neck. Soft and relaxed and not spiked like most people saw it. One side of his pale face squished against the maroon pillow. Blinking at you tiredly in the low light of the dark.

“Shouldn’t I be…in the infirmary?” You mumbled, softly touching his hand now laying on your chest. Feeling along his fingertips and the deep scars on his skin.

He immediately grimaced at that, letting out a gruff groan as he sat up slightly to roll onto his side. Now facing you more directly but keeping his hand softly over your chest as if to feel your heartbeat. “I’m the Captain and I’ll put you where I want you. You didn’t need to stay there anyway. The worst is over and I’m watching over you. Like that doctor could ever take care of you like I can…”

He rolled his eyes, knowing damn well no one knew you like he did. He may not have the medical experience but he was going to take care of you, it's the least he could do. You watched him silently for a moment, chewing your otherwise slightly split lip tenderly. Your other free hand feeling at the bandages around your hips. The doctor seemingly left you only a roll or two away from being a mummy.

“I don’t…I don’t remember what happened.” You said a bit hesitantly. Everything after him saving you felt like a fever dream. It was hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t. Kid could see the uncertainty written deep into your brow. Taking his hand and running it up to swipe his thumb over your cheek.

“I brought you home and patched you up. You mumbled and cried the whole time in the infirmary. Clinging onto me and whimpering like a dog through all the stitches,” he said with a slight huff of a laugh before mellowing back down into something solemn, “but you’re okay. Nothing severe.”

A little part of you eased into that knowledge. His hand against your cheek feeling like perfection.

I’m okay. You repeated in your head. Your eyes fluttering slightly as they became more foggy with tears. Wet crystal like droplets in the corners of your eyes.

Kid saw this and slightly panicked. Not wanting you to cry anymore, your eyes still puffy from all the tears you had already shed. He slipped his hand off your face and started to sit up. His big body making the bed shake a little as he started to stand up.

“I can go grab you some food. They put you on a IV from all the blood loss so you must be feeling shitty.” He mumbled, the cadence of his words a bit hitched and frantic. You quickly reached out and grabbed his arm, tugging on it slightly to bring him back down.

“No…no it's okay. Maybe in a bit but…” you paused, his head turned back towards you as he watched the tears well up even more, “Kid I-”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

He had cut you off. Leaving you to nearly let out a whimper of pain. You’re chest swimming with guilt as he lets you ease him back into bed. Sitting up and looking down at you with his legs crossed.

His face was starkly stiff as he watched you. Those golden globes of his muddy with feelings yet you barely even noticed. Having trouble looking right at him as you stared down at the bed. “But I fucked up. I mean I badly fucked up. I put all of you at risk and I acted so selfishly thinking I could go out on my own-”

“Baby it's fine.” You let out a shaky huff of air when he cut you off again. Not feeling at all comforted despite his version of ‘fine’. With your face becoming a mess of lines and reddened cheeks he could see you were hanging off the edge. And no matter how much he wanted to drag you off of it, no matter how much he didn’t want to see you cry, he let you talk. Your voice coming out in barely composed gasps.

“But it's not though. I just…I want you to know I’ll never do that again. I won’t go against your plans. I won’t be overly confident in the face of battle. I got myself in that mess and I can’t imagine how hard it was to try and pry me out. All that time wasted…” At this point, a tear had already slipped down your cheek. The side of your face pressed deeply into the pillow as if you were trying to burrow your way out of this. Not looking at him once. Just curling yourself up into a ball of shame in front of him.

He hated every second of it.

“Wasted? It wasn’t a waste because I wanted to do it. I needed to do it. Every person I killed and every single moment spent towards finding you instead of going after my goals was worth it. I’ll set aside days, months, years-shit my whole fucking life to find you. So stop that.” He paused, looking around the room for a moment to gather his thoughts. Your whimpers had gone a bit quiet. Looking up at him almost a bit anxiously from his annoyed tone. Not feeling any better despite how passionate he was about saving you.

You still were curled in a ball with tears in your eyes and he wanted anything but that. So taking another deep shaky breath he continued in a softer tone. “You can do whatever you want during a battle and we all know my plans aren’t foolproof. If I didn’t listen to you, if this whole crew didn’t listen to you on occasion, this boat would be 100 feet under. You didn’t put us at risk, we’re always at risk.” His voice was stern but sincere. Looking down at your gorgeous face despite the tears just hoping and wishing you understood how he felt.

“Quit making it sound like you did something wrong…” He grumbled, scratching the back of his head lightly.

You didn’t say anything right away. Letting his words stew and ferment in your mind. They eased down into something more manageable. The silence between you is a bit uncomfortable but necessary. Kid eyeing you with a worried expression as you slowly composed yourself. Using the back of your hand to wipe your tears as you sniffled lightly. Unfurling yourself a bit and un-shoving half your face out of the pillow.

“Did they leave a note or did you just find me?” You murmured out, voice weak but more steady. Kid didn’t expect that to be your first question, he wanted to hear you forgive yourself but he supposed seeing you calmer was enough. His fingers fiddlingwith the legs of his boxers a bit to distract himself from how nervous he felt.

“There was nothing. I went to all the surrounding islands before I landed on the one you were at. The ‘boss’ of that so-called operation was planning to give your head to the navy. Spineless slimy fucking bastard should’ve never touched you. Shoulda never left you out there.” He didn’t look at you much as he spoke. Chewing on his words a bit and thinking it over. He could still see that boss in front of him. Spine ripped out clean as he lay there on the floor. His little spineless joke had made a few crew members laugh, but he held himself back from trying it on you. It wasn’t the time.

“Kid, you were busy fighting the big shots. That’s how it always works. I’m the idiot who got swept up when no one was watching.” Your voice came out more pleading. Not expecting Kid to be talking bad about himself for what happened. To you, it seemed like it was completely your fault, but clearly, Kid thought differently.

“First off, you're not an idiot. Smartest damn person I know.” He exclaimed, pointing his finger at you. His eyes meeting yours in a much more serious tone. “Secondly, I’m keeping you closer from now on and we're making you a vivire card. I don’t know why I haven’t until now. What a fucking idiot move that was.”

You watched as he swept back his hair again. The very soft-looking curls of his hair becoming more fluffy as they sat in a cute-looking wave on his head. You eyed him a bit, eyes narrowing as you regarded yet another way he was putting himself down. “Well if I can’t call myself an idiot then you can’t either. So stop that. You…thought you were enough to protect me. To keep me by your side at all times. That’s not an idiot move because you do protect me. You always have.” You tried to say that with so much certainty that Kid could feel it. But of course, he still seemed a bit pissed. Looking away from you again and back down at his lap.

“Well, aren’t you being too kind to a guy who let you down…” You frowned at that. Knowing for a fact Kid wasn’t the kind of guy who liked talking about his feelings you didn’t decide to dig deeper. But you still wanted to know what happened. Why Kid seems so bummed despite you being safe.

“You…you were covered in blood when I saw you down there. What…happened?” You asked quietly, picking together parts of your memory to try to make sense of it.

He hesitated. Swallowing thickly before giving you the only answer that wouldn’t make him out to be so…horrible. “I did my job.” It was a good enough answer. He could see by the way your eyes squinted it wasn’t quite what you wanted but you didn’t say anything more. “And don’t worry. The crew hosed me down before I got on the ship. Didn’t want to stain the tub. I knew you woulda clawed my eyes out if I did. But I washed us nice and clean. Under your nails and behind your ears and everything. You just conked out on my chest…which was rather cute by the way.”

The idea of you asleep against his chest as he washed you made your heart skip. Feeling a small smile quirk at your lips imagining him taking care of you so well. “I…I missed bath time? Dang it. I can never convince you to take a bath with me usually.”

“Well, you can put me in another one of those death traps soon if you want to.” Kid let out a sigh, feigning annoyance but smiling down at you regardless.

“Good because I was going to guilt you into it again anyway.” You quipped, your smile becoming more mischievous as you gripped onto the blanket near you and hid part of your blushing face.

Kid couldn’t help but laugh at that a little. Eyes narrowing as he watched you, his voice coming far out more smooth and sweeter. “Of course you were.”

“Oh and umm…thank you for cleaning me up. I wasn’t going to claw your eyes out necessarily. Getting covered in blood wasn’t your fault or anything.” You mumbled, fingers now tracing the texture of the blanket as you spoke.

Kid watched you for a second before responding. Chewing the truth and deciding to ask just in case you did remember too much. “It sorta was…I mean I overdid it. You don’t…remember too much of it right?” His voice hitched a bit at the end there. Eyes more wide and expectant as if he knew you were going to nag at him for how…extra he had been.

“Too much of what? I mean…I remember the guard getting…crushed. I don’t think I could ever forget that. And seeing you all covered in blood is still pretty vivid in my mind.” You said innocently as if even that didn’t bother you. You knew Kid could be a cruel man in battle and had gotten used to it. So you didn’t get what he seemed so worked up about.

“Well…that’s not exactly ideal but better than nothing.” Kid stroked his hair again, a nervous habit that always gave him away. The corners of his eyes tightened and his gaze went anywhere but you.

“What? Did something bad happen after you saved me?”

“More like…before I saved you. And it was all over the ground. Lots of guts and gross shit I don’t need you seeing.” Kid's answer rolled off his tongue awkwardly and slowly as if he was cringing the whole way through it.

“You saying I can’t handle gore and stuff? You know I can.”

You piping up defensively instead of in utter disgust for him was a bit of a shock. Kids lack an eyebrow raised in confusion. Looking over you and seeing that in fact you weren’t barfing in your mouth a little.

Well then clearly they didn’t see it. They weren’t lying.

“Well it was especially…gross this time. Even Killer complained that I accidentally splattered him.”

Your eyes widened at that. Finally putting it together just how far Kid must’ve gone when battling that crew. You looked him up and down a bit more carefully and still didn’t see a single wound. Which meant it wasn’t for fighting reasons, it was for you.

“Really? Well…shit. Killer is like…the king of being chill with a bunch of blood on him. Must’ve been bad.”

Killer really was the king of being okay with blood and gore. It's one of the reasons Kid had become so proficient in handling it himself. So for Killer to complain despite being the very man that taught Kid how to rip spines out cleanly was unexpected. Dare say concerning.

“It…was.” Kid swallowed a bit thickly, still almost ashamed of how he acted despite how good it felt. He was mainly just worried about your opinion of him. He didn’t want you knowing how brutal he could really be but from the light smile on your face, he realized you took it more as a compliment than anything.

“Then um…thank you for protecting me and my soft little mind.” You reached out timidly and touched his knee in front of you. Patting his thigh softly before mindlessly tracing little patterns on his skin. It made sparks fly up his spine feeling the soft pads of your fingers on him. His cheeks turning red as he watched your hand. Not at all interfering with the little ways you showed him you cared.

“You don’t need to thank me.” He said quietly, pausing for a moment before chewing on another thought. It made him nervous to say this. Hell, he would rather talk about anything else. But with a feigned layback attitude, he let it go. His heart far too heavy to keep it inside anymore. “Ya know…for a second there I thought you mighta left me. Got tired of the whole pirate life. Found some other man…to wash behind your ears.”

You listened to his soft mumbling, eyes hazy with tiredness now turning sharp from the shock. “Wah-Why would you ever think that Kid? I’d never leave you. Even thinking about it is making me uncomfortable.” You stopped tracing his thigh. Instead, planting your hand firmly onto it. Your head perking up out of the pillow to look at him more.

Kid half expected you to say something like that. You were always the more vocal one about your feelings compared to him. Whilst you were screaming at the tops of your lungs how much you loved him, Kid would only croak it out in private. Pale skin always cast in an embarrassed flush despite how long you two have been together. “I know I know. I bet the crew woulda said the same thing if I had told them. That you’re too smitten and in love with me to just…leave.”

“Well of course I am! I’m pathetically in love with you and if I ever did leave, which is never happening in a million years, I would have told you beforehand. I’m not some sort of…cruel person to just slink away like that.” That last part made you both frown immediately. Your face strewn with pain and Kids full of guilt.

“I know you’re not, I know. I just got…scared that maybe…I was the one who made you go away.” He could feel his stomach drop saying that. Immediately regretting that he even brought it up. You were back and safe and telling him you loved him yet he still felt like he was the problem.

You could see that look of unsureness written all over his face. It made your voice go firmer, hand gripping his thigh a bit tighter as you leaned your body upwards. “Kid I got captured and nearly beaten to death. Why would I ever choose that over you?”

“I know that now but when I was looking for you…god, I don’t know. This conversation is stupid.” Kid flopped over onto his back. Bouncing the bed slightly as he pressed his head into the pillow. His eyes closed yet his lips tilted into a twitching frown. As if he was trying to tackle something going on in his head.

You’re brow furrowed and your heart ached. Bridging the gap between the two of you as your chest softly pressed against his arm. He popped his eyes open, feeling you move around and press up against him. His mouth immediately opened in complaint. “Stop moving already you need to-”

His words were cut off as you tucked his lips into a deep and needy kiss. Propping your elbow up and laying your chest against his wide one. One of your hands tracing up his pec, the other going up to softly play with his hair. Usually, he always took the led but you beat him to it. Lapping your tongue against his unpainted lips before slipping inside. Drinking him in with slow languid movements that were slightly rough from passion. His rigid body relaxed beneath you as his hand made its way to the arch of your back.

Biting softly on his lip as you pulled away, a surprisingly soft loving smile adorned your rosy cheeks as he stared up at you, nearly bewildered. His sharp honey eyes were wide and glassy. His sweet-smelling skin a beautiful shade of pink.

“I love you, okay? I won’t ever stop loving you. No amount of pain or mistakes or anything you think is wrong with yourself would ever deter me. You bleed for me, you bleed others for me, and you are the reason my heart's still beating. And even if you didn’t do any of that, if you were the most unsuccessful and incapable person on this planet, I would still love you. So please stop making up reasons why I wouldn’t love you because it's an insult to how much I do. Which is a fuck-ton if I needed to say it clearer.”

You simply smiled at him as he took all of that in. Blinking in surprise as a little gasp of air came out of him. The kind of breath that he was probably holding in. But as soon as he did he softened even more, a light smirk on his lips as his hand ran up your back to touch your hair. “Did you have that speech prepared or does being perfect just come naturally to you?”

You let out a little giggle at that. Kid always had a way of turning even the most intimate moments into something sweeter. “Well it was originally supposed to be a part of my wedding vows to you but I tweaked it a bit to fit the moment. Did I do a good job?”

“An amazing job. Though you thinking about marriage already is going to give me heartburn. But if I had any feedback to give, I would say keep the fuck-ton part in. Lays it on thick ya know?”

“Will do handsome.” You mumbled through a smile. Easing yourself into a more comfortable position and laying your head on his soft chest. His hand immediately pressed against your lower back. Rubbing his rough yet warm calloused hands across you. Staring up at the ceiling as he let out another deep sigh.

“I love you.” He whispered. Voice a bit more rasp and his face full of bliss.

“I know ya do dummy.”

[lostboiking30]

Some night time thoughts while I’m sick in bed with Covid.

I want to preface this by saying that I have been aware of Wicked since 2004 and was active in the fandom between 2005-2009. I never watched the musical live(I know what happens tho-thank you for the slime tutorials), I read the book in like 2006 and I listened to the obc obsessively. However, I did fall out of the fandom maybe around 2010 and Wicked became less centralized in my life as I got older. Before I saw the movie, I hadn’t listened to the soundtrack for about 5 years. So it’s been awhile, but needless to say, I *adored* the movie.

I’m gonna be talking about some stuff in act 2 so if you are only familiar with the film, there are 🩷✨SPOILERS✨💚 below.

I’ve been active in a lot of discourse over Glinda being a “villain” in Wicked over on Threads and a lot of people are big mad about this take. And a lot of what I am seeing is that

1) people are assuming that folks who take this stance have only seen part 1

2) defending Glinda because they see themselves as her

3) are assuming that people calling Glinda a villain are simply being reductive and not seeing the nuances in her character arc.

On a related note—I find interesting is that everyone seems to be in agreement about who the “Wicked” one is in “No One Mourns The Wicked”

Now back in the early aughts when I was a teenager, I was admittedly more focused on Elphaba and Glinda’s romance than I was either of their characters, but at the time, I hadn’t seen the play, so all I had to go off of was the book and the OBC and as much as I enjoyed the book, the musical seemed more my speed because of how whimsical it sounded, which was more in line with my hopeless romantic heart that just wanted Glinda to get on the broom with Elphaba and forget about everything and fly off to their happily ever after.

Well…fast forward 2 decades later. I’m 33 now and within the last two decades, one of those decades has been spent in therapy after realizing that I was trans masculine, neurodivergent, and traumatized not just by the shit that happened in my family, but by the near constant political and social disasters we have all collectively been a part of for the last 10 years. The decolonization, deconstruction and radicalization I’ve experienced truly changed the lens on this story and the impact it’s had on me.

Watching Glinda in the first part of the movie was fascinating and entertaining because of how smart her character is. Someone described her as Machiavellian and at first I thought maybe that was giving Glinda too much credit, but the more I think about it, the more I think I agree.

Ariana Grande understands Glinda and played her so well and I saw that the second she appeared on screen.

Glindas performative “goodness” has always been present but it felt more tangible to me watching this film…and it left a bad taste in my mouth (yay for great acting!) because I have known people like her.

On the other hand, Cynthia Erivo’s Elphaba felt so authentic that I couldn’t help but fall in love with her again. This Elphaba was soft, kind, loyal, empathetic, naive, and unwavering. And because I had just gotten into a big fight with a friend who had called me naive and emotional, well I couldn’t help but feel connected to her again.

When i referred to Glinda as a villain, one person replied “wait til act 2. Listen to ‘No Good Deed’ Elphaba wasn’t all good either” and I thought that was such an odd thing because Elphaba didn’t do things with the intent to harm. She was trying to save her friends. She is actively gaslighting herself in “No Good Deed” with all the things others have always said to her.

Elphaba later admits she’s limited and can’t do the things Glinda that Glinda could do, even though Elphaba is literally one of the most powerful witches in Oz. She wasn’t limited. Her ambition lied outside of herself and her desire to help the Animals. She was tired.

And after spending years doing social justice work, the number one thing I learned, especially during the pandemic, was that this isn’t work one can do alone. It’s a community based effort. Organizing is hard work.

Glinda, on the other hand, was self ambitious, and even though she was slowly beginning to unravel and figure things out, it took her losing almost everything she wanted (her freedom, Elphaba and Fiyero) to figure out she had to change. Similarly to the dance scene in act 1. If Morrible hadn’t given her the wand and told her what Elphaba said, I do not think she would have been as compelled to enter the dance floor.

So here’s the thing. I *LOVE* Glinda. But I hate her. She is so complex for all the wrong reasons, and I know that as someone who is marginalized in different ways, I cannot be friends with someone who aligns themselves as Glinda does. And it’s fucking heartbreaking.

That’s the whole point of Defying Gravity. Elphaba and Glinda cannot continue together past that point.

But they changed some things in the movie. Hearing what Morrible said about Elphie at the beginning of DG, accepting Morrible’s embrace and listening to Oz’ guards yell “kill her” should have been glaring warning signs. Yet Glinda still chose to side with them and uphold the wizards tyrannical regime. Not to mention that Glinda’s decision to help the wizard and Morrible led to the chain of events in act 2. Glinda’s not a good person, even if she felt remorse later on.

And don’t even get me started on Fiyero. Like I get why he became part of the guard but the whole working from within the system is fucked too. I also hated that they never told Glinda.

So yeah. This was a really long winded way of saying that I think movie wicked and stage wicked reflect different moments in time and movie wicked is more appropriate for today’s mainstream audiences. I think Elphaba being played by a Black Woman had a huge impact on how she was played and received. I love that Cynthia Erivo advocated to make her Elphie represent a woman of color and that she included inner child and ancestor work into the character.

Ariana Grande knows the in and outs of Glinda and plays her as authentically as possible. And knowing how much the actors love each other irl really solidified how much I believe Elphaba and Glinda love each other.

I spent way too long on this and it’s all over the place but I’m posting it.

Engage, discuss, and divulge in a respectful manner please. Wicked is very near and dear to my heart.

[screampied]

miss vegas. how do u survive in college. please give me some tips. i am barely hanging on by a thread and it's only my first year. how do u do it. also ilysm.

hi nonnie 🌞. omg ofc! i used to live on campus, i don’t anymore which is way easier for me— also, don’t stress. first year can always be a lot and extremely overwhelming but i got uuuuu !!!!!! love u too

it's a lot of things i wish i knew as my first year LOL. i guess one thing that is probably super basic, don’t procrastinate. just get your stuff done so you don’t have to worry about it later ☝️ it’s easier said than done, but trust you’ll feel a lot better once you finish your assignments / projects early n on time !!! also, staying up late while working on stuff — don’t do that. it’s not good for you, and i always did that eheh. waiting ‘till the last minute of 11:59 to finish essays nuh uh. do your stuff as soon as it get assigned, DONT PROCRASTINATE 🫵 also, go to all your orientations. do nawt skip them

sleeeeeep. you need lots of sleep, regardless of what year you’re in it’s very important. i wish i knew that as a freshman 😀😀😀. i would stay up all night doin work, especially on the weekends. certified loser nerd. also, set an alarm !!!! if you’re a heavy sleeper like me, set a fuck ton of them !!!! or uh… have someone wake you up. i used to oversleep a lot, a way to prevent this is to usually go to sleep earlier than you usually do ( from my experience )

if you’re on campus, have some sort of map / guide so you know where you’re going !!!!! on my first day i literally got lost right away and i barely knew much english so it was even more embarrassing LOL. beeeee prepared !!!! ☝️ do research on ur school, they should provide those things — also, try to get those things ahead of time before your courses start so you aren’t askin random ppl where one of your rooms are. of course, its okay to still get lost anyway. it happens. ask for help if needed but make sure you’re prepared !!!

you don’t necessarily need friends to “survive” in college. everyone’s experience is different, but i found my experience easier by just keepin my circle small 🫂. IM NOT SAYING TO BE A LONER, you can have / make friends throughout your years ofc !!! in college, you’ll meet the best and worst people of your life. your main priorities should be yourself and your studies — but you come first at the end of the day. friends will always come & go, but eventually you’ll stumble across some nice ppl who share the same interests as you !!!

there’s prob super more important details but for the last thing i’ll say this— don’t let your grades define you 💓. it sucks majorly to get bad marks on something, especially if you stayed up countless hours on it, givin it your all. i personally have / had a habit of doing that, but never let it define you. if you truly think you didn’t get the right grade for any number of reasons, you can always talk to your prof about it in private. but don’t stress ab it !!! always remember you matter first over some exam 🫵

[cr4zytogetherr]

V2 of my analysis of the Mileven/Byler ship war across all popular social media (complete)

Tiktok: Neutral good. Surprisingly peaceful, mostly just pretty edits. Little fighting even though Bylers and Milevens are almost evenly distributed there, mostly because people go on there to make or watch edits of their ship and not much else, and most Milevens active on there are pretty young so there’s no point in arguing. Lots of “I ship x but I respect z!”.

Reddit: Neutral evil. The homophobic one. Milevens rule here and anything Byler in the ST subreddit gets downvoted and shut down. 

Instagram: True neutral. Who even is on there but 11 year old fans?

Tumblr: Chaotic good. The gay one. Bylers rule and not even the Mileven tag has much Mileven content because it’s flooded by Bylers who are 24/7 hungry for content.

Twitter: Chaotic evil. Evenly distributed like Tiktok but no peace. Everyone fights all the time and attacks the opposite ship. Constant drama and EVERYONE is hungry for content. 

Threads: Chaotic neutral. Less chaotic than Twitter and also not many people use it but it's very alike Twitter therefore lots of debate. But it does no harm since it doesn't reach that big of an audience

Pinterest: Lawful good. Peaceful as always. Very little to no fighting at all just pretty pictures and love and aesthetics and you can search up and save whatever you want. 

Discord: Lawful evil. Pretty organized in servers so the ship war itself is reduced but idk what creepy shit goes on those servers and I do not want to know (a lot like AO3 where you just search up what you want so no fighting but probably a lot of the stuff in there is weird like teen pregnancy).

Youtube: Lawful neutral. Where the smart analysts, film nerds and people with most media literacy are at, meaning Bylers rule the posts, because analyzing Mileven beyond a superficial level would lead to nothing good for them. Lots of commenters/watchers are Milevens/anti Bylers but they’re usually very young or don’t make videos because again they usually have no analysis capacity. Literally search up “why Mileven is endgame” in YT and you’ll get 10 videos analyzing why it’s not. Mostly gay with a bit of hate. 

[healerfromhell]

On The Night Nurse

hi dead boy detectives fandom, i’m here to give you the tea on the night nurse because i cannot watch her incredible lore get overlooked any longer. this post was initially a thread on my twitter but i wanted to cross post :3

long post under the cut

DOOM PATROL

we first see this iteration of the night nurse in what ruth described as a “backdoor pilot” in s3e3 of doom patrol. she’s only on screen for 3 minutes but in that time there’s an insane amount of implications in terms of her abilities.

she’s shown to have telekinesis, as well as shifting her appearance into a more “demonic” form, including her mouth seemingly splitting in half. finally, as the doom patrol escapes, she projectile vomits acid onto them which later turns them into living-dead style zombies!

it’s up for debate whether or not this is canon to the dead boys show, HOWEVER, in terms of asa herself we’re not given any reason to believe she isn’t functionally the same, even if this IS an alternate universe.

as such, it is likely that the night nurse possesses these abilities in dbd and we simply haven’t seen them yet. furthermore, she’s already canonically an “eternal, trans-dimensional being”, so while this is a different universe, it could potentially be a single, dimension-hoping night nurse.....

COMIC HISTORY

here’s where we get into the good stuff. it’s pretty much agreed upon that the night nurse is an adaptation of the comic character “nightmare nurse”, also known as asa the healer. she’s a demon of an unknown age and she’s absolutely delicious as a character.

asa first appears in the phantom stranger, but she’s most notably present in justice league dark. during this it’s explicitly stated that john constantine is her ex-boyfriend and that she’s sapphic! let's go through some of the most important connections we get from these comics.

Constantine

we see her make several references to her history with constantine, but she’s also pretty loud about how her priorities are, first and foremost, her job, as you can see here, which i think ties in nicely to her pendanticism in dbd — all she wants to do is her job.

Zatanna

here are a few panels in which she hits on zatanna, then kisses her, then says she’s a much better kisser than constantine. girl kisser asa you’ll always be famous.

by the way, that creature with the red eyes? yeah, that's asa. that's her demon form that she appears in after enduring the blackmare curse with constantine.

Alice Winter

it is revealed that asa used to work as a nursemaid for a sickly woman named alice, but eventually she decided to possess alice instead. this is the body we see her in throughout her comic appearances.

however, it turns out asa is the only thing keeping alice alive. when this becomes evident, alice invites asa back into her body for good.

Other Appearances

asa is also seen a few times in other comic runs, i’m just gonna add some of my favourites here.

Suicide Squad

i love her character design here and i think her ability to remove trauma like a cancerous growth is a nice tease at how she can literally go into charles’ head and watch his trauma in dbd

The Phantom Stranger

this is from issue 8 of the phantom stranger and there’s several reasons i love it. firstly, LOOK AT HER.

second, let’s go queer demon who enjoys threesomes! you’re an icon, asa. third, apollo and panacea. oh, apollo and panacea. we’re about to get tinfoil hat-y for this last bit.

FINAL THOUGHTS

so you might’ve noticed, up until this point asa’s mentioned having sworn an oath, but that panel has her outright stating she was actually FORCED into it by the gods. we also get a hint at this in jld, though they don’t explicitly name apollo and panacea.

“asa” quite literally means “healer”. her given name; every time somebody addresses her, they are calling for a healer. that cannot be coincidental. it makes me wonder if she even HAD a name before this oath was forced upon her, or if she was just… a creature. a monster.

perhaps the gods saw fit to name her asa as a means of throwing salt in the wound. not only have they branded her, even her name is a reminder of her new purpose. it gives a lot of weight to the numerous occasions on which she says that she is, no matter what, a healer.

because regardless of where she is, what skin she wears, no matter what… she has that oath, and her name is healer. there’s no escaping that for her. it’s the fundamental core of who she is.

and as a final, final thought i would like to draw attention to this casting because hooooooly shit. perfect.

anyway if anyone cares to see any more of my never-ending thoughts about asa you can find all my head canons on the carrd i have for my rp portrayal or my ao3 where i will no doubt be posting writings about her :3

[sosuigeneris]

have you ever got any cosmetic work done (surgical/non-surgical)? what is your beauty maintenance routine? what are some stuff that wealthier ppl know about that most don’t regarding beauty/skin/hair/hygiene/diet/fitness? sorry it’s so many questions. i love your blog so much btw I’ve learned a lot from you :)🩷

nope, never had surgery or anything too invasive. I really don’t need it haha, losing weight, fixing my skin and growing my hair out did wonders for me. I’ve had collagen pumped into my skin for some acne scars I had but that was a useless procedure, this is back when I was 18. I’ve done exilis and em sculpt which I’ve mentioned below, I’ve gotten laser done (useless), I had IVs for semaglutide (useless). I think that’s about it.

beauty maintenance routine:

wax every 1.5 months

thread and wax my face every Sunday

face masks 2x week

hair mask 1 x week

high frequency if I feel like my skin needs a push (I have a wand at home)

gel polish every month

minoxidil for hair growth

I FaceTime my dermat once a month or once in two months

things that wealthy people do that normally people don’t know about… the problem is that everything is public these days. Any Jane can get filler and collagen therapy now and in certain elitist families, there is a sense of disdain about that. Beauty is a competition, it’s a very hush hush business and most try to be as discreet as possible.

I’ve seen lots of nose jobs and chin jobs that these younger girls get done in their late teens or early 20s to improve their prospects for fame (very common in the entertainment families). But with legacy family businesses, among the older women, it will be one of two extremes- a horrible face lift and smudged make up or all natural face yoga and black magic that they swear by. Baby Botox is also huge with the younger wives but they never get it done in India, they always go to LA/ NYC / and absolute worst case Dubai. You really cannot afford to be 35 and botched. The reality is that with huge legacy families what you don’t have is time. Time for recovery I mean, because for those few months you cannot be seen publicly. For most families this is impossible- there are constant engagements, philanthropic activities (PR), weddings and parties to attend - so whatever they get done, they ensure that the down time is very very short. That’s also why most of them have consistent “natural” wellness routines like getting massages weekly. emsculpt and exilis are a big secret (I’ve done both). I’m writing a blog post about it in real time. Downtime is zero. A lot of women also get exilis done for their vaginas to make it tighter.

I have cousins who have MUAs on a retainer basis. Regardless of how big or small the event is, they ensure that they’re looking glam at all times if they’re going to be socialising. I personally think that’s insane and I’m very good at my beating my face so I never resorted to doing this for every occasion but yes this is common.

diet - I’ll be honest, most girls will very rarely touch food. If we’re going out for dinner we normally go for Japanese because it’s a little lighter. They smoke/ vape a lot which in turn suppresses appetite.

what I plan to get done soon:

acne scar treatment (I have very slight scarring only on one cheek because I sleep on my side)

hydrafacial

ultrasound for double chin (I don’t have a crazy double chin but I do want my face to be a little more snatched without fillers and Botox)

Things I know I will get done at some point:

PRP facials

micro needling

emsculpt again (like before my wedding whenever that happens)

Botox just in between my eyebrows because I frown when I’m listening

some treatment for my laugh lines at some point in my life

tbh the best beauty tip I can give you is start working out young. I’ve seen so many women not go back to their pre-baby weight, struggle with their health which inevitably fucks with your appearance, and try all sorts of stupid things when they could literally just start working out and watch their body transform in a few months.

also, don’t get fillers done impulsively. It looks ridiculous unless you have the right doc and 8/10 times you don’t. try to stick to your ethnicity as much as possible. As an Indian, the closest inspo for me is Middle Eastern because I have similar features (full brows, full lips and big eyes). But if I try getting Korean style plastic surgery I’m going to look daft.

[lemon-muncher]

I was thinking some Shalnark x Dom reader? The gender and particular flavour is up to you :3 whether you're in the mood for sadism, bondage, pet play, whatever really. I just want to make him whine and feel so good he cries ✨😌

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH GOOD LORD SOMEONE HOLD ME BACK FROM HIM

Doing this headcanon style so I can add a bunch of stuff for him <3

I'll be keeping this gender neutral and have separate mini headcanons in some of them for female and male genitalia :]

Shalnark is definitely a crier. As much as he hates to admit it, the second he gets the tiniest bit overwhelmed, his eyes water like crazy.

Considering he's a manipulator, both as a person and as a nen user, giving up control isn't something he's use to. But the second his partner rips the control from under his feet, he's at their mercy without complaint.

Definitely a switch... Like I said, he's a manipulator and needs control to do pretty much anything but he finds it nice to let o of all the stress every once in a while.

He's kinky... THERE I SAID IT!!! He may have a cute and innocent face but the things he searches on his phone will get him sent to horny jail! Dude as 50 taps open dedicated to porn and twitter threads of some of the most foul things. I'm talking the hub, X Videos, probably some sketchy furry roleplay is mixed in there too.

Lets get into some of the specifics:

Chocking: He has the biggest turn on for breath play and he has ZERO clue where it came from... Whether you're riding him, plowing into him from behind, or forcing his head deeper into you sex, if you restrict his breathing in anyway, his eyes are immediately rolling back.

Hair Pulling: Another one that'll get his eyes rolling. He has the prettiest blonde hair and who wouldn't take the opportunity to pull him up by it. He has a really sensitive scalp so the slightest tug will have him yelping. If you snuggle after the deed, and you scratch his head he'll quite literally purr

Impact Play: I have nothing to say about this just know it's on my mind...

Roleplay: Yeah...

Feminization: Put this man in a pink frilly skirt! Call him princess and throw some thigh highs on him. Another one of his kinks that he randomly developed. Probably started from a twitter video to be honest. But he loves if you dress him up all nice and pretty and takes him out. Call him 'your girl' or 'princess' out in public and he'll pull you to a nearby alleyway.

Exhibitionism: Will have sex with you anywhere. And I mean ANYWHERE. The alleyway I mentioned, yeah, that's a frequent quicky spot for you guys. He already has to be careful about being spotted since he's a criminal but the thought of being spotted in such a vulnerable position has his holding back moans

Voyeurism: I guess you could call watching your own sex tapes voyeurism... But he always has his phone recording during sessions between the two of you. Even if its just making out, he has it on tape. If either of you are away on a mission and he's horny, he's going through his achieves of the two of you.

Mommy/Daddy Kink: He randomly whined mommy/daddy while you fucked him and quite literally caused you to freeze in place. Not cause it's a bad thing but because he pulled that shit straight out of his ass and surprised the both of you. Wants to be babied from his mommy/daddy but also wants his back blown out by them.

Anal Play/Pegging: This man thrives off of prostate orgasm. Loves the feeling of having endless orgasms without spilling a drop of cum. Whether it's your fingers, tongue, buttplug, or cock/strap-on, he'll end up shivering from it the feeling of being full. I'd like to think he sent you a porn link of anal play on 'accident' just to give you the hint of what he wants.

[darkshines1984]

So, i finally got around to watching the final two episodes of Agatha All Along for a second time (and this time on tv screen and not bleary eyed on my phone in the middle of the night). In terms of where the story line went, I pretty much expected it and had long since excepted Agatha was going to die and become a ghost like in the comics.

Was I super impressed by the two episodes? No. Episode 9 wasn't a bad episode in itself but it was a strange season finale. It felt underwhelming after the drama of the episode before. Episode 8 had a lot of good stuff but it felt disorganised and chaotic. I think it really contrasted against last weeks Episode 7, which brought a lot of threads together very intellugently and fluidly. Instead, so much was thrown into a short time in episode 8 that the threads of storyline just kind of touched base in the episode without truly intertwining. I think the episode probably needed to be ten minutes longer to fit everything in more comfortably.

Was it a terrible ending? No. I am happy with were it left off. Its a neat place to go from Agatha All Along to 'Wiccan' or whatever they chose to call the next series.

I know a lot of people are hoping for a season 2 of Agatha All Along but its not going to happen. Like Wandavision led directly to this series, this series was always leading to Wiccan. Not to worry though as, like Billy was the other main character in this series, Agatha is going to have a key role in his. It will no doubt be Jac Schaeffer again and this will allow time to explore more of Agatha's backstory. I will eat my hat if Rio isnt involved somehow in that series, especially as death will still be a theme. I also did really enjoy Billy's story and cant wait to see were it goes.

What they decide to do with Agatha at the end of that season will depend on if the MCU has further plans for her. If they do, then somehow she will come back to life (as she does in the comics). If they dont have plans, then the option is there to finally lay her to rest with her son, reconciled with her own past. You have to feel that in either of those options, Rio has a role to play.

Finally, although I love a redemption story as much as the next person, i am glad they didn't completely go down that line with Agatha. Yes she has some redeeming qualities but on the whole she is a pretty terrible person. She is selfish and cruel. She is a murderer and con woman. She made her own child complicit in those murders. Yes, I get she wanted to keep him alive, but that absolutely does not make her actions right. She is emotionally manipulative...i mean so manipulative she pretty much emotionally abuses and uses the literal embodiment of death. I dont think you have to ignore all that and even try to make excuses for her to still love the character.

I have to say though, if I was playing Alice's 'kiss, kill, marry' game with the last three women standing (i use the word standing with Agatha very loosely), I would be killing Agatha all over again. You couldnt trust her as far as you could throw her 🤣

So, I would just like to finish by saying thank you to Jac Schaeffer, her team and the cast for a great show and the amount of amazing queer representation. Also, huge shout out to the fans who have made so much content (fics, videos, gif sets, artwork, commentary etc). You have made this wild ride even better X

[theredkennedys]

my au my rules. this au is literally called Chucker Spiderverse AU in the archived discord thread so be warned oooOoOOoooOo . gay men OoooooOo

writing out the backstory that me and my friend Donut have been working on for the better part of a year, most of it was inspired by the new itsv movie that was released then. and because I don't plan on writing anything huge for this I'd like my brainstorming to have a wider audience.

All art posted is most likely @franklindonuts , aka Donut the cocreator of this shit,,,hey buddy😆 go show him some love pleeeease

you can see my art of this au here

this will 100% be somewhat incomprehensive but hey I'm just a fag having fun and I was born yesterday🧚‍♀️

**

Tucker is the spiderman in his universe with Church as his "guy in the chair". (Putting it out there that this Church is Alpha, which is significant later on.)

They both share an apartment, I don't think I ever specified why but probably for school reasons. They're both young adults, I want to say around 19-21, similar to their Blood Gulch years.

Tucker loves being spiderman. He loves helping people, being almost an idol for people- a lot of jokes were thrown around about that:

Imagine Tucker after he got his sword. He has a genuine purpose now and he's going to be good at it.

but goddd Tucker is Tucker and is stupid and reckless. being spiderman doesn't make him invincible but he loves to think otherwise. he pushes himself too far too often because he knows if he doesn't he wouldn't be able to sleep at night if someone got hurt when he was taking it "easy". Church knows this but he's still pissed off when Tucker comes back bloodied and bruised from a Villain of the Week that he shouldn't have taken on :/

(Donut art)

mental illness

It's literally just the Spiderman Effect. No one will Ever be able to understand what it's like to be spiderman but other spiders, regardless of how much you tell them or show them, they won't get it. and Church doesn't Get it. He's not stupid, he understands WiTh GrEaT PoWeR y'know but there's a mental toll that can't be communicated in a way that makes sense :/

regardless, Church hates it but he also hates how much he cares about Tucker. Cocreator said that he figured they were both close and willing to become A Thing but the time was never right, and Tucker was scared of liking a dude, etc. Normal stuff between these two. But they're insanely close, I'd like to think even moreso after Tucker's whole spiderman thing and the fact that Church also has to realize that Tucker is not invincible.

(despite them not being A Thing, Donut art of The Spiderman kiss and other gay shit)

Now this is the kicker of why I said to take note of the fact this is Alpha Church specifically.

Now I'm aware of the clowning on the whole "canon event" thing and some people's opinion on it (mostly that it's dumb and cliche), but I find it a very unique and convenient way to give a character a significant plot boost.

That being said, Tucker's "canon event" is Church's death.

I don't ever think I solidified how/why he dies, moreso that it's just a wrong-place wrong-time type of thing. Some brainstorming from Donut about it:

but i never asked him for elaboration so I don't know what the fuck he's talking about. anyway

Tucker finds Church similar to how Miles found Peter in the first Spiderverse movie. He doesn't know what to do. He's frantic and scared and horrified that his best friend is coughing up blood with raspy breaths.

(Alpha s10 parallel with tex lalalala)

Obviously. Obbbviousllyy Tucker is distraught and inconsolable. Something something he has the Worst depression of his life. He doesn't know what to do with himself, the one person who knew about everything is gone, and I'm sorry (not) lol but it's not like in rvb where Church revives 8 times before dying like a normal person.

Church was always there for Tucker and he's at a loss of what to do now because, despite the threat of it, he should've never died. It wasn't even a concern in his head ever because it seemed so unlikely.

Tucker doesn't know what to do with himself, he wouldn't have gotten this far without Church. But really, it was All Tucker. All Church did was give him little tech bits to help him function better but it was All Tucker. But he isn't able to realize that through everything and it ruins him.

I will have to make a continuation post because I love adding images and Just hit the mobile limit🧚‍♀️

thanks for reading if you got this far