#but the way the article is written is pissing me off a little

[hookechoes]

Okay so that nyt article about one of the arbitrators who has worked with Romania before, this bit kind of makes me wonder how bad this actually is:

If everyone knew and was fine with it, does it matter? Apparently his work for Romania was significant enough to warrant the opinion from another (random, unconnected to this case) arbitrator that he should have recused himself, is that accurate? And does any of this matter if the evidence used to make the decision was an objective official timestamp from the Omega timekeeping tech?

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

Hi Pandora!!! Happy birthday!! 🎉🎉🎉Thank you for deciding to share the celebrations with all of us 😊 You've really got me on a Law kick lately with the Meet Cute, so could I get Law with "I’ve never met anyone as infuriating as you, and I can’t stop thinking about you"? Maybe NSFW with fem!reader?

@froggiewrites Froggie, Froggie, Froggie... your time has come! 😂 First of, thank you so much for the lovely birthday wishes! And now... I had so much fun writing this prompt, I do hope you enjoy it! Thank you for participating! ❤️

Source for Pic

Rulebreaker

Word Count: 3036

Tags: Fem!Reader; Teasing; Edging; Power Dynamics; Fluff Ending; NSFW; MDNI;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: Law, your captain, is tired of the shenaningans you pull whenever the Heart Pirates land on a new island, so he devises a way for you to follow his rules.

Notes: I couldn't hold on another day. I regret nothing. Though I supose the day will come when I'll leave you guys high and dry (fic-less) for some time 😅 Anyway, this is not that time, so please, enjoy this meal!

|Masterlist|

“For the umpteenth time, Law! I know! Now give me a break!” Logic never has been your forte. Thinking on your feet, damn right! Making hard decisions under stress, bring’em, baby. Endurance, the best at it! But logic? No.

So is it logical to argue with your captain after having disobeyed his orders yet again? Not in the least. And damned if there aren’t more than one reason not to lose your patience with him, way more than one, actually. First, you are in his office, second, he’s your superior, third, he���s your boyfriend. But fourth, and the most important one, there’s no getting away from Law if you make him snap. Literally. He’d shambles you from anywhere. 

Still, despite the violence with which your heart is hammering in your chest, your bravado remains in place, as you hold the stare with which his amber eyes pin you, not even flinching. 

“You know?” His voice is clipped as he leans back in his chair, fingers entwined and resting beneath his chin. Fuck, he’s pissed. “You claim to already know, but as soon as we land on another island, the first thing you do is get into trouble.”

“I don’t go looking for trouble, trouble finds me!” You say, trademark smirk in place before the little voice in your head starts to whisper in your ear. You’re going to regret pissing him off…

“That’s cute.” Is it? Because he’s not even close to being amused. 

“I know, that’s how you found me. You were the trouble, and you were drawn to me.” There. That has to placate some of his anger, right?

He sighs and closes his eyes for a moment as if pondering his next move. Then, he reaches for one drawer of his desk and removes an envelope. Curiosity nips at you while you angle your head, trying to see what he’s holding, but instead of hiding it, Law gets up, hands you the envelope, and walks to the door. 

What the hell? You open it and reach for a piece of folded paper as you hear the distinct click of the door being locked. “Am I supposed to read this?”

“Yes.” Clipped, curt, cold. You really pissed him off. 

The scribbled handwriting is a dead giveaway that this was written by Law, but knowing him for over a year, and being involved for half of it, you’re quite familiar with it by now. The letters on top instantly turn your curious look into a scowl. “Rulebook?” 

Law sits again and smirks softly, a barely-there twitch of the upper lip. “Looks like you need one.” You scoff as you skim the first articles.

“I play by the rules!”

“Really? Then why have I had to mend your slashed leg today? Tell me that.” Your teeth clack together as you close your mouth and nearly growl at him. Your name in his lips sounds like a warning. “It’s an order. Answer it.”

“Because I didn’t obey you.” You manage to sputter the words between your teeth and each of them parting your lips hurts more than the sword cut you received from the marines stationed at the island. 

“Hence the rulebook. It’s not unwarranted. I’ve known you for a year and every time we encounter a new island, you run amok doing your own shit and come back slashed, bruised, cut, or bleeding. I’ve had enough.” You swallow the knot in your throat as Law gets up, circling the desk and leaning on it, right in front of you. “I’ve never met anyone as infuriating as you, and yet, I can’t stop thinking about you. So it’s time you make me stop worrying, before I drive myself insane.”

Aww…You’d actually think that’s a cute thing to say, if it wasn’t for the unhinged glint in Law’s eyes or the way that his smirk makes you tremble in anticipation. 

“You want me to follow this rulebook?” He gives you that annoying ‘what do you think?’ look and you scoff. “There’s like fifteen rules here! I’m not following this!” Your eyes skim the rules again. “Report back every hour? What the hell, Law?”

“You can use a DenDen for that.” He’s enjoying this. You were expecting punishment, but not this kind of punishment, this is unbearable. “I’ll tell you what, sweetheart.” His voice softens as you glare at him through hooded eyes. “I’ll make you a deal.”

What?

“If you read me all the items in that rulebook without stopping, you don’t have to follow it.” What the fuck? Your head cocks to the side as your eyes switch between the paper in your hands and the amused glare of your boyfriend.

“Just like that?”

“With a few more conditions.” He chuckles with that low vibrato in his voice and your knees tremble. 

“Which are?”

“Get up.” When you do, he unzips your boiler suit all the way down, revealing the top you have underneath. “Strip the rest.”

“Is this a kink, Law?” You tease, knowing you don’t mind at all. If reciting the items naked for him is what gets you your freedom, you’re game. So you take everything but your panties because he stops you when you were going to remove them. 

“Perfect.” He says.

“Okay, I’ll start.” You clear your throat and bend your legs to sit when Law’s tutting stops you. “What?”

“Bend over the desk for me, sweetheart.” Bend over? Heat starts to pool at your core because that position over that desk has already given you quite a few orgasms in the past months, and you have excellent muscle memory. 

“Law?”

“It’s up to you. If you don’t read them, you have to follow them.” He pushes off the table as his eyes devour you, inch by inch, making you inhale deeply just to gather your thoughts again. 

“Fine.” Anything to not follow his stupid rules! You bend over his desk, which is conveniently the perfect height to line up your ass with his cock, as proven many times before, and push a few books to the side so you’re leaning on your elbows. You clear your throat again and begin reciting in a sing-song voice. “Rule number one: no wandering off alone! Sure, this one is simple, I usually go out with Ik– mmph, Law!”

Heat rushes to your cheeks as your body snaps with tension. Looking over your shoulder, you see your captain sitting in the chair you were in earlier, with his finger in your clothed cunt. 

“You stopped.” Fuck. “But I’ll give you that one, you weren’t prepared. Start over.” Your breath comes out in ragged gasps as you feel yourself already getting wet at the prospect of all the things Law is going to do to you. It kind of makes you want to throw the rules overboard and just beg him to take you right now.

“Fuck, Law. Okay, here we go: Rule number one: no wandering off alone!” A gasp leaves your lips and you close your eyes for a second as Law’s fingers tease your clit over the panties, the friction of the fabric increasing his touch. “Rule number two: Fuck, Law, like that.” You moan, closing your eyes again as he teases one finger inside the panties to see how wet you are. 

His tuts are unforgiving, and he removes his fingers altogether, earning him a grunt from you. “You stopped again, sweetheart.”

“Law!”

“The deal is: you read them all until the end without stopping, and you don’t have to follow them. Got it?” You groan and shake your head. That’s impossible. If he’s going to torture you  like this, it will be impossible to read the rules. 

“That’s unfair, Law.”

“Okay, then, you’re right. So how about this: you can pause three times during five seconds.” You nod. You can do that. Law’s hand caresses your buttcheeks as he talks, and every single rub makes you tingle.  “Moaning is encouraged, but keep reading. Oh, and when you pause,” Law removes his hands from you, “I pause. Keep that in mind.”

What? Now that’s cruel! You look at the rules again and feel angered. There’s no fucking way you’re going to follow them, you can do this! You can zone out. Let’s go!

“Fine! Okay, we’re doing this. Just know that you’re the infuriating one! Rule number two–”

“No, no, no. From the beginning.” Does this man want you angered or turned on? Because he’s doing both brilliantly. 

“Rule number one: no wandering off alone.” You cry out softly as his hand slaps your ass, leaving the most marvellous burning sensation behind, which he soothes with a caress. “Rule number two: report back every hour. Oh, my God.” You take a deep breath before reading the other one, trying to focus on the words instead of the slow way he’s pulling your pants down your legs and breathing against your cunt.

“Rule number three: no-... no-... my God, Law.” He’s using his tongue! He swipes up from your clit to your hole in a long upwards streak, then probes around the entrance with slow, teasing circles. He inches just the tip of his tongue inside as his hand reaches to brush against your swollen clit. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“One… Two…” His movements stop, and he starts counting the seconds you’re quiet against your cunt, making you shudder. The dry thud of your forehead against the wooden desk should ground you, but it’s impossible when he was working his fingers like that. “Three…Four…” One more second to regain focus, one deep breath to continue. “Five.”

Just as you open your mouth, so does he, tongue reaching inside you, twisting and curling to hit delicious spots as you cry out his name before your muddled brain repeats the same word over and over: read, read, read!

“Rule number three: no unauthorized fucking fights!” An unbridled moan parts your lips as Law switches up and two of his fingers go where his tongue was and his tongue sucks on your clit. “FUCK. Rule number four: ah, Law, ah! No reckless stunts! That was one time! One–... ahhh!” You suck in three deep breaths and punch the table as his fingers curl and his teeth nibble gently, just the way he knows you like.

God, you’re so close. Your legs numb and tense up as heat spreads throughout your veins. The pressure in your abdomen threatens to release at any given moment and you can’t stop right now. 

“Rule number five: don’t stop, Law! Don’t… ah!” You cry out his name as wave upon wave of pleasure washes over you, taking your sanity with it and blurring your vision until tiny white dots are all you can see. Sweat drips from your temples, and your elbows give out as you squeeze your breasts against the table. Your hands find purchase against anything to help you ride this high, and there’s now a book on Law’s desk with very crumpled pages. 

You’re still breathing hard, trying to regain focus when the buzzing in your ears subsides, and you hear Law’s voice again. “Four…” Fuck, fuck, the list! You open your eyes with a deep exhale and focus back on the now crumpled paper, just as Law finishes his count. You’re now down to one more pause. Crap.

“Rule number five: do not interact with suspicious strangers.” You hear Law unbuckling his belt and start to read faster, even though the aftershocks of your orgasm are still making you shudder and gasp. “Rule number six: do not go to bars without me.” Well, that one is warranted. You pretty much fuck everything up when you’re wasted. The zipper, hurry up! “Rule number seven: obey curfew.” 

A lone whimper leaves your lips as you feel Law rubbing the tip of his cock against your slit, up and down, touching your oversensitive clit before teasing your entrance but not entering. You’re going to fail if you don’t hurry. 

“Rule number ei–...” You gasp and cry out the loudest moan yet as Law sheathes himself inside of you, immediately bottoming out. The feeling of fullness, the tip hitting your cervix, and the burn of the stretching is so intense that it takes your breath away for a second. 

“Breathe, sweetheart, I’m giving you this one for free.” He rubs soothing circles on your back and doesn’t move until you relax around him. “Now continue, or I’ll start the break time.”

You heave in a few sharp breaths, already too winded to speak, but you have no other choice. 

“Rule number eight: hmm… ah…” Law pulls back, his hands firmly planted against your hips and you brace yourself for what’s next. “You’re forbidden to act as ba–... ahngh! Fuck! Bait!” He slams into you and the desk skids forward with the force. The pleasure of his thrust and the pain of the desk biting into your hips shoots warmth through your core and down your legs and you focus again on the words in front of you.

On the very blurry words in front of you. Tears of pleasure gather at the corner of your eyes as your mouth hangs open and Law keeps thrusting harder and harder.

“Rule number– just like that, more! Nine: Always carry a, fuck, weapon!” Almost there. Both at the end of the list and on the next wave of bliss that’s already cresting and forming as the coil winds tight in your stomach. 

“Rule–... ngh… rule–” You’re about to break and cry out or tap out, anything. You can’t think about anything other than the pure perfection that is your bodies conjoined. The lewd sounds of his cock filling you and the soft grunts he’s releasing behind you. 

“Go on, love, you got this.” He urges, thrusting even harder. 

But you don’t ‘got this’, at all. Your hair is damp against your forehead, and all that escapes your lips are ragged moans and broken pleas. You’re there, you’re right there. A few more thrusts and you’ll be–...

“One…Two…” He stopped. He fucking stopped! A desperate whine leaves your lips as you wiggle your hips against him because you were just there! “Three…” He won’t move until five or until you start to read again.

This has to be torture for him too!

“Four…” Deep breaths, focus. You can do this, it’s as simple as reading a supermarket list. If you were being railed against the dairy section. Damn. New kink unlocked. “Five…”

“Rule number–...” Where the fuck was I? Blank. There’s nothing there. And then there’s Law and another deep thrust clicking your brain into place. “Rule number ten: fuck me harder, Law!”

He can’t help but chuckle as he reaches forward, his back sprawling over you and you feel the way his sweat clings to your back. “That’s not written there, love, carry on.”

“Don’t leave the ship without permission.” You moan out the rule, but you said it. There are five more rules and one big impediment. You don’t have more timeouts, and your orgasm is approaching fast. There’s no way in hell you’ll be able to read while you're in ecstasy. 

Spit them all out, now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Rule number eleven: stay out of off-limit areas; rule number twelve: stay inside the sub if you’re hurt.” Intelligible. Everything you’re saying comes out in ragged breaths, gasps, and moans, but you’re reading. And Law ups his game.

He slithers a hand around your waist, lifting your body against him, grabbing your leg and hoisting your knee over the desk. His cock slides deeper with each thrust as he breathes heavily into your ear.

God, you won’t make it. 

“Rule number thirteen: ah… Law… I’m… nghh. Absolutely no secrets.” Two more, just two more rules, but you can feel the coil tightening, almost, almost snapping. The way Law holds your body against his, as sweat drenches both of you, his mouth on the curve of your neck, the way he’s digging his teeth in… it’s too much.

“Rule number fourteen: follow my medical advice.” One more. 

Law’s fingers reach down to press your clit, circling it with expert precision, and his next deep thrust makes you lose it. 

Your release hits you like a truck, and you arch your back, nails digging into Law’s forearm as he expertly works his fingers to squeeze every bit of pleasure out of you. Your cry mingles with his low grunt as he spills his seed inside you, riding his pleasure with a few more ragged thrusts. 

The world is reduced to just the two of you and this moment. Nothing else matters but the way he whispers ‘I love you’ in your ear in a breathless whisper. You nod back at him, too addled, hazed, and tired to give him an adequate response, knowing you’ll do so after a brief moment of reprieve.

Law pulls himself out of you and brings you both into the chair, cradling you against his chest as his fingers caress your hair, and he kisses your nose affectionately. “Are you all right?”

Another nod. Too early to speak yet. 

“You almost did it, love. You had one more rule.” He chuckles, and you laugh along with him. 

“This is an impossible challenge, Law. You’re terrible. But I love you.” You lift the crumpled paper to glimpse at the last rule. “Rule number fifteen: follow the chain of command.” You scoff. “Got it, Captain. I’ll obey every damn, stupid, silly rule. You won.”

You’re not even pissed at him anymore. This was fucking hot. 

“Check the addendum.” You lift your head from his chest to meet his amber gaze in curiosity before looking back at the paper, confused. “Turn it.” He says, so you do.

“Addendum: the following of this rulebook can be challenged at any given time, under the same rules.” A smirk forms on your lips at the implications of the addendum, you can have a repeat of this little game anytime you want. You’ll find a way to beat the rules, eventually. Chuckling, you snuggle back into that cosy spot in the curve of Law’s neck, where your head fits perfectly. “Give me half an hour and we’ll try again.”

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @walmartmihawk

[nevernonline]

✧.* what’s your number?; kmg

synposis: after finding an online article about the number of sexual partners a woman should have, your day with your neighbor turns into him being lucky number eighteen.

paring/s: model! mingyu x afab! reader, ft. little brother! chan.

genre/s: humor (sort of lmao), neighbors2lvrs vibes, fuckboy&girl reader and gyu.

warning/s: alcohol consumption, sexual content (minors - dni), talks of broken bones, oc has female genitalia

word count: 3.8k

content: seggsy times, idiots being besties, reader loses her job, all the vibes.

note/s: loosely based on one of my fav movies, what's your number with anna ferris. lmao enjoy. also def unedited so srry. xo.

“Miss. Y/L/N. I’m very sorry but we have decided to let you go.” 

Your boss put down a brown cardboard box that once held wine from a staff party about a week ago. You stood in silence, why were you being fired? You’re one of the only executives who does their job. All of the other employees sit around and drink whiskey and flirt with the other women on your floor on company time, go home to their wives, and make six figures. 

“Sir, can I ask why?” 

“Budget cuts, sorry honey.” 

Honey of course. Not only is he himulating you, he’s also being condescending. 

“Why not fire Ted? He does nothing but use his company card for ‘business expenses’ like taking his different fucks to exotic vacations and restaurants.” 

“Our female clients like Theodore. Sorry it has to be this way. Here’s a check to keep your rent underway and for any troubles. Good luck.” 

You picked up the brown cardboard he handed it to you and dumped the white envelope into your bag as you stormed out of his glass chamber. 

Perfect timing, your brothers getting married and you’re getting fired. Your mother will surely love to hear about this. 

After gathering the contents of your desk you found your way back to your white and gray covered apartment, sinking down into the perfect couch you bought yourself as a reward for your first month in the job. 

Pulling your laptop from the pocket of your work bag, you scrolled through the news on your side widget . Coming across an article written in some stupid lifestyle magazine about ‘the appropriate number of sexual partners for women.’ 

“Okay, so society is regressing.” 

Curious enough you scrolled through to a small section with a quiz, childish, but probably suitable for women over 50 or under 21. 

Following your finger down the various categories that pertained to you until it came to the bottom of the page pointing out your result. 

“15 and over, women with this number often have difficulty finding a spouse and are unlikely to ever settle down. Are they fucking serious? Men can fuck 50 women and still are fine.” 

A vibration came from your phone, a text from your neighbor. 

[3:44pm]. 

Mingyu: Mind helping me out? New girl won’t take the bait about my “emergency” 

Y/N: what’s the issue with her this time? 

Mingyu: nothing, just too clingy. I’m expecting you in five, say our dad fell in the shower. Thank you, owe you. 

Y/n: got it see you in five. 

Mingyu and you met often when you were ushering out hook ups or crazy exes show up to your door. You didn’t know much about his life, other than he’s a model, and obviously has bad luck with women. 

Pulling yourself up off your couch and throwing a blazer back over your shoulders you strode off down to the other end of the hallway. 

“Mingyu? Mingyu seriously answer your phone? Hello!” 

The door opened revealing a semi-naked girl, she was pretty sure, blonde, tall, nice eyes, but boring. 

“Who the fuck are you?” 

“Mingyu’s sister, who the fuck are you?” 

“Oh my god! So sorry, hi so nice to meet you, I’m Ailee his gir-“ 

“My friend, y/n. What’s wrong?” 

Letting yourself passes the bra sporting blonde you looked Mingyu straight in the face and pulled out your best crying face, it was easy today being that you’re pissed about work and that stupid fucking quiz. 

“It’s dad, he fell. I don’t think it’s good, we have to go.” 

“Oh. Okay, let me change.” 

Mingyu pulled in his jeans and a white t-shirt, grabbed his fancy leather wallet from the counter and pulled you through the front door of his condo. 

“Ailee, let yourself out okay?” 

“Call me?”

“Uh, maybe it sounds like this is bad, maybe we should stop seeing each other? I’ll call you.” 

The truth is Mingyu was never going to call her, he said that to all the others. Yet, you never saw them again. 

Silently you open the door to your place and shut it behind you. 

“She seems nice.” 

“Yeah trust me, she’s not.” 

“Noted. But, better than that crazy red headed girl, Cass was it?” 

“We don’t have to talk about her.” 

“Missing that jacket still?”

“Yes.” 

Mingyu took his place on your leather armchair and sipped the coffee you had initially made for yourself. 

“What is this? What’s your number?”

“Oh my god. Stop looking at my shit.” 

You whipped the lid of your laptop close and stole it out of his hands

“Do you really think anyone cares how many people you sleep with? Isn’t that kind of fucked up?” 

“You can only say that because well, one your a man and two you’ve fucked basically half the women in this city.” 

“Not true, we haven’t fucked.” 

“Right and we will not.” 

“Sure, sure keep telling yourself that. So what is it? 12?” 

“Do you really need that answer?” 

“Yes. And I will bother you until you tell me.” 

“17.” 

Mingyu laughed, not because he felt bad for you or that you were going to hell for fucking 17 people, but because he didn’t see the big deal. 

“Oh come on, that is not that bad.” 

“What’s yours?” 

“Maybe 20?” 

“We are way too close in number for me to not feel weird about it now.” 

“Because it doesn’t matter, why do you think you couldn’t get a husband or boyfriend or whatever the fuck you want because of that?” 

“I don’t know, I didn’t until today I guess.” 

“Bad day?” 

The dark haired man’s head nodded towards the unpacked cardboard box sitting on your dining table. 

“Weird day. And now I have to go see my family at an overly fancy party and sit around clutching cocktails and lie that I didn’t lose my job, just until their precious boy is married off.” 

“Ah, the black sheep of a rich family huh?” 

“Shut up, no. They’re just judgmental is all. Well, my mom is anyway.” 

“I see. What are you wearing?” 

“I don’t know? What’s wrong with what I have on now?” 

Mingyu looked you over in your semi unbuttoned dress shirt and oversized trousers, sexy and sophisticated, but a little boring for a party. 

“Actually you look good. But, it’s not exactly giving a cocktail party for the sister of the groom. Especially if your mom is as judgmental as you say.” 

“Okay, go in my closet then. Work your weird model magic or whatever, Mr. Jeans and white tee.” 

“Anything for you, rich girl.” 

You walked Mingyu through your bedroom into the oversized walk in closet, filled to the brim of clothes, half of them with tags still on. Gifts from boyfriends, friends, your mother. 

“Wow, I didn’t expect this.” 

“And what did you expect?” 

“A closet turned into an office and like five pairs of the same pants, maybe matching pajama sets. But not this.” 

Sitting down on the small stool you let the man rifle his way through the various colors of fabric. 

“Okay, so this black dress. It’s tight but not overwhelmingly, it’ll show your figure and still make you appropriate. These tall black boots, sexy to show off your long legs and make you look even taller, a nice bag, maybe.. this red one? Or the green, just for a pop of color. Put it on.” 

“You finish quickly .” 

“Never had a woman say that to me before. Hurry up.” 

Smirking, you run back into your bedroom, out of sight from the man tapping his fingers on the marble countertop of your dressing room, sliding into the outfit he picked out. 

“Okay, I look-“

“Beautiful.” 

“Really? Don’t you think this is a little much? I mean, for this?” 

“Not at all, it’s actually really simple. May I?” 

He held up a silver chain necklace in his hands and waited until you nodded as he strung it around your neck. 

“Perfect. Now, leave your hair up. Maybe a nice bun and curl the front pieces? You look nice without makeup on, but do that cute winged liner look you do with a nude lip.” 

“Okay, since when did you become a stylist?” 

“I’m a model, I know what I’m talking about. Come on, chop chop.” 

“Okay, mom. Jesus.” 

“Dad. Daddy, actually.” 

“That's never happening.” 

Doing his instructions as he asked, you curled the front pieces of your hair letting it softly dangle in front of your face and placed the rest up on the crown of your head in a loosely tied knot. 

“Okay. So maybe you’re good at this.” 

“I know. If you need my help further, you know where to find me.” 

“You’re leaving?” 

“Aren’t you?” 

Holding up your phone you realized how much time has passed and grabbed your keys. 

“Right. Thank you.” 

“My pleasure. See you soon, y/n.” 

“Bye, Gyu.” 

Walking up to the front steps of your parents luxurious brown stone, you felt the cold sweat under your armpits before walking in the front door. 

“Y/N holy shit, where have you been? Mom is going to kick your ass.” 

“Sorry, Chanie. I had something going on. Where is she?” 

“In the dining room with Marnie and Seungcheol. Talking about wedding stuff, please save us.” 

Coming to your brother's rescue was part of the job of being an older sister. Seeing him settle down and get engaged to a girl like Marnie was amazing for you, she was everything he needed, and it was nice to have another girl in your family. 

Grabbing  a glass of champagne from the silver tray of a waiter, you strode up to your mother in your childhood home, still as nervous as you would have been as a little girl to be under her gaze. 

“Aw, my baby. Finally arrived. Hello.” 

“Hi, Mom. Hello, guys.” 

You mom hugged you giving a kiss on both of your blushing cheeks passing you along to greet your brother's future wife and his friend Seungcheol. 

“Y/N, you look amazing. Where did you get this beautiful dress?” 

“Thank you. My friend helped me pick this out actually, I don’t remember where it’s from.” 

“Friend? Which friend is this, darling?” 

“His name is Mingyu, he’s my neighbor.” 

“Gay? He has wonderful taste.” 

“No, not gay mom. He’s a model.” 

“Oh wow, can I see a photo? Why didn’t you bring him?” 

“Maybe next time.” 

After downing the first glass of alcohol you quickly look for another, Seungcheol already holding a glass in his hand for you with a wink. 

“Thank you.” 

“Anytime.” 

“Y/N, can you go find your father? Now that you're here we can start dinner.” 

“Yep.” 

Strolling throw the various rooms full of priceless knickknacks and photos of your youth, you stop at the open oak doors of your fathers study, looking at him for a moment, behind his desk, glasses on, reading his book. 

“Hello, Dad. May I come in?” 

“Y/N, yes of course. Just hiding out here until I can eat some dinner. How are you?” 

“I’m okay, mom sent me to get you to come eat. What are you reading?” 

“Oh, just some Orwell. Relaxes me.” 

“Shall we, sir?” 

“Yes, my girl.” 

You held your arm out for your father, he was always your best friend, someone who no matter what supported everything you wanted to do. He was stern, but even after parenting you he would end it with a hug and a piece of candy, seeing him grow older had your heart in pain. 

Searching the table for your placecard, it sat you right in between your brother and Seungcheol, his best man and best friend for longer than you could ever remember. 

“Are you coming to his bachelor mixer?” 

Seungcheol’s long eyelashes fluttered in front of your face and you noticed how much more mature he looked, he was always cute, but it’s grown on you now. 

“Are you going to embarrass me?” 

“I’m not the one who got drunk in college and broke her arm trying to dive into the fountain.” 

“Ouch. At least I haven’t shit myself drunk as an adult and embarrassed myself in front of the girl I liked.” 

“I did not shit myself. It was a fart.” 

“A fart with a little poop, a shart if you will. What did they call you? Shart Seungcheol?” 

Your mother interrupted the light flirting you two were enjoying and gave a speech about how lovely it is to see her baby marrying a second daughter and so on and so on. 

After everyone downed their salmon and fancy finger food, you got into the silly party bus along side the rest of the bridal party, moving on to the night of drinking ahead of you. 

“Guys let’s play a game on the way to the bar.” 

Your brother's fiancé spoke, turning down the music and passing around multiple bottles of tequila and glasses. 

“Everyone right down a confession on your paper. If we guess whose it is, they have to drink, but if you get it wrong you drink.” 

Looking down at the small pink sheet of paper you wrote about your day, your sex number, and you losing your job. Maybe nobody will get it, maybe nobody will care because they’ll be equally as drunk. 

The game went on as your anxiety grew and nobody had chosen your confession yet, that was until your brother pulled one of the last sheets of paper out from the bowl. 

“Today I lost my job, I let a stupid magazine article tell me how women who have sex with more than 15 men means they’re unloveable and unwanted. I can’t wait to get fucked up. Congratulations! Well that’s my sister.” 

“What? How did you guess that?” 

“I know your handwriting dumbass, drink, everyone drink.” 

Your night continued, nobody mentioned your failure as a person, they just celebrated the happy couple. 

More and more drinks in, maybe the same amount of people you’ve had sex with. You took it upon yourself to get people on the dance floor, when you felt a pair of hands coming up on your hips, turning around to curse them out, you recognized the eyes staring back at you. 

Mingyu. 

“What the hell are you doing here!?” 

“Birthday party, we always come here. What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Mixed sexes bachelor party.” 

Mingyu's hands were still resting on your hips, on top of the very dress he helped you pick out hours before. 

“Exciting. Want to get a drink with me?” 

“I have one.” 

You held up the half empty glass of your Negroni and Mingyu snatched it from your grip, downing it for you. 

“You’re paying.” 

“Yes. That was the plan.” 

His hand pulled out off the dance floor and back over to a pair black leather bar stools, waving the bartender over. 

“Two whiskey sours please.” 

“No, one whiskey sour. I’ll have a whiskey neat.” 

The bartender nodded working his magic for the two rocks glasses. 

“Here you go, tab Mingyu?” 

“Yes, thanks John.” 

“Wow first name bases?” 

“I told you we like to come here. Who’s the pale dude staring at us?” 

You turned around to look at your brother, cheering you from across the bar. 

“My brother, Chan. His wedding party.” 

“Yes, I remember. I meant the one next to him?” 

“Ah, Seungcheol. Best man.” 

“He wants to fuck you, maybe he’s lucky number eighteen.” 

“Maybe he was lucky number ten back in the day.” 

“Do you remember his number?” 

“No, but I’ve already fucked him. In college.” 

“Ah, I see. Still on the hunt?” 

“Not at all actually, I’m celabte now.” 

“No way, I bet you could find many dudes who’d want to fuck you here.” 

“It’s a matter of if I want to fuck them no?” 

“Touchè” 

“What about him?” 

Mingyu pointed to a tall blonde, long hair, and pretty lips. 

“Gorgeous. But not my style. I’m not really in the mood to get laid.” 

“And let my work go to waste?” 

You smiled, sipping your drink and feeling the warm liquid enter your body. 

“You didn’t give me my beautiful face and fat ass, you just put it in a dress. And as my dad says, leave them wanting more.” 

“You’re a very funny drunk, she shocks me even more.” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Do you ever get tired of having me save your ass from all those girls? Don’t you want to settle down and not have your neighbor coming over to rescue you all the time?” 

“Maybe the reason I do it is so you’ll save me.” 

“Shut up.” 

“No. I’m serious. I like hanging out with you, I enjoy seeing you, and you’re very entertaining. I like role play.” 

“I see, you have a kink.” 

“All jokes aside, I like seeing you.” 

You were surprised by his gentle voice and nature, you always knew him from the outside, a beautiful guy who has bad luck getting girls out of his apartment for whatever reason. 

“I like seeing you too.” 

Mingyu's hand rested on your thigh as he looked towards the same dance floor he pulled you from before, basically begging you with his eyes to come back out with him. 

You agreed, holding his hands through various sweaty bodies, some you knew and some you didn’t. Dancing along with them to the rhythm of the song, holding yourself up on Mingyu's large frame 

“Surprised to see you in something other than jeans and a tee.”

“You like?” 

“If I say yes are you going to fuck with me over it?” 

“Maybe. Are you going to let me be your lucky number eighteen?” 

“If you promise you don’t have some random girl barge in your door tomorrow to get me to leave?” 

“She’ll be tied up.” 

“Let’s go. I have to say bye to my brother first. Come on.” 

Walking towards the door you spot Chan playing darts with Marnie, who was obviously kicking his ass. 

“Hey! I’m going to head out, I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Is this Mingyu?” 

“Oh shit, yes Marnie, Chan, this is Mingyu. Mingyu, this is my brother Chan and his fiancé Marnie.” 

Mingyu outstretched his hand to the couple, shaking it kindly. 

“Nice to meet you man, my sister talks about you a lot. Be good to her.” 

“Chan, shut the hell up. Love you both, mwah mwah.” 

“Mingyu if you’re free tomorrow, y/n has a plus one. We’d love to have you.” 

Smiling and whisking Mingyu out of the front door, you began to run together through the light rain falling, two blocks to your apartment. 

“Sorry, my brothers, an idiot.” 

“He seems nice, his wife to be too.” 

You felt your hands shaking in nervousness riding up the elevator to your shared floor. Stepping off and standing in the hallway between your two front doors. 

“Your place or mine?” 

“Well, I picked you up didn't I? Come to mine.” 

Mingyu led you through his familiar front door and helped you out of your wet clothes, throwing them in his washing machine. 

Now standing in his living room, just in your black lace bra and panties, feeling like all those other girls before. Almost in fear of someone knocking to kick you out of his dimmed apartment. 

“Come on.” 

You giggled as he picked up your half naked frame and carried you into his bedroom. 

“Lay down. Off the edge of the bed, trust me.” 

You didn’t say anything just followed his instructions as his fingers came and wrapped themselves around your lace underwear, blowing on your clit with his soft breath as he pulled them down your freshly shaved legs. 

“Fuck.” 

His lips came in contact between your heated center, splitting his kisses between your aching parts and your thighs. 

Your hands working their way through his hair as he used his tongue to work his way around your clit and between your folds, pushing you closer and closer into your own euphoria. 

Maybe you understood why girls didn’t want to let him go, if this was his head game, you can’t even imagine what could come next. 

“You taste so sweet, I should’ve known better to be careful, I might get addicted to you.” 

“Stop with the niceties, Gyu. Can you please fuck me?” 

“Eager are we?” 

“Yes.” 

Mingyu pulled you up by the back of your neck, forcing your head near the top of his dick, waiting for you to wrap your mouth around it and get it sopping wet so he could enter in between your legs. 

“Oh, baby, that feels so good. I love watching you on my dick, but we have to stop before you get me going too much.” 

Your head turned up at him, mascara slightly spilling under your eyes, as you opened your mouth searching for the feeling of his lips on yours, before he planted in on you he spit into your mouth, and inserted himself between the same thighs he was kissing before, slowly entering inch by inch, making you wait to feel him fully inside of you even more. 

“Comfortable, baby?” 

“Yes, faster please.” 

“So polite, but as you said before, leave them wanting more and more. I want you to get riled up.”  

“Yes, sir.” 

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.” 

His thrusting became more rapid with your soft moaning, kissing your neck in the process, riding out your high with you, you felt him begging to slow down as his teeth wrapped around your hard nipples, sucking softly at them. 

“You’re so delicious, I don’t think I can last much longer.” 

“Me either, but it’s only round one.” 

“Do you want to do this again?” 

“Eighteen has always been my lucky number, now fill me up.” 

With your final words, Mingyu rode the rest of his high before finishing inside of you, placing a soft kiss on your perfectly pink lips, and dipping his head back down to your center to clean you up with his mouth. 

“Want to stay?” 

“Is that alright?” 

“Yeah, come on. Let’s shower.” 

The tall man led you into his beautiful marble bathroom and turned the water on in his shower built for two. 

“I meant what I said at the bar, you know. I like being with you.”  

Your long arms reached up to his hair, massaging his scalp with shampoo. 

“I meant what I said too, lucky eighteen.” 

“So I’m your lucky number?” 

“Yes, don’t tell my mom tomorrow.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell her that you called me sir and the ass she gave you is indeed perfect.” 

You planted a soft kiss on his lips, before pushing him back under the warm water of the shower head. 

“I dare you.” 

[neptunescore]

Literally started this blog just to say how hypocritical F1 – both the people working in it, and the sport itself – is becoming. The main 3 things I want to address is: no.1 women in motorsport, no2 the ongoing genocide in palestine and no3 F1's disallowance of anything political, yet enabling the absolute political shitshow that was the 2024 miami gp.

Numéro 1: I just think its absolute bullshit that the FIA genuinely created a whole ‘Women in Motorsport Commission’, assigned SIX STRONG ambassadors to it, and THEN proceeded (come 2023) to launch a wholeass unfair investigation onto one of them, based on the MOST groundless claims?? Like wtf?? (Talking abt Susie Wolff here). Also, the whole Cristian Horner situation really showed just how much they care about women working under them, bc tell me why the possible victim in his situation was the one getting SUSPENDED, while this possible filth of a man is still parading shamelessly around the paddock?? Like??? AND SOME OF THE DRIVERS COMMENTS ON THE SIRUATION?? pissed me off so much u dont even understand. Anyway, my last point on this convo is how women should ALSO be taken accountable of their actions, and not just glossed over because they’re ‘women’, over here im specifically talking abt Bianca Bustamante and her liked tweet which calls lance stroll autistic… girl :| and her apology was so atrocious as well. T-T

Numéro 2: The fact that not ONE driver (excluding Lewis Hamilton — that man is so much more than a driver) has spoken up/ posted about the situation pisses me off SO much bc?? THOUSANDS of people are dying, and with the platform you have, the fans you have, you could have such a positive effect! This is ESPECIALLY targeted on the drivers so I FULLY KNOW have control of their accounts (Charles Leclerec, Esteban Ocon, Lando Norris [GOD DO I HAVE ALOT TO SAY ABT HIM], Pierre Gasly, etc) bc tell me why drivers are fully capable of uploading a post 2 years ago stating how the WHOLE of F1 stands with Ukraine (which i do applaud them for) but cant say SHIT abt the same situation occuring in Gaza, but SO much worse?? Lando can genuinely go f himself, bc as much as i used to adore him there’s no way he did NOT know abt the atrocities happening in Palestine, no way he did not know abt the company boycott when he decided to fully display that Starbucks logo on his little reel. And IF (literally a 0.0000001% chance, bc by then a 1000 articles were already written on it and the WHOLE world was aware) he genuinely didn’t know, then that is just ignorant as fuck. Icel. Anyway, literally all drivers should be held accountable, no matter if they’re ur favs or not; I like Carlos a lot but that doesn’t mean i dont get the ick every time i think abt the fact he’s stayed completely silent on the matter. OH MY GOD, DONT get me started on lance stroll and his confirmed (yes, i DO fact check) Zionist girlfriend, like?? Ew.

Can i also just say, that if any of u are gonna msg me saying ‘oH bUt NeP, thE FIA BanNeD AnY anD aLl PoliTiCaL StAtEmEnTS’ Shut up. If you guys could just READ the rest of the statement, you'd know that this rule only applies to when the drivers are ACTIVELY in the paddock. The FIA has literally included the fact that driver can do WHATEVER the want, stand up for WHOEVER they want in their personal lives – which brings me to my next point,

Numéro 3: The FIA bans any and all political statements in the paddock, (without their written consent) YET INVITES TRUMP (a man who has been charged with EIGHTY EIGHT criminal offenses) to the race, is the most disgusting and hypocritical thing ive seen in all my years of watching F1. And don't even get me started on all the shit lando said abt him, like bro?? What are you saying?? Why are you saying these things?? I get u cant speak bad abt him, but that does NOT mean u need to praise him to the sun and back. T-T

That's my rant! Additional reminder abt ppl bringing up how '*retired driver (insert name)* would NOT stand for this, and would post and talk ALL abt palestine if they were still racing,' this is a reminder that those drivers are still alive and well, with WORKING platforms and can STILL do all those things now if thry CHOOSE to :]

-Nep○~

[lightofraye]

do you ever think just for a little bit, that you might be wrong?

having so many angry people come and tell you that you're wrong, doesn't that make you doubt yourself?

if you were a little bit more humble and a little less entitled, you would consider that you are human too, therefore you're just as prone to making mistakes as anyone else.

maybe you should research better your sources, some of the people you've been talking to have said before that they just like to rile people up, they've admited to making up stuff just for fun.

you also have a dignosed sociopath among your sources, which means they cannot understand emotions.

there's also a troll in disguise, who brags about making people like you believe anything, and then laughs their ass of when you people start making theories based on their bs.

seriously, is it that crazy to believe that Jensen really loves the woman he married?

Hello anon.

You asked a lot here, and I first want to thank you for actually being respectful and polite about it. I don't think I'm being attacked for sharing speculation so much as these particular fans took offense that I'm pointing out that Jensen is, well, an imperfect human. And they didn't have to read my posts--that's just it. Why does it matter if a lone, small-time blogger, is saying something opposite of what they think and feel? I'm not hunting them down, am I? No. I stick to my little corner here.

Okay. Now that's out of the way... let's address what you said.

do you ever think just for a little bit, that you might be wrong?

All the time. It's called being an imperfect human. Not just about Jensen, about everything. Hell, in one screenplay I've been writing on and off (based in the late 1800s) I actually consult my historian daughter-in-law. I'm not joking either.

having so many angry people come and tell you that you're wrong, doesn't that make you doubt yourself?

A dozen--and this is me being generous because their identity is protected through the anonymous feature--of people being pissed at me is not "many" and no... it wouldn't.

Now, if they had concrete proof of anything that I said was wrong, I would actually retract what I said. When it was already pointed out to me that I got an Austin property and the Colorado condo incorrect, I apologized right in the open! When I get a piece of fact wrong, I do apologize. Even if it killed me.

So far, I haven't really seen anything concrete that says I'm wrong. And no, sadly, "Jensen said so!" is not enough. Not when a lot of what he's said is contradictory or an outright lie. (Example: Prequelgate.)

if you were a little bit more humble and a little less entitled, you would consider that you are human too, therefore you're just as prone to making mistakes as anyone else.

Please point out where I arrogantly stated that I knew better than anyone. That I alone knew better than anyone. Please. I beg you. And "entitled" is a strong word, but I'll roll with it. Because... I am entitled to share my opinion on just about anything. Just as you and others are entitled to feel pissed off about it. (Though you are not entitled to the protection of anonymous responses.)

The vast majority of what I've shared and written has been agreed upon by other Jensen Ackles fans and even non-fans! You think I came to some observations on my own?? Or that I didn't wrestle with it for months?

maybe you should research better your sources, some of the people you've been talking to have said before that they just like to rile people up, they've admited to making up stuff just for fun.

You mean like... oh... AustinAmy? Or Abi? Jensen Ackles fans who lied? Them?

And, um. Who do you think I've been getting information from? @walker-girl? @its-sassyboots? Or @hologramcowboy? Or @neecy83? Or @jarpadswalker? Or @supernaturalconvert? (My sincerest apologies to those I tagged. Ahem.)

In actuality? None of them.

Most of what I've mentioned, brought up, were through my own two eyes and ears. I read articles. I watched con panels. I observed pictures that I found through public media. Some, sure, were screenshots that were preserved, thankfully, when Danneel went on a deletion spree to hide her hideous behavior, but most... public. Social media. I didn't 'talk' to anyone.

I did it myself. Why do you think it takes a while for new posts? Because I vet them as much as possible!

And who is making stuff up? Please. I'd love to know.

you also have a dignosed sociopath among your sources, which means they cannot understand emotions.

Er. Who? Because again... I'm not getting anything from just one person. I vet as much as possible or ask for videos. For proof.

there's also a troll in disguise, who brags about making people like you believe anything, and then laughs their ass of when you people start making theories based on their bs.

Again: You mean like AustinAmy and/or Abi? Or Cynifer? Or Dot? Because those so-called members of the Ackles Army are the ones spreading lies.

No one I've spoken to. Because again--I ask for proof. Why do you think I asked about the videos that were sent to me? So I could see for myself.

And I'm still waiting for anyone to point out whatever I wrote is wrong... and back it up.

(Opinions, however, will always be opinions. I guess I do need to state in plain English that some of what I've stated is speculation and I have every right to write my speculations.)

seriously, is it that crazy to believe that Jensen really loves the woman he married?

Yes.

Because he himself stated that his marriage works better when they're apart. That he himself said that when Danneel was on the set of Supernatural, he couldn't be himself. That he himself said that more than once when he came home, she'd hand him the keys and take off herself.

Because a lot of his stories read very generic. There's nothing specific. Just "Danneel likes French food and French music." Okay? When a con or two ago, it was Italian food. Or he'd go sit outside and watch the kids run around. Where's the heart? Where's the specific thing that would stand out in a memory--like maybe while he was moving furniture upon Danneel's direction, he snagged his pants against something and she had to free him while laughing her ass off?

Not to mention, in a lot of photos, there's no genuine affection. It reads like a business arrangement more than a love story. Their kisses in public? And no, I'm not saying they need to be tongue deep to show a kiss. I'm saying their kisses read like cold fish, with his lips so closed and desperately pulling away all the time.

Even Danneel has more open affection and warmth with a family friend than she does her own husband!

So... yes. It is hard to believe.

I've not seen any genuine love or warmth from Danneel--not in anything she's said to do, or done to him. And Jensen... same for him, from him, about her.

Look, anon, I get it.

As hard as it sounds, I am passionate about Jensen. I've been a big fan since his time on Days of Our Lives. I've seen him grow and then stagnate as an actor. I've seen him go from this open, slightly shy and reserved young man to... to this. I could show you, nearly, a timeline of seeing him being bright and full of energy to someone who looks like he's dying inside. This isn't an attack, I promise you.

It's an observation. No, it's not a projection (as I've been accused). It's someone who grew up in an abusive household (like Jensen with his father; his own words) and learned how to read people in order to survive. As a result, I could tell when someone was devastated even before they were ready to talk about it. I was the person people turned to for a shoulder because they knew I'd listen and actually care.

It's how I made my own family.

It's how I came into having a daughter.

I'm not sharing this to toot my horn, anon.

Because isn't it possible... that maybe I'm the one who is right? And it's shattering a vision of an actor who should be seen as an imperfect human being as opposed to the perfect man with the perfect marriage and the perfect career?

[aqours]

ok i REAAAAAALLY need to make a dedicated sideblog for this shit now i realize bc this game is gonna fucking fully get me dragged into this discourse so i'm gonna make an active effort to stop putting these on main, but i can't see myself saying more beyond this in general but ANYWAAAAYS

so i recently made this post about the cognitive dissonance regarding this game and people using fucking CALL OF DUTY a game that is more or less a recruitment drive to make the US military look cool and try to get kids to join up and that GTA's wanted system is actually NOT rewarding you or something to try to play a dick measuring contest with coffin but this interaction really interested me and i wanna talk about it bc i just blocked them after they refused to answer the last question but this is a very specific kind of gaslighting tactic i'm very familiar with from my own days as an anti

i think p much all of us who are used to engaging with this discourse are used to like y'know, being called awful horrible disgusting things. this is not the first time some fucking weird random person came onto my content asking me if i was a kid didler or wanted to fuck my brother. ain't gonna be anywhere near the last time either folks, but i and Lord God knows that's not the case so i don't care what a rando on the internet says but here's the thing: you can't "win" this, but they want to win it. no matter what you say you are the absolute worst kind of dreg of society that should be shot behind a barn and no amount of anything would work. if i actually pulled a list of sourced all that would have happened was they would've doubled down on calling me an inc*s*ious p*d* that I would be willing to use articles probably written by "people like me." because YOU don't care about "winning" this argument, you just wanna get the facts out on your end. it's a catch-22 folks, nothing you say will get you out of it!

i started by calling them a karen, they immediately escalated the living FUCK out of it and tried to trap me in this catch-22 to keep feeling morally superior to me. me saying i don't have such desires and never will isn't enough because i like this game. nothing but me renouncing it will change it.

but here's the thing about antis- they fucking HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE it when you turn it on them. look at the difference. look at the difference between they were the one throwing the catch-22 at me vs. the other way around. what about you? you just came onto my post to harass me, so i'll say it back. how about you? are you just accusing me of these horrible things because you are projecting your thoughts on me? you told me to get a therapist: so maybe you're the one that needs help if so!

violent video games must encourage violence, riiiiight? and you support it because it's violent. Game of Thrones had in*e*t in it so everyone who likes it also is the same. and Demon Slayer, where the pfp is from is violent, so you support it. the main protag's little sister also gets a superpowered form where she gets physically older and a tits out kinda look. so clearly YOU want to see your sister in the same way, right?

and it went as expected. you can see the tone going from smug jerking off with a shit-eating grin to just annoyed while smelling their own farts like it's a rose. and the moment i started doing the same uh i got NO fucking answers and they stormed off. i waited half an hour for a response before blocking them

so why am i typing up this walltext? because i used to be an anti. i fucking guarantee you i would've called everyone who liked this game [insert horrible things] like 7-9 years ago. so let me tell you, you know what pisses off antis more than anything? more than ANYTHING? turning this catch-22 bullshit on them. this is the only way you can end this miserable conversation without blocking them.

it's all one-sided bullshit and the moment you turn it on an anti it IMMEDIATLY shuts it down. this fucker KNEW the answer and you know it. so i wanted to share that, if you ever struggle with this shit: well the best thing you can do is block them and to give a fuck about winning their imaginary argument, but this is the only way to make the headache end otherwise. just throw the catch-22 right back and that's the end. thanks for reading!

[avengerscompound]

The Interview - Chapter 26

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Rating:  E

Warnings: none

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count: 1845

Summary:  Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America.  Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

Chapter 26

A persistent buzz-buzz pulled Melody from her sleep.  It wasn’t until Steve was nudging her that she realized it was her phone.

“Mel,” Steve whispered and he shook her.  “That’s the third time it’s rung in a row.”

She sat up and fumbled for her phone, blinking in the low light.  The sun was up, but it barely filtered through the curtains.  A glance at the phone through blurry eyes saw it was Bobbi, and it was 7.30.  She accepted the call and held the phone to her ear.  “Bobbi?  Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not okay,” she said, and Melody sat up, her heart racing.  Her first thought went straight to her being hurt.

“What is it?  What happened?” she asked.

“The Daily Bugle has printed a whole bunch of excerpts from your journal!” Bobbi shouted.

The volume of her voice startled her so much that it took a moment for it to sink in.  “Wait… what?” she said.

There was a cognitive dissonance going on, because if they’d published her journal that was an invasion of her privacy, but Bobbi sounded mad at her.

“Mel!” Bobbi exclaimed.  “You wrote about all of us.  They published so much!  About Steve!  About Bucky!  About me!  Why would you write all that stuff?”

Melody blanched.  It felt like she’d just been hit by a truck.  She didn’t even know what to say.  She’d never said anything mean about the people she loved in her journals.  Despite assuming it would be private, it wasn’t about venting things she wouldn’t say to people’s faces.  But it was honest and it was personal.  It was about people’s struggles, about what she hoped for them, even about stupid things like not getting sleep because of sex sounds.  She had no idea what kind of things they’d cherry-picked to publish but going from how Bobbi sounded it was not good and she was already sure it had been cut in ways to make it sound bad.

“Bobbi…” she said.  “I don’t - I don’t know how this could have happened!  You don't think I would have published my personal journal, do you?”

There was a huff on the other end of the line and silence for a few beats.  “No.  But you’d be surprised by how little that helps right now.”

Melody’s mind was racing.  She couldn’t even imagine what she could have said that would be getting this kind of reaction.  Sure there were things that were private and would hurt Bobbi if they were published, but nothing she could think of would make her cousin angry at her.

“I don’t know what was posted, Bobbi,” Melody said.  “I didn’t do this.”

“Maybe you should take a look and then call me back,” Bobbi said and disconnected the call.

Melody stared at her phone in shock and then began to open up the DB app.

“What’s going on, Mel?” Steve asked.  He was sitting up watching her closely and he put his hand on her arm.

“Someone posted excerpts of my journal on the Daily Bugle.  There’s stuff about you, Bucky, Bobbi.  Bobbi sounds pissed.  I don’t know what I could have written that would have upset her this much.”

Steve grabbed his own phone and began to look up the details too.

It didn’t take long for Melody to find the article.  It was worse than she could have even imagined.  It contained photographs of pages to prove the authenticity and then had an article written with long excerpts.  Because Bobbi and Melody were only really minor celebrities the direct quotes about them were minor but the paraphrasing was weighted to make their lives' struggles seem like character flaws.  The fact they were kicked out and homeless was spoken about like they were delinquents and deadbeats.  The transphobia was rampant when it spoke about Bobbi’s transition.  It was subtle.  There was nothing blatant like using the wrong pronouns or simply calling her a man, but it was still there and it made Melody’s skin crawl.  The fact they had lived with each other was made to seem like codependence and was written as if they were in a relationship.  Which wouldn’t be so bad, except that when it came to the fact they were dating Bucky and Steve it made them look like fame-hungry bitches who were using the men to get their five minutes.

Bucky and Steve were made to look both like victims and like villains all at once.  On one hand, saying how they were being used to further fame, but then making them look incapable of the job of superhero.  Steve’s lack of sexual experience was spoken about in far more depth than Melody had ever written, where it heavily implied that she thought he was a virgin.  The fact he lacked experience was made to seem like a character flaw - like he wasn’t masculine enough to be Captain America.  That was then paired with the quote about how both she and Steve were bisexual, which was written off as him being gay and using her as a beard.  His nightmares were painted as a mental disorder that made him both too weak and too unstable to carry the shield.

Everything that was said about Steve was doubled down on in the case of Bucky.  Bucky was clearly just a gay man as far as this article was concerned, which fed on that subtle transphobia that was there every time they mentioned Bobbi, like a vampire on blood.  The article painted him as both simultaneously weak and ineffectual and dangerous and unstable all at once.

All of that would be bad enough, but the article also just added things if the story wasn’t juicy enough.  There were things listed as direct quotes she knew she’d never said.  Claims of doing anything for fame.  There was a quote saying she was in love with Bobbi, and another saying she couldn’t stand her.

The only saving grace for all this was the article’s author was named right up the top, so she knew exactly who she was going to sue for defamation and theft.  Norah Winters.

Melody was shaking by the time she finished and tears were running down her cheeks.  She looked up at Steve and he was staring at her with his mouth hanging open.

“Melody,” he said, the disappointment dripping from his voice.  It hurt.  It hurt worse than the article.

“I didn’t write this stuff, Steve.  You know I wouldn’t say some of these things,” she said.

“I thought I did,” he said.  “But Mel, a lot of this is true.  There’s copies of the pages.”

“Read them!” she snapped, making herself jump due to how loud she was.  “They don’t say these other things.”

“Even not counting those things, a lot of it’s true,” Steve argued.

Melody drew her legs up against herself.  She couldn’t believe after all they’d been through, Steve would believe she’d do this.  “There is a lot of stuff here that’s been paraphrased and cut down so it sounds bad. Of course, I wrote about being kicked out with Bobbi.  But I never blamed her for it or called her selfish for making me go with her.  It’s easy to lie and make things sound worse if you’re just pulling the one negative line out of a whole paragraph or altering something neutral to make it sound bad.”  She pressed her forehead against her knees and breathed in deeply.  She looked up at Steve again, meeting his eyes.  “Steve.  You know me.  Norah, a woman you refused to even have interview you because of the way she twisted facts to make a story, has stolen my private journal and twisted it and lied to get back at me for getting a job she wanted.  Please tell me this reaction you're having is just an initial hurt, because if you really believe I think these things…”

Steve sighed and shook his head, putting his hand on her leg.  “No. You’re right.  I’m sorry.” His hand retreated again and he ran it through his hair with a groan.  “I’m going to have to go home and deal with this.  There’s things in there that are going to affect the Avengers.”

She looked up at him in alarm.  “What about Thanksgiving?”

“I know.  You stay.  But if I don’t get ahead of it, it’s going to spiral.  This is a huge mess.  What do you want to do?” he asked.

She started crying and shook her head.  “I don’t know.  I’m going to have to quit my job.  I’m going to sue.  Probably both Norah and the Bugle.  Which means, finding a lawyer.  I’m going to be so broke.  There’s no way I can afford the rent anymore.  Bobbi sounded so mad at me she probably won’t even want me back.”

“Bobbi will come around,” Steve promised.  “She knows you better than anyone… but that article…”

He trailed off, but she knew what he was thinking.  If it had made Melody and Steve look bad, it had made Bucky and Bobbi look like real pieces of trash.  “Yeah,” she said and sighed.  “Maybe I should just ask Mom and Dad if I can stay here.  Even if Bucky and Bobbi do forgive me, they probably would rather I wasn’t around for a bit.”

Steve rubbed her leg.  “I’ll talk to Tony.  This article affects the way the Avengers are seen too.  If it is slander…”

“It is!”

Steve sighed and nodded.  “... then we’ll want to sue too and maybe your case can just be absorbed by ours.  That could save you money on the legal fees.”

“I can’t accept something like that,” she argued.  “Not right now.  They already think I’m using you.”

Steve frowned and patted her leg again.  “Think about it.  I can’t make any promises anyway, but don’t discount the possibility.”

She nodded and let out a breath.  He was probably right.  Any lawyer that Melody could afford was going to be crap compared to any that the Bugle could.  Whereas, Tony Stark’s legal team was the best of the best and dealt with things like this all the time.  Having her case wrapped up in the Avengers one would be smart.  But she couldn’t help but think that while it might mean she won the court case, it would just back up the lies that Norah had written about her.  She huffed.  She would consider it and weigh up the pros and cons.  Besides, Tony Stark might not think it was worth suing anyway.  Or he might think it was a Steve problem not an Avengers one.  Or he might not want the cases bundled together.  She might as well shelve the idea until she knew.

She shook off the spiraling thoughts and picked up her phone.  “I better call Bobbi back.  And J.J.  The threat of suing might at least get him to take it down right away.  The damage is done, but if it’s down and a correction is published, at least that might make people realize some of it is bullshit.”  Besides all of that, she needed to quit.  It didn’t matter what happened from here on out, she couldn’t work for the Daily Bugle anymore.  The DB might have killed any future she had as a journalist at all.

Steve kissed her forehead and stood up. “I better pack.”

She frowned and looked up at him.  “You really can’t stay until tonight?”

He shook his head.  “I have to start trying to sort this out.  I’m sorry, Mel.”

Melody watched him for a moment as he pulled out his phone and started to make a call.  She wanted to believe that he was telling the truth, but there was this nagging feeling that maybe he just needed space too.  Maybe the question of what was true or not was eating at him.  She hoped the space would help and not be the start of the end for them.

She frowned and hit call back on Bobbi’s number and braced for another terrible conversation.

// NEXT

[lokigonnakmsforbucky]

Secrets (D.W. x Reader)

Dean Winchester x Female! Reader Request: Could I make a supernatural request? Reader has written in her diary about her crush on dean and doesn't know he feels the same way. Jack doesn't know what a diary is and finds it sitting with a bunch of books or something and reads it. Since he doesn't know what the book is he reads a few passages out loud to the brothers. The reader probably gets pissed off and Dean says how he feels.

Warnings: Angst, Reader is mean to jack a little. Overall pretty fluffy. Rating: Anyone can read this!

A/N: I am accepting a supernatural tag list, if you like to join please leave a comment or send an ask! I also am still accepting Requests!

Gif not mine*

View my masterlist

It has now been days since you have had a case. This means you got a very long break that you deserved. The bunker was nice and quiet, for the first time in a very long time.

You were sitting at the table with Sam, Jack, and Dean. Writing in your diary. Yes, you understood that having a diary was kinda...childish. But, did you care? No. It helped you cope with everything that has been thrown at you over the years of hunting. It also helped you talk about the feelings you've had for a certain green-eyed hunter.

You have known Dean for about two years now and met through Jody Mills. During these two years, you both have been through quite a bit throughout the time you have known each other. Such as Dean with the Mark of Cain, demon Dean, Amara, British Men of Letters (They were so annoying).

Now we are now raising Jack a Nephilim, son of Lucifer. He looked like he was sixteen, but was technically only two months old. Very bizarre I know. It was challenging, to say the least. Teaching him everything he needs to know at a quick pace wasn't ideal. But, Jack was a kid. A very powerful kid, but a kid.

Jack was sitting across from you trying to help Sam do research about a ghoul, Sam wanted to take him on a case soon so he could learn the ways to hunt. Dean was beside you eating the burger he made earlier and reading an article on the news website, you decided to take your time and write in your diary.

There wasn't a day that you didn't go out to write in your diary. You wrote in it so much that even Sam and Dean picked up on your routine. You close your diary and lay it on the table, stand up from the table, and walk to the kitchen for a drink. When you walk to the kitchen you see the huge mess that Dean has made in there. For one burger, that man was messier than a two year old.

You could see the sliced-up tomato guts on the cutting board, lettuce leaves, and onion all around the table and on the floor.

"Dammit, Dean." You laugh seeing his mess before you grabbed the broom and cleaned the floor. Wiping all the tomato, lettuce, and onion remains off the floor and into the garbage can.

After you cleaned that mess up, you walked over to the fridge and grabbed a water bottle. Afterward, you walked down the hallway to hear Jack speaking, "I have no idea why I have been feeling like this lately. My feelings for him have become stronger and stronger that I can't even stand going on cases anymore to see him get hurt."

What is Jack even talking about? Does he have feelings for someone? But, he doesn't even know or understand how relationships work. He has only been on this earth for two months.

You walked faster down the hall to see Jack sitting beside Sam with your diary, but before you can say a word he read more.

"I really like Dean. There I said it. I like Dean Winchester. I fear losing him to a hunt and can't bear with losing him to a monster. I liked him for a few years now, but I have been too afraid to say anything. I'm sure by how Dean would rather be with other women that he doesn't feel the same about me. Plus, I wouldn't want to lose our friendship over my childish crush."

Before Sam had a say in anything, you were already crossing the room to Jack. Snatching your journal away. Your open water bottle was on the floor, spilled.

"Do you know that it isn't nice to read someone's diary?!" You yell at Jack. Jack holds his hands up, "Y/n, I didn't know. It was on the table with the other books. I thought it was re-"

You cut Jack's sentence off, "Research?? Really? What's your excuse? You see me write in it EVERY DAY Jack! How could you not pick up that it's something personal! Oh, wait. You're a little baby in the body of a sixteen-year-old!" You slam your book down in front of him, "Go ahead and read the rest. You read enough already!"

Jack had his head down hearing you yell at him while Sam and Dean looked at you and him. You know Jack didn't know what it was. But, you felt betrayed and hurt by the fact that now my secret crush was out. Dean knew. You could feel all the eyes on you and your own eyes burned. Tears were gonna start falling soon. You left the room and went down the hallway to your room and slammed your door shut.

You lay down on your bed and sighed. Hiding your face with your hands and sobbing. You could never look at Dean or Sam again. You got up and started packing your clothes. Everything was over. The friendships you built. Gone. The years of working with them—him was over after everything you've been through.

A knock on the door broke you out of your thought. You wiped the tears from your face and opened the door to see Dean leaning on the doorway in his red henley and blue jeans.

"Hey." He spoke looking at you, "Can I come in?"

You open the door wide enough to allow Dean in, he walks in and rubs his head with his hand while you closed the door.

"What do you want D?"

Dean took a breath before he spoke, "Look. You were really hard on Jack. He didn't know. He is just a kid."

You nod your head at Dean, understanding what he said. "Yeah. I know. I'm gonna to apologize to him later. I am just mad." You look at your feet not looking at his face.

Dean looked at your partially packed suitcase and sighed, "I understand why you are mad. But, I came to talk to you because I need-Dammit I ain't good at this." He took a breath before he spoke again, "Ilikeyoutoo."

He said that sentence so fast you couldn't quite make out what he said. You look at him confused and step closer to him, "What?"

Dean sighs and takes a step forward, "Screw it." He takes your face in his hand and kisses you.

His lips were soft but you could feel the passion behind them, You stood there for a moment letting Dean kiss you before you returned the kiss giving the same passion he was giving you.

It felt like pure bliss while the kiss lasted. You never wanted it to stop.

Dean pulled away, his hands still on your face holding it gently. He looked you in the eyes. His green ones are full of emotion and devotion for you.

"Do you get what I am saying now? I don't want you to go." Dean said, his eyes never leaving yours. You smile up at Dean.

"I never will go."

[ranna-alga]

I know I'm probably late to the party when it comes to this article, but I need to talk about it since it pisses me off lmao

I am admittedly quite critical of TLOU2 - I don't despise it like others do but I do have my own gripes with the game. But this isn't about me talking about the game itself, but about the bottom section of the article as seen in this

Honestly, thank fuck that Troy Baker pulled back on the reigns a little bit from N*il Dr*ckmann and suggested that Joel's last words not be Sarah's name, because holy shit.

I don't know if this is a controversial take, but I really hate the idea and implication that Ellie was someone that Joel could have Sarah (or at least the remaining memory of her) live vicariously through. Or, in Dr*ckmann's own words, "his late daughter was all Ellie had ever been to Joel".

I hate this because of two reasons:

It severely undermines Ellie's character, who we have seen develop and grow throughout the entire first game, and reduces her into nothing more than some sort of 'replacement' for Sarah.

It completely goes against Joel's character development throughout the entirety of TLOU1. Much of the whole point was for Joel to - I don't want to say 'move on' or 'get over' Sarah (since that's quite a cruel testament and I don't think Joel could ever do such a thing, no matter how happy he was with Ellie) - but to accept what happened. He knows he can never get Sarah back and that no one could replace her, and this is why Joel loving Ellie as much as he did is so important. He loves Ellie like she was his daughter - not as if she was the daughter he had, but as the daughter Ellie is. She is her own person, not a copy-paste of Sarah, and Joel loving her all the same after two decades of emotional torment is significant to his character growth after likely never thought he could love someone like that again.

Maybe if Joel, on the verge of death on the floor and bleeding from everywhere, misheard Ellie's pleading and cries to be that of Sarah's the night she died because of how disoriented he was, maybe that would make a bit more sense, if Joel even had the strength to speak in the first place. There's a common trope done with character deaths where they're seconds from passing away, and it's almost portrayed that they can see their dead loved ones right in front of them in a similar way people say they see their lives flash before their eyes in near-death experiences. Perhaps that could be valid too.

But N*il Dr*ckmann very clearly didn't want to portray this scene that way. Instead, he thought a scene where a single word would completely taint the character development of a beautifully-written, morally-grey, and complex anti-hero protagonist was more "powerful". I simply disagree, and I'm grateful this version he wanted didn't make it into the final released version.

TLDR: If this version of Joel's death scene gets incorporated in season 2 of the HBO adaptation, I am going to place an ancient Egyptian curse on N*il Dr*ckmann and Craig Mazin.

[beauspot]

why can’t black women have a romance holy shit. every person who hates sydcarmy is talking about some “why can’t men and women ever just be friends” like that’s not all we’ve been allocated for decades. i understand that a lot of women particularly 👋🏻 women want stories that don’t revolve around romance, and hey i like those stories too! BUT black women have not had the same oppurtunities to just be love interests in the same way y’all have. We’ve been relocated to undesirable best friend roles or oversexualized booty calls. Y’all swear we have so much representation and yet can only name like 10 shows spanning over DECADES to prove us wrong like if there’s so much romantic content with black women as leads why the fuck are you talking about the flash and the walking dead?

and then we have the marcus and sydney brigade. the ONLY reason y’all want marcus and sydney together is cause they both black, they have zero chemistry. prove to me otherwise, quickly. I understand that people are tired of seeing interracial relationships (which is not really a problem but that’s a post for another day 😒 y’all swear that “the media” is trying to trick black women into marrying out or something stupid like that when we all know black women marry in their race more than any other demographic. imma just say black women should go where they are loved and fuck the noise) but y’all do this with nearly every show. Pairing characters together cause they’re the same race even though they have nothing in common. Nonblack people love doing this which i know why but again not the post.

But what REALLY pisses me off is calling Chefs Kiss a mentor/mentee relationship and then proceeding to ship sydney and MARCUS???

like you can’t be serious. carmy so clearly sees syd as his equal proven by the fact he wants to revamp his BUSINESS, his LIVELIHOOD with her. someone he’s known the least amount of time.

We’ve discussed this before but we know why Jeremy is probably wary about romance because of how hypersexual his previous job was and i get that, but I have yet to see a sydcarmy fan who wants them rawdogging on the kitchen floor. Idk it’s strange the way this show is edited and the music choices, and the script is written if they intended to go no romance for them. I’m really interested to see what their dynamic is like next season if they’re going to change it moving forward to dissuade fans from shipping by separating the two(like stucky vibes) it won’t work but that’ll be very annoying.

The WORST thing the show runners could do is insert a new love interest, that would piss me off to no end and i would stop watching the show. In the latest article they said(writer or show runner don’t remember) they wanted a show with no romance plot so they better fucking stick to it. I don’t want carmy to get to a later season and they’ve introduced a palm colored love interest for him. i swear to god i will turn the show off.

Now I personally will continue to ship them i’ve done so with other ships with far less, but that doesn’t mean i’m not a little annoyed. I hope they stick to their word if that’s the case.

ALSO we need more black women as romantic leads so go read the brown sister novels (chloe brown, dani brown, and eve brown) and hype them up so we can get movies( or in a perfect world a TV SERIES 🤭) based on them

TLDR: it’s dumb to hate sydcarmy cause you personally hate interracial relationships, if they mean no romance they should do no romance, that article was dumb and didn’t need to come out when we’ve already heard from both lead actors they don’t like the ship. we got it the first time. also read the brown sisters and spread the word so we can get a tv show about them thanks.

[kitcatia]

I have a weird fascination with this character from greek mythology called Mestra of Thessaly. I think about her so often, but there's so little written about her. She is the shapeshifting daughter of King Erysichthon, the absolutely awful guy that killed Demeter's sacred tree and got punished with eternal hunger because of it. His story has been told many times (Overly Sarcastic Production's version of it is very good!) so I'll be focusing on her point of view this time around.

She got shapeshifting powers from Poseidon as a boon because he had taken her virginity. Yeah, it's a bit similar to Caeneus' story, but Caeneus chose to be turned into a guy, while Mestra just prayed for a way to escape from… okay I'll get there when I get there. I don't think it's ever stated in the original myths if it was consensual or not, so that's up to interpretation. He is often called "her lover", so I think it was not as violent as it could have been? I don't know, and that's up to the re-teller to choose if you want more or less abuse in her story.

So, after her father spent all the money of their kingdom to buy himself food, he tried to SELL HER AS A SLAVE FOR MORE MONEY. She ran away and shapeshifted into a man to escape the guy she was being sold to. Some versions say that she prayed to Poseidon in this moment to call in that favor he owed her and that's when she got her boon. There's something really interesting about ocean deities being tied to shapeshifting, maybe because of the volatility of water? If you look at a god like Proteus (who Mestra's powers are compared to) or to the Argonaut Periclymenus (grandson of Poseidon, also got this power as a boon), these connections really start to appear. But I digress.

SO, THIS GIRL HAS JUST GOTTEN MAGIC SHAPESHIFTING POWERS SHE COULD USE TO BECOME ANYTHING AND ANYONE SHE WANTED. And what does she do with that newfound freedom? She goes back to her father to be sold again and again. This part never fails to intrigue me. Mestra could have left, restarted her life as anything she could imagine, but she made the conscious decision to fly back to her father's house and submit herself to this cycle of being sold and then turning into different animals to escape each time. I think it's never explicitly stated if these later times she was sold were as a wife or as a slave.

Wanna hear something even weirder the myths ommit? They never tell us what happened to her after all that! They just go from saying: "and then mestra was sold again and again", to: "but Erysichthon's hunger was still too great so eventually he ate himself". And we never get closure on Mestra's story!

There are some fascinating articles about how much of an outlier Mestra is among the female shapeshifters of greek mythology, given she is the only one among them that is not a virgin and that succeeds in her attempts to use shapeshifting to escape marriage.

And in a random one-off line, Ovid says Mestra was "wife of deft Autolycus". This makes my brain spin so much. Like, Autolycus? The son of Hermes? The Thief King of Parnassus? That guy? Also one of the guys that we KNOW tried to "buy" Mestra as a wife was Sisyphus! He tried to get her to marry Glaucus, his son, but she ran away like she always did. So yeah, Autolycus and Mestra have one more thing in common which is pissing off Sisyphus. Good for them.

It's never stated HOW Autolycus and Mestra would come to know each other. We know he was very well-known and very hated all across Greece, so if things came to Erysichthon trying to sell/marry his daughter to THIS GUY, I think things were already starting to go to shit. Maybe his good fame was withering away and he no longer managed to arrange good marriages to his seemingly endless number of daughters. I think that technically, if the groom lost the bride, the responsibility was no longer on the father of the bride, so Erysichthon was not to be blamed for all the brides suspiciously disappearing right before the wedding night, but i think it still got him a bad reputation. As if his rep wasn't bad enough already.

So maybe Autolycus was the last option? Or maybe he wasn't the last option, but he somehow convinced Mestra to stay with him and actually marry him? I'm in purely fanfic zone now but I love the mental image of these two shapeshifters being an actually happy couple, stealing stuff and conning people all over Greece. She's even described as "fox-like" by some accounts, while Autolycus is The Wolf Himself, they even have a motif going on! I like to imagine a version of her story where she gets a happy ending, changes her name to Amphithea and becomes mother of Anticlea and grandmother of Odysseus.

Amphithea is like, mentioned in the Odyssey as Autolycus' wife and Odysseus' maternal grandmother, but we don't even know her PARENTAGE. That's why i have my crack theory that Amphithea IS Mestra using a new name to distance herself from her traumatic past.

OK, that's it for today, thank you for coming to my TedTalk!

things that feature Mestra that I like:

The Cannibal King's Daughter · | Lore & Legend: Halloween Special · Part II: kinda heavy and fucked up in some aspects, really heed the content warnings. but this version really explores mestra with more depth and i'm oh so glad it exists.

the man who ate himself by darkside_cookies on ao3: so far the only fic on Ao3 with Mestra as a protagonist. Gives her side of the story a lot of depth and genuinely fascinating psychological turmoil. Definitely worth a read.

Visibility by odiko_ptino: a fun fic where Dionysus organizes a gathering for all the characters of greek mythology that have, voluntarily or not, changed their sexes at some point, so Mestra gets a moment in the spotlight, and it's a very good moment. It's like ancient greek genderqueer support group and it's a delightful fic.

[lestweforget5]

Also a thorpes Abbott POV of Millie (and maybe Macon?) being evacuated before the March? Like Jack Kidd or Crosby just getting a random call one day saying that she is back? Millie and Macon carrying back a letter from the 100th basically ordering them to keep her in England until they get back? (With a brief medical history and a few clues to keep her calm?) Someone trying to kick Macon out (racism, thinking Millie wants privacy, they are in different companies etc) with Millie being out of it (sick or just really scared and can’t quite talk?) and Macon basically going ‘the Army doesn’t scare me, a pissed off and over protective 100th (stalag division) scares me!(respectively)’ Then their reaction to both bucks early return and then the rest of the 100th? So good.

I always know it’s a great fic when I start to create my own little Au’s as if the fic is the source material! 😂 love it

Hello, Nonnie! Thank you for this wonderful ask. I think you are the same Nonnie as in the ask I replied to yesterday, but if not, I was delighted by finding this ask in my Inbox yesterday, it made me go 🥺🥺, and I hope you will share more of these AU ideas of yours with me in the future as they occur to you and as you are comfortable sharing. I think they're genius.

And since I'm going to geek out about this idea at length, too, everything else is beneath the cut.

So it's very plausible that Millie (and Macon), if repatriated from Nazi Germany under the Geneva Convention, could end up in England. There were repatriation ships that sailed to both the USA and England depending on the exact period. Millie would easily be covered under Articles 109 & 110 of the Geneva Convention, and given the severity of his original neck injury, I could see Macon qualifying, too.

We saw the welcome that Quinn and Bailey got after evading capture post-Regensburg. And then, after Bremen and Munster, to have someone from one of those lost crews return ... that would be something. The aircrews that knew Millie would almost entirely be gone, and any of her surviving crewmates from Biddick's fort probably would have finished their tours by then, but she would receive a hero's welcome among the ground-crews. Macon--I think there probably would have been tension between period-typical race issues then and a bomber's crew respect for fighter pilots who played a large role in them NOT getting blown out of the sky.

I doubt that Millie knew either Crosby or Kidd well, but Crosby was on Brady's crew once upon a time, and Kidd was CO of the 418th before Bucky got demoted, and Kidd and Brady seem similar in many ways so I could see there being a friendship between them, continuing after Kidd become Air Exec. And that would add a more personal element to one of them suddenly getting a call like you describe.

Your idea of the letter contents made me snort with laughter at the first part and then feel sorry for Millie again with second part in (). Nothing that you're describing would be particularly sensitive if it fell into the wrong hands, and if it did, it might well be in circumstances where they'd have bigger problems, anyway, so a letter could work there.

So who would write the letter and to whom would it be addressed? I'd be inclined to think there would be two letters: one to maybe Kidd (high-ranking and respected officer in Operations) asking him to keep Millie at Thorpe Abbots and a second to Kenny with that other, more personal information. And the letters would have been written with a very big IF in mind of where the two ended up. They would have been repatriation ships that arrived in England pre-October 1943 that would have given them hope that Millie and Macon would get sent to England, but no guarantees. And as good as being home is psychologically, there is definitely something to be said about being with people and in a place where your experiences are understood and shared ... up to a point, since they were POWs and the others at Thorpe Abbotts weren't.

Macon's response--"the Army doesn’t scare me, a pissed off and over protective 100th (stalag division) scares me!(respectively)"--made me laugh out loud ... despite the seriousness of the context/issues. I think I could see him saying that.

Buck returns to Thorpe Abbotts in April of 1945, but depending on when Millie and Macon got repatriated, there's been a long gap between when they left and when the prisoners from camp start to learn that they're safely back in Allied hands, and that would be hard. If they left Stalag Luft III any later than October 1944 or so, factoring in travel time to England, it would have been impossible to even get covert word to camp in a postcard that they were safe, since letters stopped a little bit before Christmas. So when Buck and then Bucky reached base, they're would be a lot of relief that Millie and Macon had safely reached home. And then it would take time for that news to filter down to the other freed prisoners from Stalag Luft III.

[wedriftlikelonelyplanets]

i have (3) questions to ask, feel free to answer/not as you wish, all for your landoscar verse

would they ever delve into breath play/would they enjoy it

how do you think a spanking scene would come about between them and would oscar love the bruises

does oscar completely stop orgasms unless lando says yes?? or does he still go off his own schedule sometimes

OKAY ANON, I uh...had an incredibly long and nuanced response to this typed out, and then my internet decided to be a raging cunt for some reason, and die (it's done this way too many times in the last two days and i'm pissed about it). I will try and answer with the same amount of detail I did when I wrote the original response, however it took me almost 30 minutes and now i want to yeet my computer at the wall. (and also now i'm being distracted by [redacted] in a chat)

ANSWERS BELOW THE CUT due to the USFW nature, discussions of D/s dynamic, and kink

1 - I have...an incredibly nuanced answer to this question, and it's probably going to come across as a little preachy, so feel free to yell at me in the askbox later about it

CANONICALLY, Lando likes the act of putting his hand on Oscar's throat, at the base of it, fingers gently around it, using it to guide him a little bit. It's possessive, and he LIKES being possessive, and Oscar likes it too. Oscar also likes being man-handled a little bit, but that's neither here nor there (I mean it IS but you get it I think).

For Oscar and Lando both, the part of this that they like IS the possessiveness. It's a reminder that he belongs to Lando, and honestly it makes him kind of feral, it's kind of more of a sign of his submission to Lando more than anything. And for Lando, it's a sign of the trust that Oscar puts in him to care for him, to hold him, and dominate him.

I think that both of them would likely enjoy delving into breath play at least a little bit. I think there's a lot of fun that they could have with it, especially in like...the context of a CNC scene involving breath play, Lando pinning him down, deciding when he can breathe and when he can't. It would be HEAVILY negotiated, however, because breath play is ABSOLUTELY dangerous, and they already have relatively high risk jobs as it is. Even when breath play is done correctly (iykyk), it is still HIGHLY risky, and the ONLY way they would engage in that behaviour would be to have it heavily negotiated. And quite honestly, I think I would bore you all to tears if I wrote that.

On my side of things, and without getting into too much personal lore, I can't say whether or not I'd actually be comfortable writing about it. I'm not a sex educator, and I'm not here to put together a kinky primer, however I've read a VERY well written article that made me change my own mind regarding breath play. This does carry over to my comfortability writing it, because again, I'm not here to write a primer on sex and kink, and I enjoy writing my little guys doing things, and like also not having to worry about people using what I write as a primer for things they want to try.

RISK AWARE CONSENSUAL KINK, FOLKS.

I'm pretty sure my dead response to this was much longer, but I don't remember it all cause my memory ain't that good. Sorry for the monster reply to that, though, and I apologize if this isn't QUITE the answer you're looking for.

2- AHHHH SPANKING, my favourite, my beloved.

SO spanking scenes definitely would come around in two separate ways in this verse.

The first way would literally simply be for like...catharsis, i guess? for lack of a better word. And because saying "for fun" sounds weird. But essentially it would be something in the realm of Oscar feeling shitty about something, and just wanting it to get him out of his head, and focus on something else (this could be any number of things, from a poor race result/shitty strategy call, feeling generally just overwhelmed and needing grounding, or just feeling a little off about things, and needing something a little sharper to help him focus), and honestly Lando's more than happy to oblige. This is a situation in which Oscar would also LIKELY be allowed to come, instead of Lando controlling that too, but again incredibly circumstantial.

The second way would be as a punishment or essentially a funishment, i guess, because Oscar enjoys spanking. This would MORE THAN LIKELY be from Oscar breaking a rule. What rule, you ask? Great question, I don't have any made up for them yet beyond the fact that Oscar's not really allowed to come without Lando's permission, and Lando's hand-wavey rules about Oscar doing better than him in races. This really is Lando's excuse to have Oscar over his knee and writhing in his lap and maybe crying a little bit, and then denying Oscar while he's rutting against Lando's thigh.

I actually would seriously consider writing either one of these situations. If I were to do an alternate version of the first fic I wrote for this verse, I'd probably have included cathartic spanking because Oscar was feelin' a little out of sorts about that race win at Lando's expense.

Oscar (and Lando) would both enjoy seeing the bruises and marks left behind, and I TRULY think that Oscar would blush bright red every time he catches sight of them in a mirror when he's walking by naked or something, and he'd also very much enjoy the achey pain as they heal, and Lando digs his fingers in.

ALSO, very specifically, impact play is just another way Lando gets to indulge in his dacryphilia kink and i just think that's neat.

Very specifically, any impact play scene-ing would likely be done with enough time between race weekends for Oscar to recover, however, because I can't imagine it would be...comfortable.

3 - AHHH yes, the truest of true questions. This is a uh...loaded question. The short answer to this, is that Oscar gives all his orgasms to Lando. This means that Lando gets to decide whether or not he gets to come and how many times he gets to come (and yes that can and may in the future include forced orgasms). This means that if Lando decides he wants to [redacted] Oscar [redacted][redacted][redacted][redacted], he will (I alluded to this in a previous answer to an ask, y'all can fight about what it means in my inbox if you want)

The long answer is as follows:

Lando - Wants to be in control of Oscar's orgasms. There's something something about the power and control that he gets from it, especially when sometimes he feels like he's out of control. It grounds him, in a way, to get to choose what Oscar gets from him and what he doesn't, and like...I'm aware of how this could sound to someone not involved in a D/s relationship or a relationship that doesn't include power exchange, however, there's something inherently cathartic about BDSM and associated kinks, imo. He also really loves the idea that he can get to decide whether or not he thinks Oscar deserves orgasms, whether it's through something completely arbitrary (performing better than him in a race), or for a valid reason (again i have NOT made a rules list for these idiots, and will I truly ever? WHO KNOWS).

The EXCEPTION to this is if they're going to be apart for a long time, or they're not going to be able to interact much. Lando's a little more charitable when he can't be there to take care of Oscar, tbh, but honestly the likelyhood of Oscar coming without at least asking Lando for permission first even in this situation is pretty low.

Oscar - Oscar's view on this is a little more complicated to like...wrap my head around, ironic considering [redacted personal lore here]. The biggest part is that a) it's not a decision he likes to make, he just wants someone else to make it for him. He's in his head a lot, so even if he wants to get off, sometimes he's just so wrapped up in everything else going on in his brain that he can't shut it off enough to have an orgasm, and b) it's kinda fun and sexy.

He definitely gets bratty about it, despite the fact that he actually does want it. And it's not like Lando denies him all the time. it's been very heavily leaned into in my first two fics because of the circumstances that I set (including the rancidity of the vibes that were supposed to be there), but Lando's not going to deny him all the time. (just most of the time ehehehehe). But honestly, some of the brattiness will just make Lando be even meaner. It's also just another way for him to give up the careful, controlled part of him that the rest of the world sees.

Like...you're not cool and put together when you're sobbing because your boyfriend won't let you come.

This is probably not quite as eloquent as I wanted to make this, and really it's hard to describe exact reasons for characters liking what they like, so I hope this makes sense and is kind of the answer that you're looking for.

AS ALWAYS, apologies for the monologue, but y'all came into my (a certified yapper) inbox, and asked me questions about my verse.

Please feel free to hit me up with more, I am ALWAYS here for it.

[papermint-airplane]

Ok ok so let me explain what it is I'm doing here. Or try to, anyway, because it's admittedly a dumb idea and it's far from original, but I like to think I'm putting a little bit of my own spin on it. First, let's discuss what the original game, Façade is.

What is Façade?

So I'm going to do my best to explain what this game I'm parodying/playing homage to is in my own words. There are plenty of Wiki articles out there about it but I've spent enough time thinking about this cursed game and I'm not about to add actual research on top of it so take everything I say with a pinch of salt.

Façade was created in 2005/2006 by the two guys whose names are on the title screenshot I posted before. These guys.

From what I have gleaned over time, they created this "game" as a masters thesis project (I could be wrong but I already said I'm not looking it up so my source is "Trust Me Bro"). This isn't really a game as much as it is a tech demo to show off their brand new advanced (for the time) AI text parser. For those of us who don't speak übernerd, it pretty much means the game can understand you. Kind of. You type sentences on the screen and the AI does its best to figure out what you mean. Using this system, you can kind of have a conversation with Trip and Grace and they will react using pre-written voice acted lines. That sounds incredibly impressive and it is, especially for someone like me who can barely understand the magic going on under the hood, but what this basically all boils down to is that you can fuck with the characters so much. They have certain triggers which, if you trigger them, can either get you scolded, contribute to the couple's argument (more on that in a second), or outright get you kicked out of the apartment. For instance, the first time I played, while Grace was going "oh my Goooood [Player] you look sooooooo amaaaaaazing", I replied "you look terrible" and instantly got the boot from Trip.

The Story

We've already established that the point of Façade is to be a tech demo first and a game second, so the story isn't as impressive as the code driving it. You, the player, are an old college friend of Trip and Grace's and have been invited to their apartment for a "dinner party". The problem is, there is no dinner, there is no party, and all the couple does is fight in front of you. It is up to you, dear hapless player, to help them with their marital issues that you are, in no way whatsoever, qualified to address. Alternatively, you can just troll the shit out of them.

That's it, that's the whole story. Couple invites you over, couple doesn't feed you, couple proceeds to scream at each other for reasons unrelated to the absent food. And yet, as simplistic as it is, it's captivating for reasons that aren't easily articulated. This is the sort of game that must be experienced in order for you to really get it.

I can't stress enough how impressively made this game was for the time. We're talking absolutely groundbreaking stuff and probably part of the reason AI is going to take over the world and enslave us all. But somehow, in the process of changing the face of technology as we know it, these two guys gave us the worst characters in the entirety of videogame history.

Grace

Grace is a bitch. There, I said it. It's true. Anyone who's ever played Façade knows it's true. And yet, you can't fully hate her because she is justified in her bitchiness. Her husband is shallow, materialistic, and is cheating on her with everyone. She's unfulfilled in a career she didn't want and feels suffocated in her current lifestyle. However...listen, you're just going to have to play the game or watch a Let's Play because the whininess has to be seen to be believed. Grace and Trip are already fighting when you arrive at their apartment (you can hear them shouting at each other through the door) and Grace does a piss-poor job of pretending they weren't. She is the one who throws the first verbal punch and she's the one who keeps it going even as you are frantically trying to mediate. Trip calls her cold but honestly, I find she comes in way too hot.

Trip

Lest you think I am on Trip's side in this debacle, I hate him too. He's the other side of the coin. Where Grace is standoffish, Trip is overly gregarious. Where Grace sees the value in the little things in life, Trip constantly brags about his wealth and possessions. This fool forces you to look at his vacation photo. Yeah sure the vacation in question was to the Italian countryside, but he keeps talking about that photo long past the point where both you and Grace are uncomfortable. Trip is deeply insecure and it shows. It's a bit more difficult to explain what it is that makes Trip just the absolute worst, because he doesn't wear his emotions on his sleeve the way his wife does. He's slimy. He's trying to keep the conversation light (at first, anyway), but he does it in the greasiest way possible. Again, you're going to have to see for yourself in some way.

What I'm Doing Here

I've been watching a lot of Façade Let's Plays recently. *Trip voice* "That should be obvious" (if you know, you know). We all know Sims parties never go well so it was a very small step from "game about a disastrous get together" to the Sims. I'm not reinventing the wheel here. Besides, this very concept has been done before, but when has unoriginality ever stopped me? You shut your whore mouth if you're in the comments agreeing with me on that, by the way. So, to ease myself back into the Sims world after my extended unplanned hiatus, I'm going to kick back, turn free will on high, and let the magic of the Sims take over. I have gone out of my way to give Trip and Grace traits that I feel correspond extremely well to my reading of their Façade counterparts.

Trip, for all his rich guy posturing, is still a country boy at heart (much to his dismay), which is why I gave him country music and PB&J as faves. Can't Stand Art isn't exactly canon, per se, but it conflicts with Grace's artistic trait and I thought it would give them something else to fight about.

Grace, as much as she romanticizes the starving artist trope, is a rich bitch through and through and wouldn't survive five minutes on the street.

I'm hoping for fireworks with these traits. Knowing Sims 3, I won't be disappointed.

And finally, who is going to be invited to this evening of pain? I suppose I could send Trip and Grace out on the town to make friends but that's boring and I don't want to spend more time with them than necessary so...

Funnily enough, the game seems to know what I'm trying to do. All of Grace's randomly-chosen friends are the rich and famous of Bridgeport while Trip's are just regular folks. I find that very interesting. Maybe Sims 3 has a touch of Façade's magic AI, too.

[feministdragon]

there's a certain kind of article on the internet that pisses me off so badly. it's written by a person with a surface-level understanding of the topic and little-to-no personal experience, who collates a few sources and then litters the information highway with yet another piece of trash

today's trash article is a discussion of bone broth.

my position on bone broth is that it has personally done a lot for my physical health, energy levels hair, skin and nails. but it matters a lot HOW i've been doing it. first, i've been cooking it myself, from organic bones, and with alcohol and certain kinds of vegetables, which increases the breakdown of the bones and release of nutrients in the water. second, I have been eating Mass Quantities, that is 1-2 bowls a day, with seaweed and other vegetable nutrients added, for almost 2 years now. the level of healing i've experienced is directly. proportional. to the amount and quality of the broth.

so it can help you. but you have to use quality ingredients, and invest time and energy into cooking it right, and you have to eat A LOT. and yes, many people don't have the time, resources and money etc, of course! so of course this can't help people who don't have the time, resources, money etc. this is not a cure all.

what makes me mad is the stupid black and white thinking the internet is prey to. like, if not everyone can benefit, then NO ONE can benefit. if vegans and vegetarians cannot benefit, then NO ONE can benefit. if poor and under-resourced people cannot benefit, then NO ONE can benefit. (the biggest of eye rolls)

and like, yes. people who don't beleive in eating animals exist. people with lack of access to resources exist. I feel a lot of compassion for both of these groups, but I can't! do anything! about their concerns! does that mean I am not supposed to share a method that CAN work for SOME people?

I myself am a former vegetarian. I've discovered that vegetarianism, combined with overwork and a lack of sleep, fucked my health right up. Do you know what I've found that fixed that? fucking bone broth. Is abandoning vegetarianism right for you??? maybe not! is bone broth right for you?? maybe not!! and that's okay!

so but, along comes this article which apparently is a gotcha about that bone broth is useless. which, if it were actually sourced from actual studies about actual bone broth, I might consider its arguments.

but you know what it actually argues?

that a) collagen supplements provide more and better collagen than bone broth, and b) you need the minerals from vegetables to make them available. Okay, but where do you think the fcuking collagen in supplements comes from? Fucking industrially produced fucking bone broth. just, y'know in giant factories, not in your kitchen, and reduced water content so it's a gell or a pill and not a soup. so what they're actually arguing is that industrially produced bone broth is better. which...okay, but that's bone broth. and it's true about the vegetables by the way, which is why you cook the fucking bones with vegetables when you make the broth, to make the bones more bioavailabile. So the recommendation here is actually: don't make bone broth yourself, take our pills and eat your salad like a good little girl.

that because proponents of bone broth tell you that glucosamine is one of the components of bone broth, and that glucosamine supplements don't work, therefore bone broth doesn't work. but we're not talking about fucking glucosamine supplements? we're talking about bone broth? which you haven't shown a study about the uselessness of?

then they're like, "okay, there's supposed to be protein and calcium in bone broth, but you can get more protein from other sources, and the calcium is actually very little, so you see, it's not very useful". you know what's very high in calcium? milk. do you know how bioavailable the calcium in milk is? Not Very! because you need magnesium to put calcium in the right places in your body. without magnesium, calcium ends up in your joints, causing stiffness and arthritic symptoms. magnesium signals calcium to go to the right places, your bones. If you cook bone broth right, with vegetables, then you have the magnesium to do the job right. but also, you have to drink a lot, on the daily. it's not like taking concentrated vitamins, it's broth, it's just soup, it's going to take greater quantities. Also the amount of daily calcium you need is not as much as milk ads have made people think.

here, all they say is they have no evidence to support that bone broth helps leaky gut syndrome. how and why does this merit its own number on their list? "Uh.....we got nothing, but we're going to make it a bullet point" okay there player

aaaaand this is the only point I agree with, because I'm also sick to fucking death of all of the claims of detoxing around. you can't detox your body. your liver does that shit. you can maintain your liver and kidney health to HELP them do that shit, but you can't eat stuff to do their job FOR them.

and so the article's grand conclusion? what they actually write is that maybe bone broth is okay, it's neutral. SO their main point is actually that bone broth is okay? Even though the tone of the article is trying to lead you to believe that it's a big scam, even though they have maybe one point that supports that?

so how is this article actually informing you in any way about the supposed failures of bone broth? all they're saying is that collagen supplements--industrially produced bone broth--is better than home-made, that glucosamine supplements are not bone broth, that bone broth doesn't have 'enough' calcium without discussing bioavailability and actual studies of the amount of calcium needed and the actual amount of bone broth required, they can't even back up their argument about gut health and they have to concede that it's still actually nutritious.

okay so that's your gotcha article.

Listen I understand that bone broth has become trendy, and i'm also sick to death of food trends that take off because they've been passed around the internet looking for the next big thing to promote. but articles like this are also fucking shady, because they're using false equivalencies and ad hominem and faint praise to do their takedown, instead of actual fucking facts and studies. it's just as lazy as all the next-food-trend promoters.

I just want the internet to actually be the accessible central repository of all human knowledge that we all think it is, is that too much to ask?

[i-didnt-do-1t]

‘Walk you Home’ Katherine doesn’t like walking home late by herself and an unexpected offer gets extended by Morris Delancey. (Part 1)

cw for possible themes of threat I think? language no worse than used in the show. If there’s anything else let me know :)

It was late. Later than she intended when she had decided to go to her office earlier that day. It was nothing urgent, an article to get finsihed for the weekend, a local robbery. Hardly big news but better than the flower shows she was subject to before the strike, and then she got caught up on the half finsihed article on Sawyer’s desk. It was a piece on the development of labour unions across the city following the Newsies success over the summer. It was- well. She wasn’t saying she could’ve written it better.

But she could’ve written it better.

She resisted the urge to write a few notes for him and leave them on the desk, subtly nudged beneath some loose paper, but they all already thought she was a bitch anyway, not that she cared, and she wasn’t about to start handing out work for free.

It did however result in it hitting half eleven before she stood up and pulled her coat on again, flicking the dim yellow lamps off as she moved down the stairs.

In retrospect maybe she didn’t think this through.

It was dark. The streets were quiet aside from some distant yells she didn’t want to think too hard about, she’d read enough articles, she knew enough about the crime rates in this area, in New York in general, to know it was not the best. Not the safest.

Damn.

It was a 20 minute walk, thirty minutes at most, back to her house.

Right.

Well.

She could do that.

Realistically she didn’t have a choice, no matter how dark the alleyway to the left of the street looked- like it was never ending- she had to get home otherwise her father would have her head in the morning and the office would likely take the keys from her.

Katherine was not a coward, she decided, and stepped out into the street.

It took two seconds to turn her back to the never ending alleyway in the corner and lock the door. The distant yelling was still distant, which was good. However the new contender of much closer drunken singing was significantly less so.

She stood a little straighter, rolling back her shoulders, and started her way home.

The streets were familiar but eerie at night, the only time she’d been out this late recently was when she had been at Jacobi’s with a few of the boys a couple weeks back, and all of them had refused to let her go anywhere by herself. Her father was not thrilled when she returned home after ten with a group of at least twenty boys in tow, waving at him over her shoulder, bitter smiles, the occasional smirk etched on their faces as they stared him down.

As Katherine had turned back to say goodbye to them, one of those smiles she was trying so hard to hide from her father creeping up on her lips, she was fairly sure she saw Specs flip him off.

It was sweet of them. How they had seemingly taken her in as one of their own.

And she had to admit, she’d appreciate having one of them with her right now (admittedly, all them was a little excessive and it had only been the once and she was fairly sure it was specifically with the intention to see her house and piss off her father a little (it worked).

Still, the yelling seemed to be getting closer.

She let out a breath, feeling the the beginnings of anxiety starting to curl in her stomach. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but at this point she knew how to repress it fairly well. So she pushed it down, tipped her chin up a little further, and didn’t look down the alley she was passing.

In retrospect maybe if she had she would’ve seen the man before he started speaking to her.

“Well, ain’t that a sight.”

The voice was cold, and she could hear the smirk in his tone, the way the cruelty seemed to lick around the words.

She tried to ignore the rising panic that was creeping up her throat, hell, she was going to be sick, but she was not going to give him a reaction, and keep moving forward, faster than before, dress lifted up around her ankles.

“What? Cowboy not offer to walk you home?”

Katherine’s jaw tensed at the words, the tone, and stopped short. She recognised the voice, had heard it a few times around her father’s office, and distantly when she visited Jack in mornings before he got his papers. And while maybe the familiarity provided some comfort, standing around to chat to Morris Delancey wasn’t an activity she was planning to partake in if she could avoid it.

“He didn’t know I’d be staying late.”

“It ain’t safe for a lady to walk home this time a’ night y’know.”

She inhaled harshly through her nose in an attempt to calm the rapid beating of her heart. Just over his shoulder, there was the dark of the entrance to the alley he emerged from and to her right, the open street- gas lamps dimly lighting it, casting shadows on the open brick of the building walls. She could run, if she needed. But she had no doubt that morris was faster, especially with what agility came with the lack of layers of pedicoats.

“Because of boys like you lurking around?” She said, maybe not her wisest move but Katherine had never been good at keeping her remarks to herself.

“Worse than me, maybe.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and twisted his head to the side, following her gaze up the street before it landed back on her again. “Let me walk you home.”

She took a step back, he noticed obviously, made a display of looking down to her feet and back up but said nothing.

“I’m sorry?”

“I can walk you home.”

“Why?”

“Because I came out for a smoke and youse lucky I ain’t one of those drunks that hangs around here.” He pulled a rolled cigarette out of his pocket, and a pack of matches. “Maybe daddy never told you cuz you’d always be out with chaperone or some shit but bad things can happen to girls at night round here.”

She had to admit, to herself, if not out loud, that he was persuasive, not that it took much and since she’d left the building even if it had hardly been two minute ago the distant yelling and not so distant sound of footsteps was unnerving.

“So you help all the factory girls walk home then?”

“Who do you think I am? You think I got time to be walking back n forth all day? Like I said I’m going out for a smoke. I’ll walk with you.” He shrugged, and lit his cigarette, shaking out the match. “Sides’ you’re Kelly’s, and I think he’d get a real kick outta this don’t you?”

Her mouth set in a thin line.

“You just want to mess with Jack then?”

He shrugged,

“Mess with cowboy and I won’t find your body in some dingy alley in the morning, win win for me.” He made a show of looking round into the alley he’d emerged from. And then gestured over his shoulder. “Unless you want me to go. I know what women are like these days, with wanting rights n all.”

She only worked her jaw harder at the half smirk that appeared on his face and she knew he was just working to get a rise out of her. He was good at it, and she’d heard enough from the boys to know that he wasn’t going to stop either.

The alley behind him, though, looked extremely dark. And she couldn’t argue with him, she was lucky that only he had come out of it. She set her shoulders, and tipped her chin up.

“Fine.”

He raised an eyebrow, blowing out smoke. “Fine?”

“Better late than ever to try and be a gentleman I suppose.”

“Ha, yeah I’ll let Oscar know.”