#but what now why now i don't even understand i know objectively i do not have it that bad it's literally better even if i compare to my own

[rs-hawk]

Beauty and the Beast but the Beast doesn't return to full human when the curse is broken, because it was almost too late to break it when it happens

So instead of seemlessly regaining the throne and getting married with Beauty, the people of the town are still uneasy, even though they remember him now, and don't understand why Beauty stays by his side when they're free to return to the village

Likewise some of the humans-turned-objects-turned-humans still have characteristics of their former objects, like the candlestick's hair will sometimes catch fire when they're upset (harmless to them but still scary), or the alarm clock will get ringing migraines in a more literal way

I just think it could be a really neat story, fluff or smut or whathaveyou

I know that this is an o bylder ask but I have been thinking about it for awhile. I might do another part if y'all like it but I had a hard time narrowing it down to which characters to focus on.

Belle was surprised when Beast, Adam?, didn't return to fully human. Though to say that she was displeased wouldn't be true either. Her smile was always warm and genuine when she looked at him. He would smile back at her with his teeth that were a little too long, set on a face that almost, if you squinted, still looked like he was a beast. His horns had nearly disappeared, but when Belle would run her fingers through his thick, luscious hair, she could still feel just a prick of them.

Of course the town people remembered him, though they struggled with the fact that they too had been cursed. How could they have possibly been cursed for so long and no one had been the wiser? Belle tried to get more people to come to the palace to meet him, to participate in his welcome back ball, but very few came back.

"Maybe you should go home," one day Adam sighed, putting his head in her lap.

"I am home," Belle insisted, once again running her fingers through his hair.

"You know that's not what I meant. The townspeople... they are afraid of me. Your father still is cross with me, and how could I blame him? I kidnapped him and then you. I'm sorry," he muttered, nuzzling her leg and grabbing her thighs with his paw like hands, his long nails lightly scrapping her delicate skin there.

"Wherever you are is home to me," she purred, kissing the top of his head.

In the next room, Cogsworth was getting annoyed with Lumiere for once again flirting with the maids. It always caused such a mess. The large man grabbed Lumiere by the tie, tugging him closer to him.

"If you don't stop with this nonsense at once, I'm going to have to insist to the Master that you have a leave of absence, and where would you go if not here?" Cogsworth hisses, his mustache twitching as if they were hands on a clock ticking.

"Oh Cogsworth, my dear friend, are you jealous, mm? Do you miss us being, how would you say, stored together?" Lumiere smirked, looking up at the little man with a twinkle in his eyes.

Cogsworth blushed, letting go of the former candle. "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Mm, don't be so quick to sweep, my dear friend. We could be stored together tonight if you like," he continued to smirk, the start of a flame sparking off the tip of a lock of hair, dying as the ember wafered between them.

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[gothic-thoughts]

All Dreams Mean Something Soap MacTavish x Black Fem Reader Fluff

Viking!Soap, Sour-Sweet-Gone

CW: Soap's pov, argument, engagement, Scottish accent optional while reading(😭😭)

Word Count: 1283 (give or take)

Due to both Viking chiefs signing a treaty, there was never a war between the two waterfront villages but that didn't mean there wasn't often conflict. A handful of warriors from the other town walked into the village square to meet with a group of soldiers including me to settle yet another disagreement but it wasn't long before we were all loudly arguing. Violent threats and vulgar insults were thrown between the groups until a messy fight broke out.

Not a single weapon was drawn but objects were thrown and broken as we all got so caught up in fighting, causing women and children to stay in their homes. After knocking out the warrior I was fighting with a kick, I glanced over to see (Y/n) out during the battle and ran to her. I effortlessly pick my lass up, tossing her over my shoulder as I carry her into our cabin and set her down, looking down with a worried rage.

“Dammit, lass! Why are you outside?”

She furrows her eyebrows, “I was on my way back here, and you made me drop the stuff I bought.” She snaps back, “What did you think I was doin’?”

I run a hand through my messy mohawk, still slightly out of breath from the fight. “And you didn't think to wait until after the fight had ended? Ya could’ve been hurt!”

“I was out before the fighting even started! Was I supposed to hide behind a barrel 'til they found me? Ya shouldn't have be fighting anyway!”

“And how the hell was I supposed to know you were out there when the fight started? I would have kept an eye on you if I knew. And I wouldn't have to fight if those idiots knew how to keep a damn peace!”

“John, don't act like ya haven't gone to their town to start somethin'. Yer not all innocent either.”

I scoff softly, crossing my arms. “And what if I did? Those idiots deserved it. They keep coming here to start trouble and don't listen. You expect me to just stand there and let them walk all over us?”

“I expect warriors to handle it like men, not children.”

“Oh, so now I'm supposed to be the bigger man?”

She sighs deeply, “Johnny.”

“They can say whatever they want and cause problems, but I can't fight back?”

“Wouldn’t kill ya to try, but these senseless fights might.”

“Warriors fight, daerlin’.”

“Warriors fight in wars, daerlin'" She mocks, "What if you got hurt?”

“It’s my job to get hurt, (Y/n), you act like I don't get hurt all the bloody time.”

“I never want you hurt, especially if it's not a war! You’re getting hurt in a petty fight that’s not gonna mean anything in 5 hours just to do it again next week! Just tell their chief or something.”

“You think I haven't tried that? We've talked to their chief a thousand times, but it never helps. They can be fuckin’ idiots, just like their warriors.”

I pause for a moment, my expression softening as I breathe.

“It's not like I want to fight— you know me better than that. But I'm not just going to let them walk all over our village.”

(Y/n) sighs and turns to walk to the kitchen area causing my frustration to immediately fade to concern. I follow a few steps behind and stand next to her, leaning back against the counter as I look down at her.

“Lass...” I call softly, but she doesn’t answer and grabs an apple, “Bonnie, look at me.”

She turns her head while biting the through the red barrier of the fruit, her dark eyes slightly irritated as they meet mine. I sigh at the sight, biting the inside of my cheek.

“I know you don't like it when I fight, but those bastards won't listen to reason. They understand aggression, that's just how it is.”

She huffs. “It's stupid, you know.”

“Stupid or not, it's necessary. It's to keep the town safe— to keep us safe... Keep you safe. I'm a warrior, love; that's what I do, it's who I am. You knew that when you married me.”

She suddenly choked on her apple, coughing up a storm before I quickly patted her back until she cleared her throat and calmed down her breathing enough to speak.

“Y’alright?” I ask, searching her eyes, "Wrong pipe?"

“Wh-When I married you...?”

I raise an eyebrow at her words, confusion spreading across my face as I back away.

“Aye, when ye married me. What're ye getting at?”

I notice a slight redness fading in on her cheeks, along with a small smile. “Johnny, we aren't wed...”

I blink, unsure if I heard correctly. “What? What do you mean we aren't wed?"

"Well not yet... I hope..."

I cross my arms, not appreciating her game, "Lass, you don't have to hope, we had a ceremony: vows, party, and everything."

She blinks and sets down her apple, "...Is this... your way of proposing...?"

"You don't remember our wedding day? At the waterfall? We exchanged vows in front of the town?”

(Y/n) walks to me with a teasing smirk on her face as if trying to hold back her a smile.

“...And then you woke up this morning for work?”

My face falls slightly as I process, the realization slowly sinking in. (Y/n) touches my shoulder, looking up at me.

"Johnny, I came over here last night to hang out with you." She started, "We hung out, had sex then fell asleep and then you went to work this morning. I was here all day ‘til I went out to get some food you.”

“You're saying... that was all a dream? The wedding, the ceremony... our dance— it never actually happened? So... we're not actually married yet?”

“No, ya dummy...” (Y/n) steps even closer, “But I'll take this as your proposal~”

“W-wait, you... You're saying you'd accept?”

“Aye~”

I open my mouth but nothing comes out, stammering until I manage my thoughts. “Are... Are ya serious? You'd really accept? You'd... marry me?”

“It's clear to me now that you wanted to ask so bad, why didn't you?”

“Well... I...” I run my fingers through my mohawk awkwardly, “I did... I did want to ask you... I bought a ring and everything. But I was... scared— what if you said no?”

“Finally, a Viking scared of something.”

My lass suddenly grabs my stubbly face, quickly guiding me down and into a kiss to which my eyes widen in surprise before I relax into it. My arms wrap around her waist and pull her closer while our lips move together, the kiss full of longing and desire. As the kiss breaks, I pull back slightly, a shy but smitten smile on my lips.

“And yes this is real, ya goofball.”

“So...” I gently cup her cheek, a thumb brushing against her soft skin, “This means we're officially betrothed, then?”

She laughs, “Take all the time you need, baby'.”

I chuckle and tuck a loose braid behind her ear, “I want to make our wedding perfect, and I ain't about to half-ass this."

"I should hope not since you basically have it all planned out."

"Only because you deserve nothing but the best, daerlin’, I swear I'd die for ye. Hell, I'd kill for ye, either way, the bliss alone would ensure I'd see the pearly gates.”

She holds my hand to her cheek as a tear brims over her eyelid. “Johnny, stop—”

I blink away my own mistiness, “Nay... Never...” My thumb gently brushes her tear away, “My sweet lass, I know I ain't perfect, but I swear on my soul that I'll do right by ye. I'll keep ye safe, love ye ‘til the end of days, and make ye the happiest little lass on the whole damn planet. Those were my vows.”

(Y/n) sniffles, holding back her tears before I wrap my strong arms around her and pull her against my broad chest. I bury my face into her hair, deeply inhaling her drug of a scent before I plant soft kisses atop her head, a small, affectionate smile on my lips with each one. I tuck her head beneath my scratchy chin, holding her close while she sniffles softly into my leather armor.

[crownedwille]

I've come to the conclusion that loving young royals doesn't mean I can't be critical about it, maybe especially bc I love the show so much I have such strong feelings about it, good and bad and I can love parts of canon and agree with it and appreciate it but I don't have to love it all. I have accepted that it's okay if I don't accept the ending and I don't have to force myself to support it. It's okay to not agree with all of canon and it's okay to not side with all of the creators' intentions/views. Loving a show doesn't mean you have to take everything the writers say on face value and that's the only version that is allowed to exist. Canon isn't everything and fandom is about curating your own experience that makes you happy and not miserable. You don't have to dismiss canon in every aspect and ignore it entirely, that's certainly not what I want but there is a fine line between being canon respectful, allowing some parts to exist and sometimes, yes, you just have to say "fuck canon" and move on for your own sanity and wellbeing

[delicatetaysversion]

it would feel so nice to work towards a career that has meaningful impact and makes millions of people happy

[allstrangeandwonderful]

So I'm reading for an art history class, and Baudrillard is talking about the trends in colour usage from generation to generation (mostly in interior design, but there's definite spillover into fashion, architecture, etc.), and how every new colour movement is a direct rebellion against the previous one, like how the bright colours of the 60s/70s were a direct response to the austerity and seriousness of the WWII/postwar era, and how a shift back to organized, moralistic neutrals were a direct rejection of 60s/70s gaudiness, etc., and that all makes sense, people find their parent's style tacky, sure

But he goes on to observe how we've now been stuck in a lull of pasty tones and naturalistic finishes for some time, and I'm thinking yes, he's so right, but that's weird, because its been hanging around for so long, like what is it rebelling against anymore? What is it answering to? Well all I had to do was be patient because lo and behold, Baudrillard provides the following sentence, which caused me to completely wig out:

"...except of course, for the spheres of advertising and commerce, where colour's power to corrupt enjoys full rein"

And I'm like ooohhhhHHHHHH, so this colourless minimalist wasteland of a design principle:

Is maybe hanging on so stubbornly because this corporate hellscape:

is assaulting all of our eyes, inside and outside of our homes, every waking second, and is tainting the very concept of colour into something we can't relax around in our living spaces.

EDIT: The reading was The System of Objects by Jean Baudrillard, 1996 Ed., Part A, Section II, Subheading "Atmospheric Values: Colour" (p. 30-36 in my copy). Even if this was a passionate spur-of-the-moment post, omitting this was pretty silly; my bad.

EDIT 2: I was trying to be chill and leave this one alone, cuz I know most people in the notes are talking to themselves and their followers and not actually me, but 11,000 notes in it's starting to get to me - yes, I am aware that decreased homeownerhship/increased renting/landlord specials/hyperfocus on resale values, are all very direct causes of this too. I totally agree. For me, those were the obvious answers; I think we all get why the owning class is serving this to us. My epiphany moment was about understanding the flip side, the psychology of the consumers who keep accepting it, and even seem to enjoy it. That's what I couldn't understand before, but now I suddenly do. (And for those of you saying such people don't exist, no one actually wants to live without colour - check the notes, bb, they're everywhere. Not everyone has the same brain as you. We all deal with the horrors of capitalism differently.)

[handweavers]

something that comes up for me over and over is a deep frustration with academics who write about and study craft but have little hands-on experience with working with that craft, because it leads to them making mistakes in their analysis and even labelling of objects and techniques incorrectly. i see this from something as simple as textiles on display in museums being labelled with techniques that are very obviously wrong (claiming something is knit when it's clearly crochet, woven when that technique could only be done as embroidery applied to cloth off-loom) to articles and books written about the history of various aspects of textiles making considerable errors when trying to describe basic aspects of textile craft-knowledge (ex. a book i read recently that tried to say that dyeing cotton is far easier than dyeing wool because cotton takes colour more easily than wool, and used that as part of an argument as to why cotton became so prominent in the industrial revolution, which is so blatantly incorrect to any dyer that it seriously harms the argument being made even if the overall point is ultimately correct)

the thing is that craft is a language, an embodied knowledge that crosses the boundaries of spoken communication into a physical understanding. craft has theory, but it is not theoretical: there is a necessary physicality to our work, to our knowledge, that cannot be substituted. two artisans who share a craft share a language, even if that language is not verbal. when you understand how a material functions and behaves without deliberate thought, when the material knowledge becomes instinct, when your hands know these things just as well if not better than your conscious mind does, new avenues of communication are opened. an embodied knowledge of a craft is its own language that is able to be communicated across time, and one easily misunderstood by those without that fluency. an academic whose knowledge is entirely theoretical may look at a piece of metalwork from the 3rd century and struggle to understand the function or intent of it, but if you were to show the same piece to a living blacksmith they would likely be able to tell you with startling accuracy what their ancient colleague was trying to do.

a more elaborate example: when i was in residence at a dye studio on bali, the dyer who mentored me showed me a bowl of shimmering grey mud, and explained in bahasa that they harvest the mud several feet under the roots of certain species of mangroves. once the mud is cleaned and strained, it's mixed with bran water and left to ferment for weeks to months.  he noted that the mud cannot be used until the fermentation process has left a glittering sheen to its surface. when layered over a fermented dye containing the flowers from a tree, the cloth turns grey, and repeated dippings in the flower-liquid and mud vats deepen this colour until it's a warm black. 

he didn't explain why this works, and he did not have to. his methods are different from mine, but the same chemical processes are occurring. tannins always turn grey when they interact with iron and they don't react to other additives the same way, so tannins (polyphenols) and iron must be fundamental parts of this process. many types of earthen clay contain a type of bacteria that creates biogenic iron as a byproduct, and mixing bran water with this mud would give the bacteria sugars to feast upon, multiplying, and producing more of this biogenic iron. when the iron content is high enough that the mud shimmers, applying this fermented mixture to cloth soaked in tannins would cause the iron to react with the tannin and finally, miraculously: a deep, living grey-black cloth.

in my dye studio i have dissolved iron sulphide ii in boiling water and submerged cloth soaked in tannin extract in this iron water, and watched it emerge, chemically altered, now deep and living grey-black just like the cloth my mentor on bali dyed. when i watched him dip cloth in this brown bath of fermented flower-water, and then into the shimmering mud and witness the cloth emerge this same shade of grey, i understand exactly what he was doing and why. embodied craft knowledge is its own language, and if you're going to dedicate your life to writing about a craft it would be of great benefit to actually "speak" that language, or you're likely to make serious errors.

the arrogance is not that different from a historian or anthropologist who tries to study a culture or people without understanding their written or spoken tongue, and then makes mistakes in their analysis because they are fundamentally disconnected from the way the people they are talking about communicate. the voyeuristic academic desire to observe and analyse the world at a distance, without participating in it. how often academics will write about social movements, political theory and philosophy and never actually get involved in any of these movements while they're happening. my issue with the way they interact with craft is less serious than the others i mentioned, but one that constantly bothers me when coming into contact with the divide between "those who make a living writing about a subject" and "those who make a living doing that subject"

[emmafrostyyy]

y'all sleeping on Astarion/Lae'zel bc this moment is so...the way the flippant demeanor drops and he doesn't hesitate to call her out for sticking with her version of Cazador like their relationship is so underrated fr...

sitting down writing this bullshit like let me peel it like an onion a bit and elaborate why this pairing is fascinating to me

It's really interesting how during the most cathartic, life-altering moment in Astarion's questline, the reactions of the other companions are more about the moral wrongness/guilt of sacrificing innocent lives. Lae'zel doesn't do that and instead relates to his hurt.

She knows what's he's feeling, the lack of control, the unfairness of being powerless for too long. This is a woman who just found out her entire life purpose was built on lies, discarded and hunted by her own people after outliving her usefulness, and groomed to basically die for an insane power-hungry lich queen. She knows all too well that power isn't always real freedom. Her first instinct is to empathize with Astarion to steer him away from his hate and resentment.

Astarion/Lae'zel is so interesting to me because they're such a classic "can we make each other worse or make a better person out of the other?".

They both have genuine appreciation for violence and respect each other's ruthlessness. Astarion was used as a weapon of seduction while Lae'zel was of warfare. Sex with people is meaningless and not real intimacy for them, and while both have little understanding/experience of interpersonal relationships beyond the physical, they still feel and love very deeply. They have no frame of reference for things like friendship and warmth, but they badly want all of that and more, even if they don't know it yet.

In-game they can sleep with each other, which is basically the foundation of the normal Tav/Astarion romance. Lae'zel saw him during combat and got horny, who knows. Astarion who's used to luring people with his charms, takes up Lae'zel's blunt offer because she's a strong hardened warrior that can provide protection and be a worthy ally, and he doesn't know how to say no. Navigating the complications between one who wants to be seen beyond as a sex object, and one who comes from a totally alien culture with no concept of love/family/connections and only sex is honestly really compelling to me. It's a transactional, mutually beneficial thing with no emotional expectations. Once you get past the skeevy rockiness of their early relationship, I really like the idea of them slowly seeing something past the exterior and realizing they may have harshly misjudged the other, an unspoken friendship blooms, and in comes the realization that they are essentially loners longing for kindness and a comforting touch in the most desperate of situations.

Lae'zel is prideful, direct, has no sense of courtship talk, and doesn't hold back her thoughts the slightest--she's not sweet/agreeable and what you see is really what you get, which I imagine would be disarming for Astarion who's used to vacuous flattery and has difficulty trusting others. But she's also insanely protective, passionate, loyal, and an initiator-- every romance scene is triggered by her first and she's always showing effort towards her relationships, which would mesh well with Astarion who does need someone to nudge him.

She doesn't purposely suppress her feelings, she's just simply at loss at how to express them sometimes due to her wildly different upbringing. She stops the sparring match you agree to and an easy vulnerability slips instantly out of her: "I don't want to hurt you. I want to protect you, and for you to protect me." and "Thus far I've taunted you, devoured you, battled you. Now I want more than anything to soothe you." are romantic as fuck and Astarion of all people really needs to hear that tbh.

Astarion is also someone who struggles with reinforcing his boundaries, and a key theme in Lae'zel's romance is that she encourages and wants you to challenge her and learn to stand your ground. It's not gentlest method, but hey, relationships are about having to make an effort to learn each other's language.

I think he also would take pleasure "educating her on the matters of Fay-run" (I believe there's a whole banter with him teasing her and teaching her pet names) and would get a kick out of coaxing Lae'zel out of her shell with her shyness at showing public affection, and making her blush. Also it simply would be fucking funny to see Astarion who's used to easy seduction, trying to pass a persuasion check just to get a smooch and generally having to work to earn regular kisses from Lae'zel lmfaooo

Lae'zel also initially struggles to see her chains as chains. When she learns about Vlaakith's betrayal, she copes instantly through denial and shuts it down. Astarion is NOT having it and calls her out, he knows her well enough to recognize that she would value blunt honesty above all.

I imagine he also despises her lack of self-preservation, the way her entire identity is tied to duty and being in service of others, and doesn't understand her desire to still help/liberate the people that want her dead and are hunting her down. He wants to make this duty-bound soldier realize that looking out for herself, and putting herself first may not be the worst thing in the world.

They're so similar to each other but are also polar opposites in some ways that make a more equal, balanced romance I think. It's not a simple, one-sided, feel-good "she/he can fix her/him" fantasy because both of them have to earn each other's love, actually cut through the other's flaws, and actively motivate each other to be better versions of themselves.

They're not at all the other's ideal guiding hand. It's rough, jagged, and imperfect, but that's how healing goes. It's so far from being the healthiest relationship -- but even if their belief systems differ, their moral compass does often align. I imagine it's a slight relief for them to have a partner where there would be less shame and judgment when they expectedly, occasionally slip up and fall into their bad habits.

Also, man, the "You showed me the betweens and beyonds. Beyond war and peace, beyond passion and obsession, most importantly, you showed me freedom.", "First you were my wound, now you were my cure.", "But you saw something else in me - someone else I could be. Someone who could break the cycle of power and terror that started centuries ago.." lines really hit hard when applied to them.

Of course, they can also make each other worse, feed into the other's negative traits that will bring out the worst part of themselves. It's this duality of their pairing that is very interesting to explore, the way it can steer in either direction because it's an intense, fraught relationship at its core.

[moonstruckme]

hi there, you did a james drabble some time ago with financially insecure reader and i'm just wondering if that's something you'd write again! maybe one where james is showering the r in gifts and they're just thinking "this is so expensive, you shouldn't be spending so much on me" and james comforts them? totally fine if you don't though, thank you anyway 💐

Thanks for requesting <3

cw: reader is financially insecure

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 825 words

When you go to put on your shoes, yours aren’t there. In their place is a lookalike pair, but whole and squeaky clean where yours are worn and dirty. 

“Jamie?” you call. Excitement and dread mixing up in your gut until they’ve become one thing. 

“Yeah?” Your boyfriend’s head pops out of the kitchen. His eyes fall to where you’re sitting on the floor, the new pair of shoes in front of you, and his smile breaks out like a sunrise. “Oh, yeah. I got you something.” 

“They’re for me?” You hold the one shoe up in front of you like a foreign object, speechless. 

James laughs. “Well, they’re not likely to fit me. Yeah, angel, they’re yours.” 

Something guilty twists in your gut. You take a breath. “Thank you.” 

“It’s no big deal.” 

“It is. And I appreciate it, but—” 

“But?” 

“But I can’t accept these.” You set the shoes back down on the floor, looking up at him remorsefully. “It’s too much.” 

“Sweetheart,” James laughs. He leans his hip against the wall, giving you a fond look. “Don’t be silly. You needed a new pair. Your old ones are torn to shreds.” 

“They’re not that bad,” you say embarrassedly. 

“There’s a rip in the side big enough to stick your entire foot out of.” 

“I know they’re not perfect.” Your voice goes a tad sharp, and James’ smile starts to slip as he realizes he’s the only one who’s joking. “I’m going to get another pair eventually, but I just can’t afford it right now.” 

“Hey.” He lowers himself down onto his haunches next to you, voice and expression going extra gentle. “It’s okay. Now you don’t need to worry about it, because you have them, right?” 

You suck on your bottom lip, feeling your expression pinch as you shake your head at him. He doesn’t get it. How could he? James has never been in a position where he was forced to take and couldn’t afford to give. 

“I know you’re just trying to help,” you say, tempering your tone, “and I really do appreciate it, Jamie, but you give me so many gifts and I—” 

“Okay, hold on.” He sets a hand on your knee, still with that indulgent look on his face. “There haven’t been that many.” 

You give him an exasperated look. Just last week it had been chocolates from the fancy shop downtown, and before that he’d gone back for a skirt you’d passed by because it was out of your price range. You know he hasn’t forgotten. 

“But how many have I given you?” 

James blinks. “Um. You gave me that nice waffle iron for my birthday.” 

It sounds like a lame gift when he says it out loud, compared to all the things he’s gotten you since then, but you’d skimmed savings off the tops of your paychecks for three weeks to get him that. Your face is beginning to feel hot. You’re not ashamed of how much you make, but it’s frustrating to think about how your boyfriend won’t ever be able to understand the way you think about money, why you get so stressed out about it, how you’re constantly worried it will run out. 

“It just makes me uncomfortable to take so many things from you when I can’t give anything back,” you admit. “I know that’s not why you’re doing it, but it makes me feel bad.” 

James’ brows press close together. His hand smooths from your knee up your thigh, and you can see how hard he’s trying to understand. It makes you feel even worse. 

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says. “You know I don’t care if you get me things, right?” 

“I know,” you promise him. “It’s just, I care.”

He nods, a warm sort of concern in his expression. “Then what do you want to do, angel?” 

You take his hand from your leg, tracing the lines with your fingers. “Maybe we could keep gifts to birthdays and holidays?” you ask tentatively. 

“Hm. Yeah, I think I can manage that. Like Easter?” 

You smile down at his hand. Kiss one of his fingertips. “Maybe only the traditionally gift-giving holidays.” 

James sighs heavily, but it’s for show. “Fine. Hey.” He closes his fingers around yours, and you look up to find him studying you with soft, kind eyes. “You know I’m not upset, right?” 

You drop your gaze again. “I’m just sorry I’m not being more grateful. They’re really nice gifts.” 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he leans closer, touching his lips to yours sweetly, “but I don’t need you to be grateful. I’m glad you told me how you felt. It’s only fun if you enjoy them, yeah?”

“I do enjoy them,” you say. James smiles, bringing your hand to his face and kissing your palm. 

“Good. Then keep the shoes, please? If you keep using those other ones through winter I’m afraid your feet will fall off.” 

[ofstarsandvibranium]

It Gets Stranger

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte

Pairing: Qimir x GN!Reader

Summary: Qimir wakes up and witnesses something that might explain why he's so drawn to you.

Qimir Masterlist

Your back and neck felt so stiff from the position you slept in. Every so often, you'd wake up and check Qimir's wound. It seemed he didn't move an inch from when he passed out from the blood loss.

You slowly and carefully slide out of bed. You tip toe to the other side of Qimir and slowly lift the side of his shirt. You gasp when a hand grips your wrist, causing you to freeze in place.

Qimir is wide awake now, eyes wide open and staring at you.

"It's okay. I'm just checking your wound. Can I do that?" he nods, slowly letting go of your wrist.

You continue your task at hand, you lift the bacta patch and peek at the cut. Nothing looks out of place, so you place it back and pull down his shirt.

"Okay. Looks like you're good to go," you stand as Qimir sits up.

"I'm sorry about all this. We couldn't make it to our ship and time," he says as he swings his legs to hang over the side of your bed.

You shrug, "It's fine. If you hadn't, you might've died or something. So I understand."

"Is Mae still here?"

"Not sure. I'll check," you exit the room to see the young woman still fast asleep on your couch. You slowly approach her but then accidentally bump into one of your chairs.

The young woman shoots up, throwing a dagger your way, but the object remains suspended in the air right in front of your face.

Mae's eyes widen.

"You're a Force wielder?" the dagger drops to the ground when Qimir speaks.

You back away from Mae, who's now on her feet looking at you suspiciously. Qimir looks at you with intrigue, a hint of a smirk on his face, "How long have you been able to do that?"

You cast your gaze to your feet. Your fingers playing with the hem of your top. You had always done your best not to use your ability, but you couldn't seem to control when it came to danger.

"Since I was young, but I was never trained."

"Why?" Mae asks curiously.

"Being a Jedi is restrictive and I didn't like that. I discovered that in my youth. My friend, Rya, we discovered we were Force sensitive at the same time. She decided to join the Jedi and I didn't get to see her for a long time. When I saw her again, she told me that Jedi were forbidden from forming attachments. I couldn't see myself going through life without meaningful relationships, so I hid this part of me away. It's only when I'm in danger that it tends to come through, hence," you gesture to Mae's dagger that was still on the ground.

Qimir's smirk widens, "You know, our Master always tells us that the Force is supposed to free you. Not restrict you." For the third time now, he approaches you with a tilted head and intrigue in his eyes, "Ever since I landed on this planet, I felt called to your shop. To you. I think I know why now."

Mae looks at her colleague in confusion, "You want to bring her to Master?"

Qimir eyes you up and down and bites his lip as he smiles, "I think your Master will find them to helpful in his cause."

You gulp, "Will he hurt me?"

Qimir shrugs slowly backing away, "Probably not since you helped us last night. But who knows."

You whip your head to Mae for confirmation and she does nothing but stare at you for a moment before gathering her things.

__________________

As the suns rose further into the sky, the busier the streets became, thus making it easier for Mae and Qimir to leave your shop.

"You won't be coming with us, but we will be back for you. We just need to discuss things with the Master first," Qimir says as he pulls up his hood.

"And if I don't go?"

"He'll come to you and you probably wouldn't want that," Mae says with finality as she pulls up her own hood and squeezes between you and Qimir with a scowl on her face.

Qimir leans in, "Don't mind her. She's probably threatened by you."

You can't help but snort, "Not even sure what she'd be threatened by. I don't know much about the Force."

"With proper training you will. You'll see," he takes your hand, holding it for a moment before turning it over and dropping some Batuuan spira into your palm, "Thank you for helping me...us."

"Sure. See you around, I suppose?"

"See you around," he lets go of your hand and follows Mae out of your shop.

____________________

It's an ongoing trend that Qimir shows up at your door at night. For weeks, you had been expecting him or Mae or both of them to appear again ready to take you to their Master.

During that time, you made preparations for whenever they arrived. You explained to the neighboring shop owner, Eudora, that you may be going on an unexpected trip some time, due to the depleting health of a family member on another planet. A lie, obviously, since you didn't want people to know of your capabilities or your new relations to Mae and Qimir.

Eudora's son, Uther, was given the responsibility of taking over your shop in your absence. You knew you could trust the young man since he's helped you around your shop before. While Batuu is a haven for those who avoid attracting attention to themselves and their misdeeds, many of the shop keepers are trustworthy and reliable. Eudora and Uther are definitely those people.

So when Qimir appeared once more, you quickly informed Eudora of your departure. With fleeting waves, you quickly follow Qimir into alleyways leading to his hidden speeder, that would take you on the outskirts of town to where his ship sits.

"You're sure this Master won't hurt me?" you ask as you hesitate at the bottom of the ramp that leads into the ship.

Qimir looks at you with a smile, "He promised me he wouldn't. He was grateful for what you did for Mae and I. You'll be safe, I swear," he holds his hand out to you, waiting.

You let out a deep breath and take his hand. He leads you up the ramp and into the cockpit of the ship.

"I'm trusting you, Qimir."

"I know," he says looking deep into your eyes, leaning closer to you. One hand still holds yours and the other reaches up and cups your face, "Sorry about this," he whispers.

"Wha-", your sentence goes unfinished as you collapse into his arms, completely unconscious.

[shooting-love-arrows]

Hi! Can I request more on the Yandere! Barabarian? I dont of anything specif besides that but, maybe about his and darlings' life now after marriage?

Hello to you too @misfortunateleprechaun,

Here it is! Hope to hear from you again and have a nice day (even if it's not a daytime)!

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 and marriage headcanons

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 x reader (gender not mentioned/specified/implied) Tw. kidnapping, implied murder, blood, possessive tendencies, raids, marking, (at the end) horny yandere, grinding, mention of sex but nothing specific. A/N: There's a mention of a random name and celebration so don't fret that you don't know about something. Everything here is made up!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

When you are officially married to 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧, you not only become his lifelong partner and a soul connected to his own for all of eternity but you also become one of his people. This means everything related to your past should end up just like your village – turned to ashes. Forgotten and left behind. The only good things your parents did were creating you. The village? Don’t make him laugh! He never saw a more pathetic excuse of one before in his life. So stop wasting your tears on them and embrace your new family and him!

“Shh…my treasure…shhh…” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 tried to console you. Even when you continue to trash in his hold, hit him in the chest repeatedly or scratch at him, he only brought you closer and tightened his hold on you. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 didn’t understand why you were acting like that, hysterically sobbing and pushing him away. Nor ever was he forced to comfort the person who was acting like that. “Why are you shedding tears for them? Shhh... Let’s celebrate Night Of Miracles (made up celebration) with your new husband and family, hm?”

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 teaches you about his culture and language. In those quiet moments shared between you, sitting by fire, he tries his best to be a teacher (and he fails miserably). Although he’s a scholar by no means, he truly wants to make you feel like you belong. To make you understand that what he did and was doing was good. And he finds it amusing when he has to point things out to you like to a toddler. What he can’t teach you about, he requests for someone in his tribe to take his place (of course not without marking you beforehand just to be sure everyone will know who you belong to).

“...and that’s why Trinus I (made up character) brought his beloved the head of his first wife.” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 finished the old tale and sighed in content. The story leaves you more traumatized than you already are. There were a few seconds of silence, before he smirked cheekily. “Now, let me tell you about their wedding night.”

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 marks you a lot and daily. Either by leaving big and deep hickeys in the most visible places or by braiding your hair in a similar way, making you wear his family crest/sigli, offering his clothes to wear and so on. One thing for certain, everyone must know (if they don’t already) that you’re his.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 could only admire you when you walked out of your shared tent, wearing his shirt, hair braided with similar braids to his and hickeys displayed on your neck. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 didn’t know whether to be more aroused or start trotting like a peacock. 

Just like any good husband, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 brings you all sorts of gifts from his raids. It doesn’t matter if you want something or not. Either way, he’s going to bring all sorts of objects to choose from. 

“W-what is it?” Your voice cracked after 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 pulled away from a searing ‘welcome back’ kiss. He was still covered in blood, sweaty, smelling like smoke and panting heavily. But what caught your attention was a big woolen bag thrown over his shoulder, material stretched to the max.  𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 only smirked and you watched, horrified, as he carelessly let the items from the bag spill on the floor. You saw clothes, silver dinnerware, money, jewelry (is that a finger with a ring still on?) and many other knick knacks. You gulped thickly. “For you!” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 proudly announced and puffed out his chest.

(NSFW-ish) A lot of sex. This man has high libido and – just like all barbarians – are led by their carnal desires. It’s guaranteed he’s going to bed you on a daily basis. It doesn’t matter where or when. If he wants to have sex with you, then he’s going to do so. It’s especially rough when he returns from raids or hunting trips, covered in sweat and oozing with adrenaline and need of you. Those are wild nights ~

“I need you…” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 growled in your ear and aggressively nuzzled his nose in your neck. Since the moment his body touched yours, he started grinding into you. He just loved your scent. It was working on him like an aphrodisiac, turning him into an untamable beast ready to devour you. His chapped lips continue to aggressively leave a trail of wet kisses from your earlobe, down your neck and – after tearing open your loose shirt – your shoulder. “I fucking want you. Now.”

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[ashleyisartsy]

Problems (objective and personal) I'm not seeing discussed a lot w this new WatcherTV thing, in no particular order:

-Alienates people internationally who literally CANNOT GET the streaming service!

-Alienates casual fans who don't watch or want to watch all of their shows. Putting down 60 bucks a year to watch just one or two shows is kind of insane, at least for me.

-The volume of content Watcher has produced historically hasn't been enough to justify a separate streamer. I understand there's no way a small team could compete with something like Netflix, obviously, but that's what you're trying to do by putting yourself in the streamer market.

-Will this streamer be secure? What steps are in place to protect your viewers info? ESPECIALLY payment info.

-Will it be easily watchable on multiple devices? I watch YouTube videos on my phone at work 90% of the time, or at home on my TV thru my switch. Is this a browser only deal?

-What are the internet requirements for this? Believe it or not most streaming services won't run on my internet personally. I don't have any for that reason. I can watch YouTube on 360p, or on my 2-bar-reception phone data. Not everywhere has stable reliable internet.

-The suddenness and totality of the move was going to be jarring no matter what, if the idea had been introduced gradually or started as a hybrid model to test audience interest there wouldn't be nearly this amount of pushback.

-I understand the people saying "pay artists!!" Bc I am one, and I get that their quality is expensive and they have a whole company's worth of people to support. I do actually think their work is worth paying for! Everyone's is! But convincing anyone to pay for something they previously got for free is going to be a hard sell. They were still getting paid before, they're now just asking us to pay instead of the advertisers. Idk about you, but that's a way bigger hit to my pocketbook than a multimillion dollar company's bank account.

-I get that YouTube can be a really shitty place to be a creator sometimes, and that being beholden to advertisers is something they don't want to be. It's why they left Buzzfeed! They already have a patreon and merch and it's clearly not been enough for their ambitions. But shooting yourself in the foot because your running shoes are wearing out isn't going to make you a better marathon runner. They had to know that there was going to be a not small portion of their audience unwilling to make this move with them (and again, lots literally aren't able to!)

-If they had a free w/ ads option, or even did a hybrid model with whole shows behind the pay wall, or even just ran a fucking crowd funding campaign to help cover costs of new seasons of shows, any of those things could have worked. They don't even have YouTube memberships turned on, which I've personally seen many many channels do even when they already have a patreon. It really doesn't seem like they've exhausted other options, at least from an outside perspective, which is all we have as viewers!

-I get that this has been in the works for a long time, and that there probably isn't a way for them to back out now. But I hope they can find a way to make this more accessible if they want it to work at all. I truly am not wishing for their downfall, but the whole situation is an awful mess.

Idk, rant over. As a lot of you are I'm feeling very disappointed and upset with this one, and I'm not paying for it either. Hope the boys can salvage this one for their and their crew's sake. Would really hate for this to be the end.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for "using" a cucumber and putting it back in the fridge?

(🥒👌 to find later)

Please, I know it sounds nuts but hear me out. I feel awful and I need to know just how bad this is. Also, I intentionally left as much as possible vague as I am a minor and I do not want this to get removed for being too explicit. But the story will not make sense if I don't include certain things, please understand.

So I (16M) grew up in and currently still live in the bible belt, with extremely conservative evangelical parents. As a taste of what it's like, we have church 3 times a week, and church camp every summer. We are only allowed to access Netflix through a stupid content filter app and we can only use a restricted smart phone that is regularly checked at random by our parents. We get an hour and a half of computer usage every other day, and the internet on the computer is heavily filtered also. The only reason I have access to Tumblr and am able to post this now is because my best friend's older brother gave me his old android for my birthday a few years ago. His family is much more open minded, and I'm very close with them. I also think they have always felt a little bad for me with my family being the way they are.

I'm also gay. Obviously, my family does not know, and I intend to keep it that way. I won't go too deep into it, but it will suffice to say I struggled a lot when I was younger over this. The good thing is that in the last few years, I've been able to accept myself more and come to terms with what my own feelings about religion and faith really are. I came out to my best friend and his brother a little over a year ago, and they've been very supportive. I have yet to tell any of my other friends.

Recently, I've been trying out alcohol since my friends found a hookup. Something I have discovered is that I tend to get lewd feelings when I drink, which has nearly caused a few embarrassing moments around friends. Coincidentally, I have also been experimenting with... certain things. Being a minor, I obviously can't enter any of the adult stores around me, nor would I feel comfortable asking any of my friends to drive me there if I could. I also can't order anything online because my bank account is connected to my parents, and I don't have a shipping address I'm comfortable using for those items either. So instead, I use household objects that belong to me and can be sanitized easily. You might see where this is going.

Yesterday evening, I came home from best friend's house with a full bottle of wine in my backpack. We and a few other friends had already been sipping on a few beers that afternoon, and I still felt a little buzzed. After my family went to sleep, despite already having a little alcohol in my system, I proceeded to get wasted on this bottle of wine in my room. I don't have the clearest memory of all of this, but at some point, I got hungry and lewd-feeling. Went into the kitchen and, through some kind of thought process I can only imagine now, came back into my room with a cucumber. From the title of the post, you can hazard a guess as to what happened to this cucumber. Once I was done, I drukedly and quickly washed it in the bathroom sink and threw it back into the fridge. I went to sleep.

I started freaking out as soon as I woke up this morning. There were four cucumbers in the fridge, I was pretty positive at least two were going to be used for dinner tonight, and I had no idea which cucumber I did the deed with. To make matters worse, my mom was inviting the pastor of our church and his family over for dinner. I have practically no money currently, no license or vehicle, and no friends with vehicles free to pick up new cucumbers for me (and no reasonable explanation as to why I needed them to spot me for four cucumbers specifically). I also have no believable reason to give for why we shouldn't have cucumbers added in the salad mix. My mom knows I love them, and they haven't gone bad. Can't say I ate them because who the hell eats four raw cucumbers? And she'll interrogate both my brother and I until she gets a satisfying answer if I just throw them out. I didn't know what the hell to do about this and I was close to having a panic attack, so... I took a nap.

Evening came. Guests came over, dinner happened. We had porkchops with macaroni and side salads. Cucumbers were in the salad, and I along with pastor's family and my own, ate it like nothing was wrong. My parents, the pastor and his wife had an engaging conversation about politics, religion, and some mild church gossip after dinner. My little brother continued to read his book, and I had a very awkward and one-sided conversation about Young Sheldon with the pastor's daughter. Then they left. And I went to my room to mentally implode.

To say I'm horrified is a major understatement. I don't think anyone is going to get sick because I scrubbed all of the cucumbers with soap multiple times and cleaned the vegetable drawer with bleach when I woke up this morning. I guess I also don't know that the violated cucumber was one of the ones that was used for dinner tonight, but then it's only a matter of days until we have salad again, or if mom cuts one up for water. I've rattled my brain for any way I could get some new cucumbers without telling anyone the details of the event, but I have nothing. Don't even have the money, anyway. Gave up the last bit of cash I had for the damn wine yesterday, and I have $0.43 in total on my debit card.

Admittedly, there is a very small part of me that doesn't even really care if they have eaten or end up eating the damn thing. I can't stand my family. My parents are invasive, controlling and neurotic, and don't give a shit about how I'm doing in so far as it pertains to god and the church. I'm a little more sympathetic to my brother as he's been stuck in this hell with me, but at 13 he's already begun to regurgitate way more religious dogma than I ever did at his age. And I know for a fact that they would want nothing to do with me if they found out I was gay. They'd probably kick me out on the street and spit on me if I had to guess. But even still, this is only a small part of how I feel. What I did was still so gross, and no amount of animosity I have for them can change how mortifed I am. I do have at least a semblance of a conscience.

So...AITA for all of this? WIBTA if I did nothing about the other two cucumbers? Please help.

[xxchumanixx]

Thought Contagion

Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: After a one night stand he ghosted you. When forced to talk, the lines slowly start to blur. Warnings/Tags: hurt, angst, fluff in the end, mentions of a one night stand, reader has the ability to communicate via thoughts and move objects Word count: 4.397 Authors note: I just love him. Do I need to say more? It's 4 am, and I'm dead. So this might make no sense at all, but hey I somehow managed to write this delusional on tiredness.

Dr. Raynor's office

The clock on the wall ticked steadily, almost matching your heartbeat.

"Did you dream of him again?" she wanted to know, eyes closely watching you.

"No, I haven't dreamt of him in a long time now... but he contacted me." you gave back, fingers interlocked, fumbling with each other.

"Did he call you? Text?"

"No, he contacted me through my thoughts."

"That he can do?"

"When the will is there, yes."

"There has to be a deep connection between you for him to do that."

"No... not anymore."

"So there was a connection."

"Was. It doesn't exist anymore."

"What happened between you two?"

"We slept with each other. And after he left without me noticing, I never heard of him again."

She nodded to herself, carefully considering what you told her.

"Do you have feelings for him?"

"I've had feelings for him for almost ten years now."

You knew it wasn't right, not like this. When you first saw him, it was at the museum, Steve telling you everything about him. How brave he was, courageous and caring. How he looked after Steve, when no one else was left.

You developed feelings for someone who didn't even exist anymore, at least that was what everyone thought.

Who would have known, that he was still alive, breathing and killing.

"Do you know him this long?" she asked, head tilted.

"No. I met him, after Steve brought him back. I was there, when they brought him to Wakanda and I visited him during his rehabilitation. Then, when Thanos blib'd us, he was gone. And after he returned a few months ago, it just happened. I don't know if it was frustration, after Steve left us, or what else it was, but we lost control for a moment."

"Control over what? Your feelings?"

"He doesn't have any feelings for me."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Why do you think he ghosted me?" you chuckled dryly, brows furrowed as you looked at her like she was an alien.

You had to bite your lip not to snarl at her, send biting words her way. She was only trying to help you, had been for a few months now.

But sometimes, she didn't seem to understand you.

"Maybe because he was scared? Didn't know how to handle his feelings?" she suggested, cocking a brow.

"No, James Barnes doesn't have such feelings - only sadness and anger." you told her, the bitter feeling of guilt stinging on your tongue.

"Was it these feelings, that led to him sleeping with you? His anger, his sadness?"

"A moment of weakness, nothing more."

She wrote something into her notebook, before she tapped her pen on the paper. "What did he want?"

"He wanted me to help him."

You flinched, when suddenly a sharp pain tore through your head.

What the hell?

"Y/N?"

You believed you heard a voice, one that sounded painfully familiar.

"Y/N?" There it was again, and you sighed shakily, feelings starting to mix in a dangerous cocktail. "James?" you answered in a thought, eyes closing, as you tried not to betray your feelings with a quiver of your voice.

It must have taken him a lot to contact you through your thoughts.

You were a telepath, able to communicate via thoughts, as well as moving objects through the air. But it took a lot of willpower, to contact you through your thoughts, especially when it was over such a great distance.

And by someone like James Buchanan Barnes.

"Oh thank god." you heard him mumble, as your belly churned.

After you've spent the night together and he left, you hadn't heard from him. Why would he contact you like that of all ways? Why contact you at all?

"What do you want?" you returned coldly, teeth gritted, as you sat up in bed. You were just about to sleep, already tucked under your covers, when he contacted you.

The anger bubbling up in your stomach made it hard for you to concentrate, but the curiosity was the slightest bit stronger.

"I need your help."

Eyes widening, you fumed. Hands clenched into fists, the books in the bookcase started to rattle, trinkets threatening to tumble over.

Oh, the nerve he had - he had to be fucking kidding you.

"You need my help?" you seethed, not able to contain the angry chuckle that escaped your lips. "You have to be kidding me."

It was silent for a few moments and you started to think he might have cut the connection, when you heard him sigh.

"I-" he started, but was cut off by another voice. "What are you doing?" you heard the voice ask - Sam. "Are you praying or something?"

You could basically hear Bucky's eyes roll in their sockets, as he sighed angrily. "No, I'm not." he retorted, scoffing. "I'm-" he cut himself off this time, most likely rubbing the stubble on his chin. "I'm talking to Y/N."

It was silent for another moment, before you heard Sam again. "How? Where's your phone? Or are you communicating through prayers?"

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head.

"Forgot that she can communicate via thought?" Bucky gave back, sounding fed up. "That's possible?" Sam sounded surprised. "Over this distance? What do you want from her anyways? Thought you guys aren't talking."

Cocking a brow you huffed, and you heard Bucky stutter incoherently, eventually finding his words. "No- I-I mean, yes. We need her help if we want to find them!"

"Find whom?" you wanted to know, scrambling for the laptop that was under your bed, flipping it open, despite your better judgement. "What happened anyways?" Sam questioned, his curiosity getting the best of him.

Since when were they teaming up?

"Did you hear about the group 'Flagsmashers'?" Bucky asked, focusing back on you. "Of course, do you think I live under a rock?" you scoffed in return.

He rolled his eyes, you swear he did.

"Well, they plan something big and we can't find them." he explained, ignoring Sam who was still demanding an answer. "We need satellite pictures or video or whatever. Sharon can't hack into them."

"Sharon?" you retorted, huffing. You hadn't seen her since she had to flee, now knowing why. She must have holed up wherever Sam and Bucky where. "What makes you think I have access to satellites wherever you are?"

He hesitated, as you grew impatient.

"And what exactly makes you think I'd help you?"

He must have been very desperate if he contacted you of all people.

"After all I thought we weren't talking?"

He was frustrated, you could tell. You could feel it seeping into your bones.

"They are killing dozens of innocent people!" he explained, anger and frustration filtering through his voice. "Could you please help us? I wouldn't ask if I had another option."

I wouldn't ask you of all people.

"Already on it." you mumbled, as you were already typing on your laptop, telling yourself you were doing this for the innocent people he mentioned, ignoring your aching heart.

The group he was talking about was all over the news lately, gathering more followers each day. They were a threat, and no matter how much you despised talking to Bucky, you knew you had to help them.

Going through the various pictures, you scanned them for the group. "Found 'em." you announced, zooming in on a picture.

"I'll send Sam the location."

Bucky made a noise like he wanted to protest, say something like 'Why not sent it to me?', but he must have remembered that you weren't talking.

"Thank you." you heard him mutter, before he abruptly cut the connection, leaving you wide awake.

Closing your eyes you tried to hold back the tears. It was pointless crying over him, you did for a while now.

It never changed anything for you.

But, as Bucky was forming a plan with Sam, he could hear it clear as day - the single sob that managed to spill, leaving him wondering if he really heard it, or if he just imagined it.

"Did you help him?" Dr. Raynor asked, brows furrowed. She as well had heard about the group of terrorists, and she had talked to Sam and Bucky not long ago.

"I had to." you retorted, huffing.

"Why? Because he asked you to?"

"Because it was the right thing to do."

"Because of this group they are trying to stop?"

"Yes."

She nodded to herself, biting her cheek.

"How do you feel about John Walker being the new Captain America?"

Your eyes snapped to hers, hands stopping their trembling. "Don't call him that."

"Why not? Doesn't he fit your expectations?"

You chuckled dryly, smirking at her. "My expectations?" you wanted to know, leaning forward with a cocked brow. "Steven Grant Rogers was my best friend. He was my anchor, and when he left, living a life in the past with Peggy Carter, he fulfilled his greatest wish. Do I hate him for leaving me behind? Yes, I do. But I support him and his decision nonetheless. He gave the shield to Sam, who gave it away. Who am I to have expectations, when my biggest hope of someone worthy stepping into these massive footprints has been so utterly disappointed?"

Her forehead creased in thought, tapping the pen on the notebook again. The sound was so familiar already, that you had started to ignore it a long time ago.

"John Walker is said to be a good man. Don't you think he will make a good replacement for Captain America?"

"He can be good all he wants, wear the medals he obtained with pride - but he'll never be like us. The Avengers, people that gave everything for others, never once thinking about ourselves. Did we get any medals when we stopped Thanos? When Tony undid the blib, sacrificing himself? No. My best friend - my sister - died, forcing my dad to forever feel guilty for not dying in her place. Can she be replaced? No. Just as Steve can't be replaced. But Sam was the best option to be the next Cap."

"You're dad?"

"Clint. He took me under his wing almost fifteen years ago. He's the dad I never had."

She nodded, scribbling something down again.

"Will you talk to him again?"

Your brows furrowed, remembering the conversation you had with your dad only this morning.

"James."

Sighing, you leaned back against the cushions again, crossing your arms over your chest.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why not?" you repeated her words, anger bubbling up yet again, as your eyes widened in disbelieve. "James Buchanan Barnes ghosted me after we had sex, only contacting me to get my help. After that, he ghosted me again. And you're asking why not?"

She heaved a sigh, glancing at her watch only to see that she had another thirty minutes with you.

It wasn't that she didn't like you, but you reminded her of Bucky in your stubborn and deflective ways.

"Maybe you should." she spoke, tilting her head. "Talk to him, demand answers as to why exactly he ghosted you."

Scoffing, you stood, feeling the sudden urge to leave, get the hell out of there.

"Sit." she demanded sharply, the tapping of her pen coming to a halt.

Groaning, you did.

"Why don't you help them in trying to stop this group of terrorists for starters?" she suggested, leaning forwards on her elbows, that were resting on her thighs. "And maybe you can talk to him afterwards."

You laughed at her suggestion, declaring her insane.

But you couldn't deny the aching in your heart at the prospect.

You yearned for his touch, his scent, his voice. The way his fingertips ghosted over your skin, lips brushing over the shell of your ear as he whispered sweet nothings into it, hips connecting with yours over and over again.

Dr. Raynor smirked, like she was able to read your thoughts. She wasn't, though she still seemed to know exactly what you were thinking.

Cheeks reddening, you cleared your throat, deciding that you were in need of another topic.

"How was your weekend?"

____

You hated this.

Why exactly did she manage to convince you to follow them, again?

You were late, seeing as the whole scene was crowded, the Flagsmashers already captured, their leader dead. She was a young girl, barely old enough to drink legally.

You were standing at the rear of the ambulance, watching Sam and Bucky who were stood at the front, backs turned towards you. They didn't know you were there yet, talking to each other.

Your heart was thundering in your chest, and you were scared Bucky could hear it with his super soldier hearing.

You were contemplating if you should turn around and hurry the fuck out of there, but it was too late, when they turned instead, heading towards you.

They hadn't seen you yet, but when Sam looked up, his steps faltered, causing Bucky to look your way as well. He stopped dead in his tracks, jaw slack, before it clenched.

Sam hesitantly closed the distance, whilst Bucky was glued to the spot.

"Hey." he voiced, glancing back at the frozen super soldier. "I'll leave you to talk."

"What if I don't want to?"

"You should."

He patted you on the shoulder, before he left for someone that called out to him.

Your hands trembled, your whole body trembled, as you both stared at each other. Neither of you knew what to say, neither wanting to be the first to speak.

"Should have expected you to turn up here." he muttered, and you scoffed. "Believe me, I'm not here because I wanted to be." you retorted as equally cold, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket.

He cocked a brow, mimicking the movement, his arm reflecting the light. "Why are you here then?" he wanted to know, fighting the urge to lean against the ambulance.

He didn't want to come over as relaxed, because he definitely wasn't with you standing in front of him.

Not anymore.

He hadn't expected you to show up, he had hoped you wouldn't.

"I wanted to see if you need more help with the Flagsmashers." you explained, looking past him. "You already helped enough with the location." he returned, unwavering.

Nodding, you bit your lip, looking away.

He was shoving you away, again.

"Well, then I suppose I will go." you spoke, swallowing. "Should have expected not to be welcomed."

You didn't mean to say it out loud, really. It just slipped through somehow.

His brows furrowed, eyes narrowing. "Welcomed?" he asked, taking a step closer as his head tilted. "No one invited you. You didn't need to come."

Huffing, you nodded again.

"Well, and no one invited you." you retorted sharply, looking back up at him. "Yet you came as well, before you left without a word."

His jaw clenched, teeth gritted.

"But hey, lets not talk about it, its not worth mentioning anyways."

You wanted to scratch his ego, your own lying broken in a corner. It worked, as he took another step closer, head tilted. Lowering his voice, he spoke exactly what you were expecting him to.

"Didn't sound not 'worth mentioning' it, considering the way you cried my name out for everyone in the building to hear."

You shivered involuntarily, trying not to let him see, though.

He wasn't wrong, but you wouldn't have him know that.

"Really? Maybe I'm just a good actress."

He scoffed, chuckling dryly.

"Just as good as you're at sneaking out."

He fumed at your words, face hardening. His arm whirred quietly, so hard he must have been clenching his hands into fists.

You stared each other down, as your heart silently begged for you to stop. But you were caught in the moment, caught in your anger and hurt.

When neither of you said anything for a good minute, you shook your head and turned around, starting to walk away.

You should have known he wouldn't talk to you.

"Do you think it was easy?" he shouted after you, causing you to halt in your movement.

"Do you think it was easy? After everything that happened, being turned to dust, returning, only for Steve to leave me behind?"

You turned back around, scoffing. "He didn't leave only you." you reminded him, voice harsh. "He left Sam and I as well. He left us all behind, staying in the past to spend his life with Peggy - the only wish he ever had. He was selfish, yes, but he knew we'd manage."

He shook his head, biting his cheek.

"I failed him."

You couldn't help but laugh, frustration growing thicker. "Why do you think so?"

His eyes were glued to the floor, before he looked back up at you.

"I tried, but I didn't manage." he explained, taking a step closer, partly closing the distance you had created. "I spiraled downwards, losing control. I-" he cut himself off, eyes flitting to the sky above you, as he licked his lips, before he looked back at you.

"I lost the little ounce of control I had left when I let you in." he continued, shaking his head, as he bit down on his cheek, the sting momentarily distracting him from his raging heart. "When we- when we spent that night together, I panicked. I hadn't done something like that since the forties, and I didn't want to drag you down into the hole I was falling into."

You had to swallow, eyes stinging, even though you did your best to ignore it.

"And what about me?" you wanted to know, clearing your throat, as your voice quivered. "What about the hole I was falling into?"

His jaw ticked, and he swallowed.

When he didn't answer, you continued.

"You left me behind, in the moment I was the most vulnerable. I needed you, and you left - as well."

He shook his head, hand brushing through his hair. "You don't need me."

"I shouldn't need you." you corrected him, shaking your head with a frown, as you took a step closer. "When Steve first told me about you, showing me your picture at the museum I knew I was done for. Hell, when you stood in front of me, breathing and not dead, like you were believed to be, I thought I was dreaming. I envied Steve, because he made you sound like the best person on earth."

He scoffed, but didn't interrupt you further, eyes downcast.

"I wanted to get to know you, wanted to see if Steve was right." you continued, fighting a smile, losing. "He was, and when we spent more time together, I started to see what he saw. And then you turned into dust. The whole world tilted, for five years. You were gone, Sam, my dad and my whole family suddenly vanished. And when you returned I was so happy - only for you to leave me again. I know it probably didn't mean anything to you, but for me it did."

You breathed in shakily, stopping your own rambling, heart hammering in your chest, threatening to break through.

"You're wrong." he muttered, swallowing, as he locked eyes with you. "It did mean something to me - it meant the whole world to me. You didn't judge me, no matter what I did. You made me forget. You where there the whole time, accompanying me the whole way. But when Steve-" he choked on his breath, shaking his head with tears glistening in his eyes.

"I lost it. And I couldn't risk bringing you in harms way - my way. I didn't want to hurt you."

Sniffing, you bit on your cheek, almost drawing blood.

"But you did." you whispered, tears making your eyes burn, blurring your sight. "You did, when you pushed me away. You where the only constant I had left, and you pushed me away."

He nodded, sniffing as well. "I know, doll." he spoke, biting his lip. "I know."

Even though you felt a weight lift from your shoulders, it didn't feel as relieving as it should have. A tear fell, but you didn't brush it away.

You fell silent, lost in thought.

Somehow, you just confessed your feelings to him, stripped them bare for him to see. Leaving you even more vulnerable.

Your fingers tapped on your thigh in a nervous habit, wishing you could read Bucky's mind. Even though you were able to communicate via thought, you weren't actually able to read other peoples thoughts.

"Will you forgive me?" he suddenly rasped out, eyes staying a second longer on the ground, before they found yours, hope glistening in them. He sounded so broken, so vulnerable, like you never heard him before.

"Please, Y/N."

You swallowed at the nerves bubbling up, slowly starting to nod. "Yes, Bucky." you breathed out, sniffing. "Yes, I forgive you."

How were you supposed to stay angry at him, after what he just told you? After everything that had happened?

He breathed a sigh of relief, nodding to himself, as his eyes closed for a moment.

A tear slipped past his eyelashes, and he bit his lip. You had only seen him cry once, causing you to inhale shakily at the memory.

He wiped at the salty liquid, before his eyes opened again, his feet taking him closer to you, until he was as close as he was the last time you had seen him in person.

You could smell his familiar cologne, feel the heat his body radiated.

His flesh fingers hesitantly moved, brushing a few stray strands of hair out of your face, softly cupping your cheek. The action made you shiver, goosebumps covering your arms, as you leaned into his warm touch the slightest bit, eyes locked onto his blue ones.

"I'm so sorry, doll." he rasped out, eyes fighting to stay on yours. "I did what I thought was best for you, but I know now, that I was wrong. I'm having nightmares again, but I'm working on it. I'm working on everything, trying to get a bit of the old me back to life - the one Steve had told you all these stories about."

You knew about his nightmares, even though they were different now, thanks to the Dora Milaje who had managed to free him of the Winter Soldier state.

He didn't turn into him anymore, not for the briefest of moments. Something he would forever be grateful for.

"I'm an idiot." he mumbled, eyes leaving yours, his hand leaving your face, falling back at his side with his head downcast. "I never should have left - never should have let this happen. I should have listened to Dr. Raynor."

You cocked a brow at his words, head tilting to somehow meet his gaze. "What do you mean?"

He sighed heavily, swallowing, as his nerves got the best of him. "I mean that I should have talked to you, instead of just leaving you behind." he explained, tongue brushing over his lip, hesitating. "Should have told you how I feel."

You inhaled sharply, hands starting their nervous trembling at your sides again.

"What do you feel?" you managed to breathe out, and his eyes met yours again, the intensity of his gaze stealing your breath.

His lips parted, only for his tongue to wet them again. He searched for the right words, soon giving up and opting for the simpler option instead.

"I love you, Y/N."

Your breathing hitched, heart stumbling, before it doubled its speed.

"You're pure, soft and so lovingly." he continued, hands cupping your face. There the words were. "You never once judged me, not even in my darkest hours. You're the thing that kept me going, made me push through to get rid of the Winter Soldier. I wanted to be better - for you. But I fucked up, so badly. I fell into an old habit, pushing you away so you wouldn't get hurt, but instead I did exactly that: hurting you. And I'm a fucking coward for pushing you away, and not pulling you closer instead, now that I'm actually able to."

Words had left you, only tears managed to spill. He brushed them away with his thumbs, one cold and one warm, yet they were both so soft.

His eyes closed, forehead brushing yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as well, breathing him in.

"Working with Sam on this distracted me enough to forget it for a moment." he spoke quietly, leaving you to wonder how exactly that had happened. "But I was selfish when I contacted you, asking for help. I wanted to hear your voice, even if you would have just shouted at me, telling me to never talk to you again."

You bit your lip, more tears falling.

"I would have never." you told him, eyes squinting, even though they were already closed. "I love you too much."

His body moved abruptly, a sob breaking through his lips. It was one of relief and deep shame.

He nodded, his forehead leaving yours to press kisses to your face. Your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, until he finally met your lips with his own.

You tasted the salty remnants of your combined tears on your lips, but neither of you cared. Hands wrapping around his neck, brushing through his hair, you tugged him closer.

Something wet hit your cheek, but you couldn't tell if it were your tears, or his.

His hands on your cheeks tilted your head back, deepening the kiss. His tongue brushed yours, an action so soft it left you yearning for more.

When his lips left yours, you sighed, eyes slowly opening to meet his blue ones. His lips were kiss swollen, but so were yours.

"He took the shield." Bucky breathed out with shining eyes, fingers dancing through your hair. Nodding, you couldn't help but smile. "I know. Finally."

He chuckled quietly, before his lips connected with yours again.

"Now that this mission is complete, I'm all yours." he promised, forehead meeting yours again. "I won't ever do the mistake of pushing you away again, I promise."

You smiled, feeling the tears return, happy ones this time.

"I'm yours." he repeated, lips meeting your cheek. "I'm yours."

"I know." you returned, eyes fluttering closed.

"And I'm yours."

[pagodazz]

Emh fans when they're asked to stop sexualizing Evan Jennings and his characters because it makes him and his wife uncomfortable:

hope y'all are so happy with yourself for going against his wishes and being fucking freaks to him. You're all why he's barely online anymore. you cannot behave and you cannot be normal and you all have ruined what could be a very fun fandom.

Everyone in this fandom sees Evan as a piece of meat basically, you all only care about his character because Evan is a good looking guy. I mean!! let's be real here!!! let me quiz you on the lore!!! let me see just how fucking much you know about ALL the characters. let me see how much you ACTUALLY give a shit. Because all any of you do is post about how attractive you find Evan/habit and it's honestly so annoying.

I'm not saying you can't compliment him??? or appreciate his looks?? but drawing him in sexually compromising positions, writing in great detail about what you want him to do to you (PUBLICLY. no one gives a SHIT what you fucking do in private.) Or you're fucking mixing up habit and Evan, and just acting like you know his story when CLEARLY the most of you have watched habit compilations on YouTube and NOTHING else.

You cannot even convince me otherwise because I deal with people coming in my comments all the time asking about BASIC INFORMATION. like IF YOU DON'T KNOW THE PRINCETON TAPES ????? WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK????? YOU NEED THAT FOR THE SERIES. YOU CANNOT EVEN BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND HALF THE THINGS WITHOUT IT???????

This isn't saying you can't write fanfiction or shit like that this is JUST SAYING BE RESPECTFUL?????? these slenderverse actors ARE NOT A LIST CELEBRITIES. they're not like fucking Oscar Isaac or whoever people are obsessed with right now. THEY'RE NOT FAMOUS. THIS IS NICHE. THIS IS NOT POPULAR MEDIA 😭😭😭😭

Emh literally made NO money from their series, they didn't create it to gain anything like that. they created something fun and NOW YOU ALL ARE THE REASON THEY HAVE NO PART IN THIS FANDOM ANYMORE.

you robbed them of being able to love their creation and I hope you're all happy about that honestly because it seems like this fandom is only gonna get worse in this area. and I'm deeply disappointed.

edit: I would like to add one thing, Vincent caffarello had to deal with situations of extreme sexualization as well, and his got to the point to where he had to leave. Vinnie used to be very involved with the fandom, he even used to read fanfic which he had to stop doing because people would be writing characters to SEXUALLY ASSAULT HIM or others and he just couldn't continue to read things like that. He delt with minors sending him explicit photos and messages and that's literally all kinds of FUCKED UP. He did NOT want to be involved with that stuff.

It's like when Evan had someone impersonate him to try to get with minors. THESE PEOPLE ARE NOT OBJECTS FOR YOU TO SEEK OUT PLEASURE WITH. THEY ARE PEOPLE.

they are HUMAN.

if they were women?? would you be doing this as much??? or would you realize how messed up it really is.

[pumpkinpastiesandcoffee]

Cursed Experiment

Sukuna x F! Reader ... 18+

Summary: A need to do something of use pushed her on the path of research, a path that lead to Ryomen Sukuna, a path that will haunt her forever. Words: 2646 Warnings: This whole thing is a big TW. NSFW, non con, blood, power play (its Sukuna guys cmon), unprotected, creampie, degredation, breeding kink sort of, size kink sort of.

A/N: I shouldn't have to say this but I don't condone actual r*pe or anything of the sort. This is fanfiction. Emphasis on the fiction.

~MDNI~

Being such a low-grade sorcerer was not the best feeling in the world, looked down on by so many, pitied or hated it felt the same. If only you had been born like a regular human, you could hide away from the monsters of the world, you could live guilt free because of you’re complete and utter uselessness. Unfortunately, however you could see curses, which meant you had to try hard, you had help otherwise that guilt would eat you up. Between that looming guilt, you’re barely there technique and desire for you to at least be able to protect yourself is how you came to be a student at jujutsu high. You did come to learn however, your talents lay in academia. Studying and analyzing, putting together reasonable theories to help in combat against the curses and curse users. After the Shibuya incident you were more determined than ever to learn and with that your mind had set itself upon Yuji Itadori and the powerful curse that resided within him, Ryomen Sukuna.

It had been weeks now, following the boy around and studying him, asking him all sorts of questions then disappearing into as much of the literature you could find. To your surprise, Itadori had been rather enthusiastic about your assessment, hoping in your studying of him that you might find a way to rid him of the curse and spare him or at least give him total control so that Sukuna didn’t harm anyone again. The curse in question had no intention of helping you though, chiming in on occasion purely out of his own amusement. You’d even taken to questioning Choso in order to gleam more insight on how cursed objects affect a host’s body. Although he wasn’t entirely helpful either, more so from a lack of understanding his own nature than a desire to help.

It was the topic of the death paintings that you were currently chatting about to Itadori, sat across from one another on his bed, a notebook to your side and laptop resting atop your lap. “So, we know very little as I said, but we can expect that they were created with their mother’s egg of course however when it comes to the paternal parentage it’s more of an, educated guess. See, it could be Noritoshi’s seed and the curse’s blood or cursed energy.” Taking a breath you continue with a slight exaggeration, “Or, it could be the other way around. The curse’s seed and Noritoshi’s blood. I don’t think imbuing his cursed energy would have passed on the Kamo blood technique though but explaining all why seems unnecessary for now. Anyway, what I’m getting at is…” as you continued on Sukuna had formed a mouth on Itadori’s cheek, remarking to the boy “Well, the little mouse is not so dull, imagine that. Prattles too much though.” Your cheeks burned red, eyes snapping up at the same time Itadori’s hand clapped over his cheek, a grimace on his face as he apologised.

You should be used to it by now, Sukuna had, on quite a few occasions, added his own comment to your conversations and it was never kind. Usually something about your weakness, hence he often referred to you as ‘little mouse’. It hurt at first and Sukuna seemed to enjoy that reaction, however now it mostly pissed you off and even though you tried to ignore him, his taunts seemed to burrow under your skin like some evil little parasite, poisoning your mind with hateful thoughts that had once been so foreign to you. “S’okay Yuji” you reassured, shaking your head and flashing a somewhat strained smile. You couldn’t blame him, he was nothing like Sukuna, so you were always quick to remind him of that. As you turned your eyes back to your notebook you hummed, a stray thought finding it’s way past your lips, “If you fathered a child, I wonder if it would possess any of Sukuna’s techniques or biology.” Thinking out loud truly was a bad habit and you felt nerves creep over you the second you said it, apologizing immediately, worried it was an inappropriate topic or just plain insensitive considering his impending execution.

“What an interesting question mouse, perhaps you should experiment, be the next Noritoshi hm?” The snide remark sent chills down your spine and Itadori stood up, waving his hands nervously as he apologised again. “Ah, perhaps that’s enough of my chatter for the night, I’ll leave you be Yuji” your voice had a waver to it, betraying your discomfort as you stood to collect your things. As you turned to leave, a hand clamped over your wrist and the sudden restraint had you jolting, notebook and laptop falling to the floor with a crash. As your eyes met Itadori’s you felt that cold chill wash over you, that feeling when your entire body knows it’s in danger and your stomach seems to collapse into itself and leave a nauseating heaviness in your gut. The hairs on your body stood on end as the sight of Sukuna’s distinct markings made your brain scream in fear and as you began to pull your hand back you knew his comments about your weakness were accurate. He could squeeze his hand and snap your wrist like a twig and the energy that radiated off of him stole your breath away.

He was smirking as he pulled his hand to his chest, forcing you close to him as he spoke in low voice, “You ask a lot of questions, it’s … vexing.” His voice trailed into a something of a growl, his annoyance clear as he continued, “So I’ll provide the experiment to answer one of your many questions, it has been a long time since I’ve indulged after all so I get something out of it too.” He really phrased it like he was about to do you a favor and in hopes of changing his mind, your brain and mouth finally started to work again and you teared up as you stuttered, “No, no Sukuna it, it was a p-passing though, please, d-don’t, I don’t want this!” Your words began to roll together in the panic as you began tugging against his vice like grip. He remained unmoved, staring at you like you were a hissing kitten, amusement barely hiding the cruelty in his eyes.

“You don’t want this? Hm, I thought you were dedicated to your studies, a shame.” Sukuna tilted his head, hand releasing you as he crossed his arms, muscles flexing in a way that only cemented your fear further. “I took control for this little experiment and you don’t want it? Ungrateful. Disrespectful.” With your arm free you stepped back, once, twice, then you turned to sprint and within an instant a hand had splayed out across your stomach, winding you with the force and as a scream tried to claw itself out of your throat another hand had clamped over your mouth. You felt your body being drawn back towards him and while Itadori himself wasn’t an overly large guy, he wasn’t like Aoi Todo in build or even Gojo in height, he still dwarfed you and his hand seemed to cover the entire lower half of your face, a couple fingers stretching down your neck.

The hand Sukuna had pressed to your stomach traced up to your neck, fingers curling over the neckline to form a fist around the fabric before yanking harshly, the buttons and fabric of your uniform giving away easily under the force he used. He pulled your bra down next, exposing your chest to the room as your tears ran freely down your cheeks now, collecting against his hand before spilling over and dripping down. A bored hum resonated from his chest as his free hand groped at your breasts, index and thumb capturing your nipple before pinching it harshly making your writhe against him as you tried to cry out only for the sound to muffle. Your hands tugged at his arm, trying to pull it off your chest as he chuckled. “I’d normally prefer to let you scream your little lungs out but, I’m on limited time so let’s not risk being interrupted.”

Sukuna turned towards the bed as his hand released your nipple only to travel down to lift your skirt instead, snaking under your panties and fingers parting your lips and searching for your core. Your hands followed his arm, nails digging into his skin as you tried to stop, your choked pleas ignored as his middle finger pressed into you with a groan. “Even for such a little thing your tight, I wonder, is it fear or is my little mouse a virgin? Perhaps both” he chuckled as he pressed his palm against your pelvis, forcing your body further against him and the erection that was now clearly rubbing against your lower back. The hand over your mouth loosened, giving you space to breathe and you took the chance to beg the curse for mercy and he rolled his eyes as he scoffed, “You’d be better off screaming, I have no intentions of stopping. I am curious though, is this fragile little body of your really untouched?” Sobbing, you nodded “Please, Sukuna please, don’t, don’t, please don’t.” “How fitting, a virgin sacrifice, that should be an omen of success for this experiment” Sukuna laughed, once again ignoring the pleas as his hand clamped back down on your mouth.

Forcing another finger into your tight heat had you squirming, pressing up on your toes in an attempt to get away but it only served to make the monster behind you groan into your ear. Deciding not to waste anymore time, Sukuna removed his fingers and instead used them to tear off the flimsy fabric that had been your underwear. “I’m gonna need both hands now, so no screaming yeah? Anyone that interrupts me will die and you don’t want people dying on your behalf, do you?” Another sob seems to wrack itself through your body and your hands fell away from his arm, your will to fight fizzling out at the promise of death. “I’m going to need you to answer me mouse, I want to hear you say you won’t scream.” As he dropped his hand from your mouth you barely had the capacity to speak, choking out between sobs, “I won’t scream, I won’t, I promise.” Sukuna chuckled, content with your compliance, “That’s a good little mouse.”

Now he pressed you forward and into the bed, forcing you onto your knees, ass up and face pressed into the mattress. He unbuttoned the fly of his trousers, pulling his cock out and rubbing the fat tip against your pussy. His touch might have been rough but your body had reacted how he wanted and you were slick enough it would be enjoyable for him. You dug your fingers into the duvet, wishing, praying you’d sink into it and disappear before he got any further but your thoughts got crushed as forced the angry red tip into you. Sukuna dug his own nails into your ass as he gripped himself and tried to get in further, “If you don’t relax, I’m only going to be rougher.” He sounded irritated, like the burning stretch that had you crying harder now was simply an inconvenience to him. You tried though, you really did, squeezing your eyes shut and willing your body to relax to the intrusion but it had a mind of its own and seemed only to defy you, muscles clenching in an attempt to stop the curse from using you.

Sukuna clicked his tongue, “I warned you” and he pulled your hips back harshly, forcing himself in. You know you promised not to, but you screamed, it was thankfully muffled by the duvet that you had pulled into your face but Sukuna brought a hand down on your hip, snapping at you to be quiet. It felt like you were being split in half, like he tore your tight cunt to fit himself in, a burning, stinging pain that radiated throughout your pelvis and down your thighs making you gasp for air. He moved more freely now, sliding in and out with a deep grunt of pleasure as the coppery smell of blood filled your nostrils making you gag and bury your face deeper into the bed. “Humans, you’re as fragile and weak as bugs” He mused as he slammed your hips back against himself again. Even now he seemed bored, as if using your body like some fuck toy meant nothing to him. Maybe if your mind wasn’t so shattered you’d have picked up on how his pleasure seemed to come from dominating you, tormenting you, ruining you.

He reached a hand forward, yanking your hair to the side, forcing your face into the light and displaying the swollen red mess that was your eyes. Cheeks streaked with tears and the outline of his handprint that had slowly begun to bloom into a bruise in some places. He grinned then, eyes taking in your look of despair as he fucked you into him at a brutal pace, hand returning to your hip and once again he sunk his nails into your flesh pulling a broken cry from your lips. It sounded hoarse, your throat sore from sobbing, from screaming into his hand then the bed. Sukuna knew he was running low on time, he could feel Itadori trying to claw back out and he focused on the blood now instead. Watched as it beaded up then slipped over the swell of your ass, some of the droplets making it as far as your thighs.

Finally Sukuna felt that coil tighten, pulling your body as close as he could, the head of his cock now hitting your cervix with bruising force that had you whimpering in pain despite the odd heat of pleasure that still managed to build in your own stomach. He rutted himself against your ass, blood smearing and staining his pants, the smell of it and sex filling the air and with a low, rumbling groan he spilled himself inside. Your heartbroken sobs only serving to fuel him, encouraging him to press as deep as your body could possibly allow and he stilled, breathing slow and deep, watching your tense body quiver. “Hm, here’s a question for you. If you do get pregnant, will Itadori be there for you and the child? Will he run, convince you to abort it, maybe he’ll suggest you keep it? He’ll definitely blame himself either way. Stupid. Humans are so stupid. I look forward to it though. Breaking him is very enjoyable after all.” Sukuna pulled away, completely releasing you now, watching as the mix of blood and cum slowly dribbled out of your swollen cunt, the occasional drip falling onto the bed below.

Once you realised you were free you collapsed, legs pulling up to your chest as you trembled, waiting for the curse to disappear as bile burnt your throat as the sick reality of the situation settled over you. It felt like forever and yet it somehow it felt like it had all happened in the blink of an eye and you realised you felt dizzy, the room seemed to swim and shift before your eyes. Suddenly Itadori’s voice rang out, a choked gasped followed by a loud thud as he stumbled back only to fall on his ass. Itadori didn’t want to look, he really didn’t want to see but his eyes seemed fixated on the trembling form on his bed and he knew, he knew all the apologies in the world, no matter how sincere, weren’t going to fix this. A silence seemed to swallow the room now, disturbed only by Itadori’s scattered breaths and your own shaky, whimpered ones.

[artificial-transmutations]

Going Green

"Microtransactions!"

Charles looked around the board members.

"Micro. Transactions. Have you ever heard of that? Anyone?"

Slowly, heads nodded.

"Oh, good! So, you *have* heard of them. Does anyone care to explain to me then why our games barely have any? In fact, I have yet to see *any* microtransaction revenue from our latest release."

"But Sir, 'Orcs and Morcs' is a single player game - and not for a mobile platform, too. It doesn't even have an online connection. It would be highly unusual."

Charles M. Anderson cut the engineer up with a gesture. He didn't even know the other man's name, which wasn't too unusual. Even though he was the CEO of GreenGames for six months now, he didn't bother to learn his subordinates names until they proved useful. And this unnamed engineer could be happy if he still had a job after this meeting.

"I don't care about your techno-babble. Microtransactions is where the money is, so I want them in our products. *All* our products. And make sure to make them mandatory for any progress, too."

Charles usually talked about "Releases" and "Products". To him, video games were just a product like any other. Of course *he* didn't play any of those silly games, games were for children and losers. He only cared for the numbers, the graphs and revenues.

"What about the backlash? I mean, I understand that you want to generate more revenue, but GreenGames is known for providing high quality games that *don't* try to rip their customers off."

"So?"

"So, this could be bad publicity for us. Really bad."

Charles looked around the table and noticed most of the other board members nodding.

"Listen up, everyone. I think there is some misunderstanding here. You think that I care about our customers. I really don't, as long as they continue to buy our products. There is no such thing as bad publicity. So, I don't tell you how to draw your silly ogres and you don't try to meddle in the business aspect of the company, okay?"

Even though the inflection suggested a question, it was perfectly clear that it was neither a question nor a request. Again, heads nodded and tried to avoid eye contact. Good. Respect was very important for a leader.

One woman spoke up. Charles suspected her to be some lead writer or something.

"It's orcs, Sir."

Charles blinked. "What are you trying to say?"

"You said ogres, but our games are about orcs. That is our thing, we make games about orcs."

"There is no difference between orcs, ogres, unicorns and all that whimsy stuff. Leave me alone with your fantasy crap."

"But there is another thing. You are responsible for the story of our products?"

The woman agreed with a careful: "Yes, Sir?"

Charles looked her straight in the eye. "It has come to my attention that there are certain woke elements in our products. As a story writer, I expect you to take care of that."

"What... do you mean by woke? And by taking care of that?"

Charles sighed. Why was everyone so incompetent?

"Apparently, there is same-sex smut in our products, some even have pronouns. That crap needs to disappear asap. It is 'go woke go broke', after all."

The writer woman looked at Charles incredulously. "But Sir! Same-Sex romances are a well-accepted part of the industry for *decades* now. And it's not like the player has to engage in that, too. It's just an option - an option we actually received much praise for in the past. And about the pronouns... It's just a setting that influences some dialogues on how the player character is referred to. Again, it is perfectly possible to play as a straight green cis male if that's what you want to do."

Charles shook his head, his voice now dangerously low. "One more word of that, miss, and you can start looking for a new job. 84% of our customer base is male, and male customers want to see boobs, that's a fact. I won't tolerate wasting company resources on pacifying some noisy minority and alienating our main audience."

"But sir!" the writer woman objected.

Charles' look silenced her.

"One more word and you're out. We'll find another writer. Someone who does the job and keeps their mouth shut. This meeting is over. I expect results end of next week."

Nobody dared to speak up when everybody left the meeting room, and Charles returned to his office. What a productive meeting.

Just as he turned to his computer to check today's KPIs, he noticed a new email.

From: Employee Council

To: Charles M. Anderson

Subject: Going Green

Body:

Dear Mr. Anderson,

we here at GreenGames would like to take the opportunity to point out some concerns about your leadership role.

We have noticed a disturbing development since your takeover and would like to remind you of the values we stand for at GreenGames. We like creating games, and we identify with the work we do. Our players are important to us, and we strife to be open and accessible for everyone. Just like the protagonists in our games, we have honor and use our strengths to better the world. You in particular should be the living embodiment of this ideal. Please take this chance to re-think your methods and decisions and "go green" for real.

Sincerely,

The Employee Council.

Charles was outraged. How dared those subordinates criticizing him? He reached for his phone, ready to phone his secretary to find out who this "Employee Council" was but was interrupted by a ripping sound.

The right arm of his expensive suit jacket had ripped at the shoulder, which was unusual. He would have to have a stern talk with the tailor. Charles stood up and took off his jacket - or at least, he tried to. It was like the piece of clothing was way too small all of a sudden. He finally managed to get out of it, but only with several more rips in the fabric. Charles loosened his tie. He was sweating like mad, and when he looked down on himself, he was in utter disarray. His shirt looked like it was several numbers too small and as he was watching, one button after the other flew off with an audible "pling", exposing his torso underneath.

But was it really his torso? Not only was it *bigger*, it also looked way *hairier*. Charles had never been a man with much body hair, but now, he looked down on a stomach that was showing visible abs covered with a dense treasure trail of dark hairs. They continued upwards where they met with a true forest of curly dark hair that covered the slabs of pecs that were still growing as Charles watched.

He had to loosen his tie again before taking it off entirely. All of his clothes felt constricting, so, he peeled himself out of his shirt, too. His expensive watch was interrupting his growth painfully, but Charles was too occupied to notice, let alone care. With a dull cracking noise, the leather strap broke, and the watch flew across the room, hitting the opposite wall.

As Charles continued to grow, the chair underneath him creaked, but, again, he had other things to worry about. His lower body was still covered by his dress pants and shoes, but that was getting tight, too. His shoes especially were getting painful, and it was a relief when the front broke, exposing large muscular feet and toes. His pants were filled to the brim with heavy, muscled legs now, but there was another region where the capacity had been reached. His groin formed an obscene bulge. That alone would have probably fit - barely - but it was accompanied by an unusual feeling. Charles didn't *mind* his extreme change. In fact, the hyper masculine body turned him on, even. He watched as a dick print became clearly visible outlined against his groin, as his cock grew hard. It pulsed, once, and Charles felt a spurt of precum soak into his boxer shorts. A wet patch became apparent as the liquid seeped through his pants - all from a single spurt. His dick pulsed again, and Charles' head began to swim. The air in the room was thick with sweat and testosterone by now, and Charles groaned from arousal. Man, what would he give for a nice firm manly ass right now, giving him a lap dance.

Wait, what? Manly ass?

But it was true! Every time, Charles tried to think about sexy girls, but all that came to mind were men. Burly, hairy men, twinkish shaved men, green-skinned ogre-man. No, not ogres, he corrected himself. Orcs.

As he thought this word, his dick pulsed again and made Charles almost cry out from arousal. He couldn't restrain himself anymore. He *ripped* apart his dress pants and lowered his boxer shorts that looked like a pair of briefs on his massive body now, releasing a gigantic stiff rod and a matching set of heavy balls - along with a whole cloud of manly, musky smell that made Charles even hornier than before.

He closed his gigantic hand around his shaft and moved it up and down, in a slow, barely constrained motion. He had almost come by that one stroke, so horny was his mind. Fascinatedly, he watched as his cock and balls took on a deep, green color. It looked almost like a cucumber, or the penis of the incredible hulk. Or... an orc. As he moved his strong hand up and down again, the green started to spread in all directions.

Yes! There was no doubt: He was becoming a big, strong, sexy orc! Charles let all restraints fall away and started pumping in earnest now. With each stroke, the green spread, until his entire torso was of a rich green color. His head felt a pressure as his facial structure reformed, and his ears grew long and pointy. His hair lost darkened and grew out into a wild mohawk-like hairstyle. At the same time, a black beard sprouted around his entire jaw, underlining his masculinity.

Meanwhile, the green had swept across his arms and legs, quickly eliminating any leftover pink spots. The green color looked incredibly hot under the coat of dense, manly hair, and Charles felt himself getting closer. He grunted with each stroke like an animal and where his muscular green body touched the furniture or his executive chair, it left a film of manly sweat. Finally, he felt a short bit of pain on his ears and nipples, as small metal piercings appeared there: Short studs in his ears and small rings in his nipples.

That sent him over the edge. With a final bellow, he came, mightily. His large green balls contracted and his massive cock spew cum everywhere: All over his stomach, his chest, his furniture, even his face!

Charr panted in the afterglow of his orgasm. He was the epitome of virility and although he had just cummed all over his office, his mind kept creeping back to sexy guys again. He would be able to go again, soon - but that had to wait a bit. He used the remains of his suit to clean up a bit (although it was still clearly visible and smellable what happened here), stuffed his mighty tool into the cum-stained underwear and reached for the phone.

"Please send the board to my office, I want to issue an honorable apology, and announce our new strategy." He rumbled with his new, low voice. After a moment of consideration, he added: "And please send someone to install our games on my PC."

He rubbed his hands. This would usher in a whole new era for GreenGames - with the greenest possible CEO.

I have the feeling that a lot of companies could benefit greatly from a bit of a greener leadership!