#do. not. settle. they are politicians. not your friends.

[tired-and-swaggy]

people still mad at chappell but once a again she is correct… you NEED to criticize politicians. even the ones you vote for. obviously there is a better choice in this election. but that does not been to accept her awful policies. you should always fight for what you believe in. never settle.

[spencerscoven]

the alternate … art donaldson

Art has a proclivity for giving attention to his enemy. He hates her— but particularly hates how she has Patrick wrapped around her finger even more.

warnings ; smut .. slutty drunk freshman art x Patrick's gf, infidelity .. unedited for now! oops!

It didn’t take much time for Art to settle into Cornell— it wasn’t just the tennis or the girls, of which he quickly learned were rather women, or even the academics. His hesitation on his attendance was especially foolish, especially in moments like these as he rolled over, crushing the red solo up beneath him. The buzzing in his jean pocket persisted, just like it had for the last five minutes before, causing him to utter another affirmation to ignore it into her mouth.

Maybe the women had one or two things to do with it.

"Maybe just get it?"

"Why?"

"So you... can tell them you're busy."

He hummed into her mouth as the girl above him detached herself, moving to grab the stitch of her top to remove it as he tilted his hips to reach for his phone.

Patrick.

His calloused hands came up to push her thighs over his hips, sitting up to read the rapid series of text Patrick had sent. And Art soon saw— was still sending. All of them ranged from different ways of him asking Art to check up on you, letting your attendance be known. Patrick's texts detailed the simple request of him checking to see if you were taking your alcohol well. Another saying he hoped you wouldn't get roofed. And one that blatantly asked that he didn't let any of "those Ivy League assholes" fuck his girlfriend.

Art rolled his eyes, resentment laced in his actions as he muttered condolences and pledged to "be right back", his large hands taking the knob of the door and peering out into the dark hallway to find you. When a look wasn't enough, he left the room door slightly ajar, stepping completely into the hallway filled with red cups, colored lights, almost sidetracked by his team that pulled him by the neck and fought to put a drink in his hand. With a light smile still gracing his face and beer in a can, his eyes wondered up to your face, watching as your lips wrapped around a bottle of Corona, some leaking out the side of which you swiped away with the back of your hand. He felt the same kind of resentment he usually felt when he saw you when Patrick visited fill him from his chest out. He watched as you leaned against the wall talking to someone. He took in your skimpy skirt and top with less resentment, though.

He especially didn't like it when the next time he looked for your face, you were staring at him, eyes hooded and smile nasty and condescending.

"He told me to look for you."

"I know." You raised your eyebrow dismissively, almost wanting to laugh at Patrick's good intentions. He knew what you'd say about Art. Just like you assumed what Art said about you, yet he asked him anyway.

"And by that, he means look after you." Art leans in, lips close to your ear as the music sounded. You roll your eyes as he lingers there a moment too long and you expect him to say something more, but he never does.

"We both know I look fine."

It takes a beat before he responds. "We both do."

"And we both know you don't want to babysit."

"But I'm a good friend."

"I've known corrupt politicians that are better friends than you, Art."

He sways away from you, facing the rest of the party as he rolls his eyes with the kind of insularity he only reserved for you, tipping his head back to finish the rest of his beer and tossing it towards the trashcan, only to miss.

He turns to you, irritation flaring as he stabilizes himself on the sticky wall behind him by holding your hips. It's something you're willing to let go of, your breath clicking as he whispers: "You smell like pot."

"It's a free country."

"Okay," he challenges, pursing his lips as he leans closer. "What's in your cup?"

"What? Yours and Chelsea's not good enough for you?"

His upper lip raises, in a look of both disgust and toleration as he grasps your wrist, forcing you to bring your own bottle to his mouth. The contents of it are mostly able to be swallowed but the rest flow from the corners of his lips, down his chin, to his throat where his Adams apple bobs as he swallows. You wipe it instinctively, causing you to both freeze for only a moment. He shutters before he opens his mouth again to slur,

"Chelsea?"

You look at him quizzically, your mouth opening once, twice, three times, only to say nothing but erupt in laughter that rocks your head backwards and your body closer to his. Art looks around frantically, his mouth tilting downwards as he looks around, grasping your hips forward and gritting his teeth as he repeats himself.

"Chelsea? What's the fucking joke I'm not getting?"

"The girl that you just— my fucking god, Art. I know you look the way you do, but you couldn't even remember her name?" You tilt your head towards the doorway, insinuating the room you're sure his cologne still lingered in. He groans, his head falling forward in a laugh as his right hand on your hip runs up the side of your torso, his head spinning.

"I'm not a very good date, am I?" You can nearly taste the alcohol on his tongue and you're out of laughs, humor gone as a consequence of being so close to him. And maybe he's too drunk to realize it's happening, but you're too cross to care when his thumbs rub circles on your hipbone, of which he had to invade underneath your waistband to do.

"I almost finished my night like this." It's so quiet that you're unsure if it was for you to hear. But it doesn't matter, as your hand runs up his arm and shoulders, eyes following over the ripples.

"This is not the same."

Your other hand trickles down to his waistband, guiltily skating over his bulge as you feel his pocket for his phone.

"Arthur, Patrick told you to check on me. So, tell him I'm okay."

"I told him that I'd check on you. I also told him you were a bad idea, like I always do," He saws it lowly, as if it's not supposed to slip out and has only found it's way because of his level of intoxication. You scoff, pushing him backwards as you're suddenly slightly more sober. You rock back and forth, eyes rolling back, but the distance is not created before you can hear him finish: "but I never said he didn't have good taste."

You don't like that it's still said in the way only drunk and resentful Art could deliver it. "You're not a very good fucking friend."

"To who, you?" He makes it his personal duty to invade your space, his face in somewhat of a snarl. You know that some would see this as uncharacterized for Art, but it's most familiar to you. It feels somewhat like home. Albeit, a house fire, but home.

Your first encounter with him was glancing behind yourself at move in, and seeing his blonde locks brushed back by calloused hands as he looked at you, then to your racket.

Your second encounter was only minutes later, when he stood next to his raven haired friend who asked for your number as he rolled his eyes with a knot in his jaw, as if he didn't find you worthy. He tugged on the shirt of his friend, telling him there were better things to do. Better, he had said.

And that never made much sense to you. Because in your relationship with Patrick, there had always been the inconsequential three.

"You're not my friend," You begin, mind calculating how many rooms and doors of Cornell's largest final club you'd have to go before finding somewhere, anywhere, that would fit just you. "Never was."

Art's only silent for a moment, nose flaring and eyes squinting. his shoulders are tense, and if you were to look down you'd see his hand balled in a fist.

"What? What now, Art?"

"You never gave me your number."

He watches as your eyes furrow in confusion, the heat in your eyes rising rather than deflating. And he speaks again:

“You gave it to Patrick. But you never gave me your number.”

Without your bottle, your hands search for something to do, blinking frantically. They resort to touching yourself in the same places he just had, your fingers running down your torso quickly, your hip bone. When you touch your shoulder is when the two of your gazes meet once again. Art watches through blue as you nod your head slowly in both horror and understanding.

You're quick on your feet. He's watched countless of your matches, even when he had no business doing so. But he is too. So when a short string of curses land out of your mouth and you march down the hallway, he's on your heels.

And all you can think is that you know his gaze better than any other. It wasn't something you intended but through these sporadic games, your body and soul had bargained to be familiar with Art more than any other. If he leaned against the net or lunch table, it became the kind of resourcefulness of movement that was so particularly him. It was rare you called on him, yet necessary when it was a matter of Patrick. He was always there, steadfast and urgent. It'd be days before you learned of the lecture he missed because of it. And while your boyfriend was off being a pro, Art never was slow to tell you how good his female counterparts around him were, while you were "only barely whopping college ass".

But somehow he was always there. You found his gels and handle tape in your tennis bag. You had more than half your dining points still because you were just "a casualty of being present” when he was buying his own lunch. And it all made you feel as if he was just very...

"You're a fucking con artist," You shoved him against the door of which he only narrowly made it "A fucking wolf in sheep's clothing."

It made you even angrier that he was stronger than you but willing to let his body fall back, lips pierced in a thin obedient line as his back hit the door repeatedly under your assault until he grasped both your forearms, holding them closely together. A wince escaped your mouth, his strength relenting and becoming lighter but still he held you. He leaned down, attempting to meet your face that now focused on the hardwood below.

"I know I'm the bad guy. Still, what's it gonna be?"

You didn't look up at that. But you did at the vibration that sounded in his pocket just seconds later. There were always three.

Art doesn't waste a moment to release your arms, wrapping his own in an enclosure around your head to reach your lips, tugging you impossibly close to him. You can't help but not move-- letting him twist your head and invade your lips. It's only until you release a small moan you latch back.

After Art's kiss, your night was haunted. It was distorted beyond your eyes' power of correction. So when a pair of lips landed on yours again, you came back home. You gave in.

His hands ran down your body, invading each and every corner of you. Your hips, your waist, the small of your back, the back of your thighs which he used to hoist your body upwards and against the doorframe, caging you. As the wet kisses sound on your neck, you look past his head to the room you two now occupied, no bed. Just various pieces of miscellaneous covered in cream sheets. When you look towards the window, releasing another whimper as you feel his middle and index finger prod at your cotton panties, you can see dust aligning with the moonlight.

Like everything else he does, he's good at the way he touches you. No, nearly instinctual. Art's fingers curve and level themselves out inside of you, yet he leaves his palms frigid, rubbing your clit back and forth with the surface of it. It makes you all so weak, Art murmuring your name as the two of you lower to the floor, you're suddenly reminded of the urgency of the matter.

"Art, I need--"

"I know,"

I know,

I know,

I know.

He repeats the sentiment into your skin and it almost makes your eyes brim with tears as you feel his bulge covered by denim slot against your soaked underwear. The feeling is delicious, so you excuse your decorum when you buck your hips against his. You watch as he detaches himself from you, the depth of his blonde hair twinkling in the moonlight. His lips and chin are swollen and wet from your messy kisses that appeared to be more tongue than anything. He lifts your hips to remove your skirt on his own once he catches the way your eyes watch him, still. He looks at you, sick with the same fever, but now you're not quite sure what this illness even is.

His hands move to tug your shirt up, yet you push his hands away, making them double up on his belt as both of you scramble to slide his jeans below his ass. You also help him when he leans to grab your right leg, sliding it up and against his hip as he sways above you. You watch as he thinks, only for a moment, places a feather right kiss on your knee, whispers something you can't hear, and promptly shoves his dick inside of you.

The force of it slams your head against the door, the hinges rattling but the surprise of his size makes it so you hardly notice. You close your eyes immediately until you're struck with the realization that you hope this never happens again. You hope you're never drunk enough, or lucky enough to have your boyfriend's best friend's dick rocking you back and forth ever again. You near your eyes open, willing to at least let yourself savor what little you have now, gazing in the middle of you two where you can see him disappear inside of you repeatedly.

Art huffs above you as your name escape his lips repeatedly as if it hadn't been the first time. You find yourself unable to cope, grabbing the hardwood until you realize there's not much give. So you resort to firmly biting his shoulder between your gasps and yelps. which only surges him on to drive into you faster, his hips snapping and the sounds of both your flesh filling the room.

You feel his clammy hand reach for the hair at the nape of your neck and you allow yourself to submissively follow regardless of your confusion. Art's breath mingles with yours as he asks:

"Is it good?"

You don't answer.

"Does it feel good?"

Your brows furrow together as you nod your head up and down as if you’ve been doped, chest heaving uncontrollably. He meets your lips and it feels as if he's kissing you solely for himself as he drags his hand on your cheeks and forehead, ridding your face of your sweat and hair. His other hand circulates your clit with a firm hold and you feel the familiar sensation approaching. Your skin felt both as cold and hot as it ever had, your teeth penetrating your bottom lip, biting Art in the process.

"I don't think we should do this.." You spit out quietly in intervals, because it feels like the right thing to say right before you come all over his cock and he leans down to look at the mess you've made in bliss. The results that it gives are fruitful, as you feel his fingers' relentlessness on your clit still. But you can tell he's struggling to stay where he is, trying to milk every moment he can inside of you.

You use your feet to push his hips back, arms reaching above your head as you untangle your limbs. Your legs remain sprawled out on his thighs, of which lay on his calves. The silence between you two is like molasses, and he stares at your core as you brush your socked toes against his abdomen, then cock.

You see a frown form on his face, but you're also met with the needy repeated rise of his hips that meet your foot and help you grind against him. You watch in awe as his eyes don't leave yours, confusion filling the air. You bring your feet faster, rubbing against his tip and watch as Art's whimper fills the air and his cum shoots to his lower stomach and your sock, his eyes closing, throat repeatedly bobbing as he rides his high. You watch as the thrusts into you become increasingly slower until they stop completely and the two of you are left still once again. You marvel in the way it seems almost as if he always gets what he wants. And Art isn't quite sure of what to make of you at all anymore, with his ears ringing and chest warm.

On his knees, he cascades towards your body that slumps against the door frame. He moves towards you slowly at first, hesitating if you wanted any of this at all. But you don't decline the warmth of his chest as he pulls you in, wordlessly. You let him bury his nose to your scalp as he takes you in.

And you both agree that if this may be a story of tonight alone, you both might as well melt indistinguishably into it once again.

[muzansfangs]

Guilty pleasure.

Starring: Muzan x f!reader; Douma, Akaza and Kokushibo.

General warnings for the next chapters: nsfw (minors do not interact), modern au, age gap, dom!muzan, sub!reader, sugar daddy dynamics, choking, semi-public sex, car sex, spanking, vaginal sex, virgin reader, business agreement, murder, death, torture, trauma.

Warning for this part: none! Just Muzan sending Douma and Kokushibo to stalk you.

Plot: Kibutsuji Muzan, the ambitious, high-flying politician the world needed, knew that in order to resemble the incarnation of the perfect man, ready to lead the Country, he would have needed a beautiful, young girl by his side. He did not care if it was real love, or just a façade. All he cared about was to make a certain impression. Meeting you was literally a manna from heaven. You signed the agreement, he treated you like a goddess. This was the beginning of a twisted fairytale, but you knew better than falling for him and, surely, he was not going to lose his mind for you. Or so you thought.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX

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THE AGREEMENT.

Muzan stared at the pictures scattered on his desk. He had made up his mind. You were truly a delicacy, indeed. It appeared like Douma had done a pretty decent job in searching the city for a woman whose appearence whetted Muzan’s appetites.

You were young, cheerful, working at a local restaurant to pay for your studies: the perfect candidate for being the future First Lady.

He knew everything about you. Your address, your friends’s names, your zodiac sign, your favorite ice-cream flavor and even your ex’s identity. Tracking you down and spying on you was easy. How could you, a sweet, lovely girl, imagine that the soon to be President had his plum red eyes on you? Your naivety intrigued him. He could play you like a doll, spoil you like a child and treat you like a princess. He did not care if your heart was going to belong to someone else. All you had to do was smiling for the pictures, being his future wife, show the world you were head over heels for him and, naturally, tell the medias you were his property.

He was confident about the outcome of your first, fateful encounter. He was a good-looking man, persuasive and pretty intimidating even. You would have probably fallen for his charm and forgotten about the terms of the contract anyway.

A knock on the door was the signal that you had arrived. Sending Douma to pick you up would have probably been detrimental to the mission and he knew better than letting you slip from his fingers. Kokushibo, on the other hand, was the best choice he could have ever made. Prefessional, authoritative and precise, he had apparently fulfilled his mission.

“Come in” Muzan said, flicking his gaze up to the door.

A second later, the door creaked open to reveal Kokushibo. He took a step forward, taking his sunglasses off and bowing his head to his boss as a sign of respect “She’s waiting for you in the dining room” he announced flatly, causing a smirk to cross Muzan’s face.

What an obedient girl you were. He was almost taken aback by the way you had decided to follow a stranger in a Maserati and trust what he had said. Either you were smart, or far too easy to play with.

“Thanks, Kokushibo. – Muzan stated, straightening his tie and grabbing the contract from the messy desk behind him – You are dismissed” he added shortly, walking past the tall dark-haired man and making his way to you, the new branded attraction of his house.

You were sitting on a black-leather chair, the goblet of red wine, a Chianti, that the dapper bodyguard had poured for you was settled on the crystal table, inviting you to take a sip. You resisted the tempation, it would have probably offended Mr. Kibutsuji, if you had not waited for him.

Yes, you knew who was requiring your presence. You had a really good photographic memory and you had recognized the shiny car of the politician’s bodyguards. You had watched it on the tv’s reports, you had seen it parked nearby your house for the past six months. He had probably sent his dogs to stalk you.

What truly puzzled you was why he wanted to see you. Kokushibo did not answer your questions. You had not told him you knew who he was working for, or that you had figured out who was asking for you. You had just followed him to the car without making a scene. He was a kind man, after all, just a bit frosty.

To snap you out of your stream of consciousness was the deep, velvet voice that kept you company during your lunch breaks, when you turned the tv on in a pathetic attempt to catch up with the daily news.

“Y/N L/N, welcome to my residence” Muzan said, a small smile curling his lips.

He was handsome, tall, elegant, standoffish and filthy rich. You were not used to interact with people coming from the upper class, let alone trying not to embarrass yourself in the presence of the man of the hour, the man that people loved and loathed at the same time.

“Good evening, Mr. Kibutsuji. – you said, standing up quickly from your seat and walking up to him – How may I help our soon to be President?” you quizzically asked him, eyes downcast not to falter under his piercing gaze.

You had stopped three, or four strides away from him not to invade his personal space, but your breath hitched in your throat when he met you midway. The alluring perfume he was wearing intoxicated you and, when he gently grabbed your hand, you were forced to shift your attention on him again. You were paralyzed, his eyes searching yours to make sure you were focused on him and him alone. He brought your hand to his lips, letting them brush over the back of your hand in a drammatically slow and intimate demeanor.

Shivers ran down your spine and you released a breath you did not know you were still holding, when he flashed you a sly grin, the same he directed to the camera, when he made his glorious appearences on the most popular talk-shows of the Country.

“Please, darling, call me Muzan. – he cooed, gesturing for you to take a seat and hesitantly letting go of your hand – I’m so glad you’ve accepted my anonymous invitation. You’re brave” he commented, walking over to the table and filling his own goblet of wine.

You softly smiled and made your way to your seat “Just observant. I thought I had recognized the car and your bodyguard” you admitted, reaching your hand out to grab your own glass.

The dark-haired man hummed, as he swirled the reddish drink into the cup “I should have known you were smart, a quality I absolutely adore finding in a woman. – he purred, sliding some papers towards you on the polished surface of the table – To answer your question, the reason why you are here lays within the lines of this contract”.

A contract?

You forrowed your brows, your eyes settling on the neat pile of papers under your nose. Did he want to hire you for something? You thought he already had a secretary and you clearly were not suited to be his bodyguard. What did Kibutsuji Muzan want from you, a mere student, then?

“I’ve personally drew up the contract. We can discuss some terms, if you are not comfortable with them” he explained, taking a sip of his drink and walking towards the stained glass windows of the large dining room. The landscape was breathtaking. The city lights, the skyscrapers dominating the industrialized area of the city and the yellowish lights of the cars rushing down the avenues were the spectacular view you were beholding.

Reading the whole contract would have probably taken you hours. There was no way in Hell you would have signed it without pondering each and every clause, but you gave it a quick reading and some words were now permeating your brain.

‘Wife, payment, tv, affectio maritalis, sexual performances, moving, money’.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your shaking fingers fidgeting with the charm of your necklace, a small, silver crescent moon, as you blurted out your question “What do you exactly want me to do?”.

Muzan did not turn to face you, he kept his intense gaze trailed on the city line instead “Be my wife” he simply said, earning a gasp from you.

“I’m sorry, what?” you breathed out.

“Adore me in public, love whoever you want privetely. Just a yes and I will shower you in money, gifts, respect and a life you could only dream of for the rest of your life… Are you in, my sweet Y/N?” he taunted you, turning towards you with the most dazzling and wicked smile you had ever seen in your whole existence.

You did not know what crossed your mind in that very instant and the following moments were fuzzy and fragmented, but all you knew on your way back to your small flat was that you had agreed and, when Kokushibo told you that he would have come to pick you up in the weekend, you were ready to start this new life as Kibutsuji’s ‘babygirl’ , as he had called you before you left.

You slumped onto your bed, droopy eyes and tipsy, unaware that a pair of golden and rainbow-colored eyes were watching you slipping into a well-deserved slumber.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hi, there!

It’s my first post on this platform and I still need to understand a few basic things about Tumblr. Hopefully, I’ll be able to give you weekly updates, but I make no promises. This is going to be a small fan fiction and my main project for a little while. However, don’t worry, I’ll try to update some other one-shots & scenarios about other characters. Likes, comments and reposts are really appreciated!

X O X O

[deliciousangelfestival]

Arrogant Ex-Husband - Chapt 1

Character: Mob!Bucky x Model!Reader

Summary: In a strategic alliance marriage arranged for political gain, reluctant bride Y/N, dreaming of a modeling career, finds herself unwillingly wed to James 'Bucky' Barnes, a reluctant groom.

Words Count: 1,816

Series Masterlist with Prologue and Moodboard

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Y/N stared out the tinted car window, the city lights flickering in the distance. Her father, a seasoned politician, clenched his jaw as he spoke into the phone, his voice seething with anger.

"Unbelievable! I trusted you, Rick. Trusted you with our family's reputation, and this is how you repay me?" Y/N's father barked into the phone, the tension in the car palpable.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her seat, stealing glances at her father's furrowed brow and the visible strain in his eyes.

The weight of the scandal involving her step-brother was evident (private video got leaked), threatening to unravel her family's name and her father's political career.

"What do you mean you can't contain this? I need a solution, not excuses," her father continued, tightening his grip on the phone.

The distant hum of the city echoed the frustration in the car. Y/N caught snippets of her father's conversation as he navigated the chaotic political landscape.

"You know what's at stake here, Rick. My candidacy, the family legacy — everything! I can't have this scandal tarnishing our name."

The car sped through the city streets, the outside world oblivious to the turmoil within the vehicle. Y/N's father listened intently to the voice on the other end, occasionally gritting his teeth.

"Handle it discreetly? No, that ship has sailed, Rick. You need to fix this, and you need to fix it now. I don't care what it takes. If you can't, then don't bother showing your face again."

The call ended abruptly, leaving the car in silence except for the distant sounds of the city. Y/N's father took a deep breath, trying to collect himself, but the frustration lingered in his eyes.

"Y/N," he finally spoke, turning to his daughter. "We need a solution, and it seems Harold Barnes is offering one. I don't like it, but desperate times call for desperate measures."

Y/N nodded, her gaze shifting to the city lights, knowing that the path ahead was fraught with challenges and unexpected alliances. The weight of the situation settled on her shoulders like an unshakeable burden.

There was a helplessness in her eyes, a silent acknowledgment that she couldn't escape the intricate web of family ties and political obligations.

Suddenly, Y/n received a message from her best friend, Honey, telling her that there was a casting for a famous brand that had just opened. 

Of course, Y/n wants to join; her eyes lightened up. Her father noticed it. He grabs her phone and puts it in his shirt pocket. He said something that hurt her dream. 

"Forget it, you're going to be a rich wife. Why would you ever want to be a model?"

That's hurt Y/N's feelings. 

Did her father forget that his former wife used to be a famous model? 

Did he also didn't know what his daughter wanted?

In the confined space of the car, surrounded by the distant glow of the city, Y/N felt the suffocating lack of freedom.

The walls of her father's decisions closed in on her, leaving her with no escape. Her once-promising dreams were now tethered to the demands of a family in disarray, the consequences of choices she didn't make.

It was her step-brother who ruined her father's image. But why it has to be her who fixes the mistakes?

Y/N sighed heavily. What could she do?

Her father didn't even care about her anymore since she brought his mistress into the house without apologizing that because of his adultery, Y/N's mother took her own life.

************

As the car moved through the city's labyrinthine streets, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, her every move dictated by a situation she had no control over.

The path ahead seemed like an unpredictable journey, with the enigmatic figure of Bucky Barnes's grandfather looming as both a lifeline and a shaper of her destiny.

When the car arrived at Barnes Residence, Y/N and her father were welcomed by Harold Barnes, a formidable figure with a commanding presence.

The imposing mansion, nestled in the city's heart, exuded an air of authority that matched the reputation of the Barnes mafia family.

As the car stopped, Harold Barnes stepped forward to greet them. His steely gaze assessed the situation, and a subtle nod conveyed acknowledgment and expectation.

"Senator [L/N], Y/N," Harold greeted with a firm handshake for Y/N's father and a courteous nod to Y/N.

Though measured, his voice held an undeniable weight that spoke of years spent navigating the intricate world of politics and organized crime.

"We appreciate your timely arrival," Harold continued, his tone hinting of formality. "Please, come inside. We have much to discuss."

Y/N exchanged a brief, uncertain glance with her father before following Harold Barnes into the opulent residence, where shadows seemed to dance across the grandeur of the mafia leader's abode.

The air hung heavy with unspoken agreements and the looming presence of a pact about to be forged. 

In the expansive Barnes Residence, as Y/N's father engaged in a serious discussion with Harold Barnes, Y/N found herself wandering through the mansion's labyrinthine halls.

The grandeur of the house overwhelmed her, each room a testament to the power and history of the Barnes family.

As she strolled, she saw a slightly ajar door, a subtle invitation into the unknown. Driven by curiosity and the need for a momentary escape, Y/N couldn't resist the urge to take a peek. The door creaked softly as she pushed it open.

*****************

The room beyond was dimly lit, the shadows playing on the edges of the walls. In the center, bathed in a pool of muted light, sat Bucky Barnes in a wheelchair. His presence carried an air of solemnity, and for a moment, their eyes met in an unspoken exchange.

Though physically present, Bucky seemed to inhabit a world of his own. The room, filled with an unspoken weight, held traces of a life altered by unforeseen circumstances. Y/N hesitated, sensing the vulnerability in his gaze.

The silence between them spoke volumes, a shared understanding of their challenges. In that fleeting moment, Y/N glimpsed a complexity in Bucky that transcended the public perception of the disgraced figure.

There was a story etched in the lines on his face, a narrative that begged to be unraveled.

Harold was about to call the butler when he saw Y/N wavered to enter the library room.

Ever perceptive, Harold Barnes noticed Y/N's hesitation at the library entrance. With a measured stride, he approached her, a silent acknowledgment of the delicate situation unfolding.

"Y/N," he said in a voice that held both authority and understanding. "Allow me to introduce you to Bucky Barnes." With a gracious gesture, Harold opened the door wider, revealing the dimly lit room and the figure in the wheelchair.

Harold followed suit as Y/N stepped into the room, guiding her toward Bucky. The air in the library seemed to shift, carrying an unspoken weight that Harold acknowledged with a subtle nod.

"Y/N, meet Bucky Barnes," Harold said, his voice a low hum in the quiet room. "Bucky, this is Y/N [L/N], the daughter of Senator [L/N]."

His gaze meeting Y/N's once again, Bucky offered a nod of acknowledgment. His eyes were complex, a silent invitation to understand the unspoken stories that lingered in the room.

Sensing the need for a private exchange, Harold excused himself with a nod. "I'll leave you two to talk. Take your time," he said before quietly closing the library door, leaving Y/N and Bucky in a space where the echoes of their shared circumstances seemed to resonate.

Y/N offered an awkward introduction in the hushed library, her voice breaking the stillness. "Hi, Bucky. I'm Y/N." Should she continue her introduction by saying, 'I’m also your future wife. Next week we will get married.'

Bucky remained silent, his gaze steady yet revealing little. The weight of the unspoken hung in the air, threading through the quiet room.

Feeling the need to fill the silence, Y/N glanced around the library briefly before her eyes settled on Bucky's face. Despite the gravity of the situation, she couldn't help but notice his striking features—handsome, yet marked by the complexities of a life altered.

As her gaze traveled to his left arm, the room seemed to hold its breath. There, in the dim light, she observed the bionic limb, a symbol of both strength and vulnerability. Y/N's eyes lingered, recognizing the silent struggles etched in the contours of that prosthetic.

As Y/N's gaze lingered on Bucky's missing left arm, she sensed a shift in the atmosphere. Bucky, wise to her scrutiny, felt a twinge of discomfort and offense.

The unspoken vulnerability that Y/N had observed seemed to boil over into a harsh reaction.

"What, never seen a guy with a missing arm before?" Bucky's words, laced with bitterness, cut through the silence. His eyes, once steady, now held a glint of wounded pride.

"You probably think I'm some kind of freak, right?" His tone grew sharper, the pain beneath the surface manifesting as anger. "Well, get used to it. This is what I am now."

Y/N, taken aback by the sudden change in atmosphere, tried to find the right words. Before she could respond, Bucky's words turned more cutting.

"And what's your game here, huh?" Bucky's voice escalated, the accusation palpable. "Marrying me for my family's wealth? Just like your father, always after power and money."

The words hung in the air, a heavy accusation stung with a truth Y/N hadn't expected. Bucky's resentment, fueled by his insecurities, lashed out, and in that moment, the library became a battleground for emotions too raw to be contained.

As Y/N absorbed the harsh words, an apology caught in her throat. Unable to face the hostility, she whispered, "I'm sorry," before swiftly leaving the room.

The door closed behind her, leaving Bucky alone in the dimly lit library. As the echo of her departure lingered, an unexpected pang of regret stirred in Bucky's chest. He couldn't quite comprehend why he had lashed out with such venom. She hadn't done anything to deserve his bitter words.

Now alone with his thoughts, Bucky replayed the scene in his mind. The realization of his unjust accusations settled heavily on his shoulders. He clenched his jaw, grappling with a surge of remorse that, though unexpected, held a raw truth—he shouldn't have said those words to her.

Bucky gazed at the window behind him, overwhelmed with guilt for involving an innocent woman in his troubled life. The agony of losing his left arm was unbearable, and the need for therapy for his leg added to his suffering.

He felt like a villain as if he had intentionally trapped an innocent woman in this marriage.

The weight of his actions pressed down on him, and the city beyond the window seemed to mock the dramatic turmoil within his soul.

At that moment, Bucky couldn't escape the feeling that he was playing the role of a heartless antagonist, making an unwitting woman suffer in the shadows of his pain.

Author Note :

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

I'm now offering faster release and bonus chapters for Ko-fi members. If you enjoy my content and want early access, consider supporting me on Ko-fi!

Chapter:

1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7, 8 , 9 ,10 , 11, 12 , End

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[solar-serpent]

🌈Based on your talents, what business should you launch?💰🪙

Hello! I hope everyone is doing great. I'm going through a phase where I started wondering if I wanted to go back to work for an employer, or even if it was worthy after I've acknowledged all my potential and the fact no one would ever pay for the real price of my work. Aquarium era is hitting me harder, and I bet you too are feeling this call to reach financial freedom. We deserve it.

I want to contribute with your awakening.

Please take a deep breath, focus on what's in front of you and pick the picture you feel more attracted to.

Pile I → Pile II

Pile III → Pile IV

🌱Pile I🌱

OMG, pile 1, you are so kind and empathetic that people want to open up to you and ask for your opinion/advice on topics such as recent breakups, petty fights with mom, best friend betrayal drama and so. Even though that's not the main purpose for them going into your store/business. If you weren't an entrepreneur, you could've been an excellent therapist since your serene demeanor and polite speech would make others believe they are speaking to a good friend. You show you care for what you are being told by providing meaningful replies, and I could swear people go crazy over your attentive gaze. Some of you are natural, others are really good actors (no one is to be judged here). Your patience and warm personality real or not sells, people could purchase anything from your business if you are the one assisting, which can be a boomer if you are aiming for leaving someone else in charge and doing the counts behind the scenes, knowing you are one of the best sellers.

You could own a coffee store given how good you are at building spaces where people will gather and feel safe. Not only that, you can create beautiful settings that will make others immerse in a new world like the tea room from a dollhouse or within a Monet painting. You will succeed at making them distance themselves from real world's problems, thus they could be more open to speak about something that feels so far away. To be honest, I don't think everyone that chose this pile would identify with this business idea. For some serving, cooking and simping chai latte over the daily gossips feels like a waste of their potential. You guys are right, another part of group which's artsy in nature is more aligned with fashion, beauty, and textiles. But I swear you all have the potential to manifest large amounts of money in one sale. I didn't have to crack my head open thinking about what type of business could allow that as designing is your strong suit. You are a master when it comes to making colors, fabrics. and whatnot march. A small part of this group loves sweets and how food can make others happy, therefore you could settle down for having a bakery and specializing on wedding cakes. However, some of you are contemplating the idea of running a drift or wedding dress store. For the ones willing to work with the brides, I assure your business will do well. You have the patience of a Greek hero going against the gods' will, so I see you nailing sales that took plenty of your time and energy.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 2🌱

I didn't know "giving a fuck" was a talent until I drew your cards, dear pile 2. You are strong people, you don't care if others start hating you for doing your job. Like 5% of the people who picked this pile dreamed with being a hitman and go ahead guys, you'll do great. Now, a large percent of you have questionable morals, allowing you to work in fields where you can turn corrupted and earn wealth as a politician, lawyer, or even a doctor. I know those are career choices, but the real business for you is owning agencies, institutes, clinics, and funeral homes. I am not even making the latter up. Some of you won't care about the taboo-ish nature of your work. You approach business with level-headedness and practicality, thus if it pays wells as any other job related to humans needs... dealing with the deads is easier than their family but you will still do the job or you will hire someone to do it eventually. Curiously, you are great at making people feel better. You aren't that talkative, but you know how to make others laugh with your silly jokes, pulling weird faces, providing them with food or water and much needed space.

Some of you are radicals and into activism. You have plenty of pent-up anger and aggressiveness inside of you that you will directed at facing opposing forces. You might start a charitable cause and talk people into volunteering. Yeah, I know it won't give you money or not so much, but hear me out! You could own an institute for people with special needs or another for learning languages. There's a high chance you might end up working with foreigners, what gave you that business idea when you thought on how to help them improve their lifestyle. Some of you could be interested in farming or owning a supermarket. You would feel inclined to hire immigrants regardless of the consequences. Actually, what are consequences to you? You don't fucking care. You see people suffering, you help them. There's no other logic in your brain.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 3🌱

Ok, guys, I love how unbothered you are when it comes to your line of work and what people have to say about it. Unlike pile 2, you are not interested in top positions that might lead to corruption, dirty money and living a very intense life. You are the complete opposite, you are humble and like to contribute to the community. You have a great intuition and observation skills, so upon checking your town or the place you want to install your business in, you will know what spot in the market needs to be filled right away. You can also tell what the community's needs are; you are not afraid of getting your hands dirty, so you could feel inclined to run a fish or convenience store. I feel like you want to belong, so not only your business won't cover a necessity, but also will turn into something traditional, even "iconic" for your neighbourhood. Is a music store still a thing? I feel like a small part of this group longs to have one.

You have all what it takes to manifest a long-lasting business. You are highly talented at nurturing and you might see your business like a "baby". It's not just your money source, but something to care about and fight for. Some of you might be interested in running an esoteric shop, where people is going to get their cards read or purchase herbs, incienses, candles, and so on. Mostly, this pile wants to have an unique business or for it to be the sole provider of something. E.g, you might own the only bookstore with coffee services at town. Also, I believe some of you will settle for moving out to a town or the countryside and start a business over there.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

🌱Pile 4🌱

Hello, guys! This pile is slightly different from the rest since I feel like going straight to the point and sparing unnecessary details, but I might annoy you as I'm not leaving nothing unsaid. You are known for being busy and most times you seem to be in a hurry. You are always working on something, even in high school your friends knew you were too invested on your studies and earning money than hanging out with people your age. You probably like technology and travelling, so you could own a business like a travel agency (in your country or another), transport or event planning company. In all honesty, you might end up running all three of them. The term "workaholic" does not make justice to what you are, but I will call you a genius. You were born to steal the spotlight by your innovative style at the moment of giving birth to your ideas into the real world. You can mix all your interests together and create a new business that will leave people gawking, like an app who allows users to match with vacation spots instead of people or something like that?

Some of you will rather work with tourists, renting cars, boats, and properties so their basic needs are covered. I don't know how many of you are sporty but you are adamant about turning one of your interests/hobbies in your business. You might run your own indoor rock climbing centre. If you were to ask me for specifications on what's your talent, I would say you are a natural when it comes to businesses and you hold such control over your emotions. You put your sole focus on work, nothing can distract you from achieving your goals. Not even your family, so I can see you making up to your dear ones with expensive gifts or generous check after you missed an important family event again.

I hope this reading was to your liking♡. I'm offering paid readings about this topic here. You can find more free content on my blog.

[emilky-whim]

Folklore Legacy Challenge

Hey Ya'll! I've been working on this one for a little while and I can't wait to share it with you! It's a 16 + 1 generation legacy challenge for the Sims 4 based off of Taylor Swifts album Folklore! There aren't many solid rules for this one, I mostly just want ya'll to have fun and play it in a way that makes sense to you. That being said: - Mods and cheats are ok to use (I even encourage it). - Each Gen must have at least one child to play as the next heir. - I have used lots of packs in making this, you will need: City Living, Cats and Dogs, High School Years, Get Together, Crystal Creations, For Rent, Outdoor Retreat, Island Living, Dream Home Decorator, Parenthood, Discover University, Dine Out, Stranger Ville, Get Famous, Spa Day, Growing Together + more that I've probably forgotten. - If you do not have the required packs, feel free to change what you need to as long as it is somewhat similar to the original.

Gen 1: The One

You’re a meticulous gardener with a penchant for perfection, fiercely loyal to your craft and to your loved ones. Despite your somewhat snobbish tendencies, you dedicate yourself to finding true love, and when that journey ends, you never REALLY get over it. Yet you continue to cherish your familial bliss and vibrant social life.

Career - Gardener (Either Branch)

Traits - Perfectionist, Loyal, Snob

Aspiration - Curator 

Complete the soulmate aspiration with only one sim. Your sims permanently ‘separate’ once the aspiration is complete.

Always accept invites/calls from other sims.

Adopt at least one child.

 ‘’ = You may separate them as you choose.

Gen 2: Cardigan

You're a charismatic politician, oozing self-assurance and intellect, always in the know. As a Renaissance Sim, mastering myriad skills comes naturally to you. Amidst your political pursuits, you find time for youthful adventures, savouring bar dates, maybe one day you’ll finally settle down with a cherished companion.

Career - Politician (Charity Organiser)

Traits - Self-Assured, Genius, Insider

Aspiration - Renaissance Sim

Master all the skills needed for the politician career. 

Go on at least 5 bar dates as a young adult.

Eventually marry a childhood friend.

Gen 3: The Last Great American Dynasty 

You're a devoted stay-at-home parent, balancing material desires with a deep love for family and furry companions. Despite setbacks like a failed marriage and neighbourhood feuds, you find solace in nurturing your family and friends, building a home filled with love, even amidst domestic changes.

Career - Stay At Home Parent (You can work any career until you parent a child)

Traits - Materialistic, Dog-Lover, Family-Oriented

Aspiration - Mansion Baron

Have one failed marriage.

Become enemies with at least one neighbour.

Have your first child as a newly aged up young adult.

Move in with friends for at least one year.

Gen 4: Exile

In the world of espionage, you've always stood out. While others excel in covert ops, you thrive in building connections. Romantic at heart, yet socially awkward, you're drawn to leading, seeking solace in your club's camaraderie. After heartbreak, you relocate, shying from commitment but embracing your chosen family.

Career - Secret Agent (Diamond Agent)

Traits - Romantic, Socially Awkward, Gloomy

Aspiration - Leader Of The Pack

Create and lead your own club. Become friends with all the members.

After a major breakup, move to a different world.

Never get married or stay in a long-term relationship.

Gen 5: My Tears Ricochet

Amidst canvases and clay, you've always preferred solitude to the bustle of social affairs. As a critic, you explore the depths of creativity, while crafting jewellery and crystals on the side. Despite your artistic fervour, relationships falter, leaving you to nurture your creative progenies and seek solace in your craft.

Career - Critic (Arts Critic)

Traits - Loner, Creative, Art Lover 

Aspiration - Crystal Crafter 

Have a side business selling Jewelry and Crystals.

Get left OR leave someone at the altar.

Have at least 4 children.

Gen 6: Mirrorball

In the spotlight's embrace, you dazzle as an entertainer, with moves that mesmerise and demands that rival divas. Behind the glamour lies a heart yearning for connection, seeking solace in fleeting affairs. As you master the arts of song and stage, you flit from home to home, craving new experiences and relationships to fulfil your insatiable appetite for life.

Career - Entertainer (Musician)

Traits - Dance Machine, High Maintenance, Generous 

Aspiration - Friend Of The World 

Have a secret love affair, with whom you’ll eventually marry.

Master the singing, piano and acting skills. Never master any other skills.

Live with at least 3 different sims over your lifetime. 

Gen 7: Seven

Beneath the stars, you find your playground, a whimsical astronaut drawn to the great unknown. Childhood antics linger as you escape the mundane, running away with a friend to explore the world. Haunted houses hold no fear for you, just another adventure in your quest for outdoor thrills. With each holiday, you uncover new wonders, embracing the vastness of the universe.

Career - Astronaut (Space Ranger)

Traits - Childish, Loves Outdoors, Good

Aspiration - Outdoor Enthusiast 

Run away from home as a teenager with a friend/s

Live in a haunted house. 

Go on a holiday seven times over your lifetime. 

Gen 8: August

In the vibrant world of social media, you craft narratives with precision, driven by ambition and a hint of envy for the spotlight. Amidst beachside dreams, you seek solace in Sulani's embrace, drawn to its sun-kissed shores. An affair with a married sim sparks passion, leading to a child and an obsession, anchoring you to the idyllic island life, forsaking love for the serenity of the sea.

Career - Social Media (Public Relations)

Traits - Jealous, Ambitious, Neat

Aspiration - Beach Life

Have an affair with a married sim you meet while on vacation.

Have at least one child with the married sim.

Live in Sulani for most, if not all, of your lifetime.

Never date again after your affair ends.

Gen 9: This Is Me Trying

Driven by a desire to transform spaces, you carve your niche in the world of interior design, fueled by ambition yet shadowed by melancholy. As a youth, you flee, severing ties to forge a path of your own. Love finds you in the arms of a cheerful soul, grounding you upon your return, where you rebuild bridges and strive to be the ultimate caregiver to your children, overcoming personal demons along the way.

Career - Interior Decorator 

Traits - Ambitious, Overachiever, Gloomy 

Aspiration - Super Parent

Move away as a teenager/young adult and lose most of your sims relationships.

Get married to a Cheerful sim. 

Move back as a young adult/adult and re-make all the relationships you lost.

BONUS (Only if you have the Basemental Drugs MOD) Become addicted to at least one substance and successfully complete rehabilitation for it.

Gen 10: Illicit Affairs

In the courtroom's halls, you weave tales of justice as a private attorney. Driven by wanderlust and a fear of commitment, marriage comes swiftly, but it's the thrill of forbidden affairs that ignites your passion. Caught in multiple webs of deceit, divorce looms, leading you to Henford-on-Bagley, where you navigate the complexities of parenthood alone, seeking solace in the quiet countryside.

Career - Law (Private Attorney)

Traits - Non-Committal, Advenutrist, Clumsy

Aspiration - Serial Romantic

Get married young and have at least 4 affairs before getting caught. 

Have at least one child through an affair.

Get divorced 

Move to Henford-on-Bagley to raise all your children by yourself.

Gen 11: Invisible String

You always dreamed of sizzling pans and crafting culinary delights, a romantic at heart with a green thumb to match. Love's journey takes unexpected turns—a tumultuous romance with a mean spirit, a dance of uncertainty with a lifelong friend. As the years pass, you find your soulmate as an elder, nurturing both your restaurant empire, a family and a thriving garden.

Career - Own your own restaurant (or multiple restaurants)

Traits - Romantic, Good, Green Friend

Aspiration - Soulmate

Be in a long-term relationship with a mean sim and eventually break up.

Have a ‘will they, won’t they’ type of relationship with a life-long friend sim.

Get married as an Elder.

Have a well-maintained garden.

Have all restaurants at 5 stars.

Gen 11: Mad Woman

Betrayed in your youth by those you trusted the most, you harbour scars deep as loyalty binds you to your cause. You ascend the ranks of the criminal underworld, fueled by anger and an unyielding pursuit of justice and vengeance. Marriage offers solace, yet the thirst for retribution remains, driving you relentlessly until old age grants the serenity you seek.

Career - Criminal (Boss)

Traits - Hot-Headed, Perfectionist, Loyal 

Aspiration - Seeker of Secrets

As a teenager, have an ex friend/friend group/lover ruin your reputation/life.

Spend the rest of your adult life trying to get revenge.

Marry a friend. 

Only find peace/let go as an elder.

Gen 12: Epiphany 

Straight out of high school to the covert operations of the military, you excel, driven by duty and a longing to provide for your family. Medals adorn your chest, earned through dedication and sacrifice. Love finds you in the arms of a medical professional, but shadows linger, as memories of battle haunt your days, a silent reminder of the price of service.

Career - Military (Covert Operator)

Traits - Overachiever, Family-Oriented, Good

Aspiration - Big Happy Family

Join the military immediately after finishing highschool.

Retire/quit your job as soon as you earn all available medals.

Date and marry sim with the medical career.

Live with PTSD (you can use a mod for this)

Gen 14: Betty 

Your high school romance blossoms into marriage, yet jealousy festers, leading to a massive indiscretion that fractures the trust you’ve built. Amidst the wreckage, you strive to mend what's broken, seeking solace in weekly garden dates as you navigate the rocky terrain of love. In the digital realm, you thrive as a freelancer, coding with confidence and a hint of cringe-worthy humour.

Career - Freelancer (Programmer)

Traits - Cringe, Jealous, Self-Assured

Aspiration - Joke Star

Marry your high school sweetheart. 

Have weekly dates in your back garden.

Have an affair for an extended period of time before being caught. 

Spend the rest of your life trying to heal the connection between you and your spouse. 

Gen 15: Peace

Unable to make friends, you shed the burden of high school to focus on working toward your dream job and pursue the limelight. Amidst the glittering lights of fame, you still struggle to find your place and people in the world. Eventually, love finds you in the presence of an outgoing spirit, but as stardom ascends, so does the weight of its demands, testing your quest for inner peace amidst the chaos of stardom.

Career - Actor

Traits - Socially Awkward, Creative, Squeamish

Aspiration - Inner Peace

Dropout of high school and work a part time job to earn money.

Master the acting career.

Master the acting and wellness skills.

Marry an outgoing, good sim.

Become a Global Superstar and struggle with the price of fame.

Gen 16: Hoax

Born amidst the urban hustle of San Myshuno, your artistic soul yearns for expression amidst the city's chaos. Love's path proves rocky, a journey of unfulfilled connections and shattered dreams. Seeking solace in a fresh start, you depart the city's embrace, yet the ghost of past loves haunts your brushstrokes, forever captured in the vivid hues of your yearning canvases.

Career -  Painter (Master Of The Real)

Traits - Gloomy, Vegetarian, Generous

Aspiration - Painter Extraordinaire 

Grow up in San Myshuno.

Be in a long-term, unfilling relationship with sim you have bad compatibility with. Eventually break up.

Have a failed relationship with a family friend. 

Move out of San Myshuno to get a fresh start. 

Never get over one of your previous relationships and spend the rest of your life yearning to have it back.

(Bonus) Gen 17: The Lakes

Amidst the rustle of leaves and the whisper of pages, you find your muse as a writer, enchanted by the dance of words and the embrace of nature. Poetry flows from you, a testament to your romantic soul. Holidays are cherished escapes, moments of tranquillity by the water's edge, fueling your creative spirit. Yet, it's in solitude that your greatest works are born, a testament to your dedication to the craft.

Career - Writer (Author)

Traits - Romantic, Bookworm, Loves Outdoors

Aspiration - Bestselling Author

Only write poetry (unless specified for the aspiration)

Go on Holiday with your spouse and family often, staying as close to a body of water as you can get.

Complete the gemstone collection.

Leave the world behind for a period of time to focus on writing (completely alone)

[gancegancerevo]

Rides to Lake Silberneherze Thoughts

It was great. The second major visit to Kjerag sees us return three years after the previous event to see how the nation has built itself up after the Saintess reforms the political system of Kjerag and accepts the Silverash clan’s plans to open the country to outsiders.

Degenbrecher is the main selling point of the event in my opinion and damn did they work hard to make her appealing. She’s not only very strong, very skilled, very pretty, and a lot less long-winded than the other politicians, she’s also got her own story. It’s quite beautiful to see someone immigrate to a new country and have it just be a story of finding a home you can settle with. She’s the kind of character who’s physically strong enough to survive hardship. And in a sense, she is emotionally strong as she does not hold any grudges against her old nations. Probably in part because she’s beaten up the ones she needs to and let go of what she doesn’t need. She’s very much her own person and she herself has decided she wants to stay in Kjerag as one of its people. Makes you think about all the immigrants who makes their homes in new countries and how that experience is unique to them.

Leto was adorable in this event. The way she takes everybody she passes by and makes them her friends is hilarious and wonderful. It’s also great that they made her a competent field operator. She was able to sense and threaten a Trillby Asher all by herself even if that went awry. She also knew when to call up her superiors when she needed help.

One of the best parts about her arc here is how they turn the classic father-daughter reunion on its head. Because for one, Tatyova, her mother, is alive and well. And seems to be perfectly capable of continuing to care for Leto. Leto ultimately doesn’t care about her father, as she should. Arctosz’s decision to make his family leave for political safety makes it obvious that he knows nothing about the wider world. His privileged upbringing means he has no idea about how others would treat a single mother and what it means for a child to grow up without a father. The thing that really brings it into perspective for me is the attack on Chernobog. If you don’t know how bad it was, read the Ursus Student Group side stories. It makes every excuse Arctosz make seem extra moronic. This story takes the “looking for a long lost father” trope and makes it an ode to all the mothers who had to deal with single-parenthood themselves.

Harold is quite interesting. He’s your classic bumbling high-spirited old man except he’s also a Victorian military officer. Like Degenbrecher, he’s someone who also adjusts well to Kjerag life finding work as a veterinarian and doing old man things. In spite of this, he remains loyal to Victoria and when told that he would need to attack the people he’s lived with for months, he ultimately sides with his country. This is an interesting contrast to bring in this story. About how some people would throw away their old countries while others would remain loyal. Though overall, he was just fun to watch. Especially when paired with Leto or others who humor him.

By far my favorite part of visiting Kjerag is seeing the Saintess and Enya and Kjarr do not disappoint.

Before I gush about yuri though, I should say I love how Enya, and especially her relationship with  Enciodes has evolved. She’s much more active in the goings-on of the nation and is willing to use the Saintess as a state official rather than just a ceremonial position. She and Enciodes managed to separate their personal lives from their work in nation-building and it’s so interesting to see it play out. Enya inserting herself when Enciodes tries to avoid more direct interactions. The whole banquet scene with Harold. It was great especially when they both admit that the Head of the Silverash clan and the Saintess have a similar vision and plan for Kjerag’s development and both go silent when others ask about the relationship between Enya and Enciodes Silverash as siblings.

Enya and Kjarr have to be the most wife and wife coded characters I’ve seen in Arknights so far. Like a pair well into their golden years, they have a mutual respect and trust of one another while still disagreeing on some issues. There’s also that sense of both of them playing an active role in the relationship rather than the usual one stays at home and one works sort of dynamic. I especially like when Kjarr is like “babe, are you sure I shouldn’t use my god powers?” and Enya keeps insisting that they can’t rely on god to fix things for them. And of course the eternal pestering of Kjarr for a statue adjustment. If she can’t ask Enya for it, she’ll let Degenbrecher and the Trillby Asher do it. I always love Enya and Kjarr and this has cemented my favorite Kjerag dynamic even more.

Lastly, I really appreciate the way they included the Doctor this time. It’s not the take control of a situation you’ve only been aware of for a few hours. Instead, they made reasonable assumptions about what others are plotting and taking a few small steps to push pieces into the best place possible. Kinda like how they can’t rely on Kjeragandr, they also can’t rely on the Doctor of Rhodes but that doesn’t mean either of them can’t do one small move themselves.

P.S. What do you mean Kjerag has a battleship under Lake Silberneherze. Though it might be more shocking that Enciodes expressed approval of Sciurus before Ratatos did AND that Ratatos liked Sciurus naming the battleship Walnut to mess with her kids.

[two-white-butterflies]

riptide | a. targaryen

Description: Aegon's friends wonder why he has all the coolest things, even though he doesn't have a job. Pairing: college-student!aegon/ceo!reader two

"Do you call someone a sugar mommy when they're younger than you?" Aegon scrolls on his phone, reading the thousands of messages that you sent to him. His brother's eye widens, placing the bottle of beer down the table loudly.

"So the person that your dating is a sugar mommy?" his brother insinuated, and Aegon freezes on his tracks. It was well known around the campus that he was taken, but no one knew by whom. They didn't even know if the person he was dating was a girl or a boy.

All that they knew was that they managed to leave gifts for Aegon everywhere around the campus. From flowers to handwritten notes, everyone was interested about his love-life. The professors had a running bet - some of them think that his lover is a politician, others think that they're an actress - but one thing was for certain, they didn't know who she was.

"I mean - you do change your wardrobe every season," the man pointed - staring at his brother's new coat. Aemond was a little jealous of his older brother - it must be nice to have some sort of power on your side. "It's called having flair," his brother snorts, while taking a swig of his beer.

"Flair requires money - and our father doesn't send us a lot of that." Aemond rolls his eye, reaching for his phone to scroll on his instagram. "I mean, good for you. It's hard to find money in this economy." Aemond sighs, leaning down on his chair.

He still had a few thousand dollars in his bank account - but he'd need to find a job in order to afford rent next month. "- just make sure that they're not a mafia boss, or something." the man teased, smiling as he sees a meme of Thomas Shelby on his newsfeed.

"I'd give the world if she was just a mafia boss," he mumbled, eyes drifting off to the gala that you were attending. You looked ravishing wearing that designer gown - too bad he wasn't there to dance with you, as he was occupied with another event.

"Are you following her on your instagram?" Aemond inquired - scrolling down his brother's 'following' list. Aegon's eyes narrowed, closing his phone and attempting to peek through his brother's.

"No," he lied - thinking that it would be enough to stop Aemond.

"Is she following you?" Aemond questioned - scrolling to the left to access his 'followers' list. "Can you stop stalking me?" Aegon glares and another sigh escapes his brother's mouth.

"Why can't you tell me? I tell you everything," he complained in a manner that only a little brother would. "I told you about Alys," he asserted, thinking that it would be enough to sway Aegon.

"She's a fucking cougar," Aegon cursed while rising to his feet.

"- as for my girlfriend, you'll know when we get married."

agn.high: i can't help, falling in love w/ u 💚

27 comments 2,971 likes

aemtargaryen: HINT 👀 - agn.high: she has two eyes

toelicker69: happy bday future sister-in-law 💗 - agn.high: she says thanks!! - aemtargaryen: how tf does helaena know?

Alexander_Gomez: NICE YACHT BRO 🫶🏾

Everyone was whispering behind his back - apparently a big box was brought in front of his apartment, and nobody knew what it was. "This one's big," Aemond remarked while helping his brother bring it inside their shared room. "The same thing can be said about me," Aegon joked - settling the box loudly on the floor.

He reaches for the phone on his back pocket, prepared to call you and ask what you gave him.

"Hello, baby." your melodious voice floods his senses, his stomach is filled with butterflies.

"Hey baby, I got a package - do you know what it is?" he asked, seeing no evidences of your address or name on the box.

A small laugh exits your mouth, and he could hear the chatter of the office from behind you. "You should open it baby, I got to go now." you smile while hanging up.

He places the phone back on his pockets, watching while his brother opens the box with an exacto knife. "I just hope it's not expensive enough to get robbed," Aemond crossed his fingers - lifting the top sheet of the styrofoam from the object.

A gasp escapes his mouth as he realized that it was the gaming pc that he was pining for. "Oh my god," he cursed, a smile paints his lips as he opened it further.

He made a mental note to thank you once your meeting was over.

(your name)'s story

@watercolorskyy

[antiquarianfics]

Taken pt. 9

If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would go back to that morning. He would hold you a little tighter in his arms, and he would kiss you a little deeper. He would pull your daughter in between the two of you, letting her giggle as loudly as she wants whilst her parents kiss her cheeks and tickle her belly. If Bucky Barnes could time travel, he would have told you not to go to the park—to go anywhere else. But Bucky Barnes can’t time travel, and his wife and daughter are gone.

a/n: screaming, crying, throwing up. i hope you guys enjoy this part as much as i do. also, sorry for the hiatus. i kind of got distracted with life. anyhoo. also. not proofed.

warnings: swearing, blackmail, mention of murder, themes of conspiracy, canon typical violence.

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters. Any and all characters are a work of fiction and any likeness to real persons is wholly unintentional.

You do not have permission to copy, translate, or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

previous part | series masterlist | next part

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

“So, when you said a former agent, you meant…” Clint trails off, looking at Fury and Coulson for confirmation.

Bruce sits next to Tony, hands clasped underneath his chin in thought, eyes trained on the screen, analyzing it.

Coulson and Fury nod, but before anyone else can say anything, Bucky speaks.

“It’s Y/N.”

—

“Y/N’s alive?” Sam asks, but it’s mostly rhetorical. Fury and Coulson are the only ones who are not surprised.

“Agent Y/L/N-Barnes seems to be alive, yes. Of course, there is always the possibility that it’s a mask,” Coulson says.

“It has to be her,” Bucky mumbles to himself, focusing hard on the stilled image of you. He has believed you’re alive against all hope for months, and here you are, escaping Capital Hill.

“But if she’s alive, and if she’s the one killing U.S. politicians, then is she working with HYDRA?” Sam asks, anxiously eyeing Bucky.

Fury sighs, “We don’t know. All we know is that we need to stop her before word that an Avenger killed the president gets out.”

Bucky speaks up then.

“She’s not working for HYDRA. She wouldn’t do that.”

Tony sends Bucky a sympathetic look before playing devil’s advocate.

“We can’t know that. It’s out of character, but we never know how much HYDRA is truly capable of. They brainwashed you, so who’s to say they didn’t her?”

The room is tense, and Bucky is acutely aware that the team, his friends, are sympathetic. They’re sympathetic because they agree with Tony. Bucky shakes his head.

“That took years to program The Winter Soldier,” Bucky says cautiously, “and Y/N has a hell of a lot more to fight for than I did. If she’s working for HYDRA, then she’s playing an angle. Don’t you think it’s odd they let Bec go so easily? She had to have struck a deal.”

“Then why doesn’t she escape?” Natasha muses, but her tone tells Bucky she’s simply wondering aloud.

“Well, we wondered why she didn’t contact us through her phone,” Clint reminds. “Turned out she had a plan there; she led us right to the Siberian facility.”

Bucky shoots Clint an appreciative nod.

“Becca did say that they wanted her until Y/N struck a deal with them,” Steve remembers.

The room turns to look at him.

“We didn’t know what to do with that before now. We thought Y/N was dead, but if they faked her death, then that gets us off their backs to have her do what they want.”

“Still,” Sam says, “why not run?”

“They’re probably keeping a close eye on her. On us, even. She would run unless they have something to hold over her,” Natasha points out.

The team gets quiet for a while; everyone gets lost in their own thoughts.

Finally, Fury breaks the silence.

“We don’t know who else HYDRA is targeting, but we imagine there are more assassinations planned.”

—

“Alright, so, it’s settled,” Tony says.

The team had spent hours devising a plan to rescue Y/N, anxiously and meticulously going over every detail and turning over every rock.

The Avengers let out a breath they weren’t aware they were holding. At this point, as if on cue, however, Coulson enters the conference room he and Fury had vacated hours ago.

“Coulson?” Steve asks, eyebrows raising at the appearance of the agent.

Coulson nods in acknowledgement, a tight smile spreading upon his lips.

“Stark, can you pull up the security camera footage for the complex?” Coulson asks, staring at the screen showing your SHIELD ID photo, background, skill set, and a list of the crimes you’ve committed up to this point.

Tony nods, voicelessly tapping at the device in front of him, pulling up the cameras. The screen changes from SHIELD’s information on you to a split of each of the complex’s cameras. Coulson takes a step forward, staring at the screen, analyzing it for something the Avengers don’t see.

“Coulson?” Natasha speaks. “What exactly are we looking for?”

“That,” Coulson points at the third box from the right. Tony zooms in on the mentioned camera footage.

“Shit.”

—

“Get Bec out of here!” Bucky demands, picking Rebecca up and handing her to Sam as the complex’s alarm system sounds. Sam nods, holding the toddler close to his chest before running off to get her somewhere safe.

“Buck, what’s your plan here?” Steve questions.

Bucky ignores his friend, taking off running towards the roof of the complex. The security footage showed the intrusion on the northwest most part of the building.

“Buck!”

“I’m saving my wife,” Bucky grumbles, putting more power in his steps, launching himself faster ahead.

—

When Bucky makes it to the roof, he does not have to try too hard to find you. In fact, he notes that you’re startling easy to find.

“Honey, I’m home,” you say cheekily, waving a casual hand at your husband when he lays eyes on you for the first time in months.

“Y/N,” Bucky breathes out, taking a step forward.

You’re leaning against the wall that surrounds the perimeter of the roof, arms crossed.

“James.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. How are you?”

“Fine.”

“I don’t particularly believe you,” you say, eyeing the dark bags beneath his eyes and the tired demeanor he holds.

“You’ve been gone for months. We thought you were dead. It’s not been so pleasant.”

You hum, pushing off the wall and walking towards the man. You step up against him, resting a gentle hand upon his chest.

“Hmm,” you hum. “You’re not wearing a suit, you didn’t bring any weapons…” You allow yourself to trail off, watching carefully for a reaction.

He gives you a look. “You wouldn’t hurt me,” he says cautiously, but something about the situation feels off. He isn’t sure he believes the statement himself anymore.

You sigh and step away.

“You’ve heard, I’m sure, what I’ve been up to.”

“I have.”

“Not very on brand for me.”

“No.”

“Unfortunately, sweetheart, neither is what I’m here to do.”

“And what are you here to do?” Bucky feels anxiety creep up his chest.

“Marking 3 names off my list,” you say. “You’re not all that close to Captain America, are you?”

Bucky immediately clocks the question as odd. Not only is it weird that you’re addressing the murders you’ve committed as off brand, but to ask him about the only person from his past life as if he’s someone he met recently? To address Steve as Captain America? Bucky remembers the conversation the Avengers had recently, and he thinks you must be playing an angle, waiting for him to figure it out. He also knows your mannerisms better than his own, and he has never known you to speak so formally to him.

He feels a memory trying to come forward. A missing puzzle piece that would help him understand what’s going on.

You sigh, pulling Bucky away from his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, James, but I’m on a tight schedule, and I can’t hang out here all day. So, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a To-Do list.”

Bucky stands a little taller.

“Doll, I can’t let you cross out names on that list.”

“Sure you can, and you will.”

“Why would I do that?”

You pout. “Because you promised to support me in good and bad,” you say, referring to his wedding vows.

“I didn’t mean stand by while you murder the people closest to you.”

“Well, shit,” you say before you throw a right hook into Bucky’s jaw and sprint towards the stairs while he’s distracted.

Bucky clutches his jaw with his hand before standing up straight. He usually would have anticipated the punch, but this whole situation has thrown him. And you have a habit of getting him to let his guard down.

“Shit,” he says before taking off after you.

You manage to avoid Bucky for a while as you make your way through the compound, but he does catch up to you.

You lay eyes on Steve and you sprint in his direction.

“Y/N! What? Stop! You don’t have to do this!” Steve attempts to reason, holding his shield up to deflect a bullet you send flying his way. Steve notes it wasn’t hard to deflect, and he stores that information away for later. After all, SHIELD first took note of you for to your sniping ability. You don’t miss.

“Sorry, Rogers,” you say, shrugging. “I’m just a girl doin’ what a girl’s gotta do. Y’kno—Agh!”

You are cut off, letting out an unattractive yelp as you fall to the floor. It takes a moment to get you bearings, but you quickly realize Bucky had tackled you.

You fight back, but you allow Bucky to slide your gun away from you and across the floor.

“Y/N, stop!” Bucky begs, grabbing hold of your wrists with his metal hand and holding your arms taut while he holds your body down by straddling your torso.

You—to Bucky’s surprise—stop. Then, you raise an eyebrow as if to ask, “What do you want?”

“What are you doing? Killing the president? Trying to kill Steve? What’s your angle here?”

“Have you ever heard of Orpheus and Eurydice?” You ask.

Bucky gives you a look. Your question, after all, is out of left field. You ignore the look and continue.

“It’s a Greek myth. Orpheus and Eurydice are in love, right? But Eurydice does and is trapped in the Underworld. Well, Orpheus goes on a quest to get her back, and the only condition Hades gives him is that he doesn’t turn around on the way back out of the Underworld.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“If he turned around, Eurydice would be trapped in the Underworld forever, and she and Orpheus would never be together again. Never have a life together.”

“Y/N.”

“Orpheus turned around. I always thought that was stupid. I mean, I guess if you love someone, you’d want to turn around and check on them. Make sure they’re still there. But, on the other hand, if you love someone, and trust them…”

“You trust they’ll still be following you even if you don’t turn around,” Bucky finishes.

“Orpheus didn’t get a second chance to save Eurydice. Zeus killed Orpheus because he was afraid Orpheus would tell the humans all the secrets of the Underworld. Some versions say that the Muses kept his head, though, to sing songs forever. They managed to hear his voice even after he died.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Don’t turn around, James.”

“What?”

While Bucky is confused, distracted by your story, you wrench your wrists out from his grasp and thrust up with your hips. You manage enough momentum to swing Bucky off of you and you climb on top of him, switching positions.

“Well, my targets are gone,” you sigh, glancing down the hallway you had seen Steve run. You click your tongue and return your focus to Bucky, shaking your head slightly.

“Sorry, honey,” you say, knocking him out.

—

@just-henny y @jasminocano @browneyedgirl22-blog @barnesboo1967 @matchat3a @unkasworld @qwertyb2577 @raajali3 @yoruse @iilsenewman @alysianc @fairytalegirlofurdreams @marvelxlevram @casa-boiardi @buckybraneslover111 @hhiggs @smolracoon25 @questionableratatouille00 @heytheredemonsitsyourgirl @thearieunhinged @sebastianstansqueen @middaystarlight @talesofadragon @killerwendigo @ozwriterchick @kandis-mom

[super-paper]

The Villains' Pastime: Gourmet Food Highlights

Another day, another event focused on the LOV and their targeted psychic attacks on Skeptic's blood pressure (+ ReDestro's wallet)

The event starts with the gang fully embracing the freeloader lifestyle: lounging around and playing cards, ordering premium food on the PLF's dime, and doing absolutely nothing to actually help out with running the organization they violently took over like a week ago.

Everyone praises Tomura for being good at cards, with Compress and Twice wondering how he can be so good at reading others even though most of them are wearing masks. Jin then proceeds to shout out what his hand is, solving part of the mystery behind Tomura's undefeated winning streak in record time.

They want to play another game, but Tomura shoots them down bc it's close to noon and he's hungry. They agree to stop playing cards and get some lunch, and start talking about what sort of gourmet (read: expensive) foods they should try next. Tomura breezily talks about how nice it is to finally have money to burn (he's the worst ♥️), which inevitably summons Skeptic from the fourth ring of hell to bitch everyone out about wasting the PLF's precious funds.

"Thanks a bunch~" If Skeptic murks you in your sleep, you really only have yourself to blame Mister.

No one does "endearing in a criminally insane way" quite like Tomura. 😬

Trumpet senses that things are about to get ugly (or that skeptic is about five seconds away from a full blown hypertensive crisis) and intervenes, suggesting that they play a game of cards-- If Tomura wins, the PLF will foot the bill. If Skeptic wins, they either have to pay for their own lunch or just go hungry.

Tomura (quite predictably) says "fuck that" and tells Spinner just to go buy them lunch at a convenience store.

>be me >be stuck in a secret base hidden deep in the mountains >be literally miles away from civilization and the nearest town >tfw warp gate is doing ten-to-life and warp sludge is being gatekept by the world's most toxic Ivo Robotnik cosplayer 😔 >my boss, fully aware of all the above, orders me to walk to the nearest town and buy him a frozen burrito from a gas station >mfw

IS THIS YOUR MAN, SPINNER.

Tomura lightly bullying his friends and making unreasonable requests is nothing new, but this one strikes me as hilariously mean spirited even by his standards bc it’s also implied Tomura expects Spinner to foot the bill on top of all that:

BRO FALL IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE 😭

Trumpet eventually convinces Tomura that it would actually (read: obviously) be faster to just settle the issue with a game of cards-- Tomura finally gives in, and they settle on a game of blackjack.

Compress explains the rules of blackjack and offers to deal the cards-- Trumpet shuts this down immediately and says that HE will deal the cards, thank you very much:

As an aside, I love how utterly shameless they make Compress in these events lmao.

Tomura and Skeptic begin their game, and Tomura quickly makes it apparent that he approaches blackjack with the same suicidally reckless abandon as he does pretty much everything else:

Out of context MHA, eat your heart out.

Spinner, Compress, and Dabi all worry that Tomura has drawn too many cards and is gonna lose by default, but Jin and Himiko both express their faith in his abilities as an ill-gotten bread winner (<3)

Tomura and Skeptic both reveal their hands, and we hard cut to the aftermath where the LOV are gushing about all the high quality meat they bought on the PLF's dime while Skeptic seethes in the corner.

>Tomura

> making logical choices

well, there's your first mistake.

Trumpet tells Skeptic to stop being a hater and dig in, casually siding with the LOV now that they've won their premium beef:

Trumpet:

Like a true politician.

The lunch party continues until ReDestro enters the scene... gushing about some high quality meat he managed to get ahold of and asking the League if they'd like some hot pot. :) Skeptic realizes his life is a cosmic joke. The event ends.

Bonus Stuff:

This is starting to feel less like a case of the LOV simply liking sushi and more like a united effort to haze Dabi. Deserved, tbh.

Jin telling Himiko to eat her veggies and Compress fondly watching her eat her weight in meat......... they r SO cute wtf..................,😭

>I start joking about Tomura being the most rancid godawful tsundere in existence

>somewhere out there, apollo draws back his dodgeball arm

He sure complains a lot for someone who grumpily indulges their every whim, huh.

[e-nonsense]

HI!! This is my first time requesting something specific in a long time, so forgive me if it's all over the place😭

Basicallyyyy almost the same as the reader being Selina's protoge- But minus the badass and crank up their weirdness and patheticness to a thousand

A childhood frenemies to lovers scenario 😝

Reader as a kid pretty much settled at the fact that they were "different" from other kids— and they didn't wanna conform to what society considered normal bc uhhh that's not them!!!! Maybe they even had a good chat about the Joker with it

Reader was more of a trouble maker than a villain, really. Throwing eggs at politicians, managing to stick gum on Dick's hair or Bruce's cape, stealing Jim G. glasses for the millionth time, scaring random civilians at night with shadow puppet/illusions/inventions they plant on the yard or walls..... nun too crazy! And with this, formed an odd friendship with Jason during his glory days as Robin

Though Jason was just doing his job as a vigilante, reader felt like he was the only one who understood them sometimes. And because of that, reader would sometimes do good deeds for him to see but still do their silly chaotic things😋

Until Jason died, that is

Because of this, reader didn't consider stirring up trouble when Jason isn't the one stopping them anymore and eventually uses that big brain of theirs to do random tech stuff for good use

Reader by this time is gonna be the "Smart but weird sleep deprived loser" type... chat do you see my vision...

when Jason comes back and pays them a visit, reader is so lost at first

"It's me, [name]"

"Oh whar.... ok ok uhm....."

Mf thought they were going crazy and was gonna laugh but when they realize it was real they immediately broke down— kneeling and hugging his knees as they poured pent up love confessions OUTTTTT there... y/n you crazy bitch!!!!!

(And for nsfw if you want, maybe this happens months later. Reader would be SO eager to be good for Jason, but maybe too good that Jason slowly starts to bottom as reader showers him with love through keen whispers and needy touches.

Asking, "Can I touch here?" "Can I remove this?" "Does this feel good?" Bc consent is hot asl yall missing out🙏

Reader would hold him so close, as if afraid he would slip away again and would babble their sad I love you's, his name and other praises and Jason is praying not to cum immediately because holy fuck?? You want him HOW BAD????)

Sorry if this was a lot to read😭 The voices in my head are odd like that

—☁️/ w the help of my friend♟️the og idea is from him❗️❗️ he just let my ass skedadle with this to your blog 😭

here you go anon i hope your and your friend enjoy!

[gumnut-logic]

The Awards (Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Alexander Sweetapple series

This one was a challenge and being Australian and not a Kiwi, I beg forgiveness if I've messed up anything. Many, many thanks to @onereyofstarlight I owe her Haighs chocolate for consultation fees on this one (she actually wrote the intro).

Being a Sweetapple fic, this is m/m, and although they don't go beyond the occasional kiss and hug, if that isn't your thing, this isn't your fic.

I hope you enjoy it :D

-o-o-o-

“Tēnā koutou katoa.”

The room was already silent for the man’s mere presence on the stage. Scott Tracy stood tall, gazing out at the audience, and if he was honest with himself, Alex couldn’t help but feel proud to be an employee, sitting here in the audience, and represented by him.

“Ko Aerana te whakapaparanga mai. Nō Ngā Whenua Tōpū o Amerika au.” Scott straightened just a little. “My ancestry is from Ireland and I am from the United States of America.”

“Ko reo kōrero ō Tracy Industries ahau. I am the spokesperson of Tracy Industries.”

“Ko Scott Tracy tōku ingoa. My name is Scott Tracy.”

His eyes raked the room.

“It is the difficult and the horrifying that remind us of who we are. When circumstances threaten us and those we love. It is those times our hearts must be strong. To reach out and help family, friends and strangers alike.”

“You are a community which has seen terrible loss and heartache. But you are also a community of strong and defiant people who saw suffering and stepped up to help.” A pause. “I know. I was there.”

The room rumbled in acknowledgement.

“This is an opportunity to thank those who were pillars in their community, the iwi leaders who organised food and shelter, those who volunteered their time and energy to look after one another."

“Every one who saw a need and offered to help, all of you should be proud to be a part of Te Tai Rāwhiti because the sun does indeed dawn first on a very strong and caring people.”

He paused a moment and the room was full of an echoing silence as if everyone was holding their breath, simply hanging on the words of Mr Scott Tracy.

“So, it was with great honour I accepted this opportunity to open the Tairāwhiti Super Hero Awards 2065. While International Rescue might make a dramatic entrance,” the crowd murmured and Mr Tracy smiled just a little, “we should never forget the real heroes amongst us - those who step up and do what needs doing.”

For the briefest of moments that blue gaze settled on Alex before drawing the rest of the room in behind him.

“So thank you to all of you, for great service rendered.” Another small smile. “Ngā mihi nui.”

Mr Tracy stepped back from the lectern and the room erupted into applause. Alex found himself clapping like a lunatic.

But then this was Scott Tracy, Thunderbird One.

Beside Alex, Virgil was clapping just as hard, but he was grinning at Alex, not his big brother.

Scott shook the hand of the Master of Ceremonies and quietly walked off the stage as the lights shifted, heralding the opening performance of the night.

Alex’s eyes widened as students from the local high school, one of the most damaged by the quake, stepped onto the stage and into the rhythm of haka and welcome.

Knowing exactly how these people had been affected, and to see them here, proud and defiant, Alex’s heart swelled.

He lost himself in the lights and sound.

At some point, Scott slipped in on the other side of Virgil. The two brothers acknowledging each other unspoken, but throughout the ceremony Virgil held Alex’s hand.

And it was ever so warm.

At the end of the welcoming ceremony, the Prime Minister took to the podium, her stance as strong as her speech. Her acknowledgement of those lost, those who suffered, those who stepped up, and those who saved - and yes, she mentioned International Rescue particularly - Alex squeezed Virgil’s hand. It was heartwarming, politician or no.

And then came the awards.

The Prime Minister stood beside the MC and as names were announced and people stepped up from the audience, stories were told of heroic deeds.

The woman who sheltered three children with her body as a building collapsed over them. Thunderbird Two had pulled them out, finding her physically holding a slab of concrete from falling.

Her hoverchair separated from the crowd and hissed down the aisle to the stage.

A mechanic who had set up a care centre in his backyard, gathering locals who had lost their homes, finding blankets and bedding, and offering shelter from the weather in his workshop.

Amongst the recipients there were those who could not attend and those who had lost their lives helping others. Family members and friends accepted the awards from the hands of the Prime Minister.

The mood was both somber and proud.

“Alexander Sweetapple.” Alex startled and suddenly found both Virgil and his mother ushering him to his feet. “Caught in the Tairāwhiti museum collapse, Alexander was able to save the thirteen people caught with him before the building slipped into the Taruheru River.”

Alex was walking down the aisle towards the stage. He stepped up into the light, the Prime Minister’s smile all for him, and he shook her hand and accepted the trophy and tried his best to smile and not drop it.

His fingers fumbled.

Not drop it.

“Thank you for your service.” Her brown eyes were sincere and both her hands clasped his. “Thank you.”

He managed a smile and a nod, before turning back towards the audience. Somewhere out there, in that haze of bright light, was his mum, Messrs Tracy, and Virgil.

The thought of his smile…and what happened after saving those thirteen people…

Alex really didn’t need the piece of plastic in his hands.

So, of course, that was when he dropped it.

The thud as it hit the wooden stage floor was loud, the echo bouncing around the theatre.

A rumble of amusement from the crowd swelled as he stumbled to pick it up.

Grab the piece of plastic and get off the stage.

He managed it with as much decorum as he had left, only tripping on the stairs once in his haste. Walking up the aisle again, however, all he could see was fond amusement in the eyes that caught his and it mollified him a little. That feeling of just ‘being in it together’ reassured his thudding heart.

His mum and Virgil welcomed him back to his seat, both hugging him, one after the other.

The gentle kiss to his ear as heavy lifting arms wrapped around him was enough to slow his heart rate down a notch…okay, not slow, really, but more redirect its passion from terror to…other things.

The rest of the ceremony was a blur. Panic was exhausting and he found himself resting his head on Virgil’s shoulder as hero after hero accepted their award.

At some point Scott climbed out of his seat and walked back down to the stage to accept a thank you to International Rescue from the Prime Minister - everyone knew IR didn’t accept awards, but Aotearoa had every right to say thank you.

Mr Scott’s smile and Erica’s favourite dimples charmed the audience and the Prime Minister…who, come to think of it, was single…

But the thank you was the last speech of the night. Scott returned to his seat again and the final performance roared onto the stage. Alex was quite comfortable with his head on Virgil’s shoulder, almost snuggled up beside him.

Sure, someone could photograph them, but at this point Alex didn’t care. Besides, it wasn’t like they were trying to hide anything. A good percentage of the world had already seen them playing tonsil hockey on social media, this was small time in comparison.

Virgil turning and kissing him gently on the forehead just sealed the deal.

But eventually the ceremony came to an end and the audience took to their feet. Alex straightened up, but his hand did not leave Virgil’s, even as they filed out with the crowd.

Iz, of course, appeared from nowhere, she and Kayo bracketing their party as they moved into the foyer where a buffet had been set up.

Alex brightened. A little kai and definitely some coffee would help.

Well, it would have if some of it hadn’t been thrown at them.

-o-o-o-

TBC

[risingoftime]

𝕭𝖊𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖞 & 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖗𝖆𝖎𝖓 | 𝖗𝖎𝖗𝖎 𝖔 𝖋𝖊𝖒!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

part i | part ii

thank ya'll for the requests! I know I’m a slow writer, but I really do enjoy your feedback & currently working on another request so keep an eye out.

synopsis: Riri decides to surprise you at your place after exams and exposes that she has studied you more than you initially thought.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: smut, light dom sub, scissoring, brat!reader, fingering, daddy issues, closeted!reader, praise kink, confessed feelings, light fluff, tribbing, obsessive!Riri, blackmail.

18+ | minors do not interact

➴ feel free to send me more thots

Your palms were sweating when you handed in the exam papers to Professor Winston. Riri was done within the first hour of the exam. Typically you followed suit shortly after but not this time. Instead, you spent all the allotted time-fighting flashbacks from the night before at the library with Riri. “I hope you remember all that I taught you.” Her taunting was still fresh in your mind. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was her master plan. An embodiment of the saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. You felt foolish for allowing yourself to become vulnerable under her gaze, but you did not regret a thing. Although it did take you extravagantly longer than you had expected, you still felt semi-confident that you would still pull through with top scores. Using Riri’s techniques for analyzing equations, it’s possible. However, professor Winston threw in a surprise bonus question that kept me in a loop. The bonus question wrote:

“Given the possibility of building structures for coastal protection against erosion and sea level rise, which dexterous compound is essential for its utilization?”

It was odd, considering that it was rare for him to discuss underwater robotics in his lectures. Your mind wracked over the questions as you walked through the paths on campus toward the parking lot. You set the alarm for later this evening to ensure that you didn’t miss the postings of our grades. Professor Winston often was able to submit grades within the same day. We were a freakishly small class, and it was an advanced course that not many dared to take. Most took it because it would look good on their transcripts. You scanned the busy grounds of MIT, and Riri was nowhere to be seen. That girl was always on the go. Besides, you had more pressing tasks to complete now that the semester was complete, for example, packing for Chicago. You rarely talked to your family during the school year, and you knew that if you stayed during another school break, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

MIT was lively today, with students pushing their hefty suitcases and boxes from the dormitory. You were so glad your Dad got you your loft as an MIT acceptance gift, one of the perks of being the daughter of a wealthy politician. At MIT, you’re free to be yourself and cultivate a person who isn’t constantly scrutinized—having your own space away from curious eyes and individuals trying to use anything against my Father in re-elections. You doubt people from back home would even recognize the person you are now. It’s partially the reason why you haven’t visited home yet. Your Dad is a businessman first and a Father second. Once you do return, you will have to hide away the part of you that flourished at MIT. It was a deal you were willing to make, but now it’s your turn to hold up your end of the bargain. To portray yourself as the perfect eldest daughter at the top of her class at MIT. If only you weren’t in the same class as Riri. Academically, you’ve always been beneath her, never indeed in the same league.

You walked into your apartment and were greeted by the cool air conditioning. You took time to get settled in and stripped out of your clothes to change into something more comfortable. As soon as you got into bed, the phone rang. You looked to see who it was, but the number was unknown. Your Father often called with no caller ID due to his job, so you answered it without a second thought.

“Hey!”

“Hey, open the door for me.” Again, it was a female voice that you recognized.

“Who is this?”

“Who do you think it is? Dummy,” she laughed.

You sprouted out of your bed and walked to the door. You looked through the peephole and saw Riri standing in the same grey tracksuit she had worn to the exams in the morning. Out of all the ways to get your attention, she decided this was best?

“What the fuck, Riri? How the hell did you get here?”

“I’m a master engineer specializing in robotic sciences, and you don’t think I can’t bypass a basic apartment security system?” Her tone was dry and sarcastic. Riri had a way of coming off as a know-it-all, and it got on your last nerves, especially when she was right.

“Okay, but that doesn't explain how you found out where my apartment is.”

“Hacking into the MIT student record system is easier than you think, and you’re more interesting than I initially thought,” she shrugged. However, the knowing smile on Riri’s face never dissipated.

“Why do I feel like you’re hiding something?” You didn’t make any moves to unlock your door. Instead, you enjoyed making her wait on you in the hallway.

“Well, if you just let me in, I will tell you what I found. Or, I could tell your Dad about our escapades at the library last night.” Riri’s expression was smug. You wouldn't be surprised if she heard you struggle to unlock the door. You pushed it open to invite her inside and made sure that she saw you flip her off as you did so. You led her to the living room and didn’t bother to spare her another glance.

You instructed her to sit down and shut up. You no longer had the patience to sweeten my tone. All your nerves dissipated once she brought up snitching to my Father. Of course, out of all people, it would be her who would be able to find out your secret. You've done your best to keep a low profile until yesterday; you thought you did. You would have never believed that Riri Williams had always had her eye on you. We were approaching our last year after this summer break, and it’s just now that she’s decided to show her interest.

“If you dare tell my Dad a single word about last night, I swear I will make it my vendetta to ruin you,” you sneered. You couldn’t afford your Father to know anything about your antics at MIT. All he needed to know is that you have one of the highest GPAs in your class, with solid recommendations from your professors to prove it. Your Dad only cared to hear that I was living up to his reputation and status. Truthfully, you didn’t know when you would have this freedom again and wanted to salvage every second of it.

Riri raised her eyebrows at me and said, “Is that a threat or a promise?” silently challenging me to see how far you’ll go to prove my point. “Both,” I replied. She whipped out her phone, playfully toying around with it in a suggestive manner.

“Let’s play a little game.”

“Riri, I’m not playing with you.”

“How do you think he would react to hearing that daddy’s little girl likes to be bent over by girls?” She kept her phone in her hands, and you couldn’t fight the impulse to knock it out of her hand. Riri hasn’t met a person like you, cause that’s exactly what you did. You watched the phone fly out of her hand and slide across the hardwood floor toward your bedroom. The shattering noise of the telephone elicited silence between the both of you. For a split second, you felt guilty, but at least now she couldn’t blackmail you.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that” Riri got up from the couch to walk towards your bedroom to analyze the damage to her phone. You followed her to see if it worked and were shocked to see the shattered front screen. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting it to break,” Riri looked up at you with narrowed eyes, and you braced yourself for what came next.

“You know, you still haven’t returned the favour from yesterday. And now that it seems that I have to get a new phone….” Riri trailed off, too busy hooking her fingers in the band of your shorts to tug you closer. “Oh, I see. So this is what you’ve come all this way for,” you swatted her hands away but didn’t take a step back. Her face was dangerously close to yours, and you could feel her minty breath fan your face. Your heartbeat picked up as the flashbacks from last night clouded your mind. The familiar butterflies returned to remind you of your lust for Riri. You became acutely aware of how close the bed was to both of you, and all that it took was a push from Riri for you to fall on top of the sheets.

“Well, you did say, and I quote, ‘we’re not done yet,’ and I’m just a woman of my word. I would hope you are too” Her hands returned to my waist, and this time you let her. Riri whispered in your ear, “you remember everything that I taught you last night?” her lips grazed against my earlobe and traced down my jaw. Your voice was barely conceivable as you whispered, “Yes.” Riri had a way of making you speechless just by the grace of her touch. She made you forget your words and worries. Subconsciously you moved your head to the side, urging her to go down further, but she paused.

“lay down on the bed for me,” her command was cold but soft. You pulled your head back to make eye contact with her. Riri’s stare was unwavering. She raised her eyebrows, prompting you to listen to her demand, “I’m waiting.” You descended slowly to the clean white sheets and went to the middle of the bed to lay on your side. You were unsure where this was going but still excited to see what she would ask of you next. There was a thrill that came from relinquishing control to Riri. The tension between you is undeniable. Riri broke eye contact briefly to rake over your body, taking in your curves and supple soft skin. She couldn’t decide where she wanted to touch first. To have the girl she’s fantasized about genuinely alone and to herself sent Riri over the edge.

“Are you going to do something or just keep staring?” you rolled your eyes feigning attitude although you were a ball of nerves. Riri took off her sweatshirt, revealing her toned upper body and Nike sports bra. You never knew that Riri was this athletic as she wore loose-fitting clothes to lectures. Last night at the library was just the beginning, now that you had the privacy to do everything that crossed your mind. Riri thought about all the positions she wanted to put you in and the noises she’ll cause you to make.

Riri strolled to your dresser and leaned against it so that she was parallel to you. “I want you to strip, slowly,” Riri said. Your eyes widened from shock. You’ve never stripped for another person before. In many instances, you’ve been the dominant one, but with Riri, that wasn’t the case. “What? I can’t do that” you crossed your arms across your chest to attempt to create a barrier from Riri’s sensual gaze. “Sure you can, or do you need me to help you?” her smile widened with her question. “No- no need, I’m capable of undressing myself” at that moment, you were thankful that you kept your black lace bra on underneath your oversized t-shirt. Otherwise, you already would’ve been left bare.

Unclasping the front of your bra came quickly; luckily, this was the one time you didn’t struggle with it. Your hands shielded your breast from view. The cool air left goosebumps along your skin. “Don’t cover yourself. You’re beautiful,” Riri whispered. You hesitantly dropped your hands for her. Riri’s mouth practically watered at sight. Riri felt the familiar pool of wetness in between her thighs. Watching you half-naked and vulnerable turned her on in ways she couldn’t explain. She badly ached to have you underneath her. Once your shorts are off, exposing the matching pair of panties. Riri could no longer keep her hands to herself. She separated your legs to lay between them, using one hand to massage your nipple and her mouth sucking on the other. The sensation of her tongue raised the hairs on the back of your neck. A barely audible moan escaped your lips as Riri’s fingers traced the outline of your folds. Riri took her time stroking you, running her index and middle finger to gather your slickness to massage your clit. You rolled your hips to urge her to rub against you harder, yet her touch remained gentle. The fabric of your underwear dampened as she continued.

“Fuck” Riri lifted her head from your breasts and lazily dragged her tongue to your neck. Savouring the flavour of your skin as she dipped her two fingers inside you. “Your pussy takes me in so well” Riri was amazed at how wet you could get for her. Her fingers slid in deeper easily, opening your legs wider for Riri to get better access. Riri whispered sweet praises against your lips as her fingers pushed deeper inside you. Internally, Riri felt like it was a sin not to worship your body over and over again. Pressure built within you to the point you were unsure how much longer you could hold out until you spilled over in her palms. “How do you like that?” She muttered in the crane of your collarbone before leaving a mark on your neck with her mouth. Riri’s teeth focused on a particular spot on your nape. Your moans blurred into each other as she increased her pace and began pumping her fingers inside of you with force.

“Oh, I fucking love it. Please keep going.” Your walls clenched around her fingers. Riri let out a low groan from the feeling of your pussy wrapped around her. “That’s it, baby.” She curled her hand slightly, sunk her digits inside, and settled them there. Riri writhed them with every roll and thrust until she found your G spot. You thought to yourself, she’s the best you’ve ever had. But when you opened your eyes to look at Riri, you realized that you might have said it aloud. “Has anyone fucked you like this before?” Riri playfully nipped at your ear before she kissed you in a way you hadn’t experienced before. Riri moved with a need and hunger that none of your past partners possessed. “Only you, Riri,” you moaned against her lips.

Riri watched your face contort and twist in euphoria. No longer able to silence your moans, you began to call out her name. You arched your back to rub your breasts against her chest, and the sensation caused Riri’s nipples to harden. Riri wanted to taste your pussy on her tongue but held off on her desires until she fulfilled yours. She remained relentless while fingering you, ignoring the dull ache from her wrist. Riri was enamoured with you. Your legs began to shake uncontrollably as you felt yourself reach your peak. “I’m cumming” you sobbed into Riri’s shoulder as your cunt dripped off her fingers. It truly felt like, at that moment, the Earth stopped on its axis while you drowned out the room with your noises.

Riri pulled out her fingers, leaving a wet trail on the sheets. She licked up the remnants of your cum off of her, “you taste amazing,” she sighed. You hummed in satisfaction, still fresh with bliss from your orgasm. Riri snaked her arms around you to encase you against her body. She flipped the both of you so that she now laid on her back with you on top of her. Riri’s heartbeat was loud and fast. She tried to slow it down, but the excitement of having you naked flushed against her didn’t help. You glanced up at Riri through your eyelashes and felt a surge of confidence to take the lead. If Riri could tell you what to do, why couldn’t you do the same?

You toyed with the band of her tights, sliding your fingertips along the hems and watching as Riri’s chest rose and fell with each breath she took. “Take these off.” you playfully pulled at the pants making Riri smile at your urgency.

“Since when do you call the shots?” Riri was taken aback by your command. She had always been the giver, the more dominant one of all her partners. She mainly gained pleasure from pleasing others, but that didn’t mean Riri didn’t want you to do the same to her. You ignored her question with your own statement, “We both know you’re good at following instructions.” She laughed at that. Riri enjoyed that you could still banter with her in your most intimate moments. She pushed her hips upwards to pull down her pants and kicked them off the bed. “This too.” you tapped her chest, indicating for Riri to remove her sports bra. Again, you pushed off her to provide space to take it off and couldn’t help but admire her body in all its glory. Once fully exposed, you laid on top of her again, adjusting your limbs so that your center was perfectly aligned. You moaned, “You're already so wet” Riri could cum from the view of you riding her pussy alone. Glancing down where your pussy kisses hers, your wet folds gliding against the other. The movements between you made the most obscene noises.

The sensation of you getting pleasure from Riri pushed her to ecstasy. Her moans filled the room as you grinded against each other tirelessly, trying to increase tension on your clits. “You hear that, baby? Listen to how wet you make me. This pussy is mine.”

Mine. Something about Riri calling you hers made your heart flutter. She gripped your ass as she rolled her hips to keep the rhythm with your body. Thrusting her pussy into you over and over… until the need for release became unbearable. Then, with one last brush over her sensitive bud, Riri’s cum pooled onto the white cashmere sheets. Your name rolled off her lips like she had been on the verge of tears for the first time. In many ways, you are the first to see her in her most precious moments. You cuddled together in the bed with your hands intertwined.

Riri turned onto her side to look at you, “do you know that I couldn’t stop thinking about you last night? I kept daydreaming about you in that skirt, how you struggled to silence your moans. I could barely think straight. I wanted to call you, but I forgot to get your number, so I-“

“So you hacked into MIT's student records? You’re crazy!” You couldn’t help but laugh at it all. It was possible that you could’ve been out of your mind as well because the thought of her rummaging through MIT systems, risking her scholarship to find you, made you even more attracted to her. “You can call me crazy, but I’ll do it all over again to find you.” Her hands caressed your thighs in an attempt to soothe your shaky legs. Your alarm went off, making the both of you jump a bit. The phone blared from the living room. “Our exam results!” You got up so quickly that you almost kicked Riri in the process.

Rushing back into bed, you unlocked your phone to review your results to see that you passed your exam with a 95. Thank God! it wasn’t as bad as you initially thought. Riri gauged your reaction and shyly asked, “So, what did you get?” You felt apprehensive about sharing your grade.

“You tell me yours, and then I’ll tell you mine,” you stated.

Riri rolled her eyes and laughed, “You broke my phone! I can’t see my grades until later.”

“Here, use mine.” You logged out of your student account and handed it over to Riri. You watched her closely as she did so, darting your eyes from her face to the screen. “I got a 95,” she admitted.

“Wait… we got the same grade? How is that possible? Did you complete the bonus question?” the questions came out of you a mile a minute. A big part of you was in disbelief that you shared the same grade with Riri. Finally.

“You got a 95? That’s amazing! I should tutor you more often.” Riri jokingly nudged you with her elbow, with a cocky smile on her face.

“And, to answer your last question, I didn’t bother answering the bonus question,” she shrugged.

“Why?” you asked.

“I’ve learned that just because you know the correct answer to a question doesn’t mean you have to respond,” she said. You felt like you were missing out on crucial information that would’ve helped you understand what she was talking about. However, Riri cut you off before you could even speak. “Look, trust me. I know from experience. Somethings are better left unsaid.” She wasn’t in the mood to discuss Professor Winston's planted question in the exam. Riri was well aware of her mistake of giving too much information about her underwater inventions. The memory of Namor still plagued her dreams. “A scientist should never reveal their secrets” she whispered. Then, looking down at you, Riri promised she would keep yours too.

[critrolesideblog]

I've been noodling around for a while on a little fic of Yussa and Essek's first meeting, and I think it might actually be done by this WIP Wednesday! In light of this exciting development, here is a little preview...

Yussa's tower contained a number of receiving rooms for guests of varying importance. The one Sylmarr was ushered into had walls painted a shade of blue that matched the midday sky outside and high windows that opened onto balconies rarely visible from the exterior but which offered sweeping views of the city, the harbor, and the ocean. Layers of finely woven linen curtains filtered the bright Nicodranian sunlight. The furniture was made of imported, Uthodurnian maple, expensive but not ostentatious. Yussa settled into his favorite high-backed chair, upholstered in a rich turquoise velvet, by the tea table as Sylmarr paused by the window overlooking the city. When he turned back to the room, his politician's smile was gone, replaced by a thoughtful frown.

"So, do you think my Elvish is good enough to continue with this disguise?"

"Briefly, perhaps, but if you plan to spend much time in the Menagerie Coast, your accent is just strong enough to garner unwanted attention. I would recommend limiting its use to places further afield."

"Understood."

He sat gingerly on the edge of the chair opposite Yussa, as if it might grow a mouth and consume him if he got comfortable. Not an unreasonable fear, all things considered, Yussa mused as he poured the tea. One of the adventurers he traveled with centuries ago was almost consumed by such a creature… Talia? No, Talia, when he traveled with the Wandering Wyrd, was almost killed by a Gelatinous Cube. It was Tyros with the --

"You have lived in Nicodranas for some time?"

"For over two centuries. Before that I traveled. A little bird told me--" at three in the morning last night, when she could not sleep and decided to make that Yussa's problem "--you have been travelling yourself recently."

"A bit."

"With Caleb Widogast?"

"He speaks very highly of you."

"He is an impressive talent and a good ally."

"And a good friend."

"I have not known many high-born Drow to speak of friends."

"Well," Sylmarr retrieved his teacup from its saucer. "I have been called exceptional."

[my-deer-friend]

i just finished "behind, only meadows" and i?? you have somehow converted me to elams. i'm generally not it's biggest fan but i had a feeling you'd give it justice and you definitely did.

you dared to ask the question: what if they all had a chance at happiness? i love it for giving us this trio dynamic while remaining grounded enough to feel like a genuine possibility. also loved exploring-naturalist john, it fits him so well and i think he'd be happier doing that than being a politician, which is the general course of action in any laurens lives au (for good reason!) imagine if years later he was the best choice for the lewis & clark expeditions and jefferson is forced to work with a non-cooperating, salty laurens getting payback for ham

did i tell you that i loved your fics even before i made a tumblr account? this ask is probably way too overbearing but genuinely loved it!!

Friend, thank you for this lovely message 😭💕 Please continue to be overbearing wonderful and sweet and kind forever!

Elams... it's one of those places I don't usually go, because my preference is for gay!Laurens and I just can't see him having a sexual relationship with Eliza (which is sometimes how those stories go). But as friends who love each other, in a caring and even romantic way?? Because of their common adoration of Alex??? Yes.

Also YES to the Lewis & Laurens expedition! (Sorry, Clark.) Now I'm thinking of Laurens in his late 40s, by then settled at home with the Hamiltons, getting pulled out of adventuring retirement because, per Alex, "Wouldn't that be sooooo funny?" Laurens would have so many ways to get on Jefferson's nerves, from calling out his slavery hypocrisy to insisting that Jeffs calls him "General Laurens" (after he gets shot at Combahee and survives, he gets a field promotion to brigadier mostly to keep him out of further trouble). (Yes I have lots of headcanons for he-lives!Laurens.)

[what-gs-watching]

“Breathe it in baby, because I am EXUDING and I am one of a kind.”

Okay so, I fell behind in Doctor Who because I’ve been job searching for like seven fucking months and a few weeks ago one came up that could be a good fit so I was trying to super focus on doing well through the interview loop even though I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to amount to anything because I’d gone through a ton of interview loops by that point but 

Y’ALL, I GOT THAT JOB! My horrible, soul-sucking ordeal is finally over, the paperwork is signed and I have a start date and everything has settled. Which means, I can finally catch up on 15 and my girl Ruby. 

Let’s gooooo!

73 Yards

Alright, I know there was upset around this episode because everyone is like ‘what the eff does it mean?’ but ooooh, I really enjoyed it. It was creepy as HELL and it just never stopped.

Wherein, Ruby and the Doctor pop over to Wales (this mofo really spends much too much time in Wales) and while on a cliffside, he steps on something AGAIN!!!!! and everything goes wrong.

Baby boy, did you not learn anything from the mine? Do you not take a scan around when you land somewhere, or are you just too excited about being adorable in your little yellow jacket and the hat and the stripes? You look fantastic, I get it, but peep down at those cute ass boots once in a while. 

I have to say, I’m impressed by Millie Gibson in this episode. It’s a lot of pressure to put on her to carry the entire thing, and she did it really well. How devastating is it to have your best friend disappear, realize you’re being followed by some crazy apparition that literally scares anyone and everyone away from you? 

Without any explanation. That’s the part that gets me. She becomes a piranha with this horrific THING attached to her and everyone she begs for help leaves her. Eve her MOTHER! It’s a mind fuck.

And I really wasn't sure where the episode was going, so I was excited for Kate Lethbridge-Stewart to show up, I was like ‘yeah let’s get UNIT into this mess’ and then she’s affected too and oh hell, that’s like, the last line of defense. 

Ruby, completely and utterly alone. And they just make her live out her entire life like that. And she tries to fix it, of course, the whole thing with the Welsh politician was a really good attempt babe, I would have done the same thing but then that doesn’t even work?!

And so everyone is all ruffled because, what was the point of it, really? What was the message, what was the meaning??!

Was she actually the apparition? If not, who was she? And then, it just ends and none of it ever really happened at all and there’s absolutely no resolution. 

Why do we love making companions live these horrible alternate timelines? How many times did we make Amy live different lives? I feel like she at least remembered most of them. But with Ruby in this one, there’s no lesson. She learns nothing, neither of them do.

But still, I loved the creeping sense of unease, so I guess I don’t really need all the details.

Dot and Bubble

I’m simultaneously annoyed and intrigued by shows that keep telling me allegories about the dangers of technology and how dependent we are on it. So far, it’s mostly been annoyed, but oh my god y’all really hit the nail on the head with this one.

Wherein, a bunch of privileged youths are existing in a perfect society that enables them to basically LIVE social media, literally surrounded by a bubble that feeds them other people’s inanity all day long. 

One thing I have to say about this episode is that the angles are something else. Lindy, the girl we’re seeing everything through is alternately absolutely beautiful, and kind of weird looking? She’s got perfect social media face. Is that a weird thing to say? I stand by it. It’s like she’s covered in the perfect ring light. It was distracting. And probably part of the point. 

Basically, this girl has no idea that there are monsters in her fake ass society that are eating her friends, and she is very not into the Doctor and Ruby trying to help her. Like, they’re trying to get her out of danger, only to find out that she doesn’t have any idea how to walk without wearing her ‘bubble’ is so deeply disturbing. Watching this girl say “forward” to convince herself to move is amazing and upsetting on a lot of different levels. 

And then out of nowhere, media star Ricky September shows up and he literally starts giving her directions like the bubble would do and I’m like ‘okay that’s interesting’, we’re subverting the idea that this incredibly popular personality is a vapid idiot because it turns out he READS and he’s taking pity on this girl that is literally a shell of a person without the aid of technology. And it was so sweet. 

Basically, this episode is infuriating because at one point Lindy hugs Ricky and tells him she’s never been hugged before (even though we know she at least has a mother) but THEN later, when the Doctor tells her everyone is being killed in alphabetical order and Ricky is trying to fight off the dot that is literally trying to murder her, she RATS HIM OUT. His real last name starts with C, he should be dead already. 

Confusingly innocent and absolutely cut throat at the same time? I guess if you live your entire life exclusively online you don’t go through things that would actually cultivate compassion? Which honestly, is not an unfounded idea. That should make y’all feel queasy. 

And to make it all exponentially worse, they flat out tell the Doctor they can’t accept his help because he’s not “one of us”. Just straight up, really gross, really overt racism. 

15, honey, I get it, but please  don’t beg racists to let them save you. You’re too good for this world, babes. That gut wrenching shout though? Absolute perfection. And the tears. You marvelous thing. 

TL;DR Humanity is disgusting and technology will continue to feed our uglier tendencies. I felt that one deep in my damn bones.

Rogue

Okay hear me out. This episode is EVERYTHING. 

Y’all know I have a thing for boys in love. And I also have a thing for the Doctor flirting with basically anyone. I don’t particularly have a thing for the regency era necessarily, but I AM about incredible costumes and ridiculous plots. 

I was honest to god squealing this entire episode.

Wherein, 15 and Ruby show up to a ball in 1813 so they can pretend they’re in Bridgerton, meet a handsome young bounty hunting rake, talk a LOT about cosplaying, and deal with bird???! aliens???

There are a million details I loved in this one. The orchestra playing an instrumental version of “Bad Guy” and then later “Pokerface”. The absolutely incredible suit they put on 15. 

Not to mention: JONATHAN GROFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Loved him in Mindhunter, loved him in Glee (before it got absolutely ridiculous and when I didn’t know any better) but holy shiiiiiit I would watch him as Rogue every. damn. day. 

River Song will always and forever be my number one love for the Doctor, but I was absolutely immediately charmed by Rogue. I’m not sure why, and it doesn’t really matter. 

How absolutely adorable was the psychic paper displaying “you’re hot”? Or the bit where the Doctor figures out Rogue’s ship is wired for sound and the system blares “Can’t Get Your Outta My Head” and he lip syncs along while Rogue dies of embarrassment? 

The entire episode was just two dorks flirting and my heart was so happy. I don’t know why, but when 15 started singing “Pure Imagination” while showing Rogue around the Tardis, I thought I was going to die. 

I love that he can be so carefree and fun and adorable, but also extremely emotional and unafraid to show it. We’ve seen so many different facets of 15 already, and his obvious and silly flirty self is definitely my favorite part so far. 

Also, the fact that the Chuldur (again, bird aliens I guess? Sure) were basically just a race that went around cosplaying other people was so camp. I’ve seen a lot of posts about how the newest theory is that 15 and Ruby are somehow in some weird sort of tv show universe this season, and this episode definitely fuels that a little bit. 

And maybe y’all are onto something with that, but I honestly don’t care to figure out what’s going on, I just want to be along for the ride.

Of course though, we can’t have an episode that’s all fun and games. The Doctor went all in on shooting his shot with Rogue and it distracted him and it put Ruby in trouble, because of course. Maybe we should stop promising random mothers that their kids are gonna be safe? Doctor, baby, you know that they aren’t always going to be safe. 

But if you weren’t charmed by Rogue before that point, you had to jump on his bandwagon when he pushes Ruby out of the transport trap and just says “Find me” before he’s blasted away with the stupid birds to some far off dimension. 

BALLER MOVE, baby boy. Baller ass move. Because ya know what? 15 is not going to be able to resist that. And you know how I know? Because that boy put your ring on his finger and I will ship the fuck out of you two forever and ever because of that. 

The doctor has definitely been known to  kiss people he’s only just met, but this time might be in the top 3. I thought Madame de Pompadour was good? Nah girl, ya bumped down. This kiss was better. Just me sat on the couch with heart eyes for days.

So yeah, I think I’ve decided I like letting a few stack up so I can watch them in a row. Watching them boomerang between crazy scenarios and thinking about all of that at the same time is more fun. 

I’m loving this season. It’s ridiculous, it’s different, it’s a bunch of things I didn’t even realize I wanted. Gimme more pleaaaaase.