#highbrow i love you

[they-hermes]

our favorite aroace king <33

[dougielombax]

To be loved

Is to be changed.

Bottom text

[stinkrascal]

i promise i do actually like good movies but i also love having background noise and well. live action cat in the hat is such a sweet tune to my autistic infection-riddled ears

[llycaons]

I got mad about how genuinely pretentious and condescending people on here about things that honestly don't even matter that much and so I went oh I know and I went to a mutual in law's blog because I KNOW they have the exact same views as me on them but they articulate them so much better and bam I got like six posts in a row of excellent compassionate measured responses to the very mean-spirited and meaninglessly cruel culture on here surrounding 'anti-intellectualism' and also calling people virgins in a derogatory way. like thanks! gotta jet

[funkbun]

dvc bringing back one of my favorite dragons from the original 2012 game but you only have like a 20% chance of getting it during an event... frown

[beauzos]

also i sometimes feel like my niche in the bookstore beyond "history guy" is just Hater. like man. i was texting my coworker yesterday about Dragon Teeth and i told him i'd lend him my copy since he's lending me Lost World and he was like "Tyler told me it was really good! i can't wait!" and i'm sitting there as the guy who doesn't like anything. telling him that i did not like it KRKFK

like i stg every time i've actually read something other people have also read i'm standing there trying not to talk about how i thought it was bad. i thought Song of Achilles was bad. i thought Black Sun was bad. i thought East of Eden was bad. i thought Handmaid's Tale was bad. i thought Blood Meridian was bad.

so on so forth. i consistently find i'm really much pickier about certain things than other people and it's funny to me

[schmorge-quostanza]

been having some kind of writers block on and off for. ages idk. main problem is i wanna write a romance novel so good it transcends genre and gets cast into the literary canon and elevates the romance genre to something other than popular literature trash which is really what everyone sees it as rn (me too)

anyway. proposal for solution is. write a romance novel riddled with genre tropes. no transcending. no casting into canon. no elevation. literally the blandest romance ever.

is this something

[bettsfic]

Betts. how do I stop feeling jealous of everyone and everything and just focus on myself? I'm tired of being comprised of nothing but envy.

story time:

so i was recently at Millay, which is one of the top artist residencies in the country. they have an acceptance rate of something like 3%. when i was shown my room, there was a packet of all the residents' artist bios. i sat down and read through all of them. most of them were like half a page in length, single-spaced, listing out accomplishments i could never dream of. one artist had won a guggenheim. one author had published 12 books. another author published her first book at 19 years old. these were people who were extremely well accomplished and respected in their fields.

and we all became very good friends!

and then there was me. my bio was 3 sentences listing out a couple short publications and awards and other residencies i'd done. and my honest to god first thought was, "wow, the jurors must have really liked my writing to have accepted me among all these great artists."

and my second thought was, "that's the healthiest thing i have ever thought."

i had no jealousy of their accomplishments. even though my career hadn't even begun compared to theirs, i didn't attend dinner that night with any impostor syndrome. and that confirmed for me that i had grown out of whatever place i used to be in as a person, where i was basically a raw wound wrapped in barbed wire. everything hurt me and i hurt everything in return.

jealous feelings come from an intense need of external approval, but as i've mentioned in other asks, approval and validation is a well that gets filled over time. at our introductory dinner that night, i didn't talk about my work in the hope of convincing everyone i deserved to be there, which was what i would've done a few years before. instead we all ended up talking about a TV show. the most highbrow place i've ever been in my life, and we're getting wine drunk and discussing at length a cheesy discovery channel reality series. the guggenheim winner: loves box turtles. the guy who's published 12 books: his favorite movie is Spirited Away. the girl who published a book at 19: reads One Direction fanfic. the well-lauded poet: old school tumblrina.

actually, 4 out of 7 of us read fanfic and we had some great conversations about it. sometime i'll tell you about introducing the co-director of the residency to AO3.

when you think of the most accomplished and successful writer you've ever read, remember that they are, at the very core of their being, a nerd. and if you were to eat dinner with them, you would, with enough polite inquisitiveness, be able to unlock the goofy side of them that binges Property Brothers.

so that was the big change for me, i think. i started asking a lot of questions. i stopped talking and i started listening. it seems counterintuitive that admitting to not knowing stuff shows confidence, but it does. pretending you know stuff is what looks insecure. i think for me, i put so much of myself in my work, i wanted my work to be lauded so i could feel accomplished, and feeling accomplishment would let me believe i deserved to exist. but over time, i've reframed that mentality. my work is a thing that exists beyond me and is private to those who read it. it comes from me, but it is not me. what i am is just the person i am, and my life is a series of moments i choose for myself, and i am allowed to exist.

even sending this ask shows that you've begun filling your well. it takes someone who's already come a long way to realize jealousy isn't the status quo and is a feeling to be overcome. and you can overcome it. you can reach a place where you have enough success that other people's success has nothing to do with you, and you're free to just be happy for them. and when you read work that's better than yours you feel joy at learning something new.

so put your work into the world and let it be rejected. you'll rack up a couple wins or close calls, and those will give you energy to be rejected some more. and eventually you'll be rejected so much that rejection doesn't feel like anything, and you will have won enough to realize your work has a place in the world, and that place is no bigger or smaller than anyone else's. your work is allowed to exist simply as it is, and you are allowed to exist simply as you are.

[sturnskiss]

dumb & poetic ! ᥫ᭡

pairing: toxic bf!rafe cameron x reader

summary: rafe went to a party without you and you hear from a friend that he hooked up with another girl. he gaslights and manipulates his way out of it. based on the song ‘dumb & poetic’ by sabrina carpenter

warnings: gaslighting, manipulation, cussing, mentions loss of virginity, toxic relationship, no smut

authors note: short n’ sweet is out and this album SCREAMS rafe mf cameron. possibly gonna do a little story for each song….

he’s lying to your face. seriously, his stupid fucking blue eyes are looking right in yours and he’s lying. the same eyes he used to stare at and call gorgeous are now meaningless as he looks right into them and manipulates you.

if you kept track of every shitty thing he did, you’d add a gold star for the reason being highbrow manipulation right about now. he was great at it. but as the months went on, and you started to realize maybe the way he treats you isn’t entirely love, but love for controlment, you saw past it.

“no, i swear, y/n.” rafe takes your hand in his softly, “nothing happened. i was just… just off my ass, you know? c’mon, baby, you know how i am.” he spoke kindly like he wasn’t just lying about hooking up with a girl at a party.

he sniffles, “really, baby. i love you ‘n shit like i wouldn’t cheat on you.” he nods, like he’s trying to convince himself more than he is you.

you just look at him, no emotion on your face. his thumb caresses your hand like a tactic he’s trying to use to make you believe him.

he’s trying to come off as soft and well spoken, but if anyone knows rafe like you do, he’s so unbelievably far from it. you know he knows he fucked up this time because he isn’t screaming and throwing shit at the walls. maybe he feels some guilt.

“scarlett literally said she saw you drag that girl into a room at the party. why would scarlett get off on lying about that?” you say while shaking your head.

he throws his hands up in the air, dropping yours and shrugging. “fuck if i knew. fuck. if. i. knew.”

he’s really trying to sell this whole act. it’s insulting how stupid he thinks you are.

you sigh and drop your head in your hands, “i don’t know what the fuck to do…”

rafe kneels down in front of you. you look up, still resting your chin in between your hands.

“communicate with me, y/n. what’s going on?” he asks like he really gives a fuck.

you softly shake your head, “i love you so fucking much, rafe. and you always have a way of making me look fucking stupid.”

he furrows his brows, “y/n. do you really think i’d cheat on you like that? do you think that little of me?”

your jaw actually dropped. you literally gasped and opened your mouth in shock. do you think that little of me? you repeated that inside your head.

you stood up, rafe still on his knees. “do i think that little of you? i gave you my fucking virginity. i think the most of you! i’m the one that tells my friends everytime they see you being a psychopath that you just had an off day. i defend you to everyone!” you yelled. rafe looked surprised you actually raised your voice at him.

he stood up and stared at you intently. “if all of your friends hate me then why are you still with me?” he said bluntly.

you didn’t know that answer to that. not really at least. you love him. you gave your virginity to him. yet another trophy he can display inside his head that makes him feel more man than his father. and part of you deep down believes you can fix him.

you were silent for a minute. a small smirk was painted on his face that basically read ‘you respect yourself so little that you still won’t leave.’ for such a coward, rafe cameron was the most powerful person you met. and you knew that you were too for staying.

“you can’t keep doing this to me rafe,” you said almost like a plead, like in another universe you were probably on your knees begging. your lip quivered and your eyes were glossy but you wouldn’t dare cry; it would make him happier. it’s like a fetish to him— fucking with girls heads. fucking with your head got him off the most.

he went from being innocent and apologetic to demanding and egotistical, but at the same time he never stopped being either of those things in this conversation.

he aggressively pulled you into a hug, pushing your head down into his chest. “i love you.”

you bit the inside of your cheek. “love you too, rafe.” you whispered.

you felt pain because you knew he did cheat on you, but you felt pain that you had to take the blame for because you stayed. and you always would. he knew it.

[junkworldusa]

NEW ZINES AND PRINTS AVAILABLE!

For Chicago Alt Comics Expo I put together a new collection called JUNK WORLD FOREVER. It's 24 pages, riso printed, & comes in two different cover colors - I only have four of the hot pink left!! Edit: hot pink is sold out but I have plenty of blue. Includes classic comics such as "You'd still fuck me if I was a prism?" and "I'm a stuffed animal so I mostly just got humped." Highbrow stuff.

I also have two minizines available - the 3 Ways minizine (which you can get for free as a pdf on my ko-fi), and a Pocket Bestiary, which actually sold out at CAKE. People love it when there is a collection of little guys.

I also turned this guy into a linocut for some reason

And finally I have restocks of Junk World #1, riso printed & with a new cover! Thank you @sourchinmusic for the ducky cookie sculpt ;w;

[cherryredlove]

☆ bad girls get punished ☆

Modern! au Gwayne Hightower x reader SMUT

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

You and bestie Aegon are proper party freaks. Your life is a glittering rollerocaster of whiskey, cigs, and banging tunes. So when Aegon invites you to his ancestral home for the summer, why are you so attracted to his highbrow uncle?

Word Count: 2.1k

Themes: SMUT, 18+, alcohol consumption, cigarettes, older man x younger woman, spanking, p in v, domination kink, praise, hair pulling kink, creampie

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

When your number 1 bestie (he'd gut you if you said otherwise) Aegon Targaryen first invited you to spend the summer with him at Dragonstone Manor, you were skeptical. Aegon was your best friend, a proper party freak like you, always up for a good time. He'd been there through everything, every shitty breakup, every hangover nursed with a takeaway.

You were the hottest students at Blackwater University and by Gods did you two know it.

Spending a summer with Aegon promised excitement, but there was something about leaving the familiar chaos of city life for the unknown allure of his ancestral home of Dragonstone that made you pause.

Yet, here you were, standing at the grand entrance of Dragonstone Manor, gazing at its ancient stone walls that seemed to tower into the sky, trying not to throw up from nerves. You could handle a rave, but meeting family was a different story.

Aegon bounded up the steps ahead of you, his platinum hair shining in the sunlight, and pushed open the large oak doors. You thanked the Gods he was chiller than you were right now.

"Welcome to Dragonstone, babe," he declared with a cheeky grin. "The place is a bit stuffy, but it grows on you. Wait till you meet my family. They're gonna love you."

The manor was as grand inside as you had imagined, with its sprawling hallways and majestic portraits lining the walls. You were introduced to Aegon’s mother, Alicent, who pecked both of your cheeks rather formally. You already knew Aemond from several nights out, and Daeron and Helaena seemed intrigued by the idea of Aegon’s infamous friend joining them for the summer.

But it was Gwayne Hightower, Alicent's brother, Aegon’s uncle, who caught your attention more than anyone else. He stood slightly behind the crowd in the hallway.

Tall, impeccably dressed, with an air of authority that made everyone around him stand a little straighter, Gwayne was dashingly handsome in a classic sort of way. His eyes seemed to appraise you with a besmused curiosity, and you felt slightly tingly under his heavy gaze.

“Ah, so you’re the famous companion we’ve heard so much about,” he said, his voice smooth and rich, like a well-aged whiskey. You crumbled inside a bit. Older men were your weakness.

You flashed a winning smile, suddenly aware of the heat creeping up your neck. “And you must be the uncle Aegon's been warning me about.”

His lips twitched with a smirk, his gaze never wavering. “I assure you, the stories are greatly exaggerated.”

The days at Dragonstone slipped by in a haze of sunlit afternoons spent in the pool, endless nights drinking the finest of wines and sampling Aemond's cigar collection. Aegon was right—his family was incredible, and it wasn’t long before you felt like you belonged. Gwayne, however, remained a mystery to you. He was always polite, always courteous, but there was an edge to his interactions with you that you couldn't quite place.

Your mind often wandered to him, especially during those long, lazy evenings where you’d find him reclining in a leather armchair in the manor’s library, a book in one hand, a glass of some expensive amber liquid in the other. He seemed amused by your antics with Aegon, his eyes glinting with a knowing that left you rather flustered.

One particularly sultry evening, Aegon suggested a trip to Dragonstone nightclub, a renowned hotspot in the manor's adjacent town.

“You up for it?” Aegon asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You grinned. “Always.”

Sneaking out of the manor was no small feat, but you and Aegon were experts at slipping past watchful eyes. The club was everything you expected and more—loud music, pulsating lights, and a throng of people moving in rhythm to the DJ’s beats. You lost yourselves to the night, wrapped up in the freedom that only a place like this could offer. You kept it light on the drinking but indulged in wandering the streets at night, arm in arm with Aegon, cigarette dangling from your lips.

But as the hours passed and Aegon started yawning, then you both knew it was time to head back. Aegon, ever the responsible one when it came to these outings, guided you back to the manor with a practised stealth.

You giggled softly as you crept through the darkened halls, your heart racing not from fear of getting caught but from the thrill of it all. Yet, as you turned a corner, you stopped short. Standing at the end of the hallway, arms crossed, and gaze piercing, was Gwayne.

Next to him stood Alicent, looking less than amused. Her eyes softened when they landed on Aegon, a hint of disappointment mingling with fondness.

“Aegon,” she sighed, “we’ve talked about this.”

Aegon rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, mummy.” He glanced at you with a helpless smile. You smiled reassuringly back.

With a firm hand, she steered him away, leaving you alone with Gwayne. You stood there, feeling like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

Gwayne watched you, his expression unreadable, though there was a gleam in his eyes that spoke volumes. He moved forward slowly, shoes clicking on the floor. You felt your heart rate speed up a tad.

“Looks like you’re not as elusive as you thought,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You shrugged, trying to muster up some semblance of nonchalance. “Guess we got a bit carried away.”

He stepped closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. There was something different about him now, something that promised a departure from the composed exterior he usually presented.

“Carried away indeed,” he mused, his gaze fixed intently on you. His voice was so deep and firm that you felt yourself shiver with need. “And just what... do you suppose we do about that?"

You swallowed, the playful bravado you had so easily maintained with Aegon slipping away in the face of Gwayne’s intensity. The air between you crackled with an unspoken tension, a magnetic pull that left you breathless.

“I suppose,” you started, your voice a touch unsteady, “a punishment is in order?”

A slow, delighted smile spread across his face, one that promised danger. He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’d say that’s fair.”

Without another word, he grasped your hand hard, and he led you through the dimly lit halls to his study, a room you had only glimpsed from afar. The door clicked shut behind you, the sound echoing like a heartbeat in the silence.

He moved closer, the rich scent of his cologne mingling with the aged aroma of whiskey, a heady combination that made you feel lightheaded.

“You’re quite the little rebel, aren’t you?” he remarked, hands reaching up to rest on your shoulders.

You met his gaze, a challenge sparking within you. “Only when I have a reason to be.”

He chuckled, a low, indulgent sound that reverberated through you. “And tonight? Was it worth it?”

Every part of you screamed yes, your pussy thrumming with want and your body aching to be touched. You nodded, unable to trust your voice, knowing full well that he could read you like a book.

Gwayne moved fluidly, almost predatory, closing the distance between you with deliberate intent, lips finding yours swiftly. Your knees weakened at his domineering kiss. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, tracing a path down to your jaw.

“You’ve been quite the distraction since you arrived,” he confessed, his voice a low rumble that rasied goosebumps across your skin.

His touch was electrifying. You leaned into it, admitting silently that you felt the same pull, the same allure that had drawn you to him from the start.

“Distraction?” you managed, the word a whisper in the charged air.

“Indeed,” he replied, his thumb brushing lightly across your bottom lip. “One I find myself increasingly unwilling to ignore.”

He kissed you again then, a sudden, searing press of lips that left you gasping and wanting more. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as you responded with equal fervour, the world around you fading as the kiss deepened, igniting a fire within that had been smouldering since your first encounter. You moaned helplessly into his hot mouth, and he laughed.

His lips trailed a path down your neck, each kiss a brand that marked you as his. You arched against him, a soft moan escaping your lips as he nipped at the sensitive skin, his hands exploring with a confidence that left you breathless. He bit down onto your tender skin and you felt tears welling at your desperation.

"Please!" You gasped. "Touch me!" He clicked his tongue.

"Patience, girl. You've been so naughty, do you think you deserve my cock?" His words sent your cheeks flaming. He was obviously amused at your wordless arousal. He gripped you tight and walked you over to his armchair. He sat down , leaving you to stand in between his legs, shaking slightly. He rubbed your thighs, as if you calm you

"Now, my girl," he said softly but firmly. "You said you needed a punishment. Lie down across my legs with that delicious ass in the air." Your eyes widened, and you followed his command without question.

He lifted up your skirt and pulled down your panties, making a noise of approval as you mewled for attention. Hands kneaded your ass, and you could feel the hardness of his cock press into your stomach.

Before you could open your mouth, he spanked you hard, making you lurch slightly and cry out. His hands smoothed over the reddened skin.

"Naughty girl. Do you know how much I've had to restrain myself? Seeing you prance around these halls with those gorgeous tits and your short skirts? How many times I've imagined how that pretty face would look as I made you cum?" He rumbled, striking your ass again. You could feel the sharp tingle of a bruise and the wetness between your thighs.

"Gwayne!" You cried out, hands gripping the armchair. "Please, please, I'm sorry for being a bad girl. I'll be good for you, I promise!"

Gwayne tutted in agreement, sliding a finger through your soaked pussy lips. You kneened at the touch, begging for more.

"Oh you little thing," he sighed heavily with lust. "I'll make you all mine, my good girl."

He lifted you up, helping you walk with wobbly legs over to his desk. You gave no resistance as he bent you over, shucking your top off and unzipping his trousers. He leant down, pressing himself against your back. You felt his hot, lengthy cock press between your asscheeks.

He grasped your jaw, turning your head to kiss you aggressively. You moaned, grinding your ass back to him.

"So eager, such a good girl." He gasped out, nudging his cock into your soaked pussy. A hand reached down to circle your clit as he thrusted into you. Both of you moaned at how good it felt. Gwayne seemed struck by how tight your pussy squeezed his cock, so warm and wet. You felt fuller than ever, feeling his heavy balls slap against your pussy as he fucked you.

Gwayne’s other hand was pressed against the small of your back, watching how your ass shook as he fucked you hard and fast. He reached up, twisting your hair in his fist and pulling, not enough to hurt but enough to make your pussy blaze. You arched your back, mouth open in a silent moan, feeling his cock rut against your sweet insides. His breath was hot and heavy on your neck. Gwayne bit onto your neck, your hands scratching the oak of the desk as you felt your orgasm rise up in your battered pussy.

"Cum for me, my good girl," he rasped. "Cum for me and I'll give you a reward. I'll fill up that little pussy the way you want, little slut." You mewled, his finger insistent on your clit. Without warning, Gwayne ripped an orgasm from you, making your pussy squeeze him in an anaconda like grip as he gasped. He moaned loudly, thrusting in fully to cum, filling up your pussy with white hot cum. He collapsed on top of you, panting, as your head swam with pleasure.

Gwayne managed to right himself up, pulling you into his arms. He held you for a very long time, kissing you gently and softly praising you.

Gwayne watched you, his gaze soft yet intense, as if memorising every detail. His fingers brushed idly against your cheek.

“Well,” he murmured, a teasing smile playing on his lips, “consider your punishment complete.”

You laughed softly. “If that’s what punishment feels like, I might have to misbehave more often.”

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

AN: yummy yummy gwayne hightower, check out my masterlist for stuff like this! send in any feedback or request as always lovies

[newtonsheffield]

Now I can't stop imagining Anthony going to Kates office with Neddy on another occasion and getting super jealous of her after he sees her talking with one Thomas Dorset.

Oh imagine Anthony stopping dead when he goes to take Kate lunch with Neddy one day and there’s a man leaning over the desk to talk to the love of Anthony’s life. The fucking audacity.

“Amma!”

Neddy caught her attention and Anthony was a little satisfied at how quickly she dropped the conversation with the other man, kissing Neddy’s face all over.

“Hi, Baby. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“We brought food!”

Kate grinned up at Anthony and he had to bite back a smug smile over her shoulder at the other man. “Hey you.”

“Hey.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek, “Little Man and I thought we’d surprise you.”

“Well, I’m glad. Always happy to flirt with you over lunch.”

Anthony couldn’t stop his smug smile this time as he put his hand on Neddy’s shoulder and held his hand out to the man. “Hi mate, I’m Anthony. Neddy’s Dad.”

“Tom.” The man smiled tightly, “Great to meet you.”

“Amma! Let’s eat!”

Kate let out a playful growl as she lifted Neddy into her arms. “Let me guess… you tricked Daddy into getting chicken nuggets.”

“Yeah!”

“Daddy and Amma have something a bit more highbrow.”

“Eh, I don’t mind chicken nuggets when a handsome boy brings me them.”

“Me or Neddy?”

“Why not both?”

“I’ll see you around Tom.”

Anthony smiled at Tom, the unlucky prick. “See you Mate. Nice to meet you.”

And he couldn’t resist smiling at Tom once more over his shoulder when he wrapped his arm around Kate’s waist.

[random-fandom1984]

hi, can you do, Yandere tfa Longarm/shockwave x cybertronian reader

Oh, yes! I have a story in the making on Wattpad, and in a way, I guess it would be a Yandere story? But that doesn't matter at the moment. This is exciting! :D

Warning: Potions, Yandere Behavior, etc.

~All It Takes Is A Potion to Show How Much I'm Obsessed with You~

Translations: Stellar Cycle = 1 year Deca-Cycle = 10 days Solar Cycle = 1 day Orbital Cycle = 1 month Nano-Click = 1 second

Sparkmerge = Wedding/marriage Energon Sweets = candy High Grade = Wine/alcohol/beer/vodka/etc. Conjunx Endura = Spouse Optics = Eyes Datapad = Book/tablet/etc. Subspace = Storage unit Dente = Teeth Throat Pipes = Throat

Today is our second Sparkmerge anniversary of the Stellar Cycle. I've had a good history with making Energon sweets, so I plan on making one that's his favorite, that sadly went out of business a few Deca-Cycles ago, and some high grade. I remember that we first met in Autobot Boot Camp and got along swimmingly. It was sad that my old friend turned out to be a Decepticon Spy, but I digress and moved on. Sure, it was hard to do, but at least I made a new friend who became my Conjunx Endura, Longarm.

We both graduated with flying colors and became Primes. He became head of Cybertron Intelligence – the one before him, Highbrow, was discovered dead, and no bot knew how – and I became his S.I.C. – the previous one ending up missing for some reason–, so they put us at the top since we were great at our jobs. We became an item way before we got promoted.

Of course, there had been an issue that popped up. Five Orbital Cycles ago, Longarm had gotten a call from a couple of bots that we went to boot camp with: Bumblebee; the one who Longarm helped to call out Wasp as the spy, and my cousin Bulkhead. The both of them are a part of Optimus' team on Earth, fighting Megatron. Apparently, the both of them intercepted a call with Megatron and a spy. Something about a construction project.

I can feel excitement pulsing through the other side of the bond, to which I sent back to with suppressed giggle; He's been like this all Solar Cycle, even yesterday ever since he came back from Iacon's Hall of Records, and I find it cute. He's so sweet, smart, and adorkable! I wonder how things are holding up on his end.

Yesterday

It's true, you two have been bonded for the past 2 Stellar Cycles and started dating in the middle of your time at boot camp. But there was one thing you didn't know; let me start from the beginning.

When entering the Autobot Boot Camp with a fake frame, he wasn't expecting anything to distract him from his mission for Lord Megatron as a spy. But... that all changed the moment his optics landed on you. To him it was love at first sight. And he saw how close you were with Wasp and Bulkhead, he felt something inside of him. What was this? Jealousy? No! There's no way! He's a Decepticon and you're an Autobot.

When he was approached by Bumblebee, who told him that he found out there was a Decepticon spy and suspects it might be Wasp, he took that as a way to drive attention away from him and onto him and C/n will be hi- Stop it! After Wasp was taken away to prison, he found you slacking off and then later came across you crying in your room. For some reason, he comforted you even though he shouldn't; you would've been kicked out for slacking, which would have gotten rid of another Autobot in his way, but he didn't. You also had another bot help comfort you, which was Bulkhead, who he later found out was your cousin; nothing to worry about with him getting in his way.

Later on, he grew to accept these feelings. You needed him; you don't need those unknown admirers that went missing a few days after interacting with you. Just him. This turned for the better in his favor when caught you leaving secret admirer love letters in his dorm; he didn't bring it up until he confessed his feelings. The image of your flustered face plate when you realized you'd been caught from the start will forever remain in his processor.

After graduating, he had to wait a while to kill Highbrow and instantly killed his assistant for abusing his role by being a creep; he deserved it. And it turned out good because not only did he become the new Head of Intel, but you became his assistant.

For the past Deca-Cycles, he's been conflicted. The Prime Council found out that there's a Decepticon spy in their ranks, which only led to another problem. If they found out he's the spy, you would most likely react negatively; you knew him better than anyone else in their ranks and will use it against him. So, he has two options:

Do nothing, and if he does get found out, have you sparkbroken and hate him, assuming he faked his affections towards you.

Find a way to turn you into a Decepticon.

He wanted to do the second option, but so far, all resources he's found in the history section in the Hall of Records ends up with the victim in pain in the process. The only thing calming his nerves and keeping him from lashing out in frustration that he was getting nowhere was a gift you made him when you both were in the dating phase of your relationship; A charm that hangs from a string, which is connected to a small magnet that is currently magnetized to his wrist.

He was fiddling with the charm until he felt it slip from his grasp. He looked down to see something slip into the shadows and move away in a blob of shadows. Obviously, he chased after it, nothing takes something of his that was made by his darling and gets away. As he chased it, he didn't notice the scenery change until he was deep enough in another section of the Hall or Records, which seems to be abandoned.

He continued to chase until he came across a bot. The shadow he was chasing phased out of the shadow in the form of a snake, with only a single eye, dropping the charm in the figure's servo. The figure turned their head, and to his surprise, was literally made of shadows, the only thing that stood out from the dark mass with glowing purple outlines was that had one normal optic and the other looked like the snake's, the Snake-Eyed Bot he'll call them.

Before he could demand for the charm back, the Snake-Eyed Bot tosses it back to him without a single word and beckoned him over. Suspicious, he approached with caution. Upon arrival, the figure gives him a datapad.

"H̵̯̞̥̙͕͔̗̺̠̼͖̩̟͚̄̅͂͗̐͂̈́͜e̶͇̣͉̫̻̹̝̻̩̰̲͇̘̱͒͐̊͌̽͠ṙ̸̢̉̓͐̃͠e̵̞̺̟̗̤̎̈́̀̑͊͝'̴̢̘̣͉̬̙̘̞́̇̃̌͑̈́̈͘̚ş̸̢̧̹̬̟͎̘̓͛̓̎͗̀̓̆̏͋́̆̃́̀ ̶̧̥́̅̈́̏̈́͆̆͒͗͒̉͂͗͒t̶̡̨̨̧̤̬̱̘͎̹̞̪̻̀̕ͅh̸̢̏̑͆͆̊̅̋͊̇ę̸̜̭̬͍̜͎̣̬͔̘̮͙͋̐̿́̈́͠͠ͅ ̷̩̫̿̃̿̐͛͝à̷̢̢̢͍͎͚̓͂̆͗̔̆̈̕̕̕n̴̢̲̹̬̩̼̙̯̬̜̼̩͈̎͂̾̃̈͜ş̷̬͍̻̰̩͓̗̱̥̗̝̩̏̏̽̃̅͒́́͜͝w̸̧̡̨̟̺̣̖͉̣͎̦͈̗̳̏͂͊̑̋̈́̿̿́͗̃̑̕e̴̬̺̙̞̗͎̞͍̞̠̒͜͜͝r̷̡͙͇͕̫͉̞̮̞̦̦͚͒͗́͐̽̉̕͝͝ ̸̢͇̲̬͕̺̙͉̈́́͐̇͂͌͂̊̑̽͝ț̴̡̺̾͋̅͐͑͊̌̈̓̌͗̕̚̕o̶̭̞͙̳͇̰̘͛ͅ ̶̨̧͎͇̫̹̰̮̘̬̯̗̟́y̴̢͖̩̳̱̞̎́͜͜o̶̡̫͔̹̯͍̹̱͖͔͎͚͚̼̎̾́̓̀̐̈́̈̄͂̀̈́̓̃̚u̷̺͕̭̫̬͛̎r̸̲͓̺̖͔̠̤̪̺̮̦̗͇̾̐̐̈́̌̈́ͅ ̴͉̺̯̯̻̓̀̃̈́̿̓š̸̱̫͈̥̺͔͚̣̺͍̒̑̍̇̊̉͆̀̔͘̚͠ͅe̸̡̧̨̖̣̰͍̺̻̱̅̌̈́͊̅̑͠a̶̤͈̭͈͆̓͝r̶̨̜̜̱̫̣̭̼͎̤̊́̓̃̾̈́č̶̡̻͎̠͉͎̩͉͓̜̰̭̱̓͐͜h̶̛͙̻̭̮̮̖̼̦̞̩͚͚̹̀̆͝ͅ."

Confused, he looked at it's contents; the Title caught his attention. Forever Potions? Before he could ask anything else, the figure tossed him a sack. Looking inside and at an ingredients page, there was three of everything on the list. He looked back up, only to find that he was standing behind the table he was sitting at, almost like he experienced a hallucination in a mere second, but the data pad and bag proved otherwise.

He placed the bag in his subspace before sitting back down and looking through the datapad. The results is what he needed: Something painless. Knowing better, he knew to read the part about the inner workings before heading off and doing something without knowing if this was truly safe or not. Luckily, it was.

He returned home, happy with his search.

It was the next day, and it was their second anniversary, and he came up with the perfect plan. For his surprise, he prepared a romantic dinner for just the two of you. He luckily had the day off, and as he was preparing the dinner, he was filled with joy and excitement, which only grew when every single time you returned the feeling over the bond.

He made Energon cubes for the both of you, crafted the potion carefully as possible, and poured it into yours. Luckily, it didn't affect the color of it so then you wouldn't be suspicious of it. He had extra time before it would be the exact time you would arrive home, so he decorated the room for the occasion.

When you arrived, he was both surprised and happy that you had his favorite Energon sweets; he'd thought they sold out. To his surprise, it wasn't that, you made it yourself?! He couldn't have asked for a better sparkmate.

He sat you down at the table, and you were flabbergasted at how gorgeous the room was, and he made Energon cubes? Frag yes! When you ate your cube, for some reason it tasted sweet/salty/sour/whatever-flavor-you-like than the last time you had one, but you weren't complaining because it tasted better than ever before.

A few cups of high grade later, you started to feel lightheaded. He saw this and led you to the berthroom where you both cuddled as you both went into recharge.

Everything is going according to plan.

(The Next Day)

No one seemed to notice any changes at work. Everything is going on like everything is normal.

"C/n Prime, here's some reports about the information of Decepticon spy my team could possibly find." Firerunner said, giving you a datapad containing all the information. "Thank you, Firerunner. You are dismissed." You said, taking the datapad, not taking your eyes from your screen and your fast typing.

Just as he was about to turn around, he noticed something. "Um, C/n Prime?" He called out. "Yes?" You quired. "Are you okay? Your optics are looking a little..." He trailed off. You turned your helm, your green optics staring back into his, almost boring into his soul. "Oh, I'm fine! Thanks for asking. An old friend of mine, who's a medic, looked into it and some bot decided to do something funny to by Energon rations for this to happen to me. I don't know how long it'll last, but I can assure you, I'll be fine." You informed with a smile, which just made your green optics seem a bit creepier. "Okay then, have a good day, ma'am." He said with a bow before walking off.

When he was out of sight, you picked up the datapad and looked through it, and sure enough, it had information regarding any information they could find about the Decepticon spy and where they might be hiding. With your smile never faltering, you deleted everything off of it before breaking in half, your smile now showing your dente. A giggle escaped your throat pipes as you dumped it in the garbage chute behind your desk. Out of sight, out of mind.

That's when you suddenly received a call from your comm-link. "Hello?" You asked in a sweet tone. "Dear, can you please come to my office? There's someone I'd like you to meet." He requested. "Of course, be there in a nano-click." You said before ending the call.

You stood up from your seat and started to traverse through the halls of building to your sparkmates office. You were in front of his door, looked around to see if anyone was around. You saw no one. Not a bot in sight. You opened the door, closing it behind you so no camera can have a peek on what's inside.

At his desk was your love, his true self of course. He was now taller than you by a landslide, had two antlers on the sides of his helm that extend upwards, three digits that are claw-shaped, a single, red optic being the only thing in the center of his face plate, and, of course, a Decepticon sigil proudly shown on his chassis.

"Lord Megatron, this is our new recruit, and my love: C/n." He said as you walked over and were in frame of the camera. On the other end of the screen was Lord Megatron himself. "And how are you sure she isn't tricking you?" Megatron asked. "Nothing that you should worry about, my liege. I made sure. But let's just say, it was an enchanting discovery."

Part 2?

[seramilla]

So how would Vaggie react to learning she’s now wrapped up in an arranged marriage? And since this is before she falls…does that mean Charlie is in her emo phase still??

Vaggie is really intimidated at being betrothed to the literal princess of Hell. Of course, she knows who Charlie is -- there isn't a person in Heaven or Hell who doesn't. Some years past, however, in her late teens, Charlotte Morningstar had gained somewhat of a reputation for being a rebel. Before she graduated from Hell High School, the Heaven tabloids used to publish stories of Charlie with a lot of unflattering photos of the young demon, wearing her hair and wardrobe black, reporting that she'd been running around with some wild characters, going to raves and parties, getting in trouble, and generally causing a lot of debauchery, even by Hell's standards.

Charlie has managed to stay out of the public eye for the last few years since she's come of age. Honestly, it's anyone's guess what the princess is really like these days. Only Sera, the High Seraphim of Heaven, and the one primarily responsible for finding Charlie's betrothed, assures Vaggie that the princess is nothing like what the media says. She doesn't do anything so rebellious now, and a lot of those tales were highly exaggerated anyway. Charlie is a perfectly delightful, upstanding citizen, and she assures Vaggie she will love her to pieces!

They ultimately meet at a party. One of those swanky, posh soirées that the nobility of both realms like to hold at the Heaven embassy in Hell. Sera is in attendance with her own wife, Carmilla, and they are off doing their own thing. Vaggie stands there in her white gown and fancy shoes that Sera bought her for the occasion, with her hair tied up in an elaborate bun. She stands next to some other highbrow angels, feeling completely awkward and out of her element. No one is talking to her.

She stays near the punch bowl and snack table, nibbling on things throughout the night to curb her own anxiety. She feels so out of place. She hasn't even been introduced to anyone, let alone Charlie! She's starting to wonder why she's even here at all.

It's not until a very beautiful, very coquettish woman in a red gown comes up to stand beside her, holding out her hand to be shaken. Vaggie looks down at her hand, and then up at her. She's tall. Very tall. Maybe around Carmilla's height, or a little less. The woman looks nervous, and she's blushing slightly, unable to meet Vaggie's gaze directly. Her other hand moves up to push stray locks of hair from falling in her face.

"H-hi!" the woman says, with a genuine smile. "I'm Charlie! You must be Vaggie! Carmilla has told me so much about you. I wanted to come say hello earlier, but I don't get to meet many angels. And you're just so... so pretty. Oh, shit, did I say that out loud? Forgive me! I admit, I was a little intimidated at meeting you. But I didn't want to be rude."

Vaggie looks at Charlie again. The princess is still holding out her hand, now biting her bottom lip in anticipation of Vaggie shaking it. Vaggie does. Charlie's fingers grip hers tightly, manicured red nails grazing lightly against Vaggie's hand. Vaggie maybe shakes Charlie's hand a little too hard, and takes a little too long to pull away.

"Va-vaggie. Yes, my name is Vaggie. Please! The pleasure is all mine, princess, I assure you."

That gets a laugh out of Charlie. She's beaming brightly now, like a light illuminating the otherwise dull illumination of the room. Like a morning star. Now Vaggie is the one blushing, as she listens to her talk about nothing in particular.

Oh, this! This...Vaggie thinks she could get used to this. She could get used to this very well!

[stellar-solar-flare]

If I’m not too late… Bucky Barnes + vacation?

Sorry about the delay. It has been A Week (TM). This is part of Stella's Halloween Shenanigans, for which I'm no longer taking new prompts. Thank you everyone who sent a prompt, all requests will be fulfilled!

Reboot - Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

“Oh, what does the gossip magazine say?” Bucky said as he stalked closer and lifted his sunglasses, revealing his dark eyes.

Fluff, romance, established relationship, heavily implied sexual content. | Mature | CW: Maybe very very light dom/sub dynamics if you squint? | 500 words.

Reader is female, no description of appearance. She has a PhD from an unspecified area of study.

Alternate Universe: The Avengers Initiative (AI) continued SHIELD's work after its collapse to corruption, with Steve as the Head Strategist and Tony as the Director. The Avengers are living together in the Tower - Bucky has healed, and Civil War never happened because Tony and Steve worked through their differences like adults.

I do not own anything Marvel related. This is an unofficial fan work. No copyright infringement intended. This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

As soon as he stepped out onto the terrace where you lounged in a pool chair, Bucky’s eyes locked onto the StarkPad you held in your hands. The giant parasol offered just enough shade for you to comfortably read, as well as protecting you from the sun that poured from the sky. All around you, a beautiful Mediterranean landscape bathed in the light. The private villa that Tony had lent to you was close enough to the sea that you could only not see but hear it – and yet enjoy perfect privacy at your own pool.

“What are you reading, honey?” Bucky asked with a dangerously innocent voice.

Oh, shit.

“A gossip magazine,” you smiled.

“Oh, what does the gossip magazine say?” Bucky said as he stalked closer and lifted his sunglasses, revealing his dark eyes.

“Outrageous things,” you still tried as he stopped right next to you, and you took a moment to appreciate his form in khaki shorts and a loose white shirt that was partially opened. “You wouldn’t be interested.”

“I bet,” he said, and without further warning, he snatched the StarkPad from your hands.

“HEY,” you tried, grabbing for the device in vain as he scrutinized the contents of the screen. “Ever heard of privacy, jerk?”

Not dignifying your complaint with a response, he turned his gaze to you, raising his brow.

“It seems that the gossip rags have gotten quite a lot more highbrow lately, to contain scientific articles about quantum matter,” he said dryly before lowering the pad to your table. “I recall something about a mutually agreed ‘no work during the vacation’ policy, no, doll?”

You bit your lip; he obviously wasn’t truly mad at you, simply teasing, and you rolled your eyes in response.

“You were taking forever at the gym. I thought there was no harm done if I looked at a little something,” you grumbled. “But leave it to the man from the early 1900s to call out his fiancée for using her brain.”

He chuckled, but you didn’t miss the glow of pride on him as your new title had reminded him of the purpose of this vacation. He leaned over you, his hands coming to rest on both sides of you at the edges of the chair. His arms were effectively caging you in, and you swallowed as you saw the muscles grow taunt.

“Quite the contrary, doll,” he smiled. “I love your brain. Which is why I’m trying to get you to take a break every now and then.”

He leaned down, and you could feel the slightest hint of stubble on his jaw brushing against your cheek as he whispered directly into your ear.

“There is only one occasion when I want your brain empty, my love,” he rasped as his vibranium hand slid down your body, which was covered only by your bikini and a gauzy beach wrap. “And I do think that it’s high time we give that beautiful mind of yours a break.”

[on-a-lucky-tide]

The lovely @piranhaincaps shared the above with me, and I... Hng. Nikprice, Nikprice, Nikprice.

It's a quiet summer evening and Nik stumbles across his captain reading about princes and scarlet sails.

cw: none.

Nik finished stacking the dishwasher and stretched his back, hands pressed to the base. The captain's cooking had improved significantly since they had settled in Meols, but he still used every bowl, pan and utensil their small kitchen could stock and the clean up operation was always significant.

The old grandfather clock in the hallway chimed eight o'clock and Nik considered the open backdoor. John had left to water the plants about an hour ago, which meant he had been distracted by something. Nik grabbed his bottle of beer and headed out to make sure he wasn't about to embark on yet another building project.

The summer air was still warm, even though the sun was disappearing on the horizon. Being so close to the Irish sea meant there was always a fresher tang beneath the heat, and Nik drew in a deep breath as he studied their small garden.

John hated neatly trimmed grass, which had surprised Nik given his military background. No, he liked wild flowers that attracted the bees and butterflies, and growing vegetables they could cook. Their garden had ended up a colourful mishmash of organised chaos, both beautiful and utilitarian. Like John. Nik loved it.

But there was no captain toiling amongst the blooms. Instead, he sat on the patio beneath the awning, bare but for his khaki cargo shorts. A cold beer sat on the table next to him, the pint glass glistening with condensation where the summer heat clung to it, and he held a cigar between two fingers, the smoke drifting lazily into the warm ombre of the sky.

John was just as handsome as the day they had met. He had been a sergeant back then, fewer lines, less grey, but the same serious, bright blue eyes he had now as he read the novel propped on one thigh. As they had aged together, those blue eyes had filled with shadows but Nik had fought to make sure they had also filled with laughter in equal measure. His captain deserved that.

Nik wandered over and deposited himself in the second chair, grinning at the title of the novel. "Scarlet Sails. A romance, John," Nik teased.

A Russian classic, and written in its mother tongue. John had started learning Russian when Nik had started courting him, and now that he had retired he was chewing through Russian literature with a voracious appetite. They were a little more highbrow than the Dan Brown and Tom Clancy novels otherwise cluttering their overburdened bookshelves.

"This one better have a happy ending, Nik. The last one ripped my heart out my arsehole," John murmured, pausing to take a drag from his cigar. Nik watched the smoke leave his nose and was reminded of an aging dragon in repose.

"You forget, so many of these tales were written by men surrounded by anger and austerity. It is difficult to write about hope and happiness when you cannot conceive of these things." Nik's bare toes curled against the warm paving beneath them.

John looked up and fixed Nik with narrow eyes. "Is this a bloody tragedy too? You told me it was a fairytale."

"No tragedy, happy ending, I promise. Grin took his characters far away so he did not have to write something... ideologically driven by the realities of the USSR. It is an ending more suited to your tastes."

"Hmm," John grabbed his bookmark - a folded leaflet advertising a nearby fishing hotspot - and let the novel close. "How did you survive in that environment and still," John waved his cigar in a vague circle, "become you."

"Become me?"

Nik liked this game. John found words of an emotional nature challenging, and he flushed red, became flustered, when Nik pressed him. It was like stroking the soft centre of a noble turtle. "Like, you... uh, kind, and... funny."

"Spasibo," Nik replied, with a grin.

"Pozhaluysta." John obscured his flush with a sip from his pint.

"My father travelled around the satellite states a lot. The closer you were to the West, the easier it was to get hold of the music, the stories, the... hope."

"West isn't exactly a bastion of hope itself, mate."

"Da," Nik conceded, "but to a young man full of energy and dreams, the West was like a fairytale in comparison to the Soviet Union, a world so grey that Alexander Grin had to make up a whole new one, without even Russian names, to conceive of happiness and love that was not doomed to tragedy in the end."

John hummed and Nik let the comfortable silence settle as he mulled over Nik's words. A gentle hand found his on the table, battle roughened fingers impossibly tender as they stroked across the back and into his palm. "You're happy here, right?" John asked as they watched a bee hover over a cluster of wild flowers.

"Da, captain," Nik said softly. "I expected a Tolstoy ending, but... this, this is a Grin."

John smiled, his eyes crinkling, his whiskers twitching around his mouth in that mischievous way that Nik adored, and he lifted Nik's knuckles to his lips. Nik 's heart swelled in his chest and he fought the urge to scoop his love from the chair and carry him inside to show him just how happy he was. John rubbed his cheek against Nik's fingers after the kiss, blue eyes lidded, like a large cat scenting his territory, before returning their clasped hands to the table.

Later, when the night was cooler and John had finished his beer, Nik would guide him to their bed and they would make love. Nik would kiss and taste the summer heat on his skin and listen to his voice crack around his name, entreaties sweeter than the words of Tsvetaeva. But, for now, Nik was content to bask in the gentle quiet of their own happy ending.