#i didn't include this on the tags in the other reblog because if there's even a chance those tags can be taken as feedback i dont want it to

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

i also really don't like that principle 5: create a pattern to encourage users to keep returning to tumblr. taht's SKEEVY as Hell and i hate hate hate the way corporations will design internet platforms to specifically be addicting i Hate that.

[the-other-art-blog]

Violet to Colin: "You're one of my most sensitive children."

The fandom: "How can she say that! Anthony, Benedict bla, bla bla..."

Colin is ONE of her most sensitive children. ONE, just ONE of them. And she's right.

ONE OF HER MOST SENSITIVE CHILDREN

He was the only one who indulged Violet and let her introduce him to debutantes in s1, while Anthony fucked his mistress and Ben went to orgies.

He was a complete gentleman with Marina. AND defended her when Anthony implied something about her.

And when he learned the truth, he confessed that he would have married her if she had told him the truth. 🥹

He danced with Pen after Cressida bullied her.

He wrote dozens of letters that his family of 8 could not care to respond to often. There are 8 of them!

He worried about Ben in s2 and supported him on his application to the Academy.

He learned the truth of Jack Featherington and instead of simply leaving, he did something about it. Not only did he help the Featherington family, but he saved other lords from being scammed.

He apologized to Will, explained why he acted rudely AND made amends to repair the damage by bringing men to Will's club.

He returned with gifts for everyone, but he seemed particularly thoughtful to his sisters and mother. A perfume for Hyacinth, music for Francesca, and a book for Eloise 🥹. Violet was so moved by his gift and here we have a lovely headcanon on the watch:

Then with Pen...

He runs after Pen, despite other men wanting to know about his adventures.

He acknowledges his mistake and immediately tries to apologize to Pen in the Four Seasons Ball.

The next day, he comes back with a heartfelt apology.

Then, he offers her help, despite the risk of scandal and embarrassment for him. He knows Pen has no one else.

He goes to see Pen at night to make sure she's ok. And when she asks him for a kiss, he does it so sweetly.

He is brave enough to leave the men who just want to know about his sexual life.

HE WAS BRAVE ENOUGH TO ASK, as soon as he put himself together and understood his feelings. He didn't play jealousy games like others, he went and put his heart on the table. He didn't even know about Pen's feelings and he risked it!

Some extracts from Colin's journals show that his family is always in his thoughts.

You can see why Violet, as the good mother that she is, can tell how sensitive he is.

Colin travels during the summer and comes back during the season to be with his family. It angers me that people think he's selfish for this when Benedict also abandons the family to fuck.

And yet, both Colin and Ben are sensitive. BOTH OF THEM, Francesca too. I wouldn't call Hyacinth or Gregory sensitive right now, and before s3, I wouldn't include Eloise either.

Anyway, I needed to get this out because I am so fucking tired of Kanthonies and Benophies making tantrums about this line.

I'm sure when s4 comes, we are going to see a moment between Violet and Ben where she acknowledges how amazing he is and everything he has done for the family. But not now, because this is COLIN'S SEASON.

(NOTE: If you are thinking of reblogging this post with the tag #Colin is the most sensitive, kindly fuck off. I made this post to fight the Kanthonies and Benophie that are attacking Colin, not to validate your own need to make Colin superior to other characters. HE IS ONE OF THE MOST SENSITIVE CHILDREN, ONE)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Shiver

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: The snow may not be the only thing keeping you trapped.

Character: silverfox Bucky Barnes

Day Five of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - extreme weather leads to forced proximity  

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

"Shit," Bucky plants his feet in the snow as you shiver against his back. 

The wind billows around you, his body breaking it but not shielding you completely. You shiver under the wool blanket and open hospital gown. Your quick escape didn't allow much time for a weather report. His treads crunch and sink deeper into the snow as the back tire kicks up powder and the front clogs with the thick sheet below. 

He growls and revs again, more in frustration than genuine effort. Your lip quivers and your teeth chatter. You look up as large cumulus flakes drift down, blotting out swathes of the sky. 

"Gonna have to ditch it," he grumbles and kicks down the stand. He hardly needs to as the wheels are so deep, the bike might stay up on its own. He kills the engine and the silence blows around you, whistling behind your ears. "God damn..." 

You rescind your arms, shaking as the cold seeps across your front, his warm fading quickly. You slide off the bike, your open rubber clog sinking into the snow, your exposed leg scalded by the bite of the cold. He climbs off and looks at you, a grimace lined in his forehead and cheeks. He shakes his head as he strips the saddle bags off the bike and puts them over his shoulder. 

The grey streaks in his hair are illuminated by the white landscape, and the patches in his beard look even thicker. The scar through his brow pales with his exasperation. He beckons to you as you continue to quake. He doesn't wait for you to obey. He steps closer and hooks his arm around you, his metal one coming up to scoop you off of the ground. As he lifts you, snow clumps off your shoes and back to the heaps. 

"Where--"

"Where are we? Where do we go? Two questions I don't got the answers too." He growls.  

You rub your hands together and blow into them. He looks down at you, his eyes glinting with steel, his cheek twitching. He's forged in iron. He gives one-worded orders and grunts, so now that he's talking, you're concerned. Even more than you were before he showed up.  

"Sorry," you utter.  

He grunts. Right. He hikes you up so you fall against his chest. You welcome his warmth. He takes high steps away from the motorcycle. You watch it over his shoulder. You suppose it's replaceable.  

He continues on, slow, but steady. The snow falls at a similar pace. You can't help but nestle into him. You've heard of this man before. Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. His nickname is more apt in that moment, though he doesn't welcome the irony.  

As he carries you, you feel his heart beat, and your own. He is a man underneath all the stories. An avenger. A hero. Your hero. Or just another captor. 

You turn to see ahead of him. He walks into the ivory void, the snow slanting and swirling all around. You squint as it catches in your lashes and you hug the blanket tighter. It's damp with snow and offers little against the onslaught.  

Hopelessness builds with the piles of snow all around. Still, he isn't daunted. Even as the sky darkens, even as you feel him tense with the burden of your weight. He just carries on. You know what that's like. To just keep going because there's no other option.  

A haven appears at last, though you don't immediately see it. You think he's gone mad when he kicks the wall of snow. Then it collapses inward into clumps. The mouth of a cave opens from behind the dusty shower.  

He steps through, out of the whining gales. You bend your fingers and wiggle your toes as they ache and throb. He takes you deep enough that the cold is not so virulent.  

He puts you down and wades through the darkness. You huddle in a ball as you listen to him. You can't tell he's right next to you until he grabs your leg then trails down to your foot. He takes it out of the clog and wraps it in fabric. You're not sure what exactly the cloth is but it's better than nothing.  

He does the same to your other foot before he moves away. Again, you hear him. His shadow blurs in and out of your sight until he turns on a flashlight. He props it in a nook in the wall so it casts across the space. You hug yourself and watch him. 

He surveys the interior of the cave as he grips his hips. He doesn't look impressed. He drops his bags on the ground and unbuckled the blanket roll from between them. He unfolds it with a pensive gaze. His eyes flick over it to you. He nears and throws it at you. You catch it thankfully, letting he wet one fall off your shoulders.  

He clicks free the clasp on his leather harness, undoing each strap until its slack. He slips it free then unzips his high-collared jacket. He removes that too and puts it with the bags. You stare at him in confusion.  

"Your clothes are wet," he pauses and glances over, "what little you got. Take em off. We gotta stay warm."  

"Huh?" You gurgle.  

"Or you can freeze. I got the serum to keep me warm," he shrugs as he peels off his undershirt.  

You don't hesitate again. You reach to the laces of the hospital gown just behind your neck. You've been poked, prodded, observed. You lost your modesty a long time ago. He doesn’t have any either. 

As you drag the fabric away from your body, he approaches. Naked, hairy, shameless. He takes the blanket and lowers himself next to you. He wraps you in his arms, bring the thick layer around both of you as he guides you down to cave floor. 

You cannot deny the heat of his body. You’re almost desperate for it. You quake against him as you snake your arms around him in turn and press your cheek to the top of his chest. Your legs tangle together as you entwine beneath the blanket, meshing together to keep the warmth within. 

His breath is calm where yours is shuddery. You cling to him and close your eyes. The lull takes over. There is only the distant wind, the soft fall of snow, and the beating of his heart. Or is it yours? 

You ease down into a senseless trance. You are not so much waiting for it to end as hanging on every second. You’re alive. You can stay alive. For the first time in maybe ever, you care about that. You’re not sure why. It might be nothing more than being away from that horrible place he took you from. 

His lips brush your hair and send a new kind of shiver through you. The gesture is odd as he inhales, breathing in your smell. His hand crawls up your back and down again. Your skin speckles with bumps. His movement is cautious but deliberate, as if he’s unsure if your awake or not. 

A low rumble rolls in his chest and escapes his throat. He splays his fingers wide and covers one side of your ass. He presses his palm to your firmly and curls his fingers. You whimper. What is he doing? 

Your bat your lashes as you open your eyes. His other hand comes up to still your head, trapping it against his chest. His hand hooks under the curve of your rear. He shoves between your thighs, keeping his knee between yours as he feels around. 

Your heart races in your ears. The whistling wind is replaced by a thundering drum. Your fear tempos as his determination guides his touch. 

He pokes along your entrance and dips his fingertips just inside. He wiggles them as you whine again and brace beneath his chest, a layer of soft flesh pillowed over hard muscles. No, it can’t be. You saw it on the screens. On the pages. He is a hero. He saves people. He doesn’t do this. 

He turns you onto your back and shifts his weight over you. You exhale as you look up at the stubble on his chin. You push until your nails crease in his flesh. He does not relent. 

He parts your legs with his. He slips free his fingers and unwinds his arm from behind you. You sniff as your eyes burn with disbelief and fear. 

“Please don’t,” you babble. 

He doesn’t listen. Or maybe he doesn’t hear you. His other hand creeps around and pushes your chin up. He frames your jaw tightly as he rocks and rubs his rigid length against your pelvis. He groans as you feel him twitching. 

He grips his dick and drags his tip down, tracing along the vee of your thigh and to your slit. He delves between your lips, rubbing up and down as you squirm in his grasp. Your hands are flat to his stomach as you push futilely. 

Your voice evaporates with all of your strength. You feel the paralysis that comes with knowing there’s nothing you can do. You lift your eyes to the dark caverns of the ceiling and stare into the abyss. 

He pokes along your entrance. You hiss as he presses against it, threatening to stretch you, even split you. He leans into you, slowly barging his way into you. Your body strains to take him as he lets out a long groan. Inch by inch he invades your body, conquering you as he keeps you pinned beneath the blanket. 

The grey ends of his hair tickle you as he sinks until you can take no more. Your tears wobble in the brims of your eyes and you blow out a willowy sob. He lowers his head to brush his prickly stubble against your cheek. His gritty breaths blaze over your ear and he growls as he tilts back. 

He pumps into you as you quaver out stunted cries. He rears back with long, slow strokes, only to slam back in quickly, holding himself deep before retreating again. You no longer feel the cold or the warmth, just his violation. 

“W-w-w-w...” you rasp quietly under your tortured breath. The noise of flesh, wet and dry, meeting and parting echoes in the cave. “Why...” 

He thrusts into you again. He keeps himself buried at the point of agony. You snivel and free a hand to mop your face. He lifts his head and hushes you as he shoves your arm away, caressing your splotchy cheeks with his thick thumb. 

“You didn’t think I was saving you, did you?” He nuzzles your forehead as he snarls. “Doll, they made you for me to claim.” 

You squeak and latch onto his wrist. Squeezing as he snaps his hip, jolting your entire body. Your pain swells with panic. You don’t understand what he means. If he didn’t save you, why did he kill all those people? 

“Yielding, used,” you flinch as your temples tingle with the timbre of his voice. “Vessel, dusklight,” he continues reciting the disjointed words. Your eyes feel loose as if they might roll out, “forty-five, wilting.” You ears ring and you shake your head, digging your nails into his forearm, “one, belonging,” he ruts into you harder with each word, “together,” your skin crawls as your insides burn, “surrender.”  

With his last word, your body goes limp. You can’t move but you can feel. You can feel it all. He pushes his hand around your head and cradles it as he bows his head to nuzzle your neck. His breath dampens your skin with each desperate burrowing into your core. 

“They programmed you for me, doll,” he puffs into the crook of your shoulder. “They put a switch in you...” he groans and tenses as his other hand stretches beneath you to raise your ass, opening you even more to him. “That only I can flip.” 

You don’t even have the power to cry. You can only lay there and stare and suffer. If he isn’t going to save you, no one else is. 

[miclipse]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ princess & the fish.

pairing: rafayel x fem! reader

synopsis: rafayel’s dream of turning into a human had miraculously come true! but things didn't turn out like he had expected…

word count: 3.7k

cw: afab! reader, rafayel is a fish (literally, but he turns into a human), reader is a princess, nicknames used (princess, your highness), rafayel struggling to walk with legs, rafayel hates toes, very slight and brief abysswalker! rafayel reference (just one line), reader finds rafayel half-naked in her room, fluff

dt: everyone that wanted fishy rafayel (aka fifi) to turn into a human + the person in my asks asking if i was continuing this.

note: reupload because apparently my post didn’t show up in the tags :( but unfortunately that means the ask got deleted as well, sorry anon :(

likes reblogs & comments appreciated! <3

this all had to be a dream, right?

…actually, no. this was most definitely a nightmare, if anything.

because why else would rafayel be standing naked in your bedroom, the fishtank he once called his home now nothing but shattered glass scattered across your study table?

there was no logical explanation for this, rafayel thought to himself while struggling to manoeuvre around your room with his new pair of human appendages.

he spent at least ten minutes stumbling over his toes while trying to make his way to your bathroom door.

…seriously, why did humans even have a need for toes? and ten of them, at that!

when rafayel had finally, finally made it to the bathroom entrance, he spent another five minutes figuring out the mechanism behind how to open it.

turns out, the grand secret behind it was that he had to push the door, not pull.

once in the bathroom, rafayel was tempted to fill up your bathtub with water and just jump in for a swim, but he figured seeing a naked man with a towel wrapped around his waist would be a little less intense for you than having to see a fully naked stranger swimming around in your tub.

thus, rafayel opted to grab a spare towel from the cabinet just under the sink, carelessly tying it around his waist to hide his indecency before you came back from your royal duties.

rafayel spent yet another ten minutes trying to walk out of your bathroom (he nearly slipped at least twice but he refuses to talk about it) and towards the nearest furniture he could sit on without it breaking due to his new physique.

looking around your bedroom to ensure that there were no maids around to witness this phenomenon, rafayel plopped himself on the edge of your soft mattress.

resting his head on his fist, his eyebrows furrowed in the process.

this was not how he imagined things to go at all.

in all honesty, rafayel was pretty satisfied living life as your pet fish. though there were many pros and cons that came along with his new domestic life, he wouldn't have wished for things to be any different than how it was.

of course, there were times when rafayel would ponder to himself how life would be for him if he were to turn into a human and be able to properly talk with you.

but out of all the exaggerated and cliche scenarios rafayel had fantasized about during his free time (which was whenever you were not around), being naked with only a fluffy white towel tied around his waist as he dreadfully waited for you to return was definitely not one of them.

well, it probably was. but it was not at the top of his list, that was for sure.

but here came the real question—

how did he even turn into a human? there was no logical or scientific reason behind how all of this was possible. rafayel had never heard others talk about stories of fishes turning into humans either.

well, unless you included ariel from that little mermaid movie. but ariel was a mermaid, so it really was not exactly the same as rafayel’s current predicament.

and besides, rafayel didn’t think he knew or angered any shady sea witches back when he lived in the waters.

there was nothing he could really do at the moment. as much as rafayel wanted to sneak to the royal library to dig out some sacred books in order to do some research about his condition, he dared not imagine the consequences he would have to face if anyone caught him sneaking out of the princess’s private chambers with only a skimpy bath towel covering him from waist-down.

just the image of him getting beheaded by the royal guards was enough to convince rafayel not to leave your private chambers, knowing it was the safest place for him to be in right now.

so his only option now was to wait for his princess to return to her chambers so that he could try to explain the situation to you in hopes that your naive little brain could understand and help him out.

he was your beloved fish afterall, so surely you would find a way to help him, right?

an ear-piercing scream echoed loudly through the room.

rafayel's eyes snapped open in panic and immediate dread, sitting up from the bed frantically only to be met with a big white thing smacking his face.

as he made a clumsy attempt to back away from the bed and nearly tripping over his newly grown toes (human toes be damned), rafayel’s eyes wandered to the big white thing that was thrown at him.

it was your polar bear plushie, he noted.

rafayel then turned to look at the door, only to see you standing there looking like a frightened kitten, now holding a thick, hard-cover book ready to launch at him once more.

it was only then rafayel realised that he had accidentally fallen asleep in your bed while waiting for you to come back.

this was not good. not good at all.

“who… who are you?!” you shrieked out, preparing yourself to throw the book in his face within the next five seconds if he didn't respond.

“me? i’m…” without even realizing it, rafayel darted his eyes to look at your study table as he fell silent, his lips pursing together.

you gave him a look of skepticism before slowly following his gaze. the man watched as you let out a horrified gasp when you saw that your fishtank was nothing but shattered glass on the table.

“fifi!”

running to your study table, you stared at what once used to be fifi's home for the past three months, now nothing but broken shards scattered all across the table.

“you! what have you done to my fifi?”

rafayel backed up into the corner of the room when you pointed an accusatory finger at him, feeling very wronged by your assumption.

what, did you think he ate your fish or something?

“woah!”

to prevent his nose from breaking tonight, rafayel quickly moved his head to the side to narrowly dodge the book in your hands that came flying towards his face.

that was a close one.

“let's use words, shall we?”

before you had a chance to frantically look around your bedroom for a new deadly weapon to fling at rafayel's handsome face, he had to think of something believable, and fast.

“i’m asking you one last time, where. is. my. fish?”

your eyes narrowed and your eyebrows furrowed as you glared at rafayel as an attempt to threaten him.

rafayel doesn't really have the heart to tell you that your glare was nothing more than a little fly trying to square up to a frog.

not the best comparison, but you get it.

“well, if you're looking for fifi, i’m right here.” rafayel responded as nonchalantly as he could, desperately trying to hold back his laughter.

you shot him an incredulous look, obviously doubtful with his claim of being your pet fish. rafayel felt absolutely scrutinized under your gaze while you looked at him up and down.

“do you think i’m five?”

“well, given how you spend your nights talking to a fish like it's your newfound soulmate, i wouldn't doubt it.”

man, rafayel wished he could describe how proud he felt when he saw your jaw slacken and you gawk at him with wide eyes.

it felt so good finally being able to talk back to you, and in a way that you understood him too. rafayel picks this over ‘glub! glub! glub!’ anyday.

you looked around the room cautiously, before your eyes landed back on rafayel.

no one really knew that you spent your nights telling your baby fishy little bedtime stories.

…not unless this man in your room was fifi himself. it was a secret solely kept between you and fifi.

…still, it wouldn't hurt to double check, right?

“oh yeah? tell me something about fifi then.” you challenged, crossing your arms over your chest. you still felt doubtful over this whole situation. “anything at all.”

i mean, it wasn't everyday that you got to see your fish turn into a grown man (that was also naked, you observed), now a head taller than you.

rafayel smirked at your demand. oh boy, where should he start? he had many, many juicy secrets that he could spill to you. ones that he knew were only shared between you and your beloved fishy (him) in these very four walls.

but he was determined to embarrass the hell out of you, so he was thinking what exactly was the most embarrassing moment you've ever told him.

maybe he should start with that one time you started weeping your eyes out in front of his tank because you thought he was sick and about to die since he wasn't eating the kibbles you poured into his tank? (you were overfeeding him).

or perhaps that one time you told him you accidentally broke your mom's jewellery box while trying on her earrings and blamed it all on the maid instead?

oh. he couldn't forget the countless amounts of times you fell asleep sprawled over the study table, your hair looking as neat as a bird’s nest, drool escaping from the corner of your lips and dripping onto the sleeve of your nightgown as you snored the night away.

but the most memorable one of them all was…

“...remember that time when you tried to cut a piece of strawberry cake and dump it into my tank?” rafayel questioned, a smirk appearing on his lips as his eyebrow quirked upwards, anticipating the kind of reaction you’d give.

the way your eyes widened in horror and the tips of your ears started to tint in a dark red hue was enough for rafayel to conclude that he had won this round.

“only fifi would know that…” you mumbled out in utter disbelief. was this man standing in front of you really your pet fish of three months?

“exactly.” rafayel puffed out his chest proudly at your words. “but if you’re not convinced, i can tell you about that time when you tried to bring my fishtank to your bed so you could hug me to sleep—”

oh. not that. you desperately cut rafayel off mid-sentence.

“stop! stop, stop!” your face felt hot, as if you just ran a whole marathon with no breaks in between.

there was an awkward and tense silence lingering in the air, with you looking at your pet fish dead in the eyes.

“s.. so it really is you, fifi…” you managed to mutter out, albeit still in disbelief that your pet fish was now a grown man a head taller than you.

rafayel doesn’t have it in him to break the devastating piece of news to you that his name was actually ‘rafayel’ before you came along.

“affirmative.” fifi— or, rafayel, nodded his head without a beat of hesitation.

you both then proceeded to awkwardly stare at each other without a word, waiting for each other to break the tense silence.

eventually, rafayel was the one that broke the silence.

“so…” he sheepishly rubbed the nape of his neck, feeling like a fish out of the water (literally and figuratively). “has the shock died down yet?” he asked, hoping you were calm enough to have a proper conversation with him.

you blinked and glanced back at the broken fish tank a couple of times to make sure that rafayel was not some kind of crazy hallucination stemming from your lack of sleep recently.

“well, not really.”

“good enough for me.” rafayel casually bent down and picked up the weapons you used for your assassination attempt (your books and polar bear plushie), making his way to your study table to put the books back where they belong.

“i know you probably have a lot of questions, your highness,” rafayel’s gentle voice filled the room’s silence once again. “but i, too, don’t have the answers to them. i hope your highness can forgive me.”

he briefly glanced at you from his peripheral vision, a faint and apologetic smile ghosting his lips while he slotted the books back into the shelf.

you were still standing in the middle of the room, your eyes following rafayel’s figure while he was putting back your books. you still had the dumbfounded and surprised look from this whole ordeal.

when rafayel caught sight of you meekly nodding your head in silent agreement to his words, he took it as a sign to continue speaking.

“since you’re free tomorrow, how about your highness help a fishy out to find a way to turn me back?” he asked with a chuckle, making a final stop to your bed and gently placing your polar bear down by the pillows, now reunited with the rest of your fuzzy friends.

“how’d you know i’m—”

oh, that’s right. you told fifi at the start of this week that you had tomorrow to yourself. the realisation that you spent your nights practically telling this man (in his fish form) the a to z’s about your life started to settle in, coupled with embarrassment.

“oh.. right..” the corners of your lips twitched into an uncomfortable smile, trying to keep your cool despite the absurd situation unfolding before your very eyes.

“also, do you mind if i borrow a hoodie of yours or something? walking around with only a skimpy towel around my waist is a little uncomfortable.”

“ack!”

before you could protest, rafayel strutted towards your wardrobe and began rummaging through it like a stray mouse in search of a slab of cheese.

attempting to recollect your composure, you stammered out a remark in hopes to gain back some sort of control.

“h..hey! is this how you act in someone else’s bedchamber?”

rafayel halted his scavenger hunt for a brief moment.

“… i’ll remember for next time.”

…and he’s back to digging through your wardrobe for one of your oversized hoodies.

in the end, rafayel settled with one of your gray hoodies coupled with a pair of sweatpants he miraculously could fit in.

“what’s this?”

a look of confusion washed over his face as the fish stepped out of your bathroom, finally properly clothed.

his eyes were glued to the unfamiliar scene before him. a thick woven quilt was spread across the carpeted floor not far away from your bedframe, accompanied by two pillows and a neatly folded but thin blanket sitting on top of it.

“your new bed for the night.”

your response was as casual as inviting a friend over for a sleepover.

you gave his new bed a few soft pats, a gesture to coax him over, before making your way back to your own cozy haven.

“since you don’t fit in a fish tank anymore, i figured we have to come up with an alternative.”

rafayel watched as you tucked yourself into bed and fluffed up your pillows, getting ready to drift to dreamscape anytime from this point forward.

“yeah, well what if your maids see me?” his voice was full of skepticism as he approached his new bed, lifting up the blanket to fit into the warm cocoon.

“then i can tell them that you’re fifi.”

one of rafayel’s eyebrows quirked up in doubt and a hint of amusement.

“and will they buy it?”

“no.”

“…”

well, that was reassuring.

rafayel’s head was resting against the pillows now, completely unimpressed with your response while also trying to get used to sleeping outside of the water.

“well, but that’s something we’ll both deal with tomorrow.” you laughed nervously, leaning back against the plush pillows and turning your body so that you were laying on your side; facing rafayel with a faint smile ghosting your lips.

staring into your eyes like this made rafayel’s heart swell in an odd way. he didn’t know exactly how to put it to words, but the atmosphere of your bedroom felt dangerously intimate right now.

in fact, way too intimate for an owner and her pet fish to be having.

rafayel was no fool— he could tell how you seemed to be holding back more now that he had taken the form of a human. how the gaze you directed towards him still held a hint of love and affection amidst all of your other mixed emotions. you looked at him as if nothing had changed between the two of you, like he was still that tiny fish you had brought back home (kidnapped) three months ago.

“yeah… we should get some rest. we’ll be ransacking our brains a lot tomorrow.” rafayel agreed with a nod of his head, breaking eye contact first by turning his head to look up at the ceiling, trying to get rid of the dangerously growing intimacy dancing between the two of you.

his arm slid beneath his head to get into a more comfortable position for himself, still in disbelief that he was actually a human now.

he tried. keyword, tried to ignore the lingering feeling of not being able to bury his little fishy body in his favourite coral reef to fall asleep, and instead having to settle with sleeping on the cold hard ground with a paper-thin blanket that barely reached to the tip of his toes.

but in the end, the thought still greatly bothered him.

“tell me a bedtime story.”

…the words flew out of his mouth before rafayel could even comprehend what he was saying.

“i beg your pardon?” your expression morphed into one of astonishment.

“what? don’t you always go on and on about your day in front of my fishtank?” rafayel scoffed, turning his head back to face you. he had been kept awake against his will, forced to listen to your endless ramblings ever since you first kidnapped him.

he had grown so accustomed to your excited life updates that it was part of his daily routine now. rafayel always relied on your storytelling to help him get sleepy and prepare for bedtime, and he definitely wasn’t going to let this routine stop tonight just because he had grown a pair of legs out of thin air.

“… how about you tell me a bedtime story this time, fifi?”

your soft voice almost made rafayel wonder if he misheard what you had just said.

“hah, me? as if i have any tales that would fascinate you.” rafayel was quick to dismiss the idea of telling you a story.

one, bedtime storytelling was your thing. it always has been, and it always will be. as a fish, rafayel was habituated to just listening. i mean, he was a fish, there wasn’t much he could say to you in the first place. asking him for a sudden role reversal to play as the storyteller was beyond his expertise and comfort zone.

and two, his life out in the seas wasn’t as interesting or fascinating as whatever you were expecting.

or in other words, rafayel had no stories to tell in the first place.

“oh come on, i’m sure there’s some interesting stories about your life before you started living here.” you continued to persuade him further, trying to give him a metaphorical nudge to get him to open up.

rafayel really couldn’t resist when you talked to him in that soft and persuasive tone. you might as well grow a pair of fins and live in the ocean as a siren with how easily you allured him to obey your words.

“fine, fine, let me think of something,” the fish grumbled, his eyebrows furrowing together as he dug through his memories for anything worth mentioning to you.

entertaining a princess was hard work— rafayel was finally starting to understand the pressure of being in the presence of a princess like yourself. it was like there was an invisible expectation for him to uphold. one that was unspoken, but still anticipated in a way.

“does me being chased by an octopus sound entertaining enough for you, your highness?”

the way your smile grew, and your eyes held a hint of curiosity made rafayel let out a breath he didn’t even realise he had been holding.

so that was how he began telling you about the instance where he was chased by an octopus back when he was still adventuring around in the stray waters.

rafayel’s storytelling skills wasn’t top tiered as compared to yours. his story began awkward, his tone unnatural. this was not his forte, so he was basically a fish out of the water (once again, literally and figuratively).

however, the sounds of your soft giggles, hums of acknowledgement and occasional small nods of your head served to be the main catalyst for him to improve as the story progressed.

by the time the story reached its climax, he sounded more confident and sure of himself. he also was more natural when speaking and somehow, without even realising it, managed to lull you to dreamscape.

“...seriously? just as i was at the good part too.” rafayel muttered, feigning mild irritation when he saw that your eyes were closed, facial features relaxed, along with your breathing deep and slow.

rafayel let out a defeated sigh, lightly shaking his head before he turned his head to face back towards the ceiling again.

he finally understood how you always managed to fall asleep so quickly after telling him about your day— talking in such an excessive manner was… tiring. and now, he was feeling the growing fatigue about to consume him too.

he briefly snuck a glance at your sleeping form through his peripheral vision, the corners of his lips gently tugging upwards into a smile.

rafayel’s mind was tired, but his heart was filled to the brim with nothing but affection. affection that you had been showering him with for the past three months.

“no matter what form i take, you’ll still love me just the same, huh?”

he wasn't expecting an answer. he didn't need your verbal response to confirm his thoughts in the first place. the facts were as clear as day before his very eyes.

his vision was getting blurry, his breathing slowing down and his eyes feeling heavier with each blink.

rafayel vaguely remembered letting out one final whisper before everything fell to the darkness.

“…at least now i can finally tell you that i love you too, princess.”

all rights reserved © miclipse 2024. do not repost, plagiarize, copy, modify or translate my works on any platforms.

[veltana]

Saved by the cowboy

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~4,2k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: cowboy!Steve, kind of DBF!Steve, Steve works for your dad, implied sexual harassment (not by Steve), protective!Steve, fluff, angst, grovel, smut, oral (fem receiving), piv sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex (reader is on bc), hint of breeding kink, pet names (sugar), happy ending.

✦ Summary: You call Steve to help you get home from the company holiday party.

✦ Note: I was supposed to write four holiday ficlets based on this, but instead Steve swept in and made me write a whole fic about just him instead 🙈 sorry not sorry! Also, thanks to everyone who helped choose the Steve pic for this fic!

Please reblog and comment! Asks are always welcome! 🩵

Masterlist | AO3

When the invitation to the annual holiday party came, all your coworkers joked about how wild it would be, but you had brushed that aside. You’d seen your fair share of company get-togethers, and they were never anything special. All the stories about fistfights and cheating scandals always turned out to be exaggerated.

“Hey, newbie!” Susan had called. You had been working there for a couple of months, and the newbie nickname was starting to get old. Still, you had taken a deep breath and turned to her with a smile. “Yes?” “Are you coming to the party? You can ride with me!”

Up until about a year ago, you had been living on the other side of the country, making a name for yourself and climbing the ranks, but then your dad had a health scare, and you realized that no money in the world would be worth it if it meant losing time with your parents. So you had moved back to your small hometown to be closer to them and even help out on the ranch if needed. You had found a nice apartment and lived off your savings until an opportunity had presented itself. It didn’t pay as much as your previous job, but it didn't matter.

“That’s great, Susan, thank you!”

Right about now, as you’re hiding in a small supply closet, you wish you’d never said yes.

It turned out the company provided a free bar at the event, and it hadn’t taken long for everyone to get plastered, including Susan. You had taken it slow, only on your second glass of wine when one of your bosses had asked to see you in private.

Wanting to make a good impression, you followed him, and it wasn’t until you were alone and his grabby hands had reached for your clothes that you realized your mistake. "No, stop!" you had yelled. He had been bigger and stronger, but he was drunk, and that had been to your advantage as you had shoved him as hard as you could and ran. Down an empty hallway, you had found a supply closet and locked the door behind you. Shaking, you take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and think about what to do next. Going home with Susan is out of the question and you're in no condition to drive yourself.

Fishing up your phone from your pocket, you scroll through your contacts, stopping at your parents, but it's late and snowing. You don’t want them driving to get you.

When you get to S you stop. Steve Rogers' name seems to jump out at you.

He started working for your father about five years ago and your dad isn’t the kind of guy who just sprinkles praise freely, so when he mentioned him over the phone and said, “That Steve fellow is a good guy,” you knew he would be something else. When you traveled home for the holidays that year he was invited to Sunday dinner. You'd thought he'd be around your dad's age and were shocked when he was much closer to you.

Later he purchased a house not far from your parents, and since he is single and lives alone your mom feels bad for him, which means that he's invited to every Sunday dinner, just like you.

And it's fine.

Except Steve is hot, charming, and nice to everyone. He and your dad get along great. Your mom adores him. But because of that, you keep your distance. No need to complicate things with your dad’s employee.

One day when you had been helping on the ranch, checking the fences with your dad he had out of the blue told you that if you ever find yourself in a situation where you need help and you can't get a hold of him or your mom, you call Steve.

So you do.

Because you usually don't call Steve he knows something is up.

“Hey, sugar, is everything okay?”

"Yeah. I mean no, my ride home is drunk. Well, everybody is plastered, and one of my bosses…" you don’t finish that sentence. "I didn't want to call my parents.”

"Send me the address, I'll be there as fast as I can."

He hangs up without a goodbye and you send him the address. After what feels like ages you get a text that he’s outside. You check the hallway before making your way towards the entrance.

As you near it, you overhear someone whispering about the hot cowboy, wondering who he is. There is a flare of jealousy in your chest at the thought of Steve being with any of them, but as soon as you see him, the feeling in you shifts to something else.

Steve stands just inside the doors, hands in the pockets of his wrangler jeans, with boots, cowboy hat, and his fur-lined jacket that looks so good on him. Hurryingly you collect your coat and go to him.

"Thank you," you whisper as you stop in front of him, shrugging the jacket on. His face is serious, scanning you for injuries, and then he looks up over your head at the crowd behind you. In one smooth motion, he takes off his cowboy hat, runs his fingers through his hair, and places it on top of your head before looking down at you again.

His blue eyes which usually hold softness and mirth are hard, but you know it's not directed at you.

"Ready to go, sugar?" he asks with that perfect voice that makes you hot on a good day. Now, with his hat on your head, and all the implications that come with that, you're ready to melt.

“Yes, Steve,” you nod, hoping you sound normal. He opens the door for you and you don't turn around to say goodbye to any of your co-workers.

His big white truck is parked just outside and you quickly jump in. The cab carries Steve’s scent, wrapping you in a sense of safety. It's like home, but different.

The engine rumbles to life, and the building disappears behind you. He’s driven you home from Sunday dinners a few times when your mom insisted you share a bottle of wine with her. He graciously offered his help then, so there’s no need to give him directions now.

“Are you okay?” he asks and shoots you a look, brow creased in concern. You hum a yes in response and then sigh, "I just didn't want to worry mom and dad." He nods, “I understand.” “Sorry if I ruined your Friday night plans.” “Don’t worry, sugar, there was nothing exciting happening at my end.”

You’ve never been inside Steve’s house but you imagine it’s cozy. He seems like a man who enjoys comfort, despite the way of life he’s chosen, and even if you wouldn’t describe him as a softie, he’s always nice and that’s more than can be said about other cowboys that your dad employs. Maybe that’s why your dad appreciates Steve. He’s hard-working, but never an asshole.

During the rest of the drive you talk aimlessly about the weather and the ranch while the radio plays in the background. Outside your apartment complex, he effortlessly maneuvers his big truck on the small streets and parks it.

You turn to him, "I can’t thank you enough for this.” "Anytime, sugar.”

As you get out, he does the same, rounding the truck. "I'm fine from here," you tell him, not wanting to bother him further. "Absolutely, but my mom raised me right, so I'm following you to the door." "Oh, okay," you smile and when you turn around you feel the light weight of a hand at the low of your back guiding you forward.

At your door, you turn to thank him once again, but Steve asks instead, "Are you sure you're okay? You sounded upset on the phone." "Yeah," you answer. Honestly, you haven’t thought one second of your boss since Steve showed up. His calm, caring presence erases every unease, making you feel safe. The two of you stand in the corridor and look at each other, and in a moment of courage, you kiss his stubbled cheek. "But thank you again for coming to get me," you tell him.

Steve releases a breath and looks at you with lidded eyes. His hand comes up to touch where your lips just were and then he slowly reaches for you. Your eyes widen as Steve’s rough hands caress your cheek. “I’ll always come, if you need me, I’ll be there,” he promises, voice low and sincere.

You swallow hard before catching Steve’s hand with your own and pressing it against your cheek with a sigh, letting your eyes flutter close for a second. You can’t have him, but if this is all the touch you’re ever going to experience from Steve, you’re taking advantage of it. You can blame it on the wine.

“Sugar,” he rasps and you open your eyes again, letting go and ready to let this be a cherished memory. You’re stopped short by Steve’s hand sliding back to cup your neck. His fingers against your bare skin send tingles down your spine that make heat pool in your belly. "Steve," you answer.

He leans a little closer but hesitates. "You had a rough evening," he says. “But you fixed it,” you point out. “I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he leans even closer. "You won’t," you tell him, confident in your answer, gripping his jacket.

His other arm slides around your waist, pulling you close and pressing you against him. The firm strength of him feels so perfect that a soft moan escapes you. In response he lets out a groan, softly brushing his lips against yours, making more tingling sensations shoot throughout your body.

Not wanting to wait any longer you close the small distance and finally kiss him. It’s soft and chaste at first but with an edge of desperation that becomes prominent as Steve deepens the kiss, holding you even harder. Likewise, you wrap your arms around his waist, wordlessly telling him how much you want him.

The two of you jerk apart when a loud noise sounds somewhere else in the building. Without a word, you let go of Steve to reach behind you and open the door to your apartment. For a second his eyes leave yours to look at the invitation. He doesn’t give you a vocal answer, he just goes back to your lips and starts moving you backward.

Inside, he removes his cowboy hat from your head, placing it on the side table before starting to pull at your clothes and as you guide him to your bedroom, you make his clothes come off too.

Together you fall onto the bed in just your underwear. Steve's body is a testament to his demanding job, soft and hard in all the right places and warm against you. His hands never still, they caress and explore you as if he might never get the chance again. When he pulls back, his hair is wild from you running your fingers through it.

“Never thought I would be here.” He kisses your jaw and down the column of your throat. The touch of his hands makes goosebumps burst out over your body. “Never thought you’d have me in your bed,” he continues as he kisses the top of your breasts. “Someone like you, beautiful and sophisticated.” He hooks a finger in your bra and pulls down. “Being with someone rough and dirty like me.”

“You’re not dirty,” you answer breathlessly as his mouth closes over your nipple.

Steve moans, just as you do, arching up against him. He spends ample time on both your breasts, sucking and licking, making you feel crazy with how much you need him. "I’ve dreamt of tasting you, sugar, but I want more than your tits," he admits. “Yes!” you tell him and he shimmies down your body, pressing kisses to your skin and pulling off your panties before settling in between your legs, parting your folds reverently with his thumbs.

“Look at that pretty fucking pussy,” he murmurs before descending on you.

Steve eats you as if you're the last meal on earth, savoring every taste but at the same time wanting to devour you as quickly as possible. His beard scratches the inside of your thighs and your mound, his face buried deep as he pierces you with his tongue, lapping at your channel before going back to your clit, sucking it into his mouth. Quickly, you're a quivering mess, trying your best not to buck up against Steve's mouth, to be present and savor the experience.

The pleasure envelopes you, making you ache in the best way before the heat rushes to your core at Steve's steady ministrations.

"I'm gonna come!" you tell him, hands fisting the sheets. His only response is a deep hum. Your legs close around his head as you howl his name.

As you come down, and release him from the prison of your thighs he chuckles, before giving your clit one last kiss. Then his lips travel up your body again, stopping to play with your nipples one more time before finding your mouth. Despite your near comatose state, you respond to his kiss, not caring that he tastes of you.

"Please tell me you have a condom," he says against your lips. You feel the hard cock brush your stomach, still in his boxers. As he sits back you admire how it tents the fabric and the wet spot at the front.

But when you shake your head, there is such a pain in his face you're scared he's having a heart attack or something. Quickly you say, "I'm on birth control!" That lights a different fire in Steve's eyes.

"Oh, sugar," he smiles wickedly. Your body is still thrumming from the orgasm but you in no way feel sated. The look of him on your bed brings back all the fantasies you've hidden deeply inside the recesses of your mind, telling yourself that it's no use to fantasize about something that will never happen.

“I got tested right before I moved and I haven't been with anyone since,” you continue. Before you can ask Steve says, “Well, it's not like there's a flock of buckle bunnies up at the ranch to choose from, so it's been a while. Hopefully, I still know how to.”

You raise yourself on your elbows, tilting your head to the side. “If the previous performance is anything to go by I think we'll be good.”

Steve moves to chuck off his underwear, then he's back on top of you again, and you give him your mouth. Hungry is the only way to describe the way he kisses, and when he breaks away you whine, but then you realize it's because he's guiding his dick into you.

“I need to see it,” he rumbles. “I need to see your cunt swallow my cock.”

You part your legs more to give his hips room. You want to watch too but as his tip pushes inside it becomes too much to keep your eyes open. Your arms slide out and you hit the bed, consumed by the feel of him, neverending pleasure. He's thick and long and fills you perfectly. Your insides spasm, wanting more.

"Steve," you whine and wrap your legs around his hips, keeping him close as you move to try and take him deeper. "That's right. Let me hear that sweet voice of yours," he says, stilling all movements.

"Please, Steve, I need it! I need you to fill me up with your cum!" "Oh, sugar, I'm not gonna keep you waiting," he answers and moves. Slowly at first, to let the both of you get used to it. It's impossible to keep in any noise when he thrusts into you. For a second you feel silly, moaning as if you're in some kind of porno, but at the same time, you want Steve to know how fucking good his dick is.

And Steve isn't any better, every time his hips hit your skin he punctuates it with a moan of his own, a deep rumble that only excites you more.

On those forbidden nights, when you allowed yourself to dream of Steve, one thing always came to the front of your mind. “Steve, can I ride you?" you ask breathlessly. “Fuck, yeah,” he answers and in one smooth motion he wraps his arms around your body and rolls you over. It's a wonder you don't fall off the bed.

You lean forward, capturing his face between your hands, kissing him as you move against him. "Take what you need, sugar. Ride your cowboy,” Steve growls into your mouth.

He grabs your ass and fucks up into you while you grind down on him. He's so deep it's driving you insane. Panting you grab the headboard, finding leverage to push your body hard into his thrusts.

“You're fucking divine,” Steve drawls, his grip hardens, lifting you up and slamming you down. “I want you on top of me every day. Ride my dick, or my face, whatever you want, just let me have you!”

At the same time, your clit is rubbing deliciously against him, making the second orgasm build. “Fuck, you're holding my dick so tight, like your pussy doesn't want to let me go.” All you answer with is a strangled mewl, too busy chasing your high.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and come on my dick? And then let me fill you up with my cum, sugar? Is that what gets you off, riding your cowboy until he bursts inside of you?

Steve's words spur you on, doubling your efforts, angling your hips until his dick presses into your g-spot and your clit grinds against his pelvis. You feel him pulsing, knowing he's about to come in you is so hot.

“I'm gonna come!” you gasp. “Yeah, me too, sugar!”

With a cry of ecstasy, the climax washes over your skin, sending convulsions through your muscles. You feel every pulse of Steve's own orgasm and hear him call your name.

You collapse on his chest, both of you panting. Steve hugs you close, his hands rubbing along your back as his dick softens and the cum starts to leak out, but you could care less. Being in Steve's arms feels right. Hearing his beating heart, the scent of sex and sweat in the air, knowing it's from the both of you.

After a while, he speaks, but it's not the words you'd expect. “Fuck, sugar, I promised myself this would never happen. I know your dad likes me and all but I don't think he'd take too kindly to me fucking his daughter.”

The happy high in you bursts into sour bubbles, and the pink, golden afterglow is replaced by the harsh reality.

“What do you mean?” you frown as you sit up. Suddenly everything feels sticky, cold, and gross. “You're my boss’, my friend's, daughter. I can't have you even if I wanted to.”

A lump forms in your throat and you try to clear it before asking, “What are you saying?” “It can't happen again.” “Are you saying this was a mistake?” “Yes, sugar, but it was the best mistake of my life.” “Yeah, okay, well…” you get off him and take the cover to wrap around you. The cum leaks down your legs as you say, “You saw me to the door, and I'm fine, thank you for coming to get me.” “Sugar, please, you understand don't you?” Steve stands up, reaching for you but you shrug his hands away. “You know the way out, I need to shower.”

Without looking back you hurry to the bathroom, listening to Steve gather his things and the sound of the door shutting behind him. You stand even longer looking at the shower running, not wanting to wash away the evidence of Steve's visit, but finally, you do.

You manage to avoid Sunday dinner by claiming you're not feeling well. Your mom offers to drop off some food, but you assure her she doesn't need to. If she shows up and asks how you're feeling you're scared everything is just gonna come blurting out. Before hanging up, she adds, "Dad and Steve hope you feel better soon!"

With effort, you respond, "Yeah, tell them I said thanks."

The following week, you feel like you can't excuse yourself and you just hope Steve won’t be there for some reason.

As you park your car at the house you don't see his truck anywhere, easing the anxiety that sits in your stomach.

At the beginning of December, your mom has decked out the house and yard with holiday decorations. It lightens up the otherwise dark ranch that's far away from any streetlights.

“Oh honey, great to see you!” Your mom greets you at the door with a hug, your dad right behind her. After saying hello and getting out of your clothes, your mom is quick to put you to work. “Can you do me a favor? I left the dessert to cool in the sunroom, can you please get it for me?”

Growing up, the sunroom was one of your favorite places. You have great memories of sitting in the plush reading chair after the sun has set during the summer months, the windows open, and listening to the sound of the animals out in the field. Then, after your dad installed a fireplace, you loved to curl up with your hot cocoa and listen to the crackling of the flames while it slowly heated the space. Just like the rest of the house and yard, it's decorated to perfection, soft lights illuminating the space and making it a magical place.

What catches you off guard are the flower petals scattered over the floor, and in the middle of the floor is Steve on both his knees.

No dessert in sight, if you don't count the cowboy on the ground.

For a short moment, you wonder if your parents knew about this, but then you hear the door shut behind you and that answers it. The room is chilly, but your blood is rushing hot in your veins. You're embarrassed and mad and to your utter disappointment, hopeful for what he has to say.

“Steve?” you ask, crossing your arms, feigning annoyance. “Sugar, I'm here, on my knees to ask for your forgiveness and to please hear me out.” His blue eyes are a weakness of yours but you steal yourself to not fall for the softness in them.

“I assume you told them what happened?” you nod in the direction you came from. Steve looks uncomfortable, even blushing. “Well, I didn't give them any details, but I told them we kissed and that I messed up. Thought your dad was gonna murder me first. He thought I got you pregnant, so I think they figured it out anyway.” “Pregnant?!” you exclaim. It all feels overwhelming, and you bury your face in your hands, wishing you could disappear through the floor.

Then warm rough hands clasp yours, pulling them away carefully. “I also told them that I'm in love with their daughter and if she gives me another chance, I'll prove to her every day how much she means to me.” Steve's voice is soft and earnest; it makes tears burn at the back of your eyes.

You want to be mad, but you haven't been able to stop thinking about his stupid face since he left. The fucker also left his cowboy hat behind, and every time you looked at it you remembered how he placed it on your head the night he came to your rescue. You could have brought it with you tonight and left it on the porch for your parents to find. But you didn't. Secretly you hoped that Steve would have to come by your place to collect it.

But even after acting like an asshole, you're still very much in love with Steve Rogers.

“Yeah, fine,” you say nonchalantly and look away, trying to hide how happy you feel. A finger on your chin turns your head back towards him. “Fine, sugar? Just fine?”

Forcing your stone-faced expression to stay in place you say, “For now, it's fine. Don't think some flower petals, kneeling, and sweet words are gonna make me forgive you just like that.” “Every day, sugar, I'll work my ass off until you do.” You glance at him, taking in the rugged handsomeness of the man before you, and you just can't resist. Leaning in, you kiss his cheek, reminiscent of what caused this whole thing in the first place. But Steve isn't satisfied. He gathers you up and presses his lips to yours. If you said you hadn't missed the feel of his kiss, you'd be lying. So you return it, weaving your arms around his neck and then your legs around his waist as he lifts you from the ground into his strong arms.

“I don't think mom would take too kindly to us fucking in here,” you tell him when you pull away. “No, but after dinner you're coming to my place and staying the night.” “Bossy…” you joke. “I didn't mean it like that, sugar, I'm not gonna force you to do anything you don't-” You interrupt him with a kiss. “Steve, calm down, I was joking, it's fine.” “Fine? “Fine!”

And everything was.

[starry-bi-sky]

DPxDC Masterpost

Almost all of my DPDC posts have the #Danny Fenton is Not the Ghost King tags, barring perhaps my earliest aus like my Thomas Wayne Au (which will be included in the post). This tag includes art i've made, asks i've answered, and non-fic au posts I've created. This is my main tag!

DPxDC posts under the main tag that don't have their own tag: Danny's Life-Changing Cross-Dimensional Roadtrip with A De-Aged Batman Danny is also Bruce Wayne (Starry goes back to their middle school roots) Danny being the first batkid (if i can get the creative juices flowing I will expand on this. mark my words) There is a Damian clone LOOSE in Amity Park. Oh wait, Danny's got him.

My Biggest DPxDC Aus #Danny Fenton is a Clone: all my posts talking about clone!Danny.

Clone Danny Masterpost: previously my pinned post. A no-powers au where Danny is also a clone of Bruce Wayne, also includes some clone^2

#Clone^2: Clone Damian + Clone Danny au combined, explores themes like identity, found family, and growing into your own as a person. Starting post Here.

#Childhood Friends Au or #Cfau: A childhood friends dead on main au that explores grief, how it may change a person, and how growing up in Crime Alley changed Danny. Contains heavier themes like smoking and mild violence.

#Danyal Al Ghul Au: Mostly contains my au where Danny is not Damian's twin, but his older brother! An excuse for me to delve into the psychological effects that growing up in the League would have on Danny that I don't really see in other DAG aus. Putting the 'assassin' in 'raised by assassins'.

My Minor DPxDC Aus Danny Fenton is Thomas Wayne: an oldie but a goodie! An reveal gone wrong au where Danny decides to go by his middle name 'Thomas' shortly after the events of TUE, and leaves Amity Park two years later. He finds out that Vlad cloned him again and finds an infant in the lab. Danny takes the baby, names him Bruce, and ends up adopted by the Waynes.

#Danny Fenton is Jason Todd au: An au where Danny is Jason Todd! He was adopted by the Fentons shortly after the events of the carjacking.

#Older Brother Danny: contains all of my aus where Danny is an Older Brother. This currently includes only my DAG posts but it's not limited to Danyal Al Ghul.

#Changeling Danny: a half-ghost? oh, wait, no. that's a changeling. even worse! Danny's got latent fey blood from a Fenton getting freaky with a faerie some dozen generations ago, and it reactivated with a fervor when he had his accident! Instead of a halfa, he became one of the Fair Folk.

#Blood blossom au: currently the name for the time being. A Nightingale/First Batkid au where Vlad poisons Danny with blood blossom extract, and it results in Danny running to Batman! Currently only one post, but it has a lot of branching pathways in the reblogs. Batdad centered! Now comes with its own fanfic!

#tales of the passerine: the official au name for my "Danny being the first batkid" post! This au is what inspired changeling Danny. It's the idea that Danny was the first to be adopted by Bruce, and features me favoring batdad over "lmfao Danny goes fuck you bruce and adopts the other kids" au. Because I want batdad.

(Nightingale is, so far, the official vigilante name for the Eldest Batkid Danny concept on my blog.)

#mother of monsters danny: specifically its mother of monsters dan but i digress. I was messing around with my fem!Danyal au and boom! Her evil timeline self is Layal, the terrifying Mother of Monsters who raises any manner of monstrous beasts. I love her <3

#martha knight au same song, different dance! This is a fem danny version of my aforementioned "Danny is Thomas Wayne" au. Except this time around, Danny is Martha! Arguably my favorite between the two, I feel like I'm able to do more with her than Thomas. Her au's vibe is After All by Christine Ebersole

Bonus Excerpt: a ficlet I made in response to a DPxDC Dead on Main prompt! It's not under the main tag as I didn't make the post, however it can be found if you search #fem danny fenton on my blog. I actually really love this idea so I may make it its own tag in the future.

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part twelve

summary: may the odds be ever in your favour.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: i can't believe we made it to the end of s1! i am so, so excited to move on to the next era of this story! this is a reminder if you love this series and you haven't already please reblog this or the masterlist! it makes such a big big difference for me and my fellow writers know it all too well lol.

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

Coriolanus wakes up, head on the open pages of Romeo and Juliet as people start to flood in, everyone anxious about what would happen to you.

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, quickly casting his view to the screen ahead, camera view still locked on you. There was no one else for it to be tracking, after all. Except now, you were on Lamina's beam, lying down with your eyes closed. He wasn't sure if you were awake, or when you had even made your way down into the clearing, but you don't move. He can see the steady rise and fall of your chest as you lay with his scarf bunched up behind your head. Tigris was right, you had survived, but you wouldn't have without him. You looked peaceful- not at all like the girl he had seen crumbling apart on the same screen just a few hours prior.

"I feel as though I should inform you, they'll be going in very soon." Highbottom says, grabbing the boy's attention. "But I'd put my money on those boys being dead in there. Congratulations, Coriolanus. This means almost nothing for you."

He walks away before Coryo is even done processing what he had said. He wouldn't get the prize, most likely, but he would still have you.

You don't stir until you hear the peacekeepers entering the arena, sitting up and seeing them with guns pointed in your direction. "Don't move." One of them spits at you and you nod, eyes wide as you raise your hands. You watch as a designated team in different uniforms make their way up to enter the vents, and others spray something over the piles of snakes, stilling those that were still showing any signs of life.

"Is it over?" You ask, confused.

"Not until we can confirm you are the only remaining tribute." One of them answers and you nod, chewing on your lip as you watch the men disappear into the vents.

"Okay... Thank you."

You know what they would find in there, the bodies of the two boys trapped behind your salt line. You could tell them where the boys would be found, but then you'd be outing yourself. You had only confessed to Coryo. Only he could know. Last night, you didn't care. You have to assume he was the only one who witnessed your breakdown, your confession, because if anyone else had, you'd likely be dead by now. You have to hope your secret is safe with him if you want to go home.

The morning drags on forever as you sit there with guns pointed at you from the ground, and Coryo is pacing in the hall. There were many people around, excited to see if you would be crowned as the victor. People were rooting for you, and he was proud of that, but support didn't mean that you were promised a win.

Vipsania and Domitia were the only other two remaining mentors, whispering to each other across the room after they came back. It was eerily silent.

Then, one of the men emerges from the vent, turning all heads including yours as he just nods toward the peacekeepers watching you.

"Alright. Come on down." The same peacekeeper addresses you and you nod, a tear falling down your cheek.

"She did it." Coryo whispers to himself, realization forcing a grin onto his face.

Lucky laughs, clapping his hands together. "She's won! Y/N Y/L/N from District Twelve!" He calls out, making his way over to Coriolanus. "Coriolanus Snow is the Victor of the Tenth Annual Hunger Games!"

Coryo laughs in shock, smiling as the man pats his shoulder. He catches in the corner of his eye as his two classmates storm out, and he's quickly crowded with congratulations and praise.

"I won?" You ask quietly, feet landing on the ground again.

"Yes, they were found." He nods, and quickly your arms are being grabbed as you're led out of the arena.

"Do you know, did Coriolanus get his prize?" You ask them, but your question is ignored as you walk down the hall toward the exit, looking back over your shoulder as the gate is closed behind you.

Just outside the gates, you don't get much of a taste of freedom before you're being pushed into the back of the same truck. Empty. Bigger. Lonely.

"Empty your pockets." The peacekeeper tells you, standing at the entrance.

You do so hesitantly, holding up the compact on a shaky palm. "I'm sorry to ask, but can I have some water? Please?" You ask, once again ignored as the compact is pulled from your hand. "Please, sir, that was a gift... If you must take it can you return it to my mentor? Coriolanus Snow?"

He opens the cold metal, pulling out the piece of paper and unfolds it, quickly scanning it's contents. "That is for him, too. Though, if I had the chance now I would change it." You explain. You knew you both would be in deep trouble if you were caught for what you convinced yourself was no more than salt, and clarity came to you enough to lie about what the compact had contained all this time.

The peacekeeper hums, closing it up again and shoving both items into his own pocket, pointing the gun at you again. "Clothes off."

"Ex-excuse me?" You reply, taken aback by the request.

"Clothes off. Now." He repeats and you nod, swallowing the lump in your dry throat as you begin to slide off your dress, letting it fall at your feet. He moves the gun again, gesturing for you to continue. With trembling hands you remove your underthings, your shoes, and the scarf, placing them on the floor in front of you. He quickly gathers them, taking a step back and nodding to someone outside.

He moves out of the way and you stand there confused, watching as he shakes out your clothes and searches them, when suddenly you're being sprayed down with a hose. You yelp from the fast contact of the cold water pelting against your skin, but it wakes you up. After the initial shock, it actually feels good to be somewhat clean again.

You pant as the water is shut off, catching your breath and rubbing your arms to try and warm yourself again. Your clothes are tossed back into the truck at you before the door is slammed, and you use the scarf to try and dry yourself off a little bit before tying it around yourself the same way Coryo had. By the time you pull the second strap of your dress back on, the truck is moving and you're lurching forward.

You're driving for a while before the door is opened again, and you're relieved to get some fresh air. It was cold in there, and you were shivering in your small dress that was now also damp from your skin.

Once the doors open you're staring down the barrels of more guns as the peacekeepers usher you out and into the train station, right where you were let off all those days ago. Days... or weeks? You don't even know anymore.

"Lay off, why don't you? She's been through enough." A man in a black suit comes into your view, and they drop their weapons and let you go.

He steps in front of you and you wrap your arms around yourself to try and warm up. "Thank you, Sir." You smile, nodding at him politely.

"Nothing to thank me for..." He sighs. "I'm Dean Highbottom from the academy, it's a pleasure to meet you. Congratulations on your victory." Surprisingly to you, he doesn't seem inconvenienced. Someone other than Coryo and Sejanus seemed to be willing to talk to you, to treat you like a human again. When he congratulates you, he sounds sad.

"Thank you, Sir." You nod again. "Do I... Will I be going home now?"

"Yes. In just a few minutes." He nods, gesturing for you to follow him toward the train. "I am extremely familiar with your mentor, Coriolanus Snow." He tells you as you join his side.

"Oh, wonderful!" You force a smile. "I have some things for him, just a note and something he leant to me. I gave them to that man over there. Would you mind making sure they make it back to him?" You point out the peacekeeper as you follow him toward the train.

"I'll see to it that he gets it back, yes." Dean Highbottom nods with a slight roll of his eyes, stopping next to the stairs that would lead you onto the passenger train. "But... if I may offer you some advice?"

"Please." You nod, urging him on.

"Be grateful you survived him."

You want to ask what he means, but the anger you saw behind your friend's eyes that night in the arena would haunt you and you knew that. Surely, that's what the Dean is talking about.

"Yes." You agree, unsure what else to say when he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a stack of cash.

"Take this, your prize, I suppose." He hands it over to you. It must be hundreds of dollars. Maybe over a thousand. With this, you could do so much for your family. "Oh, and Miss Y/L/N... You wouldn't happen to know anything about the rat poison that was in that compact, would you?"

You tense up, tilting your head at him with a confused smile. "Poison? No... All I had put inside was salt." You reply. "Sejanus Plinth gave it to me, with food from his Ma. Salt is good for protection, you know, so I kept it for later. Keeps you safe from evil and harm." You ramble on, panic and shock in your tone. Sejanus had given you salt to put on some vegetables and sandwiches he brought you, but now that you're trying to piece the story together, you don't remember even opening the compact until you were in that vent. Coryo had told you not to open it, so you wouldn't have. Your own memory is confusing you.

"I've heard that." He nods, eyeing you skeptically.

The train horn makes you jump before you can even thank him.

"Go on, now." He urges you onto the train, deciding to let slide however you had came across the rat poison. Clearly, you didn't know what you had done. Or you were convincing yourself you didn't remember. "Enjoy your freedom."

You nod and step up onto the stairs. You were hoping you would get to see Coryo again, it disappointed you that you never would. Maybe it was a good thing you wrote your goodbye note, even if you had survived. "I give you, upon my knees, a thousand thanks." You smile to the man still standing on the ground below you who just nods in acknowledgment before you close the door behind yourself, Coryo's scarf still wrapped around your waist.

"Y/N?" Coryo calls out, walking into the high biology lab. He was told you had something for him, no doubt the scarf and the compact.

"She's gone." Dean Highbottom cuts in, just before Coryo spots him in the poorly lit room.

"I was told-"

"I know what you were told. Here." The Dean tells him, pointing to the metal compact on the table.

Coryo looks at it only briefly before returning his gaze to the man who offered it to him. "Where is she?"

"I wouldn't worry about that, Coriolanus. Your work is done." He explains vaguely. "Were you aware that she cheated?"

"Cheated?" Coryo asks. "How?" He feigns ignorance.

"The boys in the vents didn't die from snake venom, or violently, or, naturally- for that matter." The Dean tsk's. "It was rat poison. Which, before you argue with me, cannot be found inside the arena or even within reach of the monkey cage at the zoo. I checked. So be honest, you have no idea how she got her hands on such a substance?"

"No, I don't." Coryo lies. "But she did what she could to survive- don't take it out on her because she somehow cheated your games. Next year give them uniforms, or up security or something."

"Just thought I'd ask. She told me she got it from Plinth." He waves him off, and Coryo ticks his head in slight confusion.

"Sejanus? No, he-"

"She really... declined, in there." Highbottom cuts him off, making it evident that he at least believed that Sejanus wouldn't do such a thing. "Told me it was only salt. Genuinely, it seemed like she didn't know. Or, she forced herself to forget. A sweet girl like that, it doesn't surprise me that that's how she would rationalize her actions."

"Is she alive? Because if you killed her for that I-"

"You'll what, Mister Snow? I thought you said you just wanted the prize."

"She deserved better." He states simply, swallowing the anxiety building in his throat.

"She does. I agree." Highbottom nods. "Which is why you won't see her again."

Coryo furrows his brow. "I... I don't understand how that could be relevant."

"Oh, I know you do, Mister Snow." His superior replies, a condescending edge to his words.

Coryo snatches the compact off of the table and quickly pockets it, storming out of the room. At least he hadn't been caught for helping you cheat, though he was sure Highbottom knew better. Now, he didn't have the Plinth Prize, and he didn't have you.

When he finally got home, he couldn't help but slam the door behind himself.

"Coryo?" Tigris calls out, excited as she puts down the project she was working on and rushes to the entranceway to meet him. "I didn't expect you home so soon! Did you get to see Y/N?" Her smile fades when she sees his expression. "What's wrong?"

"They wouldn't let me see her. She's already gone." He explains, pulling off his blazer.

"Oh..." Tigris frowns, taking the blazer from him to hang it up. "I know you really wanted to say goodbye. I'm so sorry."

"She'll never forgive me." He shakes his head slightly. "If she's even still alive! I doubt they would tell me!" He laughs, bringing his hands up to rub his eyes with his palms.

"They wouldn't kill her, Coryo. People loved her too much." She is quickly reassuring, reaching out to rub his shoulders. "You did nothing wrong... You did all you could for her. She'll forgive you."

"Not that." He mutters. "It's what I told you. You didn't see the way she looked at me, Tigris. Like... Like I was a monster."

"She was already scared. She was way out of her element. I think now, that she's safe, she'll find the space to see it reasonably." She tries to soothe his worries as best she can. "You're a good friend to her, and she's a kind person. She'll understand."

"But I'll never know for sure that she does."

"You might one day... Don't beat yourself up about it, and don't give up on her."

After a long, two-day journey curled up on a bench on the train, you recognize the building the train is stopping at. Suddenly, all your energy is returned to you as it slows to a stop, and you're already waiting at the door. You hear the latch unlock and you couldn't get off fast enough.

No one you knew were there, not that you expected any kind of greeting party. You inhale the fresh air, once again surrounded by the trees and your own people. You walk out of the train station and down the street, in the general direction of your home. You tried waving at a few folks you knew on the way, but people just stared, for the most part, jaws slack with surprise. They had already grieved your death. Sometimes you were met with a sad smile, but no one wanted to speak to you. You understood. You were used to that after your time in the Capitol.

"Y/N Y/L/N, is that you?" An excited voice called after you resigned yourself to a quiet walk home, twenty minutes from the bustle of the train station. You turn your head to look up at the back entrance to the Hob, a wide smile taking over your face when you see the speaker.

Your friend is already barrelling toward you, throwing her arms around you as your eyes fill with happy tears. It was refreshing. "I never thought I'd see you again..." You sniff, resting your chin on her shoulder as you hug her back.

Rhythmically, your best friend sways you back and forth. "Oh, I know, I know, sweetheart..." She hums, rubbing your back reassuringly. You can hear her voice crack too. "But you're home now. You're okay..."

She lets you break down as she practically holds you up as you cry in each other's arms. From happiness or trauma, you're not sure. "I did some awful things, I regret it all..."

"Don't regret a thing." She shushes you. "You did what you had to."

"No, no... You don't know... You didn't see..."

"I watched, Hun. When I could." She pulls away, placing her hands on your cheeks to wipe your tears. "You did nothing wrong. All that matters is that you're home now."

You sniff again with a slight nod. "I fear too early, for my mind misgives; Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, shall bitterly begin."

"No... Y/N/N. You're safe here. You are forgiven." She assures you, rubbing your arms. "Now, let's get you home. A good rest will do you well, your parents have been waitin' on you." She waits for you to nod before stepping to your side, guiding you in the right direction with an arm around your waist.

"Thank you, Lucy Gray." You mumble, allowing yourself to lean into her hold.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls , @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[thebroccolination]

Hi Key, your post is the second I've seen that hinted at Joss but without further explanation. He generally has a positive public perception and I only know him from 3WBF (which I liked), so I'm curious where this shift in perception is coming from recently.

Would you mind making a post or directing me to where I can learn more about his general...situation.

I apologize if this is intrusive since I know you don't like to engage in Fandom Drama and like to keep your space positive, but I don't have XTwitter and his Tumblr tag is usually quite dead.

Thank you in advance!

Why I Don't Fuck with Joss: An Extremely Academic Essay of Words and Screenshots

Hi Anon!

I normally would have DM'd you an answer to this, but since you sent the ask anonymously and you were very kind in how you asked, I didn't want to ignore you.

However, two things:

I do generally make it a policy to keep my negative personal thoughts about certain actors to private conversations or, y'know, Discord servers, just to keep it off public platforms where toxicity is already rampant. In this case, though, I think the situation is interesting enough to comment on. (Plus, y'know, I'm amazed he was even managing a comeback when he's been known to Be Like This for years.)

I didn't get a lot of primary sources for this post because quite frankly I don't like Joss and I don't want to look at his face any more than I already have. However, friends who've been following this more closely than I have were able to verify that there are sources out there for everything I'm going to mention. Just, y'know, don't use me or this post as a source. This isn't one of my Citations Included Posts, this is just a Why I Don't Fuck with This Guy Post.

So, for context, I made this post last month, and someone made a more explicitly worded reblog here that's honestly better if you're going in without any context.

Essentially, Joss has had a dodgy reputation for years, but I think because fan turnover is high in interfandom and he's never been in a BL series before, most interfans just know Joss as A Tall Man Who Likes Sportsball.

But when I got into Thai BL back in 2020, Joss was one of the first actors I heard of as ~Problematique~ so I looked into him, and what I learned made me go, "Ew," so I just keenly ignored him from then on. (General gross stuff like the Domundi boob-grabbing prank and some assorted Dudebro comments about women. I don't remember specifics anymore because he was barely on my radar, but a friend at the time who'd been in fandom longer basically told me, "Yeah, that's Joss, lol.")

Interestingly, before JossGawin became a thing, most interfans were rooting for JossLuke, but I think given how vocally left-leaning Luke has proven to be, I wouldn't be surprised if Luke saw the prospect of tying his public reputation to Joss and went, "lol no goddamn thank you."

Gawin, on the other hand, seems to be down for whatever GMMTV wants him to do, so he probably just sees Joss as a colleague he makes out with (acting is a weird job). He went to high school in western Pennsylvania, he has white relatives on his dad's side, and he hangs out with the Gym Dudes of GMMTV, so I'm sure he's completely desensitized and is one of those guys who thinks, "Nah," but doesn't go so far as to say, "Not cool, dude." The Gawin Caskey Method seems to be: throw a basketball, make out with a dude on camera, go home and eat an edible. Dismount.

Unfortunately, even though Gawin's never really made any political statements or taken any major stand for the queer community, he's gained goodwill that some people are now calling into question because of Joss.

Anyway, apparently Joss used to follow Andrew Tate on Twitter until Tate was suspended, so it seems a lot of people assumed Joss unfollowed Tate, but yeah, between the sexist comments, Boobgate, and admiring Joe Rogan, that was enough for me to physically recoil from the screen when I saw the teaser for MGB.

Okay NOW, everything from this point onward is new stuff I've learned over the past month that made me go, "Oh. So he's worse now."

Joss has apparently had that Joe Rogan quote pinned to his Twitter account since 2020, but people just shrugged it off because they like his man stomach or something? (I don't find him attractive, but even if I did, I truly don't understand how he made it this far. It feels like he's been pretty firmly canceled every year since I got here, honestly.)

I also didn't like him weight-shaming Gawin. There's some older clip of him calling Gawin fat, and I know in Asia it's more common to comment on other people's bodies and weight, but I also recently found out that he got Gawin a meat cake for his birthday because idk actual cake is for pussies? (Sorry, Anon, I was trying to aim for an objective tone but I abandoned it because I reeeally don't like this man.) And apparently a lot of JG fanservice is just Joss and Gawin at the gym so Joss can teach Gawin self-control or something? I've had their tag blocked from the beginning, so you'll have to look into that if you're curious.

Ah, and at some point in the last few months, Joss was apparently asked what his "type" is and he said something like "white, skinny English-speaking Europeans/Americans"(?) Which apparently made Asian women go, "Hey, c'mere real quick: good. Bye."

I also thought it was a huge red flag that Joss has been in the industry for years, and his domestic fanbase is still quite small. Others have pointed out that very few fan interactions with him are in Thai, and he's clearly courting a western audience both in his individual engagement and by partnering with a mixed American actor. When he did the LGBTQ+ panel last summer, apparently the reaction from Thai commenters was, "lmao why Joss?" not, "Oh yes, of course, Joss!"

So it seems like GMMTV has been trying to do a rebrand for Joss using Gawin and interfans more generally since Joss speaks English and interfans don't generally seek out the resources to do research. Remember last year when GMMTV announced that Y-MIND script competition? It was originally domestic only, but after Thai fans overwhelmingly went, "The contract terms here are wildly exploitative, so fuck off," GMMTV rereleased the promotional material in English and went, "HEY INTERFANS WANNA SEND US STUFF :D?"

That told me they really don't think especially highly of us.

On December 15th, someone pointed out that Joss didn't just follow Trump on Twitter, he also followed a ton of extreme alt-right accounts on Instagram. Not normal political figures, either. Obscure figures like Pearl, Candace Owens, that guy who was saying Your Body My Choice, and Andrew Tate's right-hand man, and more! Some of his fans tried to point out that he follows progressive Thai politicians, but as far as the American side, he only followed alt-right conservative accounts with zero liberal accounts.

Though, in fairness, someone did point out that Joss also follows famous progressive Democratic figures [checks notes] comedian Chris Rock and basketball player Stephen Curry.

So. Whoohoo for that, amirite?

Since Joss's fans weren't having much success defending him on their own, they threw some @'s at his account to get him to make some kind of statement that would somehow explain away why he was following a deep, deep alt-right fanatic like Pearl. (Spoiler: He didn't.)

The JossGawin International fan club even released the above statement to address the issue, then received such alarmingly vitriolic backlash from the JossGawin fandom for "betraying" Joss that the fanclub decided to deactivate entirely. (I have no idea if they reactivated or not, since I stopped keeping up with this whole debacle shortly afterward.)

One Thai(?) JossGawin fan actually seems to have used ChatGPT to create an English comment to chastise the fanclub for their lack of support in Joss's dire times:

Amusingly, rather than address his fans' concerns or unfollow any of the accounts causing the chaos, Joss instead just started deleting any comment on his Instagram that called on him to comment.

Five days later, he unfollowed 137 accounts. No idea how many of those were alt-right extremists and how many were just extra padding to make it look like a general cleanse, but it was at least fifty last I heard, and the fact that 1) it took him nearly a week to do anything but delete the comments calling him out, and 2) his first tweet after this whole mess was a quote-retweet of GMMTV's message welcoming Barcode into the company saying, "lol this kid looks like if me and Gawin had a baby" just goes to show how unthreatened he feels.

After all, Joss has been this way for years, and his upcoming series with Gawin is probably going to do numbers regardless. He's successfully rebuilt his stagnant career off the support of interfans, and he knows he'll be fine.

Even Foei has a show with Tay! We're all good here. \:D/

So yeah! That's why I don't fuck with Joss. \:D/

This'll be the last I say on Joss publicly.

I just figured I'd make one all-encompassing post so I can link back to this in case anyone asks why I'm not supporting any of Gawin's projects with Joss. It's a shame because I do really like Gawin, but this isn't even a hard choice for me to make.

Oh, and while we're on the subject: the director of MGB, Ark, is also Not a Good Dude by all accounts I've heard from multiple people who've interacted with him privately. I mean, he sure is queer, but he's also said to be a misogynist with some white-people-worshipping tendencies. He doesn't have the highest opinion of BL fandom in general, either, especially when you look back on his whole direction of IT'S NOT A BL Shadow. Just, y'know, another reminder that queer people aren't Virtuous or Evil by nature. We're a big ole clusterfuck of nuance, so you don't have to support MGB for Ark just because he's a queer man. I have zero proof that I can share publicly, so you don't have to take my word for it. Just, y'know, in case you were on the fence, I've heard he's a dick.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go write absolutely filthy gay porn to purify myself from writing Joss's name so many times.

[bishopmyrielfundraiser]

even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise--

--as Victor Hugo didn't actually say.

The Winter 2025 Bishop Myriel Fundraiser is now open. This year will be dedicated to immigrants, many of whom are languishing in private prisons whose stock just went way, way up.

Our goal this year is at least 25 auction items and over $1000 in funds raised. If you've never participated before, this is your year. DM if you would like to participate but need advice!

Get your fic, art, books, crafts, costumes, and other offers ready. You can submit them according to the rules under the cut, and bidding on each item will start as soon as it is posted. Bidding in REPLIES, NOT REBLOGS, will continue through the end of December 21st, the darkest night of the year.

The recommended places to donate this year are: 1) RAICES Texas, an immigration-focused group which freed more than 2,000 people from immigration detention over the years. They fought to reunify families when children were ripped from their parents' arms during the first Trump administration, and have now pivoted to using funds to provide legal support for the detained, while continuing to pay bonds for those clients.

2) Annunciation House, a shelter serving immigrants. Run by Catholics in Texas who open their doors to the stranger without asking to see their papers, this year they faced down a vicious attempt by the Texas government to shut them down as a "stash house." The attorney general claimed in court that they followed "a more Bohemian set of ‘seven commandments,’ including commandments to ‘visit’ people when ‘incarcerated’ and ‘care (for them) when they’re sick.'” What could be more in the spirit of this fundraiser's namesake, Bishop Myriel? If you are not in the US and/or find it difficult to donate via those pages and/or want to support a particular organization doing good work to assist immigrants that's not listed above, please feel free to select another organization. From groups funding rescue ships in the Mediterranean to those supporting refugees stuck in camps around the world, there is a lot of good work to be done.

Rules for submitting your offers and bidding on them under the cut

Rules

1. Offering

SUBMIT your offering post to this blog! Include a link to this rules post in your own post, and also a minimum starting offer for your item, which can be a fic, art, or a physical item--be creative! Your offer does NOT have to be connected to the Les Misérables fandom, although such items are always welcome! Any terms and conditions of your offer should also be included in the post, eg what fandoms you are wiling to write for, any hard no’s on content, etc. Offer posts can keep coming in through the SUBMIT button until the auction closes.

2. Bidding

Bidding on each item opens as it is posted. Only bid on items tagged #Winter25. There will also be a masterpost to help distinguish this year's items from last years. Bid in REPLIES NOT REBLOGS (this is important because replies enable me to figure out who bid when and avoid conflicts) until 11:59PM Eastern Time December 21st, 2024. The highest bidder at that time will be the winner. Bidding can start as each item is posted.

3. Claiming or delivering your item

Please do not donate your bid until I have contacted you to inform you that you won the item!

If you have won an item, I will contact you directly via DM and ask you to provide a receipt or other verification for a donation to an immigration organization in the amount bid. This DM may come from either @bishopmyrielfundraiser or my main blog @lifeisyetfair. After you have made your donation, send such the receipt or verification bishopmyrielfundraiser@gmail.com or in a screenshot on Tumblr. Make sure the proof contains the amount you donated!

AFTER I have verified your donation, I will contact the offerer to let them know they can deliver the item. If you do not respond at all to my attempts to contact you within one week, I will move on to the next highest bidder. So check your DMs.

4. Sending the item you offered

All items should be delivered by March 31st, 2025 at the absolute latest, unless you have made other arrangements, eg the custom item/fic takes longer than that to create or write and you communicate about this. Earlier is even better, but remember that the most important thing is to keep the winner informed and make sure everyone has a good time.

[braisedhoney]

bear. oh bear. you have got to be kidding me.

THIS IS THE COOLEST THING?? HELLO????

(screaming in tags as always bc it'll get LONG otherwise)

I think a spaceship that makes no sense is the spaceship that makes the most sense for this crew, considering all that happens around here, Captain.

Moist regards,

#0505

honestly #0505, you're right and you should say it. i like to imagine that our ship is a very strange bastion of the crossovers where each character has a spiderverse-like portal we just... drag them into sometimes for whatever shitposts we make lmao ;; it makes sense then that the ship itself just. doesn't abide by the rules of reality. it's an eldritch thing. open a door that led to the second floor? bam, you're already in the room you're looking for. labs? nope, kitchen.

the only time it's ever consistent is like. in a crisis. then for some weird reason everything is in place. (plot convenience, the reason is plot convenience.)

also please dry off your regards, they're going to contaminate the lab samples of the hell mushrooms. o7

[marvelouslizzie]

No One Else Matters

Summary: Things between you and Bucky Barnes have been going great until an Avengers dinner party reminds you of that one night you spent with Steve Rogers. Now you are afraid that the meaningless past hook-up might jeopardize your future with Bucky.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI, secret relationship, alcohol consumption but no one is drunk, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v (on birth control and clean), begging, pet names, dirty talk, mentions of past hook up with Steve Rogers, eavesdropping, no mention of y/n

A/N: Another random idea that turned into a one-shot thanks to my amazing friends. Thank you so much @notafunkiller for beta-reading and editing. Also, some lines belong to her because she helped shape the story and I appreciate it a lot!

This story isn't any form of Steve Rogers hate. I just wanted to write a story like this and it wouldn't work with anyone else besides Steve. If you don't want to read a story where Steve is a past hook-up that didn't work out well, please stay away from the story.

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission. 

Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message me. I would love to answer questions or start a conversation as long as it doesn't include any kind of hate.

Read more tag starts after the first paragraph of the story.

Coming to this Avengers dinner might have been a big mistake. Essentially you were looking forward to this night because it had been a while since you saw your co-workers. Some are more like friends than co-workers, but working for SHIELD keeps everyone busy. Small events like this help people to get together, catch up and maybe plan other stuff for the future, but tonight feels somewhat different.

You were enjoying yourself until you saw Bucky and Steve casually chatting on the other side of the room. That doesn’t happen very often and it reminds you of things you'd rather not think about. Things that happened years ago. Like that one time, you hooked up with Steve. It was buried so deep into your memory, you simply forgot about it and it’s not like you see Steve that often. Occasionally, his team asks for your help and you try to do your best. And you have been nothing but friendly to each other since that night. You remember him taking it pretty well when you said you’d rather stay friends with him. He probably wasn’t looking for a relationship anyways.

It was before everyone found out HYDRA was nesting inside SHIELD for years. He was simply the golden boy. The first Avenger who unexpectedly returned. A savior. Everyone was in awe of him and tried to be their best version. It felt like a fairytale came true.

The problem is whenever people make an idol of someone expectations go over the roof. And when you meet that person, see what they are like up close, you just notice he’s just like anyone else. Even though they didn’t do anything wrong or bad, it still feels somehow disappointing.

He was different than what you expected him to be. You noticed that pretty quickly and decided to keep things professional. It worked out amazingly until… now. You look around, trying to calm yourself down, keeping that memory to yourself because this is definitely not the time to bring it up.

**

When the dinner finally starts, it turns out to be a good distraction. You chat with whoever is around you about recent missions, the latest gossip, and things SHIELD is planning to do in the near future. But your eyes keep wandering towards Bucky, who is seated across the table. It’s a huge relief to see Steve and him aren’t seated together or even close to each other. Everyone knows they used to be good friends, but that’s not the case anymore. Since Bucky is back to himself and started to work for SHIELD, things went downhill for their friendship. They slowly drifted apart.

You try hard not to glance back at him again, but he’s looking at you. That makes things even harder. You notice how his lips form a small smile whenever your eyes meet and how he tries to play it off as something he did because of his conversation. But you know his smile is caused by you and even though you don’t want to accept that, it melts your heart a little more.

After the dessert is served, people start to focus on their drinks more. Different groups are forming, and when you want to take check on Bucky, he quickly tilts his head to the right, signaling you to leave the room and meet him. You look around to see if anyone noticed, but no one’s focus is on you two. 

You do nothing but watch him discreetly walk away first, without waiting for an answer. He knows you will follow. And that’s exactly what you do: you place your empty glass on the counter and leave the room as subtly as he did. What you don’t notice is that someone actually has been watching you very closely.

You have no idea where Bucky went exactly, so you start to wander around, trying to guess where he’d choose to hide until he grabs you with his arm, pulling you inside an empty room before quickly locking the door.

“Bucky!” A half-yelp leaves your lips, but it’s muffled by his hand.

“It’s me,” he whispers against your ear before he starts to kiss your neck sloppily. “Relax.”

He doesn’t waste any time. His hands are everywhere on your body: grabbing your breasts over the clothes, squeezing your ass.

“I missed you.” His breathy whisper gives you goosebumps. 

“Oh, I missed you, too.” You grab his face with both of your hands and finally kiss him properly. He happily sighs and lets you take control. His lips are soft, tasting like bourbon, which surprises you because he is usually a beer kind of guy. Maybe he decided to try something different tonight since he isn’t the one paying. 

That reminds you of the party and everyone inside. Including Steve Rogers. Bucky’s ex-best friend. And that make the anxious feeling in your gut returns. You need to tell him about what happened between you and Steve. Even if you’re afraid that it would change everything between you two. But you aren’t ready to lose him. Not when you’ve just started to realize how strong your feelings are for him.

He doesn’t fail to notice the shift in your mood. You aren’t as present in the kiss as if you have something on your mind. He stops kissing you unexpectedly, making you give him a confused look.

“Are you okay?” He sounds genuinely concerned.

You take a deep breath. Maybe it’s just better to tell him now and get it over with. What’s the point of delaying the inevitable?

“I gotta tell you something.”

You see how his concern grows even more. His expression is serious and full of worry.

“Do you want to break this off? Is that what it is?” 

God, the way he asked that question just hurts something inside you. He sounded so broken, so afraid.

“No, no! Of course not.” You quickly clear the air, leaving no space for any kind of misunderstanding. “But you might wanna break things off with me after I tell you… this.” 

You can see how your words confuse him. He squints, trying to understand what you are talking about and coming up with a reasonable explanation. You know whatever he’ll think about won’t be even close to the reality, but you didn’t expect his response either.

“Are you pregnant? Is that why you are nervous?” His hand caresses your cheek as he asks you. “You know I wouldn’t leave you for something like that, right? We can do whatever you want. It’s totally up to you.” 

No, you aren’t pregnant. That’s not even a possibility. You’ve been on birth control even before you two started to have sex. Still, hearing his soft-spoken words makes you melt inside. 

“No, baby, I’m not pregnant.” 

You both take a breath after eliminating another possibility. He looks at you fora few seconds, trying to decide if he should say it or not.

“Is it about you dating Steve?”

Words can’t describe how surprised you are. Questions flood your mind instantly. How much does he know? When did he find out? Who told him? And dating? No, you definitely did not date Steve Rogers. God, you have so many questions to ask. You don’t know where to start. 

“You know about that.” It comes out more like a question than a statement. The shock is so clear in your voice. 

“Of course, I know.” 

“How? When?” The questions come out one after another and make him smile a little. You stop yourself from asking even more and decide to make one thing clear. “And I did not date him. It was a one-time thing.”

“Oh.” He sounds surprised. Maybe he thought it was more serious, but if so why didn’t he bring it up before?

“When did you find out?” You have to know. 

“Not so long ago.”

“Who told you?” 

“Sam. He thought there was some kind of tension between you two, but I couldn’t see it. So he explained.” He doesn’t sound like it bothers him much, which is relieving.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I could ask you the same.”

He’s right. He can ask the same question. Your answer is simple, though.

“I actually forgot it happened.” Is he really smiling? “It wasn’t that memorable to me.” 

“That bad, huh?” 

You can’t help but laugh. God, you love him so much. You were worried sick about how he would react and here he is joking about it.

“Do you want an actual answer?” You finally ask. 

“Yeah, sure.” He doesn’t seem to mind.

“It was okay.” 

Now it’s his turn to laugh. “So it was bad.” 

“Like I said, not memorable.” You choose to repeat. You don’t wanna disrespect him that much, but you don’t even remember much about it. That was one of the reasons you wanted to stay friends anyway.

“Doll, it’s fine.” He finally decides to answer you seriously.

“So you don’t mind?” 

“It was way before us. It’s not my place to judge you for it.” 

That’s a huge relief. You were so worried he would just choose some kind of bro code over you but no. He chose you. You breathe out with a smile on your face.

“And if someone is gonna get judged for their past, it’s not gonna be you.”

You instantly frown because you understood immediately what he meant by it.

“That’s not the same thing. I chose to hook up with him. You didn’t choose to get brainwashed.”

“Yeah, of course, but I am the one who killed those people.”

“Bucky, no.” You touch his chest, trying to comfort him without realizing it. “Don’t go there. Please. That’s not a fair comparison.” You want him to be free of this guilt. He’s trying to redeem himself so hard, it has to end somewhere.

“Fine.” He finally accepts it. “I don’t care about your past. I only care about your present and future. Is that better?” 

“Yes, it is better.” You wrap your arms around his neck and close the distance. “You are always so forgiving, yet you are so harsh to yourself.”

“As long as you are mine, I don’t care about anything.” 

That does it. An unexpected jolt of arousal overwhelms you. Suddenly, you don’t feel shy anymore. 

“Can you…” You try to collect your words. “Can you fuck me like you did the last time?” Asking that out loud feels a little weird. Maybe you should’ve drunk a bit more.

You watch as his eyes widen in response. Oh, he wants that as much as you do. No need to feel shy.

“Which position exactly?” He sounds so cheeky, but you can see his question is genuine. He needs additional info because it wasn’t a one-and-done.

“Against the wall.” You bit your lip, remembering how good it felt. So rough, yet so full of pleasure. You can’t help but shiver when you remember that orgasm.

“Fuck.” He surpasses a moan. “We have to be quiet, doll. Can you do that for me?” His voice is really low.

You eagerly nod in response. You aren’t sure if you can actually do it, but you will try your best if he’s going to do what you asked for. 

“God, I love you so much.” You can’t hold yourself back anymore. Hearing those words from him sparks something unstoppable inside you. Grabbing him by the face, you crash your lips against him. 

“I love you, Bucky.” You keep kissing him. “So much.” Your hands move south, unbuckling him as quickly as possible. 

Your movements are rushed but not sloppy. Like you did this a million times before. It feels familiar, but it doesn’t change how much you need him. Urgently. And he doesn’t seem to mind that your act as if you are in a hurry. When you finally unbutton his pants, they pool around his ankles, and that’s when he decides to lift you up. His hands stay under your ass while he presses you against the wall, your dress already curled up around your waist. 

“Are you ready for me, doll?” He asks with that voice he uses when he’s really aroused. It turns you on even more and you didn’t know that was possible.

“Yes.” You want him inside you so much. You need his lips on you. “Please, Bucky, I need you.”

“You do?” Oh, youknow this tone too well. He loves to tease you and make you talk more about what you want, and it’s always so rewarding. So you don’t hold back.

“Please, fuck me, I need your cock so badly.” Even though it’s dimly lit inside the room, you see the shift in his eyes. Your words are feeding some kind of primal need inside him. “I need you, baby, please. I’m so wet.”

“Let’s see if that’s true.” He holds you with one hand and aligns himself to your entrance with the other. You shouldn’t be surprised by how strong he is, but every time he manages to astonish you. He doesn’t even struggle to carry or hold you. When he finally thrusts inside you, a loud moan escapes your lips. The stretch is so fucking delicious. “Shh.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” You quickly try to apologize. “It just feels ssso good.” A low moan follows your words.

“You know I love to hear you, doll.” He starts moving. “I love how you always beg for more.” His free hand goes to your head, pushing a strand of hair back so he can see your face better. “But this time we need to keep it quiet. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“I’ll be good, I promise.”

That makes him smile. You wrap your hands around his neck again, wanting to be close to him. That’s when you both hear a sound really close to you. So close that you feel like it came right at the door. You both still for a second, listening to find out if someone is outside, but there’s no more sound. So that noise is long forgotten in a minute.

You don’t even care if someone is outside. You don’t care if someone hears you fucking. Bucky Barnes loves you. No one else matters. Your lips clash against his. It’s such a sloppy kiss, but you love every second of it. His hand moves to your neck, holding you in place as he starts to pound on you.

“Is this how you wanted it?” He keeps asking, wanting you to speak, but you can't. “Is it that good you went speechless?”

You nod eagerly.

“Come on, darling. Use your words.” He’s moving relentlessly, taking your breath away with each stroke.

“Yes.” You finally manage to say. “Oh god, yes.”

“Yes to what?” He taunts you. “Is that what you wanted or is it that good?”

“Both!” You say louder than you intended, then you remember you promised to be good and you lower your voice. “Yes to both!”

“Good girl.” His flesh hand travels to your neckline. He quickly pushes the straps of your dress down more, finally revealing your breasts. You aren’t wearing a bra, thanks to the padded dress. “God, look at you.” He marvels at you. “Such a pretty little doll. All mine.” 

His mouth latches on your right breast, sucking and biting it while he keeps moving. He knows how to use his mouth well everywhere. It makes everything so much better. You can feel that pleasure starts to bottle up, your abdomen tensing.

Oh, he truly knows how to get you there. He knows how much you love it when you two climax together. It feels heavenly… like you are in your own little world and there’s no one but him there. Nothing else matters. As your legs start to shake with overwhelming pleasure, you imagine going back inside, talking to others while his come is dripping out of you. No one would know what you two were up to. Not a single soul. It’s your little secret. The thought makes you moan a little bit louder. Your hands grip hard on his shoulders. 

Bucky moans right next to your ear. “God, you feel so good.” His hands are gripping hard on your ass. “I wish I can stay inside you forever. I don’t wanna move. I don’t wanna go anywhere else. I just wanna keep fucking you, until you beg me to stop.” Does he know what his words do to you? Does he notice how it amplifies your orgasm? Or does he just say whatever he wants to say? “I’m gonna come.” He warns you. “I’m gonna come, baby. I’m gonna come.” 

You ride your orgasms together, as he empties himself inside you. His head falls on your shoulder while he keeps holding you. His lips press against the crook of your neck. While you keep taking deep breaths, you can feel his heart racing. 

“Are you okay?” He asks while moving away enough to take himself out of you.

“Okay?” You question as he gently puts you on your feet. “I feel amazing.” 

You lift yourself on your tiptoes and give him a full wet kiss. 

“Now I believe you.” He gives you a little smile that only makes you want to kiss him again.

“I’ll be louder when we go home so you won’t have an ounce of doubt.”

“Yours or mine?” His question comes instantly.

“I don’t care.” You really don’t. All you want is him. Where, when, and how are just details.

He helps you shape your hair back to normal while you pull the stripes up. Your underwear is a mess and you are dripping out already. Bucky takes a napkin out of his pocket and kneels in front of you. He gently pushes the serviette between your folds, cleaning you up enough so you can go back inside. 

“Thank you.” You love it when he takes care of you like this. “But you know that won’t be enough. I will keep dripping all night.” 

“I’m counting on that.” You can see on his face how much that thought excites him. “Keep dripping onto your underwear while talking to others. Remember what we did here. Imagine what we will do later.” He stands up while you fix your dress and you realize that you can’t wait to leave this party already.

“You have such a dirty mouth. I love it.” You grab his face with one hand and just force him to kiss you. Not that you can actually force him to do anything, but he lets you anyway. “Come on. Let’s go back.”

**

It’s been a while since you returned to the party. Everything seems normal. No one even realized you were absent. No one is suspecting anything. That encourages you to look around for Bucky. When your eyes meet, he gives you a teasing smile while casually chatting with Sam.

The whole night you didn’t say a word to him. Not around other people. But you don't see any reason to keep avoiding him. Everyone knows you two are friendly. So you decide to walk over and chat a little.

“Oh, look who remembered us!” Sam jokes as soon as he notices you.

“Hello to you too, Sam.” You don’t mind his teasing. “Good to see you missed me.”

“Hey.” Bucky raises his beer bottle to casually greet you. He probably got tired of the bourbon.

“How are you, fellas?”

“Oh you know, missions and drinks. Same stuff,” Bucky answers your question. 

“Nothing new?” You tease him, just to see how he would react.

“Nope. Just little old me doing the same things.”

“Really, I keep telling him to go on a date or something but no. He prefers this misery instead.”

You try to surpass a smile forming on your lips, well aware of the exact reason why he’s declining the offer.

While you’re staring at each other, Sam notices Steve on the other side of the room and raises his hand. 

“Hey, Rogers!”

That’s definitely the last thing you need tonight, but there’s no way you can stop Sam. Steve joins your group in a couple of seconds, but for some reason, he looks… kinda miserable.

“You alright, man?” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He absently answers. “I’m fine. Feeling a bit under the weather.”

“Maybe that super serum is finally wearing off.” Sam jokes and it manages to make Steve smile for a second.

“How are you all?” Steve asks while looking at the whole group, but his eyes stay on you for a bit longer than the rest.

“Oh, we are fine. We were talking about the lack of Mr. Barnes’s dating life.”

God, he isn’t going to let that go, is he? 

“Speaking of dating…” Sam continues while taking his phone off. “I met this guy the other day and he’s perfect for you!” Is he talking to you? He shows you a photo of this blonde guy who honestly looks alright, but he’s practically a stranger. “He’s a good guy and he fits your type. I can give your his number if you want.”

“What the fuck, Sam?” Your response makes the rest laugh. “You are playing matchmaker now?”

“I mean… someone gotta do it and I was hoping you would find someone to return the favor for me.”

You look at Bucky just to see he’s kind of enjoying this while Steve looks thoughtful for some reason.

“That’s definitely not my type.”

“Really?” Sam side-eyes Steve for a second to see his reaction, but it’s like he already knew that. 

“And I am already seeing someone, so…”

“Wait a second!” Sam sounds surprised. “You are seeing someone? Since when?”

“Why are you so surprised? You thought I would inform you about my love life or something?” Bucky is laughing quietly on the side, and Sam looks a little uncomfortable.

“I don’t know. I thought you were single. You are already off the market, huh?”

Bucky subtly nods to his last comment but doesn’t say anything.

“Yeah, it seems so.” You put your drink on the nearest surface and stretch your neck a little. 

“Tired?” Bucky asks this time.

“Yes. I’m thinking about leaving. Maybe I should call an Uber or something.” You make a move to take your phone out.

“Actually… I was considering the same thing. I can drop you home, you can save up the money.”

“Really?” You didn’t expect him to offer to leave with you. Usually, one of you leaves first and the other follows, but maybe after tonight's events, he decided that there’s no reason to hide anymore. “Sure, that'd be great.”

You see Sam rolling his eyes. “There go hours of effort.”

“You wanted to leave before?” It’s obvious you are talking to Bucky.

“No, not really, but he assumes that and tries to talk me into staying every time.” You start to laugh. It’s not hard to imagine why Sam thinks he’d rather be somewhere else.

“Sorry, Sam, but we are old. Apparently we need more sleep.” You are mocking yourself and Bucky at the same time, wondering how he’ll react.

“He is old, but you… not so much.”

“My soul is old and that’s enough.” You raise both of your hands and wave a goodbye. “Anyways, time to go. Good to see both of you.” Your thumbs and index fingers move around like two guns pointed at Sam and Steve.

“Good night,” Bucky simply adds.

While you two quietly walk away, Sam is already suspecting something is up.

“Did I drink too much or is there something going on between them?” Sam asks when you are far enough not to hear it.

“They are together.” Steve tries to sound as casual as possible.

“Wait! Really?” He thought something was just blooming between you two, not a full on relationship. “How do you know?”

“I heard them.” Steve notices how it sounds and quickly adds: “Talking.”

“And you are okay with that?”

“Yeah, sure.” That doesn’t sound convincing at all. “It’s not my place to say anything. It was never that serious.” He isn’t sure if he’s trying to convince Sam or himself. “I mean… I think she’d want to get serious, but she talked about staying friends and I jumped on the opportunity and agreed because I didn’t want a relationship.”

Sam nods. “Well, good for them I guess. They seem like a good match.”

“They really do.”

[nimona-week]

Nimona Week 2025 FAQ

What is this?

Nimona Week is a celebration of our favorite shapeshifting sidekick, in both her movie and comic incarnations. We're hoping to encourage new fanworks of all kinds. This year, Nimona Week will be both here on Tumblr and on Bluesky.

When is it?

Nimona Week will take place from Sunday, March 30 to Saturday, April 5, 2025. Those dates were chosen because March 31st is Trans Day of Visibility.

However, it's never "too late" to be inspired or post fanworks. We'll try to reblog tagged posts during actual Nimona Week, so keep that in mind if you decide to post early or late.

Are there prompts?

There will be! Please feel free to share some suggestions here by December 21st. After prompt submissions close, you'll have the opportunity to vote for your favorites. We'll share final prompts by the end of January to allow writers and artists time to create.

What can I make?

You can make or write basically anything featuring Nimona-the-character: haikus, limericks, 100 word drabbles, ficlets, long fics, traditional art, digital art, gifsets, cosplay, embroidery, etc.

What if I'm not interpreting a prompt correctly?

We are not policing people's interpretations of the prompts. If a prompt inspires you to create, that's fantastic!

What about Goldenheart/Blackloin?

This event is Nimona-centric, but @goldenheart-week will return this summer. Fanworks for Nimona Week can absolutely include Ballister and Ambrosius (or other characters!) in addition to Nimona, but we want to keep her in the spotlight.

If you are interested in organizing @goldenheart-week 2025, please reach out to @zyrafowe-sny. :)

Are there any other Nimona fandom events?

That's up to the fandom! Another @nimonabigbang, a Reverse Big Bang, or a fic exchange can only happen if there are enough people willing to moderate and/or participate; fanweeks like this one and @goldenheart-week are a little easier to organize.

To provide feedback on possible future fandom events, you're invited to fill out this anonymous survey (even if you didn't participate in the 2024 Nimona Big Bang).

Are there any other multi-fandom events coming up where Nimona fanworks would be welcome?

We strongly recommend keeping an eye out for Fandom Trumps Hate in early 2025 — it's a multi-fandom online fanworks auction that's designed to raise money for progressive non-profits. You can sign up to write fanfic, make fanart, beta read, or perform other fan labor, and people can bid on your fanwork. If they win the auction, they donate directly to the non-profit(s) and submit proof of their donation. This is not a commission or selling fanwork; the fanwork you create is a thank you gift for the donation. Bidding often starts at $5.

There are also multi-fandom Big Bangs, monthly and weekly prompt lists, bingos, etc. We will often reblog those to help signal boost.

Where can I find information about Nimona Week 2024?

Here are some links from last year:

2024 FAQ | 2024 Prompts | 2024 Reblogs

What about...?

Feel free to send an ask if you have additional questions. We will also be updating the FAQ as needed.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Love Game 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your fiance suggests incorporating roleplay in the bedroom to keep the spark alive, but playing pretend turns out to be all too real.

Characters: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen

Note: I did this because I could.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

'You ready?' 

A tingle accompanies the text. Your stomach tosses and turns at the thought. You think you're ready. As ready as you can be. It's all so new to you. 

You hover your finger over the automated reply suggested by the OS. You tap on 'yes', too shaky to type it yourself. You're not scared, just nervous. 

When Andy first brought up the idea, you laughed. It was so absurd. Silly really. 

You remember how the look he gave you was like hands on your throat. The hurt with an edge of agitation strangled away your laughter. You apologised and asked him if you heard him right. Then he explained and it made sense. Kind of. 

'If we're going to get married, we need to keep the flame alive,' your fiance said as you stirred the contents of a pan with a spatula. 'Trust me, I know. A dead bedroom can kill everything else.' 

You frown at the memory. You hate when he mentions his first wife. He's engaged to you now. You're not her. Besides, things are pretty good. That's why you laughed. There was nothing bland to spice up. At least, you hadn't thought so. 

'You know the plan?' He texts. Always thorough, if not persistent. 

'I think' you type as you squeeze your phone tighter then think better of the reply. You backspace. Remember the plan. 'Yes, sir.' 

You blow out between your lip and put the phone on the counter. You look in the mirror and pick up the bottle of moisturizer, smearing it over your face. Half the day you've spent prepping yourself. Everything has to be perfect. Andy is always certain of that. 

You snap the cap shut and peruse the rest of the basket. He thought of everything. New soaps, wax, perfume, and all sorts of goodies. You didn't need it all but he insisted. 

Everything about Andy Barber is pristine and tidy. His house not least of his carefully curated existence. So it is that you often feel as if you don't quite fit it, even when he tells you the opposite. 

Your phone vibes and you look down at the screen as the notification flashes, 'good girl.' 

Your lashes bat and you giggle thinly. You've never done anything like this. You struggle to get a precise grip on the tweezers and have to still your hand with the other. This is wild! 

You rub your thighs together and strike hotter the flame of your anticipation. As much as the whole thing has you uncertain, it has you alight. You steady yourself and lean into the mirror, just a few stray hairs. It shouldn't matter, it'll be dark, right? 

Your phone goes again. You pull back and glance down. You trade the tweezers for the cell and press your lips together. 

'Did you find your surprise?' 

You look up and search your expression. Surprise? You lower your brow and peer around the bathroom. There's more? 

'Bedroom' his next message comes bluntly. 

You chew your lip and leave the mirror behind. You go down to the main bedroom and ease through the door. The room still smells of his cologne. The whole place is drenched in him, meanwhile most people wouldn't guess at a glance that you lived there too. 

You see it on the bed. White silk and lace. The lingerie is sheer enough that you may as well forego it. You near and touch the scalloped hem. You know it must be expensive, funny how so little fabric can be worth so much. 

You step back and take a picture. You send it to Andy and wait, your thumb between your teeth. He replies. 

'Put it on.' 

His blunt orders add to the thrum coursing through you already. It seems he's already in character. You need to get yourself together and do your part. 

'Yes, sir.' 

You set the phone on the corner of the mattress and trade your bathroom for the lingerie. The thong, while high-waisted has you on full display. Not ass, no crotch, just lace straps that trim your thighs and bottom. The top is an open teddy with cups that do nothing to censor your pert nipples. Just wearing it sends a thrill through you. 

You take the phone and return to the bathroom. You use the full-length mirror to frame your reflection with the lens. You snap a few pics and sift through for the best one. You hesitate before you tap the little arrow. You're a mess of paranoia and lust; you shouldn't send photos like this and yet you can't help yourself. 

You wait for his reply. Wait and wait and wait. You have to stop yourself from staring at the phone, knowing that your hyperfocus will only slow time. You cross to the counter and place the phone near the edge. 

Your attention is drawn to the sheer fabric acrosd your chest. You can't suppress the moan that leaks from you. You can feel how excited you already are but your eagerness might just get in the way of the whole thing. 

You sigh and the buzz draws you back from your anxiety. You read the message, almost disappointed. 

'Midnight.' 

That's it. That's all he has to say. Was the pic not good enough? Is this part of the roleplay? You don't know. 

As ever, Andy has you guessing at what he really wants. Hopefully this time, you get it right. 

💕

10:47pm. You’re wired. You’re trying to settle down. You have freshly laundered bedding and a glass of wine; all the perfect ingredients to lull you to sleep. That’s all you need to do. Fall asleep. 

Yet knowing what’s coming won’t let your mind stop. Ugh, your heart is racing again. You need to finish the wine. You push yourself up and have another gulp. You lay in the glow of your phone, a Get Ready With Me playing on low volume. Usually this all works. 

Not tonight. You’re too buzzy. Too frazzled. Too eager! 

You empty the glass and lay back down. You were generous, filling the wide body of the glass to the halfway point. At least two regular glasses worth.  

Your head meets the pillow and you start to feel it. The acidic burn spreads through your veins and you sink into the soft sheets. You turn your head to watch the small screen of your phone, vision slowly hazing as the contoured woman applies her lip liner expertly. 

Your eyelids cling and start to itch. Your heady is swishy, your tummy too, and your limbs weaken. It’s working. You try not to think too much about it, not wanting to counteract the alcohol with your self-awareness. 

You roll onto your side and drift into a half-conscious daze. Your brain swirls and your blood burns hot. Your breathing slows and piques only when your rouse, glancing at your phone as a new video plays. The time stamps into your vision; 11:25. 

You curl your shoulders inward, more tired than anxious now, and slip back into your tipsy stupour. The screen is just a glow on the other side of your eyelids and the audio a scratch in your ears. It fades beneath the even ebb and flow of your quiet snores. 

As the light fades out and the sound dwindles to nothing but the still of night, you wake again. Your eyes open to the darkness. You’re alone. Confused. 

You feel around on the bed for your phone. It must have timed out or the battery died. You don’t find it. Instead, your wrist is trapped in a strong grip and dragged away from the duvet. You gasp and remember what’s going on. It’s starting. He’s there. 

“Ah, ah,” comes the grizzled tut as your other arm is seized and your hands are brought together above your head. 

Andy’s shadowy figure straddles you, pinning you to the mattress as you squirm. You let out a squeak and he hushes you. You still and arch your back, trying to push your chest up. 

“Please, who are you?” You whine, doing your best to play into the scenario. “Please, my husband will be home soon--” 

He shushes you again, holding your wrists together as he leans back to reach behind him. You can hardly see through the dark and your foggy tipsiness. The curtains have been drawn, obscuring the room to fuzzy lines and pulsing shadows. 

He hooks something around your arm; a leather cuff, then secures your other wrist. He keeps your arms up and reaches behind the mattress. He attaches the wring between the cuffs to some unseen hook. Where did that come from? 

You writhe as he stares down at you. You squint back at him, trying to see through the dim. Something feels off. He’s so quiet and forceful. It must be part of the roleplay but it just doesn’t feel like him. He feels like a stranger. 

He backs off of you, peeling back the duvet to drop it on the floor. He prowls along the foot of the bed and you kick your feet, whimpering as you strain against the cuffs. You keep forgetting it’s a game. You have to play your part too. 

“Please, don’t hurt me,” you beg. 

There’s no answer. Andy continues to pace, back and forth, back and forth. He's really transformed. Where he would usually have his hands on his hips, he has them folded behind him, shoulders squared, his steps lighter. 

He stops and lets out a willowy rasp. He unzips his jacket, slipping off the sleeves slowly, deliberately. You lift your head as you try to see him clearer. Did he change? He must have dressed up too. 

Then he pulls his shirt over his head and huffs out again, a growl catching in his throat. He drops the shirt with his jacket and the duvet. Andy never leaves a garment outside the closet or hamper but this isn’t Andy, remember? This is an intruder! And you’re the helpless housewife. 

You nearly moan at the thought. Something about it is so hot even if it makes you a bit squidgy too. You tug again on your wrists as you hear his zipper slice through the din. 

“Please--” you beg. 

He kicks the footboard and the loud bang silences you. You can’t help the pathetic noise that trickles from your tongue and you swallow. He’s doing good. It feels so real. 

He continues to undress. Your heartbeat picks up as you wait for him to really start. He bends to pick something up then climbs over the footboard onto the bed. For a moment, you wince. His silhouette is slimmer. Or seems so. The difference is so minuscule it might be your wine-laced brain playing tricks. 

He catches your kicking feet and pushes your legs wide. He trails his hands up them, a piece of fabric tickling beneath his left palm, and firmly hooks them around him as he moves between them. He stops at your pelvis, his rigid length hovering over you. He stretches the black cloth across your eyes, blotting out what little sight you have. He knots the band behind your head and you gasp. 

He traces along your cheeks and your jawline, as if he can see you through the dark, as if he’s learning you by touch. His fingertips dance down your throat and across your shoulders. You feel fragile as he toys with the strap of the lingerie and feels along the flimsy cups, circling his thumbs around your nipples as they pebble beneath the sheer silk. 

He gropes you and growls. The noise is guttural and raw. It flutters into your core and has you twitching. He pushes his knees against your cunt, moving so the friction flurries in your clit. You babble and raise your chest, hungry for his touch. 

He flicks your nipples and his hands crawl onward, down your torso, doting on the soft flesh of your stomach, and framing your hips as he draws back on his knees. He snarls and bends over you, bowing as he grips you tightly. His nails dig into your skin and you whine as you feel his hot breath against your folds. 

He nuzzles along the edges of the panties, growling as he does, squeezing your harder, then at once, buries his nose in your cunt. He wiggles his head and drags the tip of his nose up over your clit and swipes his tongue up to further set you aflame. You moan and curve your back, planting your heels as you urge him on. 

He delves into you, lapping and licking, suckling and swirling. His arm reaches up and he kneads your chest, blindly pulling the lingerie under one tis. He pinches as you cry out and he rolls your clit between his teeth. You puff out shallow breaths, swept up in the sensations. 

This is so different. Unlike he’s ever been before. He’s almost feral in how he touches you, how he feels you, how it seems he wants to consume you. There’s something else different, something strange you can’t place.  

Did he shave? You can’t tell, It must be the wine. His cheeks feel bare against your thighs and yet you swear you feel that scratchy tickle against your cunt. You don’t think about it; it’s all too much to focus. 

You squeal as you cum, spasming into his face as he drinks up your orgasm. You’re heaving and hollow as he doesn’t let up. He laps at you until you’re begging him to stop. Until you’re quaking, nearly sobbing in overwrought pleasure. Until you have a second, a third, and a fourth. 

Your slickness smears over his face and across your thighs. As he parts, his breath is humid, and you can smell the sweet scent of your release. You shiver as he raises himself up and the bed jostles. He snarls and slaps your thighs, squeezing until you whimper. 

He shifts and slides a hand under your leg. He flips you onto your stomach so your arms twist and your face is buried in the pillow. You pant into the linen as he smacks your ass with both hands and growls as he fondles you. You murmur as his touch sends tendrils down your legs and up your back. 

He grips your hips once more and raises your ass. Oh my god. It’s only a few times you’ve done it like this, often Andy prefers you on your back. He says he likes to see you.  

He pulls you back against him, his length resting between your cheeks as he bends over you. He inhales the scent of your hair and snarls against your crown. He reaches down to feel between your legs, spreading your swollen cunt as he angles his hips. 

His tip slips down and he uses his fingertips to guide it to your entrance. You’re so wet he slips right in. He sounds just as surprised as he gasps. He sinks into your limit and you whine. He retracts his arm, hooking it around your neck, and thrusts. 

You squeal as he buries himself even deeper. He does it again; harder. It hurts. You croak and press your chin down into his arm. You feel a ripple of fear. His chest feels... bare. Andy has that trim of fur that you like to play with. Maybe he got rid of it? For the roleplay? 

He snaps his hips again, staying deep before slowly rearing back. He pauses, then bucks again. The impact of his pelvis on your ass is painful and he’s hitting your cervix. 

“Ow, Andy--” 

“Quiet,” he grits in a deep sneer and brings his other hand up to smother your mouth. 

He leans his weight on you, your neck and shoulders aching from the angle of your spine. He dips into you again, again, again. Each pause between grows shorter as he tilts into a full rut. The entire bed shakes with his motion. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and curl your fingers into your palms, the cuffs slowing your circulation. You huff into his hand as he continues his rampant fucking, skin slapping, bones aching. Harder, deeper, faster, until you’re delirious. 

“What’s your husband going to think when he comes home to his wife being fucked like a slut?” He rasps and nibbles your ear, “huh? How’s he gonna compare to this, baby? Your husband can’t fuck like me can he?”  

He taunts and you cringe. You don’t like it anymore. It’s not fun. You don’t want him to be this man. To be this rough and rude. You want him to be Andy. You try to say his name again but only taste the salt of his palm. 

“Keep your mouth shut, slut,” he sinks into his limit and stays there, his voice echoing in your head. His tone is just... off. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

[k6tzie]

SHARING A BED WITH COD CHARACTERS 💤

i had a thought before ; what would happen if most cod characters shared a huge bed together? so here are my headcannons on how i think it'd go! it's not realistic & it's all in good fun, no need to get aggressive☺i included as many as i could. reblogs & likes are always appreciated 💗

soap: kept tossing his leg onto ghost the entire night without noticing it. before he fell asleep, he kept making stupid jokes with gaz who was on the other side until price told them to be quiet and that "people are trying to sleep"

ghost: probably snored like a cow the whole night. he would snore, take a long pause then continue. he tossed soaps leg off of him even whilst he was asleep because it was bothering him. got stuck in the middle

price: played candy crush on full brightness so the person next to him was blinded (roach🙁) . fell asleep with his phone unlocked and dropped it on his face like 5 times. when his phone flung off the bed, he blamed gaz for "hiding it from him". he was on the edge and it was just on the floor.

roach: slept like a baby and slept early on. deep sleeper and literally didn't hear any of the commotion going on around him. soap thought it'd be funny to put his hand into water and make him pee himself, then realised he'd pee the bed. the whole night he was paranoid roach would randomly pee (he never did, it didn't work)

gaz: giggled and laughed the whole night as everyone kept saying "shut up gaz!". a surprisingly deep sleeper and drooled onto his pillow and accidently cuddled the person next to him. he definitely sleeps with his mouth open.

valeria: purposely kept getting up to piss everyone off, then would say "i'm just thirsty." but, she ended up really needing to pee in the middle of the night and pushed the sleeping people out of the way, waking them all up accidently

graves: kept smacking his mouth and making them saliva noises as he turned away from everyone else and tried to sleep. "Cut. It. Out." he just repeated, still turned away from everyone else when they'd act up. however the person next to him (poor logan) was NOT safe. he kept accusing him of touching his back as he'd randomly jolt and say things like; "I know it was you touchin' my back buddy." (it was literally just the tag from his shirt)

logan: put his headphones in and tried to listen to some music but everyone around him could hear everything from those cheap ass headphones. but he refused to put the volume down. he told them to "thank him for them listening to such good music". soon fell asleep at a reasonable time, one of the only sane ones.

makarov: made everyone sleep on the couch or floor.

laswell: kept wiggling away from everyone to get as much space as possible. asked to be on the edge so she could have the nightstand. she kept waking up just to take sips of water then go back to sleep

keegan: literally kicked everybody off the bed and tried hogging the blanket for himself just to get a rise out of y'all. was the one to tickle people's legs with his feet then act like he didn't know who did it.

rudy: kept trying to politely ask everyone to quiet down but no one listened to him. he kept putting his pillow around his ears dramatically so they would get the hint.

farah: one of the ones who fell asleep last. she purposely did that because sleeping after everyone else has slept makes her feel comfortable knowing everyone's okay. she stopped gaz and soap from drawing on prices face.

alejandro: everyone turned away from him since he was the only one just wearing boxers and nothing else and they didn't wanna invade his privacy but he literally didn't care. kept mumbling things in his sleep with his face in the pillow and sort of creeped everyone out because at first they thought they were hearing things.

krueger: had to take melatonin to fall asleep but he forgot just how much coffee he had drank earlier in the day so he got up in the middle of the night to go puke. snored pretty loud too

hesh: kept asking if he could bring riley onto the bed and everyone said no, obviously. the pjs he wore had SO much dog hair on it someone had to supply him a spare shirt. was a reasonable person, talked a little then fell asleep. good person to sleep next to

horangi: despised sleeping next to hesh. all that dog hair made his eyes red and itchy. but he was very organized and gave everyone specific spots to sleep in. kept fixing the blankets and assured everyone was comfortable and anytime someone kicked the blanket off, he'd put it right back on them, not considering they might be hot

nikto: his big ass helmet kept clanking against the headboard and irritating everybody but no one dared to say anything about it. he tossed around a lot and kept waking up since he's a light sleeper

konig: he kept tossing around like a rotisserie chicken and took up a good quarter of the bed. pretty soft snorer and wasn't too loud but accidently kept getting into peoples spaces and just breathing onto them

thank u for reading! please feel free to leave suggestions :)

[pixiecactus]

so in that fandom confessions post, of how people that like sansa and elia tend to depict lyanna and arya as wild and ugly when it's a canon fact that both of them were considered pretty.

there's a stansa claiming that they have never seen any elia or sansa stan do this. and i remember that old saying that goes "no hay peor ciego que el que no quiere ver" (sorry for not putting a translation, but i think that i'm pretty done with posting altogether, and i really hate this time of the year, so i couldn't care less right now)

so i went through their blog to see what content they reblog, and i find it so interesting how this is one of the tags they wrote.

i can only talk for myself, as someone who doesn't like sansa that much (i really appreciate that later on in the books we don't see her judging other girls or women for being sexually active; look at her go! she's growing and learning to be more accepting; i'm a little bit impressed)... actually i think it has come a time in my life where i really pity the girl for the fandom that she has; they don't like her canon personality, and they only use her as a vessel to project themselves into a "pretty, young, and naive maid" archetype in a fantasy setting.

but i want arya and sansa to reunite; actually, i even see them sharing a desperate hug because they need to confirm that the other one is real by touching them.

where the problem lies for me is people trying to erase the fact that arya and sansa don't have a good relationship. and meanwhile, i agree that arya loves her sister, because (i can't stress enough this next part) family is one of the most important things for arya. i can't say the same thing about sansa, for this girl, the most important thing is herself, and she doesn't like arya, simply as that, because her little sister dares to rebel and not conform to what is expected of her because she was born a girl. 

sansa can't connect to arya at all because she doesn't understand her; and instead of coming to terms with this fact, sansa wishes that arya was different and then later on when sansa thinks that arya is already dead, she thinks that

"arya had been entirely unsatisfactory as sisters went" (copy it up and google it, if you don't believe me, this is actually a book quote coming from sansa's pov)

let's add to the fact that sansa is one of the stark's golden children. sansa is praised all the time around by pretty much everyone. don't you think that sansa seeing this and seeing arya be reprimanded at the same time couldn't translate into sansa being entitled and holding the belief that she's always in the right and arya is a disgrace to all of her family?

they can bring that part, in which sansa prays for all of her family (arya included) all they want, but as someone who grew up catholic, when i was a little girl, i used to pray for people who i almost never interacted with, like my neighbors, and even the ones that i didn't like, because i was taught that was the way to be "a proper little girl under the eyes of god", so as a person with that past experience behind me, i'm simply not convinced of this act being significant enough.

i have major problems with sansa dreaming about having a daughter that looks just like arya too, because i can't get out of my head the thought of if this were to actually happen and sansa has a girl that looks like the girl's aunt, every time that child misbehaves or fails any of her duties... i can see sansa resenting arya even more, because sansa would blame arya for her daughter being this way.

i do really want them to reunite (hopefully this reunion is one of the last ones to happen because i want arya to be around people that had always loved her, you know, like jon and bran and even rickon) but sansa has not matured enough to be able to recognize that she hurt her little sister badly, and i'm pretty sure she could (and would) hurt her again easily, because she had so little growth as a person. so what it comes down to is that i don't trust sansa to be around arya.

and i'm so scared of the possibility of arya forgiving her sister way too easily because sansa hasn't shown almost any remorse for the things she said to arya. and let me be clear: in any way, shape, or form, arya never did anything to deserve to be treated this way. arya always deserved better from her older sister. and arya doesn't owe sansa any kind of forgiveness just because "they're the sun and the moon."

with that particular rant from me over and done. i saw this reblogged in their blog as speculation for arya in the future.

and this next type of posts are the things they reblog for arya.

and i'm going to let those posts and tags speak for themselves.

like this person is a stansa, a jonsa, a "stark sisters" stan, a dany anti and a green stan... like "girl (gender neutral), pick a struggle for real"

[amarias-yandere-blog]

"Run if you can, Darling. I will find you even among the galaxy."

-Yandere!Blade x Reader (Honkai Star Rail)

-‼️Warnings include: murder, forced affection, manhandling, physical violence, unreciprocated contact, other general yandere themes‼️

Special thanks to Myla on my discord server for reading and commenting on any mistakes for me!

Please: reblog with proper tags

You do not remember when you met him. You don't remember how. But you do remember why: a goddamn coffee shop. Craving something that would be able to keep you awake long enough to finish your rough draft for college, you headed out at one in the morning. A man with a beanie, a face mask, and sunglasses caught your attention as you ordered.

And as they say, curiosity killed the cat.

You were like a beacon in the darkest night- a wonderful drop of color in the grayest walls and dark navy seas. He grew curious about you, a seemingly innocent and tired person who was little more than a drop in the ocean of people he'd met.

But the way you walked up to him with the sweetest smile and that tired, but determined voice- oh, perhaps he had been stricken with a far more powerful disease than mara. Or perhaps he'd mistaken your curiosity for a bit of affection. All he knew was that your eyes held an innocent look in them.

Call him a sadist. Because he wanted to take that innocence for his own.

The second meeting was in the nearby library. You chalked it up to coincidence. He chalked it up to meticulous research, preparation, and an obsession to see your innocent light once again.

Things eventually developed. You fell for him. He was rather quiet, but he looked at you like no one else did in a long time. At least, from what you could see above the dark-rimmed sunglasses he wore.

The first time you actually saw his face was in an alleyway. You had accidentally run into some thugs. He was far more aggressive than you thought he needed to be, but his vermilion eyes and the way his lips were pushed into a thin, unamused line were... well, you could not lie. They were captivating. 

The thugs, bleeding from his curious black sword riddled with golden cracks, ran as he walked towards you- towering over you with one hand still on his blade and the other resting on the wall behind you.

"That was foolish of you, Y/n," he scolded before bending down, stealing your precious lips for his own. His eyes never left your form as you gasped in shock at his boldness. And he only grew bolder- pushing your face up so that he had a better angle to steal your breath. 

Your savior had completely taken you for his own. And you were fine with that, grabbing a hold of his neck for support as he took everything he could. It was like a dark ocean had enveloped your warm light at that moment, though you didn't know it.

That point on, he would disappear from your sight for weeks, if not months. Sometimes he would come to your door covered in blood but without a scratch on his body.

It was during one of those days when he had disappeared without a trace that you figured out who he was. You learned his name. 

Blade. Stellaron Hunter. Dangerous. It was recommended that you run if you saw him. That night in the alleyway became crystal clear to you. He was so skilled with the sword. He could have killed those people. No- you realized with a tear running from your face that he had. They hadn't run away. They had bled out and died while he covered your eyes from the sight using his body.

Slowly taking away your innocence. Your light. Claiming your love for himself. His vermilion eyes were a flag- all too deep and clear and that is why he hid them from you for so long.

In a panic, you decided to take the initiative and move as far away as possible. You quit your job, you moved across the world, you even threw your phone away at the drop of a dime. You were scared. And rightly so. Perhaps you would have escaped from his gaze if you had learned this from the first time you saw his face.

But it was just far too late now.

When you got out of the house, it was quiet in the apartment you shared with three other people. Two girls, one guy, and you. When you came into the living room, you were met with a gorey sight. A man stood tall, his sword hugged tight against his chest as he closed his eyes and waited patiently for a new chapter to start.

Bodies lay scattered across the room, their blood dripping from the ceiling and the walls, soaking the floor, the couch- but not a drop was on him. There was a cruel, cold wind blowing through the room.

"Bad choice, Y/n." The man suddenly spoke, all too aware of your sweet presence in the room. "Now three people have paid your price." He opened his eyes to glare at you, the sword disappearing from his grip. His hands made a wide gesture, as though inviting you to hug him. But instead, you stepped away.

"G-get away from me, Blade." You tried to sound confident. His lips curled into a smile before he put a hand on his head, laughing darkly at your puny display.

"Run." One word. One sentence and your heart dropped. "Run as fast as you can, little one, and try to escape from my heart and mind- you won't. Even if you fly to the end of the stars you will never outrun me. I will always catch you. So run, little one, give me a chase!"

His words set something inside of you off. You sprinted, slamming open doors and running down stairs with no particular purpose in mind- no destination. Just. Run.

As you ran down flights of stairs, you could hear the maniacal laughter from Blade. He sounded as though he was in no rush. You had, after all, gone to a place where he was unknown and unrecognized as a killer. He was playing the long game- letting you tire yourself out as you dashed across streets and down nasty roads, passing through large swaths of crowds and even going through narrow lanes in a rush to lose him.

But you burned out. You felt your knees get weak and your bare feet turned sore and red from the run. You gasped for air, holding your chest and resting against a wall as you took in deep gulps of air that fueled your run.

Your throat burned from the dryness of the air, and your lungs struggled to keep up with the demand you gave them.

"Is that the best you can do?" Blade asked with a laugh as he walked closer towards you. Even your effort to shake him off was in vain. You gulped down saliva and turned to run again- but your feet faltered, betrayed you. You slipped on your own blood, landing on your chest with a small shriek as loud footsteps clapped down the alley.

"Poor thing. So weak, so innocent and tired that they can't even run away." Blade mocked, pulling you up by the wrist.

He pushed you into the wall, forcing your body to move in such a way that you leaned against him, looking at him with fear in your eyes. His hands roamed, across your arms and down to your hips before pulling your head in such a way that he could once again steal your breath.

But this time around you didn't want it. You tried to pull away, kicking at his knees and pulling his arms away from your body. You elbowed him and screamed and scratched his face with your nails as you bit his tongue in self defense.

He released you for only a moment, turning you back around and pushing you up against the wall, one of his hands on your wrists to keep them above your head. The other slapped your face, his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed against each other.

You watched in horror as the scratches healed in seconds, and he stuck out his tongue to prove that your damage had been far less than 'temporary'. He smirked.

"Any more cute attempts at fighting back?" He asked, shoving his face into your personal space, forcing you to look into his eyes. Your arms were growing numb now. You trembled. "I guess not. Looks like the chase is over, Darling. Now..." he leaned into you, whispered in your ear with a smile on his face. His free hand pinned your hips into the wall. "You are all mine."

And then he kissed your ear, his lips dragging across your face until they met your mouth. "Kiss me." He snarled. "Be a good little pet for me."

You never graduated from that college.