#i don’t know very many movies but i like all of these!

[skipper1331]

We listen and we don’t judge // Alexia Putellas

a/n: short one

It was all over your foryou page - the 'we listen and we don’t judge' trend. So obviously you had to do it with your girlfriend.

After you had explained the rules to the Barcelona captain, you sat down next to each other at the dining table, your phone recording.

"Hello guys!" you greeted, Alexia greeting in her mother tongue, "today we‘re doing the we listen and don’t judge trend" you explained once again how it works for those who didn‘t know, "and I’m very excited how this turns out" you laughed, grinning at Alexia who held your hand underneath the table.

"Do you want to start, amor?" she asked.

"Yes okay." you thought about it for a moment before you came up with one, "we listen and we don‘t judge"

"Sometimes when you leave the house for training i eat the chocolate bars you get from the physio and when you ask where they are i tell you that you probably ate them already"

Ale chuckled before she answered, "amor, i buy them in the store. I know you like them. Since I’m injury free the physio doesn’t buy them anymore. It was a treat for every step of recovery"

"What? You didn‘t tell me that" you huffed, playfully.

"Yes because you always look so cute with the guilty mischief glint in your eyes when you tell me I ate them"

"Hey!-"

"We listen-" she cut you off, encouraging you to join the end of her sentence "and we don‘t judge" you said in unison.

"Sí, um, sometimes when I look through the newest football footage and you‘re nearby I make sure that you only see the best of me and my skills, so you’re impressed by me." she admitted with a shy smile, tracing patterns of the back of your hand.

leaning over to whisper in her ear, "I’m always impressed by you, don’t worry" before you said, "we listen and we don‘t judge"

"When we‘re going out and I ask if I should drive, I always hope that you say no because I don’t want to drive, I’d rather be the passenger princess with the privileges than the driver."

Alexia looked at you - indeed you often asked if she was sure that she wanted drive and that it wouldn’t be a problem if you sat behind the steering wheel but Alexia always had a feeling. Besides she loved driving you around.

"We listen and we don’t judge"

"When I’m in the supermarket and you ask me to buy something for you and it isn’t on the paper list, I forget about it most of the time. And when you ask where it is and i suddenly remember it, i tell you that the store didn‘t have it" she innocently smiled at you, the judgmental expression on your face obvious.

"Te amo, eh?"

"We listen and we don't judge" you replied.

"When we watch a movie I pretend to fall asleep, so you would carry me to bed"

"You cheeky girl" the midfielder kissed your cheek before her arm went around your shoulder, pulling you a bit closer.

"We listen and we don‘t judge"

"If you try to cook my mother's food, I tell you every time that it tastes delicious, even if sometimes it doesn't taste that good" she said, quickly adding, "because I really appreciate the effort" smiling.

"Yeah, that‘s fair. Your mum is an amazing cook"

With that being said, you continued little game for a bit before you said your good byes to the camera.

"I thought you‘d admit worse things" you said, smiling at the catalan, happy that her statements were harmless. You had seen many horrific statements on the internet which left you shocked and wondering how these people stay in their relationship.

"Why would I, amor? I like being with you and I wouldn’t ever judge you" she said with heart eyes. The girl so in love with you.

And truth to her words, there‘s never been any occasion where she had judged you. She trusted you in everything and besides, mistakes happen too, so why would she judge that? Nobody was perfect, she wasn’t perfect, neither were you. Even though she truly believed that you were the closest thing to perfection.

"Te amo mucho"

[forethoughtforgot]

I keep seeing criticism about Homestuck fans sayin “recency bias” citing that Wicked has been out for over two decades, YES. It has been out longer. The Broadway musical we all grew up with. It’s good! It really is! I’m saying “recency bias” because the movie just came out and I feel like a lot of mainstream media attention has gone to it with new content to consume, and looking through the tags most people voting for Elphaba and Galinda either just like the aesthetics (that’s valid) don’t like Homestuck (honestly valid) or get annoyed when people call out that Wicked is more mainstream now than it has been for a very long time, which it is. There’s no real wrong way to vote but Rosemary being canon isn’t all there is to it, if you actually know the characters and understand the media they’re from and their history not just in general but also on this hellsite you’d get why so many people are desperately begging for others to vote Rosemary. So here I am, asking you to vote Rosemary if you haven’t voted yet. You don’t have to and I can’t make you and maybe I can’t even convince you a *little* but we’re not just seeing Homestuck and going “awooga vote THAT” we have reasons to be attached and reasons to claim the significance of this ship.

Top Femslash Ships Bracket - Round 3

This poll is a celebration of fandom and fandom history; we're aware that there are certain issues with some of the listed pairings and sources, but they are a part of that history. Please do not take this as an endorsement of anything included in the bracket, and refrain from harassment.

[filiazpink]

HEYYYY IM THE GIRL FROM THE COMMENT SECTION OF YOUR ORION AND D-16 AND THEIR SUPERIOR FIC!!! i just wanted to let you know it was adorable and that if it’s alright with you i would love to see a part two! 💕💕💕

🩷"INFATUATED"🩷

orion pax x femme + superior! reader x d-16 - part 2

warnings: MAJOR transformers one spoilers, sentinel prime likes the reader too HELP, my cutie patootie oc being mentioned once, darkwing being darkwing electric boogaloo

summary: takes place during the iacon 5000, and a bit of the aftermath that follows. orion's crush is still very obvious and d-16 is warming up to you.

a/n: SO MANY NOTES ON PART 1?? TYSM EVERYONE 💗💗💗💗 and also a round of applause to this lovely requester here sending the ask that motivated me to make a part 2 :3 sorry it took so long i was busy with art commissions and writing my dark deception fic :( hopefully this will live up to the expectations of the 30 ppl that sent me in inbox to make a part 2 !! if you guys want a part 3 with even more stuff, lemme know in the inbox! it would be kinda fun to make a mini series with this idea for the whole movie !! ENJOY !!!

word count: 1740

proofread: minimal (lemme know if there's any errors!!)

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somehow, you managed to gain one of the best spots in iacon to watch the race take place.

well, it was easy to know why.

sentinel prime himself considered you as one of ‘his closest friend’, so he reserved a special seat just for you: right next to him.

best seat in the house.

it was a very overwhelming experience overall, with cameras all pointed towards you and THE sentinel prime, the fact that you were simply next to the savior of iacon, the slight confusion you had for what you and sentinel were. i mean, you only spoke to him professionally, and those were rare occasions. surely, he met thousands of new bots everyday, yet he remembered you of all bots. 

but all of that couldn’t compare to the dread that took over your entire body as soon as you heard sentinel utter the following:

“i’m sorry- are those miners in the race?” the two of you turned around to the giant screen to see that, indeed, there were cogless bots participating in the race.

and not just any cogless bots, bots from your sector!

and not just bots from your sector, it was those two charming bots orion pax and d-16!

your optics widened at the revelation, on the point of transforming to go and stop them before they get damaged beyond repair but sentinel held you back.

“hey- hey, what are you doing??” he mumbled, looking back at the cameras every few seconds to make sure they weren’t focused on him.

“those are workers from my sector!! i-i know them, i have to sto-”

“come on, (y/n), relax! they’ll be fine! besides, think of the inspirational boost it’ll give the other miners if they do win. they’ll be delighted.” he tried coaxing you into relaxing, going so far as to gently rub your shoulder in an attempt at comforting you but you had none of it.

“this is a first in iacon 5000 history!”

“oh primus, please, please, please keep them alive!,,,”

“how are they going to survive?”

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eventually, the cameras couldn’t pick up feed on the tunnel that the majority of the racers, including orion and d-16, were in. the thought of finding them crushed or in worse condition sickened you. with a trembling hand, you quickly gripped onto sentinel’s, who couldn’t help but look smug at your reaction.

“they��ll be okay,,, right?!” you asked him and the prime sighed.

“don’t worry. if they end up hurt, we’ll just send them to medbay-”

“i don’t believe it! the miners take down darkwing!”

the crowd went wild at the display, somehow getting louder than it already was. the femme and the prime watched in astonishment as the miners went from last place to third place in such a short amount of time. 

well, now you knew that darkwing was going to complain about that to you for the rest of the work cycle.

you let go of the blue and golden bot’s hand (much to his very visible disappointment) to place it over your mouth. your optics shined in absolute amazement, watching the main screen showing orion and d-16 looking more and more hopeful. 

“OHH, MINERS!” darkwing literally roared at them, his fists clenching in total anger. 

“great effort, darkwing!” orion attempted to cheer on darkwing for his efforts, but deep down, he knew once this was over, he and his companion were royally fucked.

“t-that worked! it actually worked! you think (y/n) saw all that?!” d-16 beamed, getting more and more excited at the thought of you watching them- watching him win the race.

“i’m sure she’s watching! she’ll be so proud of us!”

after passing the magnetic obstacle course tunnel (much to your relief, poor bots would have been crushed beyond repair), you felt like your body couldn’t handle all the amount of excitement, especially with the announcer going:

“a four-bot pile-up in the magnetic tunnel and the two miners are now in first position! this is UNBELIEVABLE!”

the speechless prime turned around, facing the finish line, pulling you alongside to observe. 

from the corner of his optic, he watched your reactions with envy. you never reacted that way whenever he showed up to your office unprompted.

were those two cog-less bots really that important when he’s here?

however, his train of thoughts was interrupted as a shattered piece from a nearly crushed racer hit d-16 from behind, making the grey bot trip and fracture his leg. you gasped at the outcome, praying they were still close enough to make it.

orion reached for d-16, pulling him up and slinging him onto his back, slowly making his way to the finish line. 

everyone was losing it, including sentinel, who was on the edge of his seat. will they make it in time? 

even the announcer seemed to be overly excited!

orion quickly looked up to your radiant face, feeling another rush of energy flow through him simply by seeing your wonderstruck expression. by the allspark, you looked glorious with all the different lights shining onto your armour.

“one miner is now carrying the other, mere steps from the finish line in the most amazing, sensational, dramatic, heart-rending, exciting, thrilling finish in the history of-”

and all of a sudden, all of it was cut short as a white and cyan mech ran into the smaller bots, knocking them back down. the mech transformers and slid across the finish line, throwing her fists in the air.

“WE HAVE A WINNERRR!! CHROMIA COMES FROM BEHIND TO TAKE THE PRIZE! talk about an iacon 5000 for the ages!”

your excitement died down. sure, you were happy for chromia, she won fair and square, but,,,

you sighed as you watched every other surviving racer fly past the two miners, still trying to see the small mechs as sentinel let out a chuckle, dragging you away with him to congratulate the winner.

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“mmh, they should be right here, miss.”

“thank you, mekastat.”

the pale red and pink bot nodded at you with a courteous smile, walking away from the medbay you were informed that orion and d-16 were in. you let out a long sigh, clearing your throat and before you could knock at the door, you managed to overhear the ongoing conversation.

“we are SO screwed!” you could distinguish d-16’s frustrated voice through the commotion, followed by orion’s more gentle tone:

“i thought you weren’t talking to me,,,”

“hey, look, i know it's all a big joke to you, but not me! i was paying my dues. i was going places and now they're going to bust me down- i don't even know how many tiers-”

“d, i’m sorry-”

“A-AND NOT JUST THAT! SHE SAW IT ALL HAPPEN! SHE,,, she saw everything.” she? no, that doesn’t matter. your curiosity will be your downfall.

with a quick knock, their conversation was cut short as you quietly walked in. orion immediately sat up straight, his optics wide open. a blush (that you assumed was out of embarrassment) decorated his face. d-16, however, didn’t even look you in the eye, his head hunched over in shame.

“hi.”

they waited for any form of reprimand from you, but since you simply stared back at them as to wait for them to speak, orion decided to be the first to break the ice.

“,,, i’m so sorry, (y/n), i was the one to s-suggest the idea of us participating. demote me but not d-16, i practically dragged him along into this.” d-16 turned his head just a little bit at his friend, the tension in his yellow optics leaving just a tad bit.

you thought for a while, looking away and missed the way that even in such a situation where you were supposed to, yes, reprimand them, orion looked up at you like you hung the moon and the stars combined. even in the poor lighting the room had, your armour still shined in a hypnotizing way. at least, in orion’s eyes.

“i should punish you for breaking protocol like this.”

“we know,,,” “but.” you got down on your knees, still towering over the miners, and with a small and gracious smile, you said: “i won’t. besides, even if you lost, that was still the coolest thing i’ve ever seen.”

hearing that made d-16’s helm rise back up to stare at you with a bewildered expression, matching his friend. 

“really??”

you then let out a small giggle and gave them a bigger smile, which totally didn’t make the two smaller bots swoon. “it was amazing! you were both so fast, and you managed to take down darkwing?? he’s never going to hear the end of it! do you know how long he’s been training for this day and he was beaten by you two, who never trained for this type of action?!”

they’ve never seen you this excited, just the sight made up for the fact that they had lost and possibly humiliated themselves to millions of cybertronians. 

“if anything, if sentinel doesn’t end up giving you guys a prize for making it this far, i’d think he’d be wasting an opportunity to celebrate true racers!” 

“oh- wait! sentinel! what’s he going to do with us??” asked d-16, nearly getting up from the table, stress once more filling his processors. 

your excitement died down at the mention of his name. oh, right. him.

“um, i could try to convince him to not do anything drastic! he considers me a friend of his, apparently.”

“that won’t be necessary.” another femme’s voice droned out, one that you immediately recognized. 

“i’ll take it from here, (y/n). head back to your post.” airachnid ordered, stepping aside for you to leave. you turned your helm to the miners and waved goodbye, still watching them as you walked away until they were no longer in sight.

as you were about to leave the building, you bumped into darkwing, who despite not having visible facial features, you could tell with the way he was walking that he was still absolutely infuriated.

“darkwing,,,?” you asked and in response, he swiftly turned around, grabbed you by the shoulders and screamed:

“I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT YOU ARE A VERY BEAUTIFUL AND VALUED BOT IN MY LIFE.” and so he power walked into the hospital, leaving you utterly confused.

,,,

what.

wait why was he going in the hospital?

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🩷send me a burger !! : ko-fi💗 🩷visit my other socials !! : socials list💗 🩷writing requests rules !! : info list💗

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Sugar & Spicy Books Chapter 1

Summary:  Y/N is an accomplished writer who is newly divorced, and out of fear of the unknown, moves back to her small hometown she swore she’d never come back to.  She comes across her best friend that never left, who helps her out of a tough spot.  Will old feelings arise?  Or is she just too big for such a small place now?

Warnings:  language, smut

Next chapter

“And with all that said, you are now officially divorced,” the judge announced.

Y/N sighed heavily, closing her eyes.  The relief that flooded through her made her feel like she was floating, her heart soaring at the freedom it felt.  She opened her eyes and smiled as she stood and hugged her divorce lawyer, then started gathering her things.

“I guess that’s it,” Raphael, her now ex-husband, said as he sidled up to her.

“That’s it,” Y/N nodded, barely sparing him a glance.

“So um…everything is set up for you at the house.  All my things are out, and I got your car detailed as a, you know, sign of no ill will–”

“Raf, it’s okay if we don’t speak.  I’d rather we never spoke again,” Y/N said, finally facing him.  They looked each other over one last time before Y/N gave him a small smile.  “Goodbye,” she nodded at him, then walked out of the courtroom.

***

New York City felt too big.  The house was too big.  The car was too big.  Y/N felt like she was shrinking inside herself as she walked the too-quiet rooms of the brownstone.  She and Raf had never had any children, although he had pushed her many times over the years, sometimes too far.  But Y/N had been focused on her writing career, and not having children had made the divorce so much easier.  

“Y/N Y/L/N?  Oh my god it’s really you!  Can I get an autograph?” A woman approached her in the supermarket, smiling widely and slightly jumping as she rushed up to Y/N.

“Oh, um, yes,” Y/N stammered, taking the notebook and pen the woman shoved in her face and signing it.

“Could I get a picture?  The girls in my book club won’t believe it!”

“Sure,” Y/N smiled tightly, then tried to look pleasant as the woman wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in too close, smiling up at the phone raised high in her hand.

“Oh thank you!”  

Y/N managed to slink away from the awkward conversation that was about to ensue and quickly finished her shopping before running back home.  Her career had been successful, earning the top spot three times on the New York Times Best Sellers list, as well as book tours, big sequel book deals, and she was even in talks for one of her first books to become a movie.  The books were what would be considered “spicy” or “dark romance.”  She had no experience in actually having any spicy or dark romance in her real life.  Raf had been extremely simple in the bedroom, and part of their divorce stemmed from his insecurity about her stories.  

Six weeks after her divorce she had had enough.  She sold the brownstone, everything of value in it, the fancy car, and bought the car of her dreams:  a 1967 Volkswagen Beetle.  It was something she had always wanted, but seemed impractical or Raf would always talk her out of it.  She loaded what little she had left into the little light blue car and headed to Woodstock, Vermont.

Y/N had grown up in Woodstock.  It was a very small but scenic town that thrived mostly on tourism because of its quaint, old America charm, and access to nearby hills that made for great snow sports.  When she was 18 she had earned a full ride scholarship to NYU and had run from it as fast as she could.  It was just too small, too stifling, but now as she was dealing with how big the world felt after her divorce, she ran back home in fear and trepidation of what to do next.  

As she reached the city limits she heard the Beetle make a strange puttering sound.  “Oh no, come on, B!” she groaned as the car started to shake and struggle.  “So much for ‘it’s in tip top condition,’” she griped, pulling off the main street in town toward the first mechanic shop she saw.  The Beetle sputtered to a stop and let out a high pitched whine as she turned off the engine.  She sighed and got out of the car, kicking the tire before heading towards the shop door.  A bell tinkled when she swung it open and she looked around at the shop’s front desk and waiting area.  It was small, utilitarian, and very tidy.  In the corner she was surprised to see a small play area for children that had a number of children’s books, a small table and chair, some coloring books and coloring pencils, and a little tea set on the table.

She smiled at the set up and walked over to the front desk.  There was no one there and she looked around until she saw a doorbell button on the side of the desk with a small note taped to the desk countertop that read, “Press for Service.”  Y/N pressed it and heard a doorbell ring noise from the shop behind the door beyond the desk.

“Coming!” she heard a male voice yell.

Y/N waited, looking around the room again until the door swung open.  “Hey there, sorry I was working on something, what can I–”  Y/N gasped when she saw who it was, and his wide eyes and open mouth matched hers.  “Y/N?” he whispered.

“Bucky?” she whispered back.

Bucky’s shocked expression quickly changed into one of excitement as he smiled widely and threw his dirtied rag that he was holding on the desk.  “No fucking way!” he yelled, rounding the desk and reaching out for her.  Y/N gladly accepted the hug, giggling when he picked her up and swung her around as he held her tight.  

“My God, Buck,” Y/N huffed when he set her down.  “You look so grown!”

“Well, it has been, what…14 years since I last saw you?” Bucky said, looking at her with a disapproving but teasing look.  “You look great.”

“Oh, thank you.  So do you,” Y/N blushed.  “So, you work here now?”

“I own this,” Bucky said, gesturing to the shop.

“Oh!  That’s amazing!”  Y/N said happily.  

“Yeah, old man Pierce finally died and I took over it,” Bucky explained, smiling at the waiting room.  “But hey, you’re a big writer in New York, right?  I read your books.”

“Oh my god, please tell me you didn’t!” Y/N said with wide eyes.

“I did,” Bucky arched his eyebrows at her.  “Very spicy stuff there, Y/L/N.”

Y/N hung her head in her hands, making Bucky laugh.  “I want to die,” she whined.

“It’s okay, honey, they were spicy but good!” he reassured her, squeezing her arms.  “I liked them.  Especially that one about the uh, what was it, the mafia one?”

“Fucking hell,” Y/N shook her head, trying to hide her blush.  “I know it sounds stupid, but you just never really think about people you grew up with reading your stuff?”

Bucky’s head fell back as he laughed.  “Well, you’ve got a little fan club here in town,” he said.  

“How embarrassing,” Y/N laughed.

Bucky stared at her for a minute.  “Sorry, I just can’t believe you’re here…why are you here?” he asked with a frown.

“Well, uh, right now I’m here because my car broke down as I drove in,” she said, pointing to the Beetle outside.

Bucky turned and looked at the car, then looked back at her with a smile.  “Got that Beetle you always wanted, huh?”

“Well, just recently, but yeah,” Y/N smiled, appreciating how he remembered how much she loved old Beetles.

“Well you came to the best mechanic in town,” he smirked.  “Let me take a look.”  She handed him her keys and followed him out to the car.  Bucky popped the back and looked over the engine for a minute before sighing.  “Yeah, looks like these belts need replacing,” he said, pointing at something that Y/N didn’t understand.  “I’ll have to order them, or maybe dig around and see if I can find any nearby.  It’ll probably take me a while,” he grimaced as he looked at her.

“I got nowhere to be,” Y/N shrugged.  “So I’m happy to wait.”

“Great,” Bucky nodded, shutting the door.  He pushed the Beetle into the garage and started making calls as Y/N sat in the waiting room.  After twenty minutes he came in with another grimace on his face.  “So, um…those specific belts won’t be delivered here for about three weeks.”

“That’s okay,” Y/N said quickly, shaking her head.  “Like I said, I got nowhere to be.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes.  “Don’t you have a husband to get back to?”

Y/N sighed and shook her head again, looking away.  “No, not anymore.”

Bucky froze for a moment before stepping forward and grabbing one of the other chairs, setting it in front of her so he could sit facing her.  “Wanna talk about it?” he asked gently.

Y/N snorted.  “What do you wanna know?”

“Everything,” he replied.

Y/N smiled.  “Um…well, I was married to a very successful luxury home realtor,” she began, looking at her hands wringing in her lap.  Her naked left ring finger still had an imprint from her old ring on her skin.  “His name was Raphael.  I called him Raf.”  Bucky nodded, listening intently.  “He was…kind.  Funny.  Very ambitious, which I liked at the time.  But when my writing took off he became insecure, especially when I started out-earning him, and he felt emasculated by the stories I wrote.”

“Emasculated?” Bucky scoffed.  “Why?  He couldn’t get it up?”

Y/N laughed, Bucky joining her.  “No, he was just very…vanilla, compared to what I wrote,” she explained, making Bucky nod in understanding.  “Which I never minded, but he took some kind of weird offense to it and thought I expected too much of him in that department.”

“Idiot,” Bucky shook his head.

Y/N shrugged.  “We had a few issues over the years.  I was focused on my career, and he wanted me to have babies.  There were a few times he, uh,” she looked away again, crossing her arms over her chest.  “He was pushy about it.  We never could get over it.”

“What do you mean, ‘pushy’?” Bucky frowned, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

Y/N shrugged again, glancing at him.  “It’s not a big deal, Buck.”  He gave her an unimpressed look.  “He…he tried to force me, a couple of times,” she said quietly, swallowing harshly.  “Tampered with my birth control.”

Bucky’s frown deepened, a sharp huff blowing through his nose.  His jaw ticked and he looked at his hands.  He reached forward for her hands, and she met him halfway.  He studied her hands, his right thumb gliding over her empty ring finger.  “I’m sorry, honey,” he said quietly, finally looking back up at her.  “You didn’t deserve that.  I’m glad you got out.”  

Y/N stared at his intense eyes.  He’d always had a way of looking straight into her soul with those eyes, the bright blue stunning her every time.  He was an incredibly cute teenager, and seeing him as a full grown adult now, with some patches of silver dotting his beard on his chin, the fine lines deepened in the corners of his eyes, he was even more handsome.  Bucky had been her number one when they were kids, he and his family taking her in when her parents were negligent and uncaring.  Even though they had only ever been friends, he’d been her first kiss before she left for college.  It was like their final farewell before she went off to bigger and better things, while he stayed home, unable to get scholarships or have enough money to go anywhere but a trade school.  They had lost touch, but she always thought of him and how he was doing.

“Thanks…Sugar,” she winked at him.

Bucky’s eyes widened before a wide smile spread across his face again and he hung his head as she laughed.  “Man, you’re never going to let that go, are you?” he groaned.

“Nope,” Y/N shook her head.  She squeezed his hands.  “But seriously, thank you.”

“I hope you got everything out of him in the divorce,” Bucky said, letting go of her hands and sitting back in the chair.  

“I did very well,” Y/N nodded.  “I had a great lawyer.  And it was helpful that he wasn’t very good at hiding his affair.”

“Affair?” Bucky scoffed.  “That fucker cheated on you?”

“Well, who else was he going to get babies from, Buck?” Y/N asked teasingly, raising her eyebrows.

Bucky rubbed his face harshly.  “Asshole.”

“Tell me about it,” she grimaced.  “But basically, I got to keep all my book earnings, and since we were married for a while and he out-earned me those first few years, I’ll be getting alimony.  And I sold almost everything before I drove here, so I should be set for a while.”

“Good,” Bucky smirked.  “But why come back here to Woodstock of all places?”

Y/N stared at him.  “I actually don’t know,” she frowned.  “New York just suddenly felt…too big.”  

Bucky watched her for a moment.  “Do you have a place to stay?”

“No,” Y/N shook her head.  “Is the hotel on Idalia still there?”

Bucky frowned.  “Yeah, but it’s still a shithole.  You’re not staying there.”  Y/N sighed.  “You can stay with me,” he offered.

“Oh, no Buck that’s okay, I don’t wanna intrude–”

“You won’t be.”

“What about…do you have a girlfriend...wife?”

“Nope,” he shook his head.  “But I do have a daughter.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped open in shock.  “A daughter?”  He smiled and nodded.  “Oh my god!”  Y/N smiled widely.  “Is that what this is for?” she asked, gesturing to the play area in the waiting room.

“Yep,” Bucky nodded.  “Though she’s far too big for tea sets now.”

“How old is she?  What’s her name?  Wait, where’s her mom? I’m sorry, is that rude of me to ask?  I’m just curious–”

“Breathe, honey,” Bucky interrupted her.  “Her name is Autumn.  She’s about to turn ten.  Her mom and I met while I was at trade school at a party.  We were both too drunk and irresponsible.  By the time I learned about Autumn her mother was trying to give her away for adoption.  She was Catholic and hid the pregnancy from her family, then tried to get rid of the baby once she was born.”  Y/N frowned.  “I took her and her mom signed away her rights.  Haven’t seen or heard from her since.”

Y/N nodded but her frown stayed.  “I’m sorry, Buck,” she said quietly.

“It’s okay,” he shrugged.  “She’s one of the best things that has ever happened to me.  It was hard, but I wouldn’t change a thing.  My mom has been a huge help.  Speaking of which,” he leaned forward again.  “In exchange for me fixing your car, you can help babysit Autumn until I get off work.  Ma’s getting old and can’t quite keep up with her anymore.”

“You’ll…you’ll fix my car for free, and let me stay with you for the foreseeable future, as long as I watch your daughter?” Y/N scoffed.

“Yep,” Bucky nodded, his smirk returning.  “Best friends help each other out.”

“True,” Y/N smiled.  She contemplated it for a moment.  “Deal,” she said, holding her hand out.

Bucky laughed and took her hand, shaking it firmly.  “Deal,” he said.

[apteryxparvus]

AITA for exposing my pro volleyball player boyfriend's monster addiction on r/fridgedetective?

Pairing — Suna Rintarou / Reader

Word count — 2,046

Content warning — none

Summary — When you accidentally expose your boyfriend for hoarding an ungodly amount of Monster energy drinks in his mini fridge, the internet takes it and runs wild.

You don’t think twice when you head to your boyfriend’s mini-fridge. Suna always keeps a stash of snacks and drinks in there for late-night movie marathons, and you’re desperately craving a fizzy hit of Ramune soda. But when you open the fridge…

Monster Energy. 

Monster Energy everywhere.

You don’t even spot the soda you’re looking for. Just rows upon rows of neon cans stacked like Tetris blocks, along with an alarming number of Chuupets squished in the corners. Who needs this much caffeine and sugar?

The fridge hums ominously, as if judging you for your surprise.

Naturally, you take a picture and post it.

For science.

You don’t expect much. Maybe 10 or 20 upvotes, and a couple of comments from bored strangers confirming that, yes, Suna’s energy drink consumption is borderline criminal. After all, it’s just a silly post on a silly subreddit, nothing to lose sleep over.

But when you groggily check your Reddit account the next morning, your notifications are wild. It’s not just a handful of upvotes—it’s thousands. Your post isn’t just trending on r/fridgedetective; it’s made the Reddit front page.

There’s an overwhelming flood of comments, many of them calling out your boyfriend by name. A part of you wants to laugh—because, really, how did they guess so fast?—but another part of you is too scared to even open Twitter or any other social media platform. You just know someone has screenshotted it and blasted it across the internet; probably with a wild caption like: “Suna Rintarou EXPOSED by his own partner”.

The sheer absurdity hits you like a train. Your boyfriend’s unhealthy obsession with energy drinks and frozen treats has gone viral. Your boyfriend has gone viral.

And, at this point, you’re not sure if you should wake him up to warn him, or just quietly pack your things and go into witness protection.

Among the chaos of Reddit notifications, your phone buzzes with a few messages. A quick glance tells you it’s from two very predictable sources.

Kita: Just empty the fridge and restock it with healthy food. He’ll grumble, but it’s for the best.

Atsumu: WOW I CAN’T BELIEVE U TATTLED ON MY BOY LIKE THAT 💀💀💀

You sigh, rubbing your temples. Against your better judgement, you open the Inarizaki High alumni group chat—and immediately regret it.

Atsumu is clearly living for this. You should’ve known better.

He’s on a rampage, flooding the chat with screenshots from Twitter.

"Suna's fridge contents have NO BUSINESS being this cursed."

"Suna Rintarou EXPOSED for his crimes against hydration."

"Monster sponsorship when???"

It’s one caption after another, each one wilder than the last. You groan, burying your face in your pillow, as if that could block out the chaos unfolding on your screen. You can practically hear Atsumu’s wheezy cackles through the text, and his twin brother, Osamu, is doing nothing to help—just spamming the chat with popcorn emojis like he’s front row at the circus.

You sigh, fingers hovering over the keyboard as you prepare to grill Atsumu for being the absolute worst at 7 AM. But before you can type a single word, the bed shifts.

Suna groans softly, stirring beside you. His arm slides over your waist, pulling you closer as he burrows his face into the crook of your neck.

“Mm, what’s with all the buzzing?” he mumbles, his voice heavy with sleep.

“Nothing,” you lie, way too quickly, throwing your phone across the bed like it’s radioactive. You lean in to press a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t worry, just go back to sleep.”

It almost works. Almost. But your phone keeps vibrating obnoxiously—no doubt Atsumu is still spamming the group chat with screenshots and whatever unhinged commentary he’s decided to add. You curse yourself for not muting him earlier, but now it’s far too late.

Suna groans again, this time with the exasperation of someone who just wants five more minutes of peace. He shifts, reaching for the phone you so desperately tried to avoid.

“Why’s Atsumu spamming the group chat so early?” he asks groggily, his thumb already swiping across the screen.

“No reason!” you blurt out, sitting up too quickly. “You don’t need to check—”

But it’s too late. The moment Suna opens the chat, his expression shifts. His sleepy indifference hardens into something sharper. 

Betrayal.

Two days later, you’re settled into your couch, blanket wrapped snug around your shoulders, laptop propped up on your knees. Kodzuken’s stream is set to start in fifteen minutes, and if you’re going to survive whatever chaos the streamer’s chat is inevitably bound to bring, you’re going to need a heavy caffeine boost.

Your eyes slowly drift to the mini fridge in the corner.

You’ve been trying to avoid it ever since the whole incident. But you cannot deny the itch for something cold and fizzy to keep you awake. There’s a moment of hesitation as you chew on your lip, before you finally stand up and pad over.

“Okay… alright,” you mumble to yourself, hand hovering over the handle. “It’s just a fridge. How bad can it be?”

You pull it open.

And the sight nearly makes you drop to your knees.

Gone is the chaotic hoard of neon green Monster Energy cans and suspicious, almost-melted chuupets. Instead, the shelves are pristine, almost squeaky white, gleaming as if the fridge belongs to some sort of soda commercial. And every single slot has been replaced with your favorite soda flavor.

Each glass bottle has a sticky note attached to it, the handwriting unmistakably Suna’s—slightly tilted to the right and a little lazy, like he couldn’t quite be bothered but also cared just enough.

The first note you pick you reads: “I’m doing this for you, even though it hurts 💔💔.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you pick up another bottle, the condensation slick against your palm. This note reads: “Please don’t post me online again 😔💔.”

A third one in the far back reads: “I hope you’re happy. My dignity is in shambles.”

You choke back a laugh, clutching the bottle to your chest like it’s some sort of love letter.

Everything is just absurd. Dramatic. Completely unnecessary.

But so him.

Kenma’s notification pings from your laptop, reminding you his stream is starting soon. But for a moment, you just stand there, bathed in the soft glow of the fridge light, staring at the ridiculous display of Ramune bottles and heartfelt stickies.

Dinner is a quiet affair, save for the occasional clink of chopsticks against bowls and the soft fizz that Suna’s Ramune soda makes as he takes a long, dramatic sip. You can’t help but glance at him as your phone buzzes with another notification from the group chat.

The #monstersmvp hashtag Atsumu created is still going strong.

You unlock your phone, and cover your mouth trying to stifle a laugh—Atsumu’s latest spamming spree is a trainwreck you cannot look away from.

“What now?” Suna asks, voice flat as he picks at his food.

“‘tsumu keeps sending the eulogies from the hashtag. Ready to hear the best of the best?”

 “No,” your boyfriend deadpans, taking another slow, deliberate sip of the fizzy drink.

Ignoring him, you start reading anyway. “Okay, here goes,” you clear your throat, holding the phone up dramatically. “Rest in power: Gone but never forgotten. Suna’s energy drink hoard was a beacon of poor nutritional choices and excessive caffeine addiction. Taken from us far too soon by the merciless hand of justice (a.k.a. his girlfriend). May its legacy live on in vending machines and gas station coolers everywhere.”

Suna rolls his eyes, but you can see the corners of his mouth subtly twitching, like he’s trying not to laugh.

“Wait, wait,” you say, scrolling further. “It wasn’t Suna’s blocks that made him a true legend. No, it was his fridge full of Monsters. The stash stood as a tall, proud monument to his dedication to caffeine and chaos, but alas, all good things must come to an end. In lieu of flowers, please send Ramune soda.”

He takes another slow sip of his soda, gaze fixed on you over the rim of the bottle. “These people are unhinged.”

“You mean your fans are unhinged,” you correct, waving your phone at him. “You brought this on yourself, you know.”

He sets the bottle down, resting his chin in his hand as he smirks at you, that lazy, infuriating smirk that makes your heart skip a beat even when you’re annoyed with him. “You’re awfully invested in this for someone who caused the whole mess.”

“Excuse me, you’re the one who kept a hoard of energy drinks like some kind of cryptid!”

“And you’re the one who made it go viral.”

Suna shakes his head, clicking his chopsticks. “If I ever get my stash back, I’m putting a padlock on that fridge.”

“Sure,” you tease, scrolling through the wall of text messages. “But you’ll have to bribe me first.”

The morning after starts with the doorbell buzzing like it’s got a personal grudge against your sleep. You groan, burrowing deeper into the blankets as Suna mumbles incoherently beside you.

“Are you gonna get that?” you ask, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Nope,” he replies, eyes still closed.

The buzzing continues, persistent and annoying, until you finally throw the blankets off with a groan. “Fine, I’ll do it. But if it’s Atsumu, I’m kicking him.”

Shuffling to the door in your pajamas, you swing it open, ready to give whoever it is a piece of your mind. Instead, you’re greeted by two delivery people dressed in head-to-toe Monster Energy attire. Hats, shirts, gloves—even their shoes have the Monster logo.

“Delivery for Suna Rintarou?” one of them says, all too chipper for this ungodly hour.

Behind them is a massive, industrial-sized fridge wrapped in black and neon green, the Monster Energy logo glowing ominously on the front.

You blink. “You’re joking.”

“We’re not,” the other delivery person says, already wheeling the monstrosity closer.

You stand frozen as they maneuver the fridge through the door, parking it in the middle of your living room like it belongs there. By the time Suna wanders out from your bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the delivery people are gone, and the fridge looms like some sort of otherworldly deity.

“What the hell is that?” he asks, voice rough with sleep.

“Your consequences, clearly,” you grumble.

“You think it comes pre-stocked?”

You stay quiet, keeping your distance from the fridge as if your glare alone might short-circuit the thing. If you got too close, you’d be tempted to whack it with something—like the baseball bat you keep by the door in case of emergencies.

Suna, unbothered by your lack of answer, wanders closer, hand lazily brushing against the neon logo before gripping the handle. He looks back at you with a smirk.

The door creaks open.

Even though the fridge isn’t even on, it’s packed to the brim with dozens upon dozens of Monster cans. Shelves sag under the weight of every imaginable flavor—there are classics, tropical blends, tea-infused hybrids, even some cans with foreign text that scream exclusive import.

“How is this fridge even stocked? It’s not on.” You can’t hold back the groan. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Look at this,” Suna says, picking up a can with a holographic label. He holds it up like it’s some kind of treasure. “I didn’t even know this flavor existed.”

“Put it back,” you say, your voice sharp. “I’m gonna set it on fire, I swear."

He doesn’t listen. Instead, he grabs another can, then another. “They’ve got the white pineapple, the tea blend... oh, and the zero-calorie peach! This is insane.”

“I’m gonna lose my mind.” You bury your face in your hands, trying to process the sheer audacity of the situation. “Who does this?!”

“There, there,” Suna teases, patting your back. “Want a sip?” he asks, cracking open a random can.

You glare at him, contemplating the consequences of slamming the door shut on both the cans and his smug face. Instead, you stomp to the couch, plopping down, and muttering, “I’m calling ‘tsumu. This has his name written all over it.”

Suna’s laughter echoes through the living room, followed by the distinct hiss of him opening yet another can.

Author's note: phew, editing the Reddit posts took ages 🤧 please ignore any discrepancies between the profile pictures of the users pls

i’ll marry whoever buys me a fully stocked redbull fridge, no questions asked

[ct-multifandom]

I don’t usually make posts like this, but I’ve been seeing a lot of anti-intellectual junk lately, and I really think we need to put the word “pretentious” up on a shelf until people learn what it actually means.

It doesn’t describe someone who likes artsy-fartsy deep meaning media. People who are pretentious are fake. They’re posers trying to be sophisticated and unique, not like other girls. They pretend to only like stuff they think will make them sound cool when they talk about it. They want to act like they know something you don’t, and they want attention for it.

By definition, if you genuinely enjoy something, you can’t be pretentious. If it resonates with you, and you analyze it, and you don’t care what people think, that’s the polar opposite, actually. If you love obscure experimental prog music, if you watch underground high concept indie films through English teacher eyes, if you spend hours in a modern art museum reading each piece as a vessel for storytelling, if your backpack’s full of poetry books that inspire you, if you play underrated games that were someone’s passion project, if you have an interest in studying the classics or the masters, you are not pretentious.

Of course, some people just don’t like some stuff, and that’s fine, but that’s not what this is about. Don’t let anti-intellectuals shame you for enjoying things just because your interests are inaccessible to them, because they refuse to be brave and put effort into critical thinking. You’re not stuck up for refusing to overlook the craft of artists.

[heyclickadee]

My only contribution to the Odyssey discourse is that I’m not exactly looking forward to the Christopher Nolan adaptation because:

1. There’s no way Nolan is going to allow Odysseus to be the little shit that he is. Odysseus is going through it every second of that poem, but he’s also a smartass and extremely funny. Christopher Nolan movies are far too self-serious to allow for that.

2. I’m. Hmmm. Not exactly excited for what the king of man-pain has planned for Penelope. Or Athena, for that matter.

[sugarcoatednightshade]

Tired of seeing fic on ao3 claiming to be based off dune the book series when it’s very obvious that the writer has only seen dune the movie(s).

Yes, it matters. Yes, these are very different works. You’re probably doing this for visibility; I don’t care. Archive Of Our Own is a fucking archive, stop labeling your works with a tag you know is factually incorrect. It makes it impossible for me to filter for fics I want to read.

[dyketennant]

oh i can already tell i’m about to have some really unpopular opinions about the edge of sleep tv show

[james-spooky]

this is a test

[lesbiansanemi]

This bitch cannot take a hint oh my FUCKING god how many times do I have to tell her I don’t like going to bars before she stops fucking asking

[cyberfunsupporter]

i love complaining so here’s my complaint of the day! people who watch horror movies and their only takeaway, when prompted by somebody analyzing/understanding part of the film, is “well it didn’t have to result in murder/they didn’t have to do that/that scary thing was unnecessary” are SO fucking annoying. you watched the horrifying movie full of dramatized realities and thought the horrifying things were unnecessary? why even bother with horror at all. go home and turn on gilmore girls and titanic you’ll be alright. those will be easy for you to digest since clearly you can’t think deeply about anything that isn’t completely down to earth and rational

[nightlilly0110]

Me: *going on a Greek mythology infodump that no one cares about*

My cousin, being forced to listen to me: Why do you know so much about this? They don’t really teach this in school.

Me: *holds up my arm and slaps my Riptide tattoo*

My cousin: Ah.

[monkee-mobile]

(apologies anyone who sees this for lamenting into the void again)

Keep Off My Grass got taken off of the internet archive and this is officially my destructive arc because that movie is preserved NOWHERE

no dvd release

no NOTHING

is it just me alone with my screen recordings of Twila my beloved and a few youtube videos?

[soulphiav]

i dreamt of her again

[eggjaculations]

i think everyone should be exposed to a lot of various types of like, real culture at a young age. i know that seems like a ‘duh’ ass statement but there are those of us, who—through no fault of their own, or even anyone around them—do not understand the concept of timeless classics. this is not limited to western classics. and not just exposed but taught in a succinct way why it’s important to at least acknowledge it.