#i hope these help! i wish i could give you more

[ella-animine]

In order to prepare for the worst but hope for the best…

everyone should know that Power of Attorney ends at death.

If for whatever reason, over the course of events, you die and DO NOT want your next of kin to be responsible for/have power over the disposition of your body and your viewing/funeral arrangements you MUST PREPARE

In the US, across most states, this authority follows a specific line of succession and whoever claims this power can prevent others from carrying out your wishes after death. For most adults this flow usually goes(give or take): Spouse, Adult children, Parents, Siblings, on to extended family. This could mean something as harmful as if you are a Trans man or woman your family can have your body prepared as the gender they see fit. It can also means that you can be buried/cremated in a way that does not align with personal and religious beliefs.

Many states and courts will honor the deceased’s wishes for who should have this designation as long as you PUT IT IN A LEGAL DOCUMENT, but please make sure that this information is available to the people that will act on your behalf BEFORE they will need it.

I’ve included a brief resource below that gives a bit more info, as well as some helpful info state by state.

I know that no one wants to think about death and dying, but it is just as important to protect yourself in death as it is in life. Don’t let your true loved ones be pushed out of loving, honoring, and doing right by you if you leave this world.

Stay safe, stay educated, stay alive

Before January 2025:

If you are a USAmerican in a relationship that might be affected by legislation that dissolves same-sex marriages, who may no longer be recognized as next-of-kin, especially if you have children, get your rights in writing!

Your marriage certificate may not be enough to prove you have rights to make medical decisions for non-biological children or for a same-sex spouse or partner.

Go to a lawyer, get it spelled out as clearly as possible that you have a voice in emergency medical and legal situations.

[cyberrose2001]

HUMAN PET AU <3

Ratchet finally comes home from working all day at the med bay, the poor medic is tired as hell and just wants to relax in the comfort of his own berth. Fortunately enough, ratchet owns an exotic pet. A human he has grown fond of. They are fully trained and even have their own collar (with the message “Please return to Ratchet if lost” written on it), they have also learned how to help Ratchet de-stress by letting him use their hole as his personal flesh light <3 His happy little human loves becoming his cum dump to help him get his frustrations out, such a helpful little pet <33

any continuity of ratchet is fine (pick ur fav!), afab but gender neutral reader please and thank you moni 🙏❤️‍🩹

A Sight For Sore Optics - Human Pet AU

IDW/MTMTE Ratchet x human! afab! gn!Reader

Hi Gem! Thank you so much for your request, I was literally foaming at the mouth ready to write this. To make this more anatomically possible, Ratchet's spike transforms to a more "safer" size. So I hope this is good please be good (I haven't finished reading mtmte yet so forgive me). Also if I have missed any tags please let me know!

Warnings: Xenophilia, Size Kink, Collaring, Oral (both receiving and giving), Masturbation, Praise Kink, Cum Dumping, Mild Dubious Consent (?)

Word Count: 2.3k

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Another day, another few thousand miles of endless space, another few sickly bots. Additionally, a few unkempt humans requiring attention due to poor conditions from their previous owners. With the new organic additions to the Lost Light at the captain's approval, Ratchet had found himself biting off more than he could chew, looking after bots and humans. Oh, how he wished he took up an organic health course or something other than primarily relying on Brainstorm's fervent research on the tiny creatures. Between juggling it all, Ratchet was unsure how much more his threadbare servos could take. Still, there was one thing the old medic was unmistakable about. He was tired.

One good thing, he must admit, is that he gets to return to you. His own human pet, a personal 'Thank you' gift on behalf of the entire crew for his selflessness and hard work, provided with you a basket with fundamental necessities. But the basket had long since been used up, and he had transformed it into a makeshift cot for you. It'll do for now, he had thought.

He was initially still trying to figure out what to think of you. Apart from very rudimentary health checkups and nutritional foods, there wasn't much that Ratchet could provide for you. There's not many enriching activities for such a tiny human like yourself. Until that is, he discovered something quite unusual that had been exhibited in almost every human adopted by the crew so far.

You have an insatiable libido.

Ratchet was unsure, if not downright nervous if other owners were to discover how incredibly beneficial humans could be. Whether or not they had already learned was an entirely different story. It wouldn't surprise Ratchet if that was the very reason why human pets were approved, though it seems shocking. It all seemed so innocent enough, adopting humans for the cuteness factor for the mechs on board. But as with most things, there's always more than just the surface level of what the optic sees. And Ratchet was already way too far below the surface.

Punching in the code for his hab suite, Ratchet waits eagerly for the door to open with twitching digits. He steps inside, tossing whatever work essentials he has on hand on the first bench he sees. He'll worry about reorganising later. Right now, he needs some pet therapy and a well-overdue overload. The dull ache behind his panels only gets stronger as his pedes carry him to his berthroom to you, curled up on his berth. It looked as if you neglected your rudimentary cot, choosing to sleep on his berth instead. The medic can't help the softened expression as he melts at the sight. Of all the things he didn't think he deserved, he never once expected it to be such an adorable little thing like you.

He lets his pedes wander over to you, like countless times before, careful and delicate. He always told himself that this 'fling' he had with you was only temporary and that it was purely for his curiosity, but he tends to find himself aching for you repeatedly. He can't help how his racing neurocircuits seem to fizzle out and calm down when he lies with you.

A roughened servo brushes over your hair to slowly stir you. It looked like you had been napping for some time now, which he believes is a good thing. Brainstorm did say that humans tend to sleep better in environments they consider comfortable. The gentle brushing causes you to stir and lift your head to greet him, though in a language yet to be deciphered. It's a pleasant greeting, and Ratchet can tell they're happy to see him. Something along the lines of 'I missed you,' he'd like to think.

"Hey, squishy. I missed you too," Ratchet smiles warmly. He brushes the hair away from your neck to reveal a collar, "You haven't ripped it off yet. Seems like you like it, hm?"

A slight, sleepy nod in confirmation, you've grasped at what he said. Ratchets' digits trail down to the collar, a small silver plate that reads 'Please Return to Ratchet If Lost - HabSuite ###" engraved in Cybertronian. Not that you tend to wander off, but more or less a just in case. Plus, he gets a thrill seeing his name attached to you. He thumbs it gently, admiring his handy work.

"I'm glad you do. It took me quite some time to make," Ratchet tugs at it softly, beckoning you to come closer. He watches you climb onto his lap, "Such tiny adornments are complex to create, 'specially with hands like mine." A servo cups your back, his thumb moving to play with your soft chest. He shivers when he hears a tiny whimper from you, and you seem eager to play with him already.

"I've had a busy day," A mechanical noise of shifting gears as his spike slides out of its housing, "I think you know what I need." It's well and truly bigger than you, much bigger than your tiny body could ever take. But the way your eyes light up in excitement assures Ratchet that you are more than pleased, already desperately taking off your quirky frame coverings. He eyes off your cute organic valve, notices how dripping wet it is, and staves off a moan.

"C'mere for a second," Ratchet scoops you into his servo to bring you closer to his face. He gets a whiff of your arousal, so earthy and addicting. The more you spread your thighs for him, the more he can smell. He brings you to his intake and licks one hearty stripe up your folds.

Oh yes, he thinks. Better than energon. Better than any high grade to ever pass his dermas, like a warm drink that soothes and revitalises his senses. It thickens on his glossa, groaning at the taste as he swirls it around your little node. He watches intently as you squeal in delight, your thighs trembling around his cheeks and how your little face contorts into one of pleasure. Well, he had always presumed it was in pleasure; you've never exactly shied away from his glossa. He hums when you feel him grinding, desperate little ruts chasing the vibrations.

Ratchet licks one last time at your slick, pulling away to observe. Oral lubricants coat your valve thickly, the sensitive area reddened from his torment. His optics wander up; your soft skin is already flushed and glistening with sweat. He wonders how close you were to overloading; it wouldn't have taken much longer if he had kept going. But his spike grows restless, throbbing against his abdominal plating, begging to be touched by much softer palms than his own.

"Do you want my spike? Hm?" Ratchet teases, "My big spike?" He knows you can't fully understand him, but he can't help but vocalise his salacious fantasy. Holding onto you carefully, he lounges back onto the berth. He bites his bottom derma and lowers you to his lap, showing you his engorged spike, "Go on then, have at it. I'll frag your little brains out soon."

With an encouraging nudge from Ratchet, you straddle the shaft. To anyone else, it looks ridiculous. A tiny human desperately attempting to wrap their arms around a spike that's two times taller than they are. But to any depraved fleshy fragger, it's a sight to behold. Ratchet once thought of snapping a picture to potentially maybe sell it to the highest bidder for those who crave the feeling of such a soft body grinding on them, for he is sure there's a market out there somewhere, probably more than half of the crew onboard. Still, the shame of it all prevents him. There's an image to uphold being the resident medic.

Besides, he'd much prefer to keep you and that curious tongue all for himself.

He feels your little licks along him, a tiny tongue wiggling through the grooves and smooth surface, reaching crevices with hidden nodes that cause his pedes to curl. Soft ruts of your hips press your soaked valve right up against him. He knows what you want. The medic brings a servo to grip around his spike with you squished between, only tight enough to keep you in place as he begins self-servicing himself. He hears you letting out a surprised gasp, then a muffled moan, feeling your grip tighten around him.

"Yeah? You like that, squishy?" Ratchet moans, moving his servo slightly faster, "I bet you-nghh do. You look so cute like that. So tiny pressed against my spike."

Only a taste of your warmth is given through your body, like the little tease you are. Ratchet feels the perspiration dripping off you, likely due to the rise of his internal temperature and the energon being solely diverted to his array. It makes for a mediocre yet acceptable lubrication. He could spike you with it alone, but Ratchet prefers to use alternate practices in the interest of your health. Primus knows how careless other Cybertronians can be with their pets.

The medic is becoming increasingly aware of his overload and yours by the looks of things, your little optics squeezed shut, and your limbs clamped tight around his girth. He consciously decides to stop before you reach it. The idea of you squirming on his spike played on his processor a bit too well. He hears your soft whine at the loss of friction, which Ratchet can't help but chuckle at.

"I know, I know. I'm so mean, aren't I? Hold on, squishy." Ratchet lets you rest against his palm while his weeping spike whirs and clunks inwards to a much more manageable size for a human. His spike may be smaller, but there's not much difference in sensation. Thank Primus for the minicon-compatability modes, "You alright?"

A small squeak from you, yes. The medic watches intently as you waste no time climbing on, guided by his careful servo. You press your little valve against the tip, hissing as it barely slips through. Ratchet digs his pedes into the berth at the intense sensation, gritting his dentae as you bottom out. The feeling is incomparable to anything else; it's uniquely organic, warm, and so, so much softer than mesh.

He then wraps his entire servo around you, effectively turning you into one perfect spike sleeve only for him. Perfectly snug inside you, his grip clenches and unclenches around your torso before gently unsheathing himself from you again.

Ratchet is always careful when he uses you in this manner, ensuring his grip isn't too tight. He pushes you back down again, and he feels you melt into his servo. He hears your little whimpers and cries for him, to go faster, he believes. He learned a long ago that he doesn't need to understand your verbal mumbles when your fleshy hips try to hastefully force yourself down onto him, only halted by his own hand. His grip ever so tightens and gives in to your desperation, or more or less his own.

"You're so good for me, squishy. Hah- Lettin' me use your little valve like a toy." Ratchet mewls, his helm lolling off to the side as his optics flick between your face and the way his spike disappears inside you, "Such a helpful little pet you are."

He feels your velvet walls clamp down on him with each and every praise he gives, your little arms draped over the top of his thumb, clinging on for dear life. Every now and then, he massages your breasts pressed up against it, eliciting more dirty moans from you. Such softness that he can't help but take advantage of.

"So- ngh- tight," Ratchet vents heavily, "Primus, you've ruined me for my own race."

He felt a twinge of shame hearing himself; it was as if he had entirely let himself go. But he knows he can no longer turn back, not when you're the best little creature to ever stumble into his life. Despite him having you wrapped around his digits, it is indeed him wrapped around yours. The relief you bring to him after every gruelling shift, after every stressful day upon this damned ship, had him truly addicted.

And with an internal affirmation of decadence and with your soft little valve clenching and pulsing around his spike, he's sent right over the edge.

"Frag yes, sweetspark!-" He glitches out, pressing you down on his thick shaft as far as your soft little body can tolerate. His energon pulses deeply and shocks his entire body with an overload, shooting gush after gush of transfluids into you. His frame lurches forward, his hips driving into the berth as he milks his throbbing spike, his servo driving it deeper into you in a lust-filled daze. Your whines and cries only spur him on more, and he doesn't stop until you're shaking like a leaf in his hold.

It takes only a few more moments for a spent Ratchet to collapse back with you still in his grip, albeit slumped against his thumb. You're panting hard, and he can only just feel your tiny heart pounding against him. You must have had your own overload by the looks of it if the bliss-filled smile on your soft lips is anything to go by. His optics linger down to your soft, distended stomach and the dripping mess that splatters across your thighs and onto his pelvic plating. Now that truly is a sight for sore optics, he thinks to himself.

Ratchet huffs, bringing his other servo to pat the top of your head, "Now there's my happy little human, huh?" He smiles warmly when he feels you leaning into his touch, "How 'bout I fill you up some more?"

If this was what it took for the old medic to de-stress and relax, then so be it. If he were to be exposed to the rest of the crew, then may he join the rest of them. In secret, for now, he will proudly declare himself a lover of organic flesh.

[hxney-lemcn]

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: things aren't looking too good, so the crew decides to open the cargo hold and find out just what you were delivering.

tw: nothing that isn't in the game.

a/n: Updates might be a bit more spaced apart, but I'm gonna see this to the end. I refuse to give up on it.

wc: 2k

Master List

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine

“I didn’t even wanna do this stupid internship.”

An admission into the night you're sure you weren’t meant to hear. Your insomnia grew worse, unable to get Curly’s painful screams out of your head or the plight you all found yourself. Only two months have passed, and you weren’t sure if anyone was even looking for you. Did Pony Express even have any tracking system to see if ships were down? Would they search when it was already too late? 

Your pessimism was shining through, but you tried to keep it to yourself, not wanting to smother Daisuke’s hope. It seems even he was prone to dark thoughts, but you’d be more concerned if he wasn’t worried at all. 

“If I just told my mom no I could be home right now,” Daisuke continued to mutter to himself. “Who am I kidding, I could never tell my mom no.”

“I wish you did,” you replied, eyes still closed and curled up in a ball.

“Y-you’re awake?” Daisuke gasped, but you made no sign of movement.

“Hmm,” you hummed, pressing your face farther into your pillow. “I wish you weren’t here.” Your words were harsh, causing the brunette to hesitate. You had gotten harsher after the crash, becoming more blunt.

But you had also gotten softer somehow. Sending him mixed signals, your harsh words softened when you gently stroked his cheek, eyes finally opening to meet his own. Anger, fear, sympathy, regret, so many emotions spun in your jewel colored eyes he almost felt dizzy. 

“I wish we met before this,” Daisuke said, voice cracking as he felt pressure form behind his eyes. Shit, he didn’t wanna cry, he had to be strong, for you and the rest of the crew. 

Your fingers brushed under his eye, catching a tear that was threatening to fall. Your silence felt warm, inviting, your gaze broke him, the dam breaking as his wishes spilled past his lips.

“I wish we were back on Earth. Hanging out in my room and this all just ended up being a bad dream. My mom calling us for dinner and everything is okay.” 

He was crying now, fat tears falling down his cheeks as you continued to stroke them. Daisuke wrapped his arms around your form, burying his face in your neck as he let out strangled sobs, not wanting to wake the others.

“I’m sorry,” You murmured into his hair, gently running your nails up and down his back in a soothing manner. “You don’t deserve this, none of us do.” 

…

“We ain’t touching the damn cargo,” Swansea argued. “The hold is locked down for a reason. The only thing worse than dyin’ slowly is not gettin’ paid.”

The whole argument seemed redundant. It seemed that Swansea was the only one against opening the cargo hold. He was a stubborn old fool in your opinion. If your speculation is right, and you won’t be looked for until your ship doesn’t come on time, then you’ll all have died from either starvation or lack of oxygen. Both those options seemed terrible to choose from, but a long, drawn out death was worse than a short painful one. For all you knew, you all were shipping food, or water, or something that could keep you all going just a bit longer. Especially since the cryo chambers were out of commission (not like there were enough for the six of you anyway. Besides, Curly had no chance to survive the freeze due to his wounds). 

“But it could be something useful,” Anya argued back. “I think-”

“Could be what?” Swansea cut her off. “Hopes, dreams and marzipan? Hah!”

“Could be food,” You interjected, glaring at the oldest of the crew. “Protein bars, chips, hell maybe we’re lucky enough to be carrying canned goods.”

“If it helps us survive it’s worth it,” Jimmy added with a nod. 

“Man,” Daisuke spoke up. “Pony Express bosses really aren’t chill at all, huh? C’mon, a quick look won’t hurt.” 

You nodded in agreement before Swansea brought up a good point, “How exactly is this group therapy committee planning on gettin’ in there?”

“Oh, right here boss,” Daisuke pointed to himself with a smug grin. “You’re looking at the meanest swing of the regional junior baseball team! Nearly straight up corked a kid once! I can take the utility ax-” You couldn’t stop the snort that came out of you, hiding your face behind your hands as everyone looked at you with various emotions. 

“You were goddamn born fully corked,” Swansea glowered, face twisted in a harsh sneer. 

“That’s enough, Swansea,” Jimmy intervened. “There has to be an ‘in case of emergency’ way inside.”

“If I remember correctly from reading the safety protocols…” Anya trailed off. “The doors should have an alternate access code, but it can only be uncovered using a code scanner device.”

“And only the captain has access to the scanner,” Jimmy continued. 

“Of course! Go ahead, just ask him all about it then,” Swansea mocked. “Maybe he’ll sing ya the blues too.”

“We can just look for the scanner,” You brought up. “It’s probably either in the captain's quarters or the cockpit.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Jimmy waved you off. “For better or worse, I’m captain now.” You tried your best to hide the offended look that fell on your face, but it was hard to do so when Jimmy rubbed you the wrong way. Sure, it made the most sense for him to be acting captain since he was Curly’s co-pilot, but you didn’t like the way he acted like he had to do everything himself. It was giving you ‘I need to do everything my way and feel better about myself’. 

“Right on!” Daisuke cheered, before you all split your ways. Anya ran off to medical, Swansea stopped Daisuke from following him while Jimmy probably went towards the cockpit. That left you and Daisuke to sit in the rest area, the led screen shone an image of a warm sunset, permanently stuck after the crash. 

“You really think there might be food in the cargo?” Daisuke asked, resting his head against the top of the chair.

“It’s probably wishful thinking,” You grumbled, taking the seat across from him.

“Damn,” He sighed. “I was kinda hopin’ for something other than soup.” 

“You dissing soup?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. “I’ll take your portion too if you don’t want it.” Wait! No!” Daisuke exclaimed with a chuckle. “I take it back, I mean I love love love soup and want to eat it every day!”

“You’re such a dork,” You laughed, gently kicking his foot. 

The door slid open, halting your conversation as Jimmy walked up to you both. He stared at you both intently, and you felt a bit uncomfortable at the irritable stare in his eyes. You slowly realized he always looked that way.

“Looks like it’ll be soup again for dinner,” Daisuke spoke up first. “You wanna rock paper scissors for the chicken noodle?”

“That’s my favorite,” You pouted. Daisuke tended to make you feel more relaxed, no matter the situation.  “Ah, nevermind then,” He sighed. “It’s theirs.” Gosh, he never failed to make you feel warm either, even in your dire circumstances. 

“How much food do we have left?” Jimmy cut in, ignoring your banter altogether. 

“I’d say four months-ish,” Daisuke replied. 

“Hmm, less than the remaining air supply, but we can make it last,” Jimmy muttered to himself holding a hand up to his chin. “In theory. We’ll be poking new holes in our belts to pull that off.” The thought of starving unsettled you, but it was an unfortunate possibility. But then the question is how much air supply is left? That was something you couldn’t conserve…well, unless someone died…but even then it wouldn’t be much.

“Man, my mom will straight up stuff me when I get back,” Daisuke laughed, trying to keep the atmosphere light. “I’ll look like Swansea!” You chuckled bittersweetly, shaking your head amusedly. “We’ll have a rad story to tell,” Daisuke continued, looking between you and Jimmy with a strained smile. “They might even write articles about us. We could be on TV!” Once again there was a pit in your stomach. No matter the outcome, you were sure to appear on TV…

Jimmy also seemed uncomfortable, eyes shifting, and posture ridgid, “Uh, it’ll impress the ladies too.” You nearly broke out laughing at how awkward Jimmy was, coughing into your fist to hide it. Even funnier was it seemed he didn’t realize you and Daisuke were already in a relationship.

Daisuke looked confused, glancing at you briefly before uttering a confused, “Uh…yeah…the real problem is running out of toilet paper. Fatal stuff, man.” This time you couldn’t smother your laughter, hiding your face from the two men before you. 

“Seriously!” Daisuke emphasized, grin turning brighter at your laughter. “We should leave that part out for the press.”

“Totally,” You agreed. “Wouldn’t want the ladies to know.” This time Daisuke snorted, Jimmy nodding uncomfortably before leaving. The two of you cackled for a few more seconds before calming down.

“I thought everyone already knew we were dating,” Daisuke said, confused. “Not like we’ve been hiding it.”

“Just goes to show how much he cares,” You shrugged with a sigh. 

“You think he got the code scanner?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

“I’d think so,” You nodded. “Wanna head to the cargo hold?”

“Yeah.”

…

Mouthwash. 

You were hauling fucking mouthwash. 

It felt like a tiny bit of your sanity slipped away. You weren’t the only one though, everyone looking at the contents of the box in disbelief. 

“Mouthwash?” Anya asked in a shaky voice.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Swansea cursed. 

“There’s gotta be an ocean of the stuff in here!” Daisuke exclaimed. “The room looks freakin’ endless!” You felt dizzy staring at the rows upon rows of shelves, boxes stacked to the brim on each one. 

“This is what they’d have six people hauling for over a year?” Jimmy scoffed in disbelief. “All of this…for mouthwash?!” You tensed slightly at his shout, but quickly focused on Anya as she spoke up.

“The sugar content probably offsets any potential as a disinfectant…” Anya informed, reading the ingredient content. Great, this was completely and totally useless-

“Disinfectant? What’re you-” Swansea grumbles. “Let me see that!” Snatching the bottle Swansea reads the contents as well. “Fourteen percent ethanol.” Suddenly he bursts out laughing, seeming a bit manic. 

“Haha?” Daisuke gave a confused laugh, clearly not understanding the implications. “I s’pose we’ll smell good at least…?”  “That’s right kiddo! You can bet your ass on that!” Swansea continued to laugh. 

“W-what are you doing?” Anya stuttered, eyes wide in concern. “Stop that!” Instead, Swansea starts to chug the blue liquid, causing your stomach to churn. 

“Whew-whee,” Swansea, sighs. “Ohhh, shut up. I’m just an ol’ codger taking care of his dental hygiene.”

“You hear that?” Swansea continues, glancing at you all. “That’s the sound of fifteen years of sobriety popping like a cyst. A glorious, magnificent, red hot cyst. Good riddance and cheers! To Captain Curly! Hear, hear!”

“Guess anyone could get seriously blasted off of this stuff,” Daisuke mutters loud enough for us all to hear. 

“Yeah, and give you a seriously bad stomach ache,” You grumbled. 

“And kill you in the process,” Jimmy huffed. 

“This can’t be real,” Anya bemoans. “I-There’s no way…”

“Now we can go out in style,” Swansea grins nihilistically. “Daisuke! Come here! Anyone ever teach you how to drink like a man?” 

You felt your stomach drop, one alcoholic was bad enough, you would be damned to let Swansea drag Daisuke down with him. 

“C’mon,” You muttered, grabbing Daisuke’s hand and dragging him past the rest of the crew, head down. 

“Somthin’ wrong?” Daisuke asks once you're both back in the main hull. 

You blinked at him like he was dumb, “Seriously? This whole situation is wrong! And now Swansea’s out of commission if he’s gonna nurse that goddamned mouthwash!” You let out a frustrated sigh, running your hand through your hair. 

“And he’s trying to take you down with him.”

“I won’t drink it if that’s what you’re worried about,” Daisuke mumbles softly, eyes filled with concern. 

You side-eyed him, feeling anxiety claw at your chest, “And how do I know you’ll keep that promise?”

Daisuke opened his mouth, but nothing came out, confirming your fears.

[marvelavengerspovs1]

Comfort

Pairing: Bucky x F!reader

Warnings: Light mention of politics, fluff

Length: 494

Summary: Bucky comforts you during your time in need.

A/N: Normally I’m not one to be overly vocal about my beliefs, but after the shit show that was the election, I can’t not be. If you know me, I believe that everyone deserves rights, no matter who they are, how they identify, who they love, etc. The type of hate that we see now is only going to increase and I cannot stand by and not say anything. My page will always be a safe space for everyone, no matter what. I wrote this partially to comfort myself, but now I am posting it for everyone else who also needs this. To my friends who are going to be affected by this, I am so sorry that this country has failed you. I am sorry that your rights will be affected by this. I am sorry that people carry this immense amount of hate and don’t know how to mind their own business. Know this; My page will be a safe space for you to be yourself, even in this horrible time. You have someone in your corner who will not judge you and cares for your overall well being. We may not know each other, but I support you.

This is not proofread, I just wanted to put this out.

I do not consent for my work to be translated, copied, or sold!

You lay in your bed, thinking about life. It’s a tough pill to swallow. There are no words to describe the devastation you feel for your friends and family. You continue to stare up at the ceiling, thinking about how much you wished Bucky was home.

Bucky had left a few days prior on a mission. While it shouldn’t be much longer, you still wished he was home. You wished that you could lay in his arms and cry while he held you, telling you that he would do everything in his power to try to help you.

You are so lost in thought, you don’t hear the front door to your apartment open. 

Bucky quietly opens the door, hoping to not disturb you. He gently locks the door and takes off his boots, leaving them by the front door. Alpine is the first to greet him, rubbing against his leg. 

Bucky picks her up to pet her, giving her a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “Hey girl, is she still in bed?”

Alpine purrs to say yes and rubs herself on Bucky’s chest. Bucky frowns slightly but he knew you would be like this. He walks to your shared bedroom, knocking on the door.

“Doll?” He asks tentatively.

Your heart jumps before you turn your head. “Hey, Buck.” You whisper with a small smile and tears in your eyes.

Bucky gently puts Alpine on the bed and cuddles up right next to you. “I’m so sorry, Doll.”

You only nod your head and turn your body to be engulfed by him, wrapping your leg around his waist. “You just being here is helping.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, only rubbing your back and kissing your temple as you cry in his arms. If there was anything he could do, he would do it. But that’s not possible and he wants to destroy everything because of it.

“I got you, Doll. You can cry, scream, punch, do whatever you need to do.”

You shake your head. “I just need to be with you.”

Bucky nods. “Then we can lay here and waste the day away. Have you eaten?”

You shake your head once more. “No.”

Bucky frowns slightly. “Doll, you need to eat. It’s almost 3 pm.” Alpine meows in agreement.

“I know, I just couldn’t pull myself out of bed.” You reach for Alpine and she lays between you and Bucky, purring at her favorite humans.

“Ok, well do you want to order food?”

You shake your head and scrunch your face. “I feel like if I eat, I’m going to throw up.”

Bucky looks you in the eyes. “Baby, I know. But you have to eat. How about I make you some toast? It’ll fuel you and isn’t super heavy.”

You nod. “Yeah, ok.”

Bucky kisses your forehead. “I know Doll, but we’ll get through this. I will do everything in my power to make sure that you’ll be ok.”

[salty-autistic-writer]

Bucktommy with some “had a crush” ChimTommy. (Inspired by the stills for episode 6)

(AO3 Link)

“Do you know I used to have a crush on you?”

Tommy almost chokes on a piece of white bread and wouldn’t that be hilarious? Pulling an Evan right in front of Howie?

Howie, who is responsible for Tommy and Evan meeting in the first place? Without Howie, this wouldn’t be possible. Nothing of this. They wouldn’t sit at the table in Evan’s loft. They wouldn’t eat dinner together. They wouldn’t talk about old and new times.

Tommy wouldn’t be even alive without Howie.

And now …

“What?” He sputters, baffled.

“Yeah.” Howie is patting Tommy’s back with a half-amused, half-worried expression. “Please don’t die on me now. Not again. I might be too drunk to make good decisions right now.”

Tommy shakes his head and reaches for his bottle to pour the pesky bread down with some beer. “I’m good. But … What do you mean you had a crush on me?!”

Howie shrugs. He takes another sip of his beer, his cheeks a little flushed. “Look. No one can blame me. You’re ridiculously handsome and cool.”

“Thank you,” Tommy says, flustered. He feels a sting too though. Old guilt. “I wish I wouldn’t have been such an asshole. You tried so hard even though the first impression you got from me was a racist remark. And I pushed you away.” Hard. He pushed hard. Still remembers the irritation he felt when that new guy just wouldn’t give up. Wouldn’t shut up. Wouldn’t stop being so heartachingly nice. Tommy didn’t know how to deal with that.

Howie hums and nods. “I remember. I was there. Look. We talked about this. Many times. You apologised. I told you I forgive you. We are good. So I really hope you don’t think you still have some kind of debt to pay.”

Tommy swallows. He looks down at his feet, suddenly feeling guilty and bashful. “Well, there’s something I should tell you … I promised myself to be more open in general. We had some talks, Evan and I. About things like holding back truths. Keeping feelings a secret. And I don't want to do that anymore. So, um, you should know that I also had a little crush on you.”

“No way, man,” Howie leans back and chortles. “No way! That's amazing.”

“Well. Yeah,” Tommy smiles weakly. “You were kind. Funny. Capable. Handsome. And after you saved my life … When I saw you at the hospital, showing up and acting like it’s a normal thing to do. Well. I couldn’t really help myself.”

He remembers their hug. He wanted to put everything he felt back then into that hug. Did he succeed? He'll never know. But he tried.

“Imagine,” Howie says, his eyes getting a distant look like he really does already imagine. “Everything could have been so different. But here’s the thing. As flattered as I am, I wouldn’t want things to be different.”

Tommy nods seriously. “Same.”

“Maddie is the one, man,” Howie says dreamily.

Tommy smiles. “I can see that.”

Everyone can see the love. It’s in the glances Howie and Maddie exchange. In the familiar gentleness of their touches and in the fond way they smile at each other when Jee does something cute. And Tommy is happy for them. For what they found and built. What they fought for.

“I would do anything for her,” Howie adds seriously, then raises a brow and moves to clink his bottle together with Tommy’s. “To love.”

“To love,” Tommy says, his mouth suddenly dry.

Love.

Later, when Evan comes home, Tommy still sits at the table and fidgets, lost in his thoughts and memories.

“Hey. You okay?” Evan asks, tilting his head with a small smile and a barely-there frown. “You seem … distant.”

Tommy shakes his head, folding his hands. “No. I’m fine. I was just thinking. Howie and I talked a lot today.”

“Well, I hope he didn’t tell you all the embarrassing stories about when I started at the 118 as a careless, reckless hothead,” Evan chuckles, putting a hand on his hip and leaning against the kitchen counter, his eyes bright and his cheeks flushed. “I talked to Maddie and Josh a lot too today.”

“Oh?” It’s Tommy’s turn to raise a teasing brow. “About me?”

“Maybe,” Evan says, the corners of his mouth twitching and the blush spreading on his face.

After that, a moment of silence stretches between them. It feels … loaded with emotion somehow. It feels like they both want to say something but still hesitate because it feels so significant that they forget how to express it.

But Tommy has too much experience with keeping things to himself. He also knows that time is never a given thing. You never know what will happen tomorrow. Never know how much time is left in a life’s hourglass.

He clears his throat. “Evan. I have to tell you something. I -”

“I love you!” Evan blurts.

Tommy’s breath hitches. Everything seems to slow down until there’s nothing but the echo of Evan’s words.

“I love you,” Evan repeats and he’s wide-eyed, tears glistening in the blue. “I do. And I know we have had some … talks lately. About some serious things. About your past and my past. And, and you don’t have to say it back. Not yet. It’s okay. I needed to say it though. I needed you to know. Because -”

Before he can ramble on, Tommy is already on his feet and reaches for Evan, cupping his face and capturing his open lips in a kiss.

Love.

That’s love.

“I love you too, Evan.”

[gingernut1314]

Your Name

Summary: You hear someone calling out for you and you are desperate to find them

Content: gender-neutral reader, childhood friends, reunion after years, ace giving the warmest of hugs

Word Count: 520+

A/N: Just a little something to help brighten @sordidmusings day up! I hope you enjoy lovely and know I love you so so much!! 🫶🫶 also a one piece fic? from me?? omg I feel like it has been a while oof

↞ to One Piece Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

You heard your name above all the noise and staticy buzzing in your ears. 

It was faint at first, but definitely your name. 

Where was it coming from? Who was calling for you?

The crew around you didn’t seem to hear it, too busy cheering and laughing and celebrating to hear it being called.

You didn’t want to celebrate. Not one bit. Especially now when someone was calling for you. Calling for you in a way that had your heart restart and beat in an urgency to find it.

Your name grew clearer and clearer the more you wandered through the crowd searching for whoever was calling for you.

You knew that voice. It was one you hadn’t heard in years but one you needed close now more than ever. 

Your eyes burned and blurred as your name was called again. You wanted to call back, but the tightening of your throat gave you pause. 

But when the voice began to float in the opposite direction, you fought through the frog in your throat and called his name. A name you hadn’t spoken, hadn’t dared to speak, in three long years. 

Your name was shouted now, coming back towards you. You stayed planted in your spot, knowing he would find you as you gave one last call of his name. 

The crowd seemed to part and there he was. Shaggy, black hair that needed a good scrub, sun-kissed skin covered in a layering of freckles. His dark, near black, brown eyes eased upon finding you, thin lips pulling at their corners. 

He called your name in relief at finally finding you.

“Ace.” You called back, voice wavering despite your wish to keep your upset nature at bay. His name on your lips was all it took to make the man you had missed so desperately rush forward, scooping you up in his strong arms. 

He held you close, enveloping you in his sunny warmth you wished to stay within forever. You buried your face in his shoulder, feeling those tears you had tried to keep back begin to wet his skin. 

You breathed his smoky scent in deep. A smell that instantly reminded you of back home. Of campfires he would put on for you, Luffy, and Sabo. Fires you and him would sit by late into the night, cuddled up next to each other. It was a smell you had craved to inhale again and nearly sobbed at its return.

“I told you I’d find you again.” He muttered into your neck, placing a soft kiss there. “Didn’t I?” You nodded, holding him just that much tighter as you sucked in a shaky breath. “Let’s get outta here, yeah?” 

“Please.” Ace pulled away, holding onto your shoulders as he took in every bit of your face he could. His lips tugged upward once more and you drank in the sight of that smirking smile you loved.

“Damn--I missed you.” And before you could even think to tell him just how much you missed him back, he was grabbing your hand and whisking you out of the crowd and into the chill night air.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

HIII OK SO THIS IS A REALLY SPECIFIC REQ SO IF U CANT DO IT THEN ITS ALL GOOD

so

COULD U DO AVERY X BESTFRIEND!READER (PLATONIC OFC) WHERE HER BESTGRIEND IS LIKE A SINGER / ACTRESS

MAYBE THE READER JS GOING THROUGH A ROUGH SPOT W JAMESON AND AVERY COMFORTS HER.

JUST SOME BESTIE LOVE YK

hi!! I’m SO SO SO SO SO SO INSANELY sorry it’s taken me so long to respond to this request it was literally requested on the 20th of august and I feel so bad!! but I finally finished and I hope you enjoy

title: she’s always there

pairing: avery x bestfriend!reader (platonic)

synopsis: after a fight with jameson you know you need avery at your side to make things right again

warnings: mild swearing

a/n: three months too late but I didn’t forget you, hope you enjoy anon :))

taglist: @lovethornes @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @fleuriosa @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31 @loveinalocket @lanterns-and-daydreams @hermesenthusiast

The door slams shut. The sound echoes through my ears, bouncing around my head, a painful reminder of all that had just exploded. I stumble forwards, my fingers shaking on the doorknob. I want to run to him but my legs are stuck in an invisible cement. So my body gives way and I crumble to the floor.

Tears blur my vision as I shake in a pathetic heap. My chest hurts with each ugly sob. I hate fighting, but I hate this even more. This pain, this agony. I sob harder until my throat is so raw only cracked sounds come out.

I stay there for what feels like hours, maybe even days. I’m heavy with exhaustion and grief. I know I need to get up but I don’t move. I can’t will myself out of this position. Fear flickers in the pit of my stomach. Why can’t I get up? I have no energy, no motivation.

Nothing, I feel nothing.

But even the dread of feeling nothing doesn’t even pull me from the numbness. My skin is thickened with a layer of senselessness. I’m too weighted by my own sadness to move. This happened before, this happened last time, this couldn’t happen again.

I could hear my heart thumping in my ears. The sound almost deafening. I’m taking sharp jagged breaths that I can’t control. I need Avery.

I need her more than anything right now. She promised me if things got bad again that she would be one call away. And she made me promise that I’d call her. I couldn’t break my promise, I’m not a person who breaks their promises.

But I haven’t seen her in weeks and what if she only thinks I call her when I’m struggling? What if she thinks I’m using her? What if she gets tired and just walks out like everyone else?

I usually block out ‘the before’. But I can remember snippets, like how I couldn’t to get out of bed, to get off of the floor, to move, to eat, to take care of myself and how I felt then I’m starting to feel now. An icy coolness is pulsating through my veins, so sharp that I can’t feel it anymore.

My phone is next to my face. I can see it. But my finger feels like they’re being dragged down my a large iron ball and chain. I can’t even reach my phone for my emergency contact. My hollow chest begins to throb.

“Call Avery,” I whisper to my phone, “please call Avery. I need her.”

One ring. Tw-

“Ave,” I murmur, my voice shaking.

She replies almost instantly, “what’s wrong?”

She’s sharp, she’s ready, she’s immediate. She’s going to help me pull myself together, I tell myself.

“I need you,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say other than the truth. I can’t sugarcoat anything now. I’m not fine. I can’t move.

“I’m coming,” Avery tells me.

“It’s getting bad again,” I snivel the words just blurting out before there’s enough time for them to be filtered

I feel her freeze for a moment, “bad?”

“I’m stuck on the floor,” I mumble, my throat hoarse and sore, “I can’t move.”

“Just wait there okay,” she comforts, “I’m coming.”

“My life is a mess,” I ramble, not being able to stop myself. I’ve lost control, over my mind, over my body, over my words.

“I’ll be over in two minutes okay, stay on the line with me,” she says urgently.

“I’m sorry,” I say choking out another sob, “I’m so so sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” she says firmly but with kindness behind her tone, “just sit tight and I’m coming.”

“Okay,” I exhale, trying to ignore the lump growing in my throat.

“What happened?” she asks so softly I just want to melt into even more of a puddle of a human being. I’m halfway there, my limbs sprawled every which way, my tearstained face covered by a curtain of hair.

“Everything went wrong,” I tremble, not knowing how else to describe it. The scene plays out in the mind again and again, a pitiless record of pain on loop.

“What’s everything?” Avery asks, her voice so mellow, so gentle, so calm.

“Jameson.”

His name sends a twinge of pain across my chest.

“Oh sweetie I’m sure it’s okay,” she says, “it’s normal for couples to fight.”

“Not like this,” I shake my head as if she can see me.

“Let me in and we’ll talk about it,” she says.

“You’re outside?” I ask my voice opting for the tone of a vulnerable child. She’d arrived faster than I thought she would.

“Yes,” she confirms.

“Door’s unlocked,” I murmur, the words kind of slurring into one another as I said them.

“I might get a speeding ticket tomorrow but it’ll be worth it,” the door opens, “besides Alisa will probably be able to get me out of it.”

“Mmmm,” I respond, feeling tired, each of my limbs weighing me down as if they were made of lead.

“Sweetie you need to stand up,” she tells me gently, I can feel her hand running up and down my arm rhythmically.

“I can’t,” I wheeze, everything was so heavy it ached.

“You can,” Avery replies, “I’m going to help you.”

“I’m tired,” I groan, my vision blurring as my eyelids fall shut.

“Then we can go to bed,” she says.

My lips quiver, “Avery?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs.

“I can’t stand up,” I whisper, the ghost of my voice vibrating against my throat, “I can’t do it.”

“Here then let’s sit up first,” she says.

Slowly she helps me into a sitting position. The world feels a little hazy. My head rolls backwards and thumps on the wall, it’s too heavy to hold up.

A flicker of pain spreads across the back of my head, the first real feeling in my state of numbness. She wraps her arms around me and I fall into her softly crying. I don’t know if it’s the pain in my head or the pain in my heart endorsing the tears but I don’t care.

She holds me tightly and tenderly as if she might never let go. I fear if she does I’ll fall apart and break into millions of pieces on the floor that can never be put back together again. My entire body shakes as my tears dampen my best friend’s shirt.

“Come on,” she says slowly, helping me to my feet after a long bout of silence.

I don’t want to move but my legs are willed too having obtained pins and needles from my static state. I don’t know how she managed to get me thinking about something other than my absence of feeling, allowing me to walk, but she did. We slump down on the sofa together and I curl up into her grip. I don’t want to let Avery go, not when my mind is retelling the story.

“What is your problem with me?” I scoff, putting the dishes into the cupboard not really meeting his eyes.

He’d been offish all through dinner, the one chance we actually had to spend time with each other and of course he picks that moment to be mad.

“My problem?” he says, with a bitter laugh, “you want to know my problem?”

“That is what I just said isn’t it?” I quip back, a bit snarky.

“Where are you half the time?” he asks, a degree of hurt in his voice that makes my heart twist.

I stare at him, dumbfounded as my brain registers the question, “what?”

“I never see you anymore,” Jameson tells me, “I mean any longer without you and I feel like I’m going to forget your face.”

“You do see me,” I reply curtly.

“No I don’t and you know it,” he snaps, a wild looking shining through his emerald eyes.

“Jamie I can’t help my schedule,” I sigh, putting my hands on my hips, “I didn’t choose this.”

“Maybe you didn’t but you’re not trying to do anything about it,” he accuses me.

“I am!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up into the air.

“No you’re not,” he shakes his head, “you’re not doing anything and it’s not fair.”

“Give it a month and-“

“No! I’m tired of waiting,” he says, desperation bleeding into his voice, “it’s always next month this and next week that, I’m sick and tired of waiting for us.” he runs a hand through his unruly hair, “isn’t love meant to come first?”

“I need a job,” I say in a low voice, “I need money Jameson.”

“I’ll give you money,” he groans a pleading look in his features.

“You don’t understand,” I yell, “I need to make this for myself.”

“Why?” he shouts, “I could give you anything you ever wanted!”

“I wanted to earn something, not just be given it,” I try to explain.

“You’ve earned everything you need to,” he presses on.

“Acting is what I love to do Jamie,” I tell him, the passion seeping into my voice, “these auditions are what I love to do.”

“I thought you loved me,” he shoots back.

“I do,” I exhale, “you know I do.”

Jameson shakes his head with a bitter and slightly pained sort of smile, “it feels like all you care about is this stupid work of yours.”

My eyes are squinted shut. I’m trapped in a memory I hate, held captor in a prison of my mind’s own making.

“Talk to me,” Avery whispers, “I’m here.”

“Jamie hates me, I barely see you, I overwork, I can’t sleep, all my auditions are going horribly and I’m just messing everything up-“ I ramble, my voice becoming thicker and thicker with emotion with each word.

“Hey,” she says softly, “just breathe.”

“I can’t, it’s like everything is coming at me all at once and I can’t handle it,” I choke, “I feel like I’m drowning Avery and every time I kick up to the surface another wave takes me out again. It’s this cycle that I can’t make my way out of.”

“Oh sweetheart,” she soothes, “just try for me and ignore all of it for a second and just look into my eyes.”

I meet her gentle hazel eyes, but they blur as tears fill my vision.

“Think about us,” she says, “right now. Me and you together, talking to each other. Focus on the present, stop thinking about the future and the past.”

My mind quiets a little, the raging storm of black clouds and loud sounds begins to dim down into a low hum. It’s still there but less. It’s better. A feel a spark of hope pulsate through my veins, previously darkened by hopelessness.

“Feeling a little better?” she tilts her head to the side.

“A little,” I nod hesitantly. I don’t want to speak too soon, there is still time for things too get much much worse.

“That’s good,” she smiles, “that’s really good.”

I exhale slowly, a little shakily. I lean further into Avery and her arms naturally wrap around me. I’m in the safety and warmth of her arms, her soft touch.

“I’ve got you,” she reminds me, “and when you’re ready, just talk and I’ll listen.”

“I don’t know where to start,” I laugh, buts it’s a forced laugh that I soon regret as if makes my throat ache.

“Do you want to talk about what happened between you and Jameson?” she suggests.

“You’re being so pathetic,” I snap, rolling my eyes.

“And you’re being selfish,” he exclaims.

I stop in my tracks and spin to face him, “for wanting to make something of myself for my life? I’m not you, Jameson. I didn’t get everything handed to me on a golden platter.”

Hurt flashes across his face.

“You think I haven’t worked for what I am today?” he barks, “you think I was just given all of this?”

“I’m just saying it’s not as simple as you think it is,” I groan, trying to walk away.

He stands in front of me, looking deep into my eyes, his tone softens, “I would move the sun and the stars just to spend time with you,” anger clouds his features, sending an overcast of fury to his eyes, “but I don’t see you trying to change anything to see me.”

“I have tried,” I tell him, “but it’s really difficult Jameson and I’m exhausted,”

“Exhausted of what? Of this, of our relationship,” he snaps, quick to jump to some ridiculous conclusion.

“Are you drunk?” I laugh.

“Why do you always think I’m drunk?” he shoots back, venom on his tongue.

“Because you’re spouting nonsense,” I reply, raising my voice a little.

“Of course, of course,” he rolls his eyes in his bout of sarcasm, “I’m the one who’s spouting nonsense.”

“What do you want me to do Jameson?” I ask, a lump growing in my throat, “drop everything for you?”

“Love comes with sacrifices,” he shrugs in response.

“So what I’m meant to sacrifice my entire passion?” I scoff.

He couldn’t be serious.

“No I’m just asking you to at least attempt to make more time,” he says, “I mean don’t you miss me like I miss you?”

“Of course I miss you,” I sigh.

“Then why don’t you show it?” he asks and I can see how much it wounds him, “you’re a closed book around me now. I used to be able to read you so well but now it’s like a blank page.”

“How would you know, I thought you didn’t see me anymore?” I bite back.

“We got into a fight,” I whisper, memories flooding back.

“A bad one?” Avery says carefully, like she’s treading on eggshells.

“He left,” I shrug.

“Asshole,” she mutters in my defence.

“No,” I shake my head, sitting back up to face her, “I was horrible, I would’ve left me.”

Beat.

“But he was horrible too,” I sniff.

“People say things they don’t mean in fights,” Avery points out, reaching to touch my arm.

“Or they say what they’re really thinking,” I blurt out, my mind is too consumed by my own thoughts to filter what I’m saying.

“More often than not it’s things they don’t mean, trust me,” she says, a tenderness in her voice that makes my heart squeeze, “besides Jameson can be a real impulsive idiot sometimes.”

“I love that about him,” I chuckle snivelling slightly, “but… it’s just that lately things haven’t been the same between us.”

“How so?”

“I’m leaving,” Jameson snaps. He’s finally had enough, he’s finally walking out on me. Of course. How could I possibly think someone could really love me as much as he said he did.

“Where are you going?” I ask, a sudden panic clawing at my chest overriding all of the built up anger and resentment.

“Why do you care?” he shrugs, grabbing his keys swiftly.

“Because I love you, you idiot!” I yell.

He stops and slowly turns around. Our eyes connect and for a split second deja vu washes over me and we’re meeting for the first time. I’m falling in love with his enchanting green eyes.

“Do you?” he asks, “really?”

“You’re being such an idiot right now,” I scrunch up my face as I shout, “I hope you know that.”

“If you’ll excuse me I’m going to go and get drunk and spout nonsense like I usually do,” he says, “according to you.”

“Oh come off of it,” I scream, a sudden surge of pure rage appearing.

“What?”

“Stop acting like mr high and mighty on your high horse,” I snarl, “it’s not fair.”

“You know what’s not fair, what you’re doing to me,” he barks, “I’m in limbo here, I don’t know whether you’re coming or going, the only time I see you is when I leave this house and you’re asleep.”

“Then wake me up,” I deadpan, arms folded.

“And make you even more exhausted?” he scoffs, “fat chance!”

“I’m giving you solutions and you’re just deterring them,” I exclaim.

“Because you know they’re stupid solutions,” he explodes.

“Well life is just keeping us apart. I’m always at auditions, he’s off with his brothers, then when I come home he’s asleep and I can’t sleep and then when I finally sleep, he wakes up,” I blubber, “we’re not getting enough time to be with each other and I’m trying so hard to make time, but I don’t have the energy because I’m so exhausted from everything else.”

“And that’s okay, that’s understandable,” she reassures me, “he’s probably just frustrated because he doesn’t get to spend time with you, that shows he loves you, right? Someone who didn’t wouldn’t experience these feelings.”

“I suppose,” I shrug, “but Avery you should have seen him. He was so mad when he walked out. It’s the biggest fight we’ve ever been in.”

“I’m sure things will get better, they always do,” she soothes, “I mean think about to your last fight, how long did that last?”

Barely a few hours, I recall. Jameson and I had never fought for long in our relationship. It was so hard to stay so mad at someone I loved so much.

“What if it’s different this time?” I murmur, imagining the worst.

“It’s not,” Avery says, “trust me.”

“He was just so mad,” I say, biting my lip, “I’ve never seen him look at me like that.”

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” Avery tells me gently, “whatever the outcome is, I’ve got you the whole way.”

“Thanks Ave,” I try to smile but it doesn’t quite reach my eyes, “he doesn’t get it, he thinks he does, but he doesn’t.”

“Maybe that’s why he’s getting so angry,” she suggests.

“I wish he would just let me explain,” I groan, putting my head in my hands.

“Why don’t you just communicate that to him?” she says.

“Because I have no time to!” I exclaim, not meaning to sound so defensive and snappy, “I just need to get through this month and then everything will be back to normal.”

“Sweetheart, I think you need to make some time to talk to him,” Avery says earnestly, “in this month. Explain this all to him, otherwise he’s going to keep building up all this anger for no reason and things are going to get worse.”

“Why is he so angry?” I ask in frustration, meaning for the question to be rhetorical.

“Because he doesn’t like not seeing you,” she replies, “he loves you.”

He love me. He loves me. He loves me. The words echo around my head relentlessly.

“I’m stupid,” I say, letting my head hit Avery’s shoulder.

“You’re not stupid,” she replies, putting her arm around me and rubbing small circles on my shoulder with her thumb.

“He hates me,” I mumble into her.

She shakes her head, “he doesn’t hate you.”

“It’s always the same with you, you always want more-“

“I want to see you,” Jameson yells, “is that so much to ask?”

“I will never be enough, you can’t just take me for who I am, what I am, what I need,” I shout back.

“What about what I need?” he questions, “I need to see you and it’s driving me crazy when we’re apart.”

“You need to find a coping mechanism then,” I reply, snarky and spiteful.

He looks at me with a look I’ve never seen in his eyes before. Pure unadulterated hatred. Like he wants me to burn on a thousand spikes after a session of torture.

“Fuck you,” he spits at me, his face so close to mine I can feel his anger.

“Piss off,” I hiss back.

“I will thank you very much,” he replies, swinging the door open.

“And don’t come home,” I snap, “I don’t want to see your face.”

“It’s not like you’ll notice, you don’t see my face anyway,” he calls, slamming the door shut behind him.

“What if this time he doesn’t come back,” I murmur, frightening myself more and more it’s each drastic thought that pops into my head.

“He will come back,” she soothes, continuing to rubbing small circles on my arm, “he always comes back to you.”

She has a point. Jameson always came back, he just needs time to cool off. I hope…

“You’re stronger than you think,” she whispers in my ear, like she can hear the doubts screaming in my brain.

“I don’t feel it,” I grumble.

“That’s what makes you even stronger,” Avery says.

“I’m crying over a boy,” I deadpan.

“Who hasn’t been there?” she smiles, wiping my tears away, “now come on, I’ll get the ice cream tubs, you grab the endless flow of blankets and pillows and we’ll have a movie night.”

I crack a small smile and nod as we stand up. She begins to walk while my legs struggle to follow.

“Avery,” I say, taking a small step forwards.

She spins around with a bright smile, “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” I exhale, “so much.”

sorry there haven’t been a lot updates lately I’ve been super busy 🤍🤍

TIG masterlist

[spot-the-antisemitism]

I NEED TO VENT ABOUT THESE PALESTINIAN GFM GOOD LORD

I’ve been donating to various palestine gfm out of goodwill hoping the money would help these families. I find out by accident that most are scams and the ones that arent are straight up gaslighting me for more money!

I generally donated $10 because thats all i have and I wanted to help as many as possible, but some of these people straight up messaged me back telling me “That’s not enough! Please donate $20 more! Do you want us to suffer?” GIRL WHAT!!! Thats all I have to give!! I’m struggling too here!

But I let it slide! I ignored the red flags!

After the presidential election I made the decision to stop donating to save up and move out of my area for a safer state. Tell me WHY when a gfm i donated to reached out and asked for more money, Ok, I tell them no sorry I can’t anymore. This “blog” straight up gives me a BOT ANSWER???? What the hell???? I am annoyed and shocked because I thought this one was legit because these people freaking claimed they were vetted and were on the vetted gaza list wtf! I’m so upset and officially DONE with all these Palestine accounts! I wish there was a way I could block all these posts on my timeline other than blocking all these accounts!!

Dear anon,

congrats of leaving your abusive high control group.

I am so sorry you lost that money. It’s funny I am a accussed of being stingy and greedy when these people are so pushy.

Treat a stranger telling you to give them money or they will die/suffer the way you would someone telling you they’d commit suicide if you stop being friends with them. IT’S ABUSE.

Also if the gofundme is in your inbox, they’re a scam. The vetters are in on the scam. The rebloggers and fan artitst are suckers or in on the scam.

I’m sorry it took Trump winning for you to get out, but I’m glad you’re out.

yours,

Cecil

[zevrra]

—sweet & pathetic

syn: tonight, gojo wants you on top.

includes: fem!reader, bottom!gojo, pegging, overstim, crying, begging, praising, multiple orgasms.

“you’re doing so good baby.” you coo ever so sweetly in the shell of satoru’s ear. moving your lips along his shoulder, placing well deserved kisses in the middle of his shoulder blades, right on his spine. your fingers grip his small, slutty, waist as you slowly sink into him.

he had begged you to take control tonight. wanted so badly to try out the new toy you had just gotten. was all too eager to let you kiss him onto his back, rub his thighs, stroke his cock until he leaked at the tip. he even let you tie his wrists together with a pretty blue ribbon so he couldn’t touch without permission.

now he lays face first into the bed. arms tied behind his back, waist held high with an arch to his back as he moaned pathetically into the white sheets. his cock drools between his thighs as your new strap inches further inside of him. a fruit flavored lube coats the pretty blue silicone of the toy as you sit on your knees behind him. admiring satoru’s pale skin turning a pretty shade of pink with arousal.

you lick your lips at the sight. his head turned to the side to allow you to see the tears clinging to his pretty white eyelashes. he cries at every inch he takes but he takes it like the good boy that he is. you pour more lube onto the shaft of the toy as you’re coming up onto the thicker part of the flared base. wanting to make sure he could take it nice and easy.

his blue eyes open ever so slightly to look back at you, bottom lip trembling as he whines for you. “more, i-i need more my love.” he cries with a jolt of his hips, trying to get you to move faster. always so eager and you loved it.

“satoru…what do you say?” you hum sweetly as your hands move along his hot, sensitive skin. trailing from his waist to his arms, where you grip his strong biceps. he could so easily break free from your half ass attempt at bondage but he doesn’t. he could turn his infinity on and send you flying backwards but he wants this. wants to give you every bit of control he can. he’s no longer the strongest, he’s just your lover who wants to be fucked senseless.

“please! fuck please, baby, please. i-i need you to fuck me.” satoru whimpers, his fingers flex and un-flex against his restraints, hoping his slightly muffled words are enough for you. and you smile in return, not that he could see it, but do so anyway as the man you love begs for you to make him feel good. your hands move to grab hold of his wrists, widening your position on the bed as you prepare to fuck him just like he asks of you.

you lean back, pulling the new toy out from within his trembling body, before snapping your hips forward and forcing satoru to take every inch of your pretty new strap to the very base. a broken sob rips from your lover boy as he trembles under the weight of your toy fully sitting inside of him now.

and little to no surprise, gojo cums the moment he takes every inch of you. body spasming as a dry orgasm rips through him and leaves him gasping for air. his pleading sobs turn into needy groans once he finishes riding out his premature orgasm, his dazed blue eyes looking back at you. “tha—thank you,” he cries between hiccups of the lingering pleasure coursing his veins.

“mhm, what a good boy.” you hum before your hips begin to move as fast and as harsh as you can. fucking into him once more at his wish. using your grip on his wrists to help fuck into his overly sensitive prostate with plenty of well angled thrust.

he damn near screams at the overstimulation setting in his lower half. makes you lick your lips as you watch his head lift and snap back while tears finally break free of his lashes. he weeps at the pleasure you give him. broken sobs of your name fall from his lips as you fuck him into your mattress. “yes! god, yes, please…please let me cum again…please baby i can’t!” gojo cries pathetically, causing you to smile once more.

you lean forward, planting hot kisses against his shoulders and neck, picking up the roughness of your thrusts as you slide a hand around to grab ahold of his aching cock. you time your strokes with your thrusts while giving him the pleasure he oh so deserves. “come for me.”

satoru weeps as he comes with the help of your hand. he erratically thrusts his own hips into your hand with each new onslaught of his orgasm. your hand nor your hips never stop moving as you fuck him through his second climax. can already tell with each stroke of his dripping cock that the sheets beneath the two of you were definitely going to be stained at this rate. didn’t matter one bit as he stutters and sobs until he can’t take it anymore, finishing his orgasm with a weak cry.

you hum sweetly as you remove your hand from his cock. using your other hand to turn your lover onto his back to view your handiwork. some of his cum splatters across his stomach while the rest makes a mess against your bed. his cock limps against his thigh, bright red from cumming back to back, while his face is stained with pretty little tears and you smile faintly at the sight. moving your clean hand to brush across his face, catching his attention. and he looks at you with those gorgeous blue eyes of his; hazy and fucked as senseless as you want him to be. you lick your lips as the meal before you, pressing your thumb gently against his lips in return.

“can i keep going, satoru?” you ask in a sultry tone. it was never enough when you got to hold him like this. you always ended up being the greedy one. wanting more and more like a sex-craved lunatic.

satoru blinks at your request, probably trying to blink away the fog in his eyes, before his lips breaks out in a wild, lust filled smirk. “yeah. fuck me some more baby.”

[libertarian-druid-ny-separatist]

Poland is Eastern Europe, and they've given 44 separate aid packages to Ukraine.

Okay, it's still not the responsibility of the American taxpayer to fund your war. As such, I prefer a diplomatic route. Nowhere in any of this have I said that if that's not possible we should immediately cut all aid. Think you may have made some assumptions. Just because I don't like that were funding another forever war doesn't mean I don't think y'all need help.

Sorry I tried being sympathetic, guess that didn't come off right. If it came off hostile, I guess that's on me for being awake 24 straight hours.

It sure seems that way, given that that's all I've suggested.

Okay, so that would still mean your nation would still have time to up its arms industry. Potentially with American, Turkish and European licensing.

Yeah, he's also old as dirt, it's not like putin has much longer for this world. He's already had a coup attempt, give it a couple years and there'll be another.

Honestly a lot of this seems to have been some misinterpretation. The closest I've gotten to saying that putin shouldn't face any consequences is saying that Trump could offer him a place in the US. Beyond that it's just been me saying that I hope for a peaceful resolution where Ukraine gets their land back. So I'm not sure where the "you're wishing death on me" is coming from. Yeah, I don't like that we're funding yet another foreign war, I sorta dug the 4 years we had something akin to peace. Couldn't give less of a fuck about Russian oil since we could have been releasing from the Alaskan oil reserve for the last 4 years. The Eastern European food and ingredients I get come from Poland, Latvia, Lithuania, or Ukraine. The only thing the Russian sanctions sorta fuck with me on is vodka, but only because Tito's is slightly more expensive, and I mean like 5 cents more, for a dude who barely drinks.

So let's take a step back here and put what's been said in context.

I like nobody being at war, I don't like funding foreign wars, I like peaceful resolutions, I couldn't give less of a shit about sanctions. Yeah, I think we shouldn't be funding this war, but mostly because I believe the Donbas should have an actual vote on whether to stay in Ukraine or not, same for Crimea. One overseen by the US, Ukraine, Russia, and North Korea where votes are all cast in the same building which troops can't leave except to sleep and leaving the country. Purely to be fair to the people who actually do want to be a part of Russia. Dismissing that, a lease for a warm water port and natural gas drilling would be far from annexation. Russia would then be paying for the port and wells.

Sorry if I'm rambling, again, 24 straight hours of being awake, so I'm not exactly as coherent as usual. Point is, all I'd like is for us to get paid for war materials sent or for them to be returned and for us to not be involved in foreign wars. I say the same about Israel and even, somewhat begrudgingly, Taiwan. We've been putting our own nation second or further back for more than 50 years. We're on the verge of collapse because of how much we spend. So yes, I hope for peace over the continuation of yet another war.

I am not happy that Trump won. Not that I would prefer Kamala very much, but as a filthy Russian living in Europe, my main priority right now is Ukraine and I do believe Trump's victory lowers Ukraine's chances.

I do believe both would ultimately be unable to unfuck the American economy in one term. And I do believe Trump will worsen LGBT rights. Though I'm open to be surprised.

Ultimately, America will survive another Trump term. Even American democracy will. It's a shame, but it's not the end of the world.

My main prediction is that Trump will dial down the populist rhetoric now that he's in the office again. But we shall see.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 22 (Human Alastor x Reader)

Chapter Trigger Warnings: UwU Fluff, Angst, implied sexual assault

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

The basket clattered to the ground, spilling containers and napkins. Glass shattered as the cups hit the ground, but you hardly noticed it. Alastor’s foot caught in the basket as he stepped forward, trying to save you from crashing into the front of his car as an uncharacteristic curse dropped from his lips. 

It didn’t do him any good, only crushing the basket as he himself stumbled. The cool steel of the car bit into your back. Pain ripped through your healing ribs as you gasped. The pain faded into the background as Alastor caught himself just a moment before his body crashed against yours. 

His hands landed on either side of you, braced against the hood of the car. You could just feel his chest brush against yours as you took gasping breaths, more out of shock than anything else. 

He was so close now. You could feel him. God help you, you could smell him. Musk and pine with a touch of cigarette smoke. The smell along with his warmth made your head spin. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, not moving away. 

“My ankle twisted was all,” you whispered, eyes darting between his, then down at his lips as his tongue darted out, wetting them. “I just stepped wrong.” 

“I’m glad,” Alastor said, lifting a hand to brush stray hair behind your ear. “It’d kill me if you came to any real harm with me.” 

Alastor waited, watching as your eyes roamed his face. His heart beat in his chest as fire felt like it burned through his blood, threatening to eat away at the resolve he maintained ever so carefully. 

He leaned forward and you tilted your face up, eyes wide, looking so much like a doe caught in headlights. Tempting, god above, you were teaching him what temptation truly meant. If this is what those women felt as they chased after him, desperate for as little as a look, he understood it now. 

A deep sigh ripped from his chest as he rested his forehead against yours, taking in the warmth of your skin and the way you trembled ever so slightly, trapped between him and the car. He should let you up, should give you space to breathe, but it was taking everything in him not to take what distance you had from you. 

He wouldn’t. God, how he wanted to, but he wouldn’t. You had your choices taken from you again and again. He had watched from a tree, fucking helpless as the man you married invaded the sanctity of your body against your wishes. 

Had you ever kissed a man willingly? Even once?

Was there a time when you longed for lips against yours? Was it ever good for you? You had told him that there hadn’t been anyone before your husband. Had you ever longed for his touch at one point? His lips? 

Selfishly, Alastor hoped not. 

What would it feel like to kiss someone he desired? How he wanted to taste your kiss, but you failed to move. He needed distance before he lost his mind, before curiosity burned the last of his resolve. 

Distance. He needed to give you space. Slowly, he did just that, pulling back. As he did so, he noticed your hand resting against his chest. Had it always been there? He didn’t know. He had been so absorbed in the way your eyes darted around his face that it very well could have been. 

You could feel the way his heart beat under your hand. His open jacket covered some of your fingers. Having your hand under his jacket, even just partially, felt far more intimate than the kisses he would place to your temple or the way his hand would linger, holding yours. 

They were not kisses, you told yourself. Yes, they were, your heart screamed back. You didn’t know which was true.

“Why did you pull away?” you asked the question in your heart before your mind gathered control of your lips. 

“You’re married,” he said softly.

“Oh,” you said over him, looking away, shame burning in you as your hand slipped from his chest. “I’m sorry, I-”

His hand wrapped around yours, holding the palm of your hand flush against his heart, ensuring you had no choice but to feel how rapidly it was beating against his chest. 

“I don’t care about that. I only mean to say it should be your choice.” Alastor said, eyes locked on you as he hooked your chin with a finger, pulling your face back to his, ensuring you saw him as he spoke. “I will not be just another man taking from you, forcing you.”

Your choice.

What a strange concept. Tears burned in your eyes as you tried to put your thoughts in order. You took too long, and he was pulling away again, a guarded smile across his lips.

You acted before you could think about it anymore. You only got one life to live. The bible had taught you that lusting after someone that was not your marriage mate was as sinful as the act of adultery itself. In your heart, you know you had already paved your road to hell. 

The fabric of his shirt bunched under your hand as your fingers balled into a fist, grabbing ahold of him as you threw your other arm around his neck. You didn’t know what you were doing, never had you initiated a kiss before, but you’d seen it in films and from couples that actually cared for eachother. 

You pulled yourself up off the car, or maybe you were pulling him down to you. You didn’t know for sure. Then his lips were against yours. His hand, which had left your chin when you moved, hovered in the air for a moment before resting against your neck lightly. 

Would he push you away?

Fingers curled around your neck, weaving through the hair at the nape as he leaned into you. He drug his hand from the hood of his car, wrapping his fingers around your hip as he held you in place. 

Sanity clawed back into your mind as you pulled away, blinking your eyes open as you looked up at him. What would he do? What would he say? You pulled your lip between your teeth as you waited. 

He had said it was your choice and impulsive though it may have been; you had made your choice. 

Alastor’s hands were long, strong, yet elegant. His thumb caressed your jaw and then applied pressure, just under the bone, to encourage you to tilt your head up a little more. 

Then his lips were on yours. You could feel the way he sighed into the kiss, his chest moving with it as the breath washed over your face. His hand wrapped around your lower back, pulling you tighter to him. Your hand ran up his chest, fingers dancing over the collar of his shirt, taking in the soft feeling of his neck.

His hand on your lower back ran up, holding you closer. It seemed with every exhale of air; he pulled you closer as his lips moved against yours, pulling and pushing. Each time his lips left yours for a gasping breath, he was back again.

As you pulled air into your lungs, his kiss pinched your lower lip softly between his lips. Your head spun. Never had you dreamed it could feel so good to simply be kissed. His hair was as soft as you dreamed as your hand slipped along his neck.

Your thumb brushed against his jaw and your head swam at the feeling of a patch of stubble, ever so small and slight. A missed spot from his morning shave, just under his jaw. A speck of imperfection, hardly noticeable unless you ran the pad of your thumb over it. 

Your lips closed around his, returning to the kiss as you tried to better slot your lips together, trying to correct the misalignment. Any thoughts you may have held onto as he showed you what it felt like to be kissed was lost as something warm and wet darted out between his lips. 

You were not sure if he was trying to lick his lips or yours, but the way he felt had you gasping, begging for air. It was intoxicating, more so than any wine you’d drank in your life as you tasted him as his tongue softly swept into your mouth. 

His kiss wasn’t greedy. Nothing about it hurt. Nothing about it was a battle. It was soft, sweet. You were gasping as his tongue withdrew, leaving you to chase it. You flexed your fingers, scratching his scalp lightly in the process as he continued to pull back. 

Your name was a whisper on his lips, his voice ever so thick and naked as he said, “I’ve got to get you back.” 

“I don’t want to go back,” you whispered back. “I want to stay with you.” 

“We must be careful, ma cherie.” Alastor whispered, leaning in and placing a soft, chaste kiss against your lips before stepping back, putting distance between your bodies. 

You softly touched your lips as you stood in the kitchen, the sink filling with hot water. Laurence hadn’t been terribly impressed with dinner, but the cleaning had earned you mercy for it. 

It felt like you were suffocating, waiting for the sound of his office door closing behind him. Alastor had said he would leave you a note, and you just needed to sneak out to get it. 

Warm hands wrapped around your waist, pulling your back to a too wide chest. Bile rose in your throat as you felt Laurence’s hands smoothe around your front. 

Lips that disgusted you brushed against the top of your head in a vile mockery of the lips you couldn’t stop thinking about. 

“Laurence, honey?” You whispered, frozen otherwise in place. 

“I’ve got a business trip tomorrow,” he said, holding you. “It was sprung on me. That’s why I was so stressed this morning.” 

“That’s alright,” you said though you were less and less sure that it was as you spent more and more time with Alastor. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby.” 

“I know,” you said, guilt and doubt clawing into you. Your husband was here, arms around you, and you kept thinking about another man. Why couldn’t you feel the way you did for Alastor for your husband? 

“The tip will have me gone overnight again,” Laurence said in your ear. 

“Tomorrow night?” You asked, trying to not sound hopeful.

“Tomorrow night.” Laurence agreed, “I’m going to go upstairs and bathe. Be ready for bed when I’m done.” 

“Yes, Laurence,” you said, tears welling in your clenched eyes as you willed them not to fall. It would be worse for you if you cried, it always was. If you took it with a smile, it wasn’t as bad. Sometimes though, it felt like Laurence’s goal was simply to make you cry so he could be angry about it. 

You looked up from the dishes in the sink as you listened to your husband walk toward the stairs, eyes training on the apple tree in the distance. You couldn’t see it, not really with the darkness of night. It felt like Alastor was out there, looking back at you. He promised more that you couldn’t reach out for. Alastor was something you wanted so badly and yet, as long as you were married, you could never have him. 

There was rat poison under the sink, tucked behind bottles of vinegar and cleaning solutions. You put it there yourself, back in the fall. Tears slipped down your face as you questioned how much it would take to be free of the man you called your husband. 

Then your eyes rose a little more while the sound of Laurence’s weight creaked on the stairs. As Laurence turned on the water, running the bath, your eyes locked on a flash of light. It was little more than a spark coming from the darkness around the apple tree. 

You couldn’t kill your husband, Alastor wouldn’t want anything to do with you if you did. A good man like Alastor would never want a woman who killed another, a woman who committed such an ultimate sin. He needed a strong, infallible woman who would help him push forward.

You wouldn’t deserve a moment of his time if you did something as monstrous as murder. Wiping tears you hadn’t noticed falling from your face, you dried your hands on your house dress and walked through the kitchen on the toes of your shoes. Each step was careful and slow, ensuring that the heels didn’t click against the floors as you walked toward the back door. 

Slowly, you opened the door and slipped outside. The sound of crickets and cool night are enveloped you as you glanced up, expecting to see your husband in the bedroom window waiting to catch you. 

He wasn’t. Your bedroom was dimly lit by the gaslights in the hall. You were in the clear. Walking quickly turned into running as you crossed the back garden. It was dark, and you nearly tripped over your own feet and then again on twigs.

It was selfish, a fleeting hope that wormed itself into your heart, but you hoped he was still there. You wanted to see him again, to feel his arms around you again. Even for just a moment, you wanted to feel his kiss again. 

He was gone when you reached the tree. Disappointed huffs of breath puffed between your lips as you stuffed the fleeting heartbreak down. There wasn’t time to be disappointed. He had been there. You had seen the light from a match being struck. 

Reaching blindly into the hole, you found it. There was a notebook and sticking out from it, a torn-out page. Grabbing the page, you unfolded it, heart in your throat as you struggled to find a ray of moonlight bright enough to read by.

“My Darling,” Alastor’s neat penmanship started. “I enjoyed our lunch and dearly hope that you can say the same. It pains me so to return you to that house, knowing what you endure at the hands of another. I’ll be counting down the moments until I may see you again. Would it be selfish of me to check back tonight for a response? Perhaps, though, I must confess I will before I return home for the night.

Until then, A” 

You held the note to your chest, heart beating fast. Next to the notebook in the hole was a lighter to burn the letters, but you couldn’t stomach the thought. Instead, you folded the paper and tucked it into your apron. It was a risk you couldn’t help taking. 

It was dark and you could only hope your penmanship would please him as much as his did you. It pained you that you had no time to sprawl a lovely message to match his. 

“I don’t have long,” you started, crouched next to the tree as you braced the notebook on your knee. “He’s going out-of-town tomorrow for work. He’ll be gone overnight. I want to see you, if that’s alright. I dearly wish to see you again.” You signed the note with your initial, just as he did and folded it, tucking it along with the notebook and pen into the hole.

Would he have been by already before returning home for the night? You didn’t know. You hoped he would be by again, even in this late hour. It was selfish. He needed rest too, but you hoped that flash of light wasn’t him saying goodbye. 

For a moment you felt the need to snatch the paper up and scrawl a declaration of your feelings across the page. Leave it to speak everything you were to afraid to say, too ashamed to say but instead you turned away. 

You’d been out for far too long already. You needed to get back. Laurence would be out of the bath and looking for you soon. Based on how he held you, you doubted he would tolerate your presence being absent from the bedchamber. 

“I’m sorry,” Laurence said, running his hands over your arms, bodies lit by nothing but the moonlight through the window. That too was quickly fading as clouds moved in. 

“You needn’t be.” Your eyes traveled, looking everywhere but at your husband. 

“I’ve been working so much we’ve not been able to make it to the cinema much lately. Even our lunches have fallen off.” His lips moved against your neck as you tried to stand as still as you could. 

“You’ve been working hard,” you whispered. “I don’t hold it against you.” 

“You don’t seem to appreciate how hard I’m working,” Laurence’s voice turned sharp. What you said was wrong. You didn’t know how or what the right thing was, but you had said the wrong thing. 

“Of course I do,” you forced yourself to turn and face him, though you couldn’t make yourself reach out for him like you knew he wanted. 

“Then fucking act like it.” Laurence’s mouth crashed against yours in a hard kiss that seemed to be a mockery of what you had learned a kiss could be. “Icy bitch.” He said as he tore your nightgown down your body. 

It was near the middle of the night as Alastor crept through the small forest, note in his pocket. The cloud cover was far too thick for him to have a hope of reading it, but that was alright. 

It was a note from you. That’s all that mattered. At least, he hoped it was. He knew it wasn’t the note he left, written after he had delivered you to your back door. 

Once he was safely through the trees, he sat on the first park bench he found, tucked under the warm glow of the streetlamp. Oh, how his heart pounded and that feeling in his gut bloomed as he took in your slanting letters, messy from speed and poor writing position. 

Tomorrow. 

He could see you again so soon. He’d have to plan something. Would he take you out for another evening on the town? Perhaps not Mimzy’s. The memory of Laurence there may be too fresh still. 

The next town over? No, he didn’t want to waste so much time driving when he could be with you in a more intentional sense. His home was the only logical decision. He’d have to make something for dinner, make it worth the night in. That would be fine, large home and middle class upbringing aside, you seemed content with the simpler things in life. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

Next?

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

To all my mutuals who are queer and live in the US, and to anyone reading this post who is queer and lives in the US, I am so very sorry. My thoughts will be with you for the coming four years, and I might just pray for you, even though I have no God to pray to. Votes wasn’t enough to stop Trump from becoming president, so maybe my prayers will help and save you.

Words cannot express how sorry I am.

To everyone reading this post who has queer friends or family who live in the US, I am sorry for you too. I am sorry for everyone who will be affected by this.

To all you Trump supporters reading this… to everyone who voted for Trump or chose to not vote at all… I am sorry for you as well. Because karma is real. And queer people are some of the nicest and most wonderful people you’ll ever meet. When the time comes for you to be repressed and for your kids to be bullied, killed, whatever… because trust me, nobody goes safe for too long in this cruel world… when the time comes, there will be no one left to support you. Insert that one inspirational quote here.

Karma is real, and if karma isn’t real then give it another name. Call it whatever. The consequences of your actions are real, trust me, they are. This will come back to you. If you voted for Trump, this will come back to you. If you chose not to vote at all (if you were unable to I am so sorry), this will come back to you. You might not believe in the concept of karma, and I might not know the perfect word to describe it, but it will. come. back. to. you.

I am the kind of person to feel sorry for everyone and believe that everyone has at least some good in them. I see the best in people and cling onto it desperately, but sometimes these people prove me wrong. Sometimes a big part of the population of a huge country proves me wrong. I might feel a bit sorry for you when the time comes for you to be a victim of Trump’s sick ideas, I just might. But it is not well deserved.

I was unable to help this time. I am not an adult. I don’t live in the US. I am not a white, rich, straight, cis, allo and perisex man. Nor am I a young, sexy woman you can use. All I could do for the American people who desperately needed Trump not to become president was to write tumblr posts about it… and hope and beg for the best. It didn’t help. And the people who could have chose not to.

My heart goes out for the queer people in the US, and everyone else there who are repressed and soon to be even more repressed. I wish things could have been different. I was ten when I screamed out in joy because this horrible man in a country pretty far away wasn’t elected president. I was even younger when I realised who Trump was and why he was a bad person. A ten year old knew better than some of you people out there do at forty. That ten year old is now older, queer and devastated. She saw the good in a cruel world. I find it difficult to do so.

Karma is real. When I couldn’t do anything to help, what does karma have for me now? What awaits me? All I know is that a living hell awaits people in the US.

And I am truly sorry.

[guqki]

hello there! i really enjoy your blog. it’s okay if no but could i request modern AU Douma with a virgin reader? (can be headcanons/a scenario)

plot: basically the reader wants to do it with Douma. they’re in a already established relationship but the reader is veryyyy nervous and shy so i’d love to know what Douma would say/do to help his S/O relax? it’s also a bit difficult for him because Douma is insanely aroused by the reader so he has to hold back (He also gets cuteness aggression over how shy they are.) 😭💞

I LOVED THIS IDEA ^^ I hope you like it !!!

- from the first moment douma laid his eyes on you, he's been trying his hardest not to just pounce on you already. he knows you're very inexperienced (a fucking virgin) and he doesn't want to scare you off by telling you all the perverted things he wants to do to you, so he stays quiet (well, he tries anyway)

- after dating him for quite some time, you finally tell douma you're ready to do it with him, and he is over the fucking moon. he tries not to be too excited because you're already visibly nervous, and he really really really doesn't want you to change his mind

- douma is already on his knees asking you to let him undress you, but you push him off since you're too shy, and he gives you a pout. he loves you so much and he respects your wishes but sometimes you're just too fucking cute that he cant control himself (he'll convince you to let him do it next time for sure)

- when you're finally under douma, red and splayed out just for him, this man’s boner is fucking huge. the mere sight of the print of his length eyeing you, creating a wet patch on his boxers turns you into an even more nervous wreck, and you’re squirming, trying to leave because shit, that ginormous thing is gonna enter you??

- obviously, douma's not allowing that. he's grabbing your wrists and holding it above your head, giving you those stupid puppy eyes that make you weak. “don’t be scared, dear, i’ll be gentle i promise,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently (you're not going anywhere)

- don't worry because he’s reassuring you constantly, and of course he’s praising you too ! even when he's just barely inside you, he’s telling you how great you’re doing, how you're taking him so well. he's kissing your face everywhere as well, trying to distract you from the fact that his monster cock is gonna impale you

- you whimper when douma pushes himself halfway inside you, and the sound you make is like music to his ears, blood rushing to his dick. he almost cums right there because of how fucking heavenly you sound. god, he just wants to thrust ruthlessly in you, fold you in half, pound his dick inside you like crazy, fuck a baby inside you, anything

- he'll continue to kiss, praise and comfort you and he'll try to slow down as many times as you need it. try because you feel absolutely amazing around him, legs all wrapped around his body like your life depends on it, arms around his neck as you bury your face against him. he finds it so cute how you hide your flustered face from him

- you're so small compared to him and he really can't. your body, hole, everything is so small yet you're taking him like a champ because douma is an absolute monster. you're literally the perfect sleeve for his cock and he bites his lip at the thought, trying not to cum (he just wants to paint your insides white already)

[nvrlcnds]

His fear initially was that he would end up hurt, and he did partially blame himself for manifesting such a thing into existence. Yet his mind could never deter away from Kyungsoo. Even the thought of the other man made him feel warm inside, a feeling that had never changed since he first laid eyes on him. Hyunjin had also always been desperate to make things work with the people he loved the most, and Kyungsoo was one of those people. Loving someone romantically felt different but he hadn't realized that until it happened to him. Hearing that the other male wanted to work hard to earn it made him feel warm on the inside. It was something that he had been wanting to hear for the longest time - he just wished that it didn't have to come down to this for him to get it. Hyunjin does take notice of how vulnerable the other male is, and he still finds himself wiping away the stray tears. How was it still possible to find someone so pretty when they cried? he didn’t know. When they were together, he knew that it was going to come with giving a lot of reassurance but he loved Kyungsoo and was willing to go over whatever speed bumps he needed to to help their relationship work. No doubt that was also why the breakup hit him as hard as it did when he was so emotionally invested. Gaze following the others, he looked at their hands, a sense of security spreading throughout his body. Even the simplest of touches Hyunjin hasn’t realized he missed. At the question that’s asked, he nods his head slowly. There was nothing more he had wanted than to start over and even though he was too embarrassed to admit it, he had hoped they would find their way back to each other. “I believe in second chances, but… Can I please?” Hyunjin’s eyes moved to the other man’s lips, his hands pulling Kyungsoo closer. “You have no idea how much I missed you. Only words can touch the surface,” he went on to admit. Sure, he still had alcohol in his system but he meant every word.

it  isn’t  entirely  surprising  to  hear  that  hyunjin  wasn’t  certain  about  him  at  first,  especially  considering  that  kyungsoo  is  the  textbook  definition  of  a  red  flag.  he’s  charismatic,  hellishly  good  at  his  job,  and  a  wonderful  friend  —  that  much  is  certain  without  a  shadow  of  a  doubt.  yet,  all  his  admirable  traits  seem  to  fade  into  the  background  when  it  comes  to  his  shortcomings  in  love.  perhaps  it’s  partly  due  to  the  lack  of  love  he  experienced  growing  up,  which  leads  him  to  instinctively  question  it  whenever  it  shows  up  at  his  door.  it’s  an  unhealthy  mindset,  as  he’s  been  called  out  on  multiple  occasions,  but  fears  aren’t  always  rational.  he  struggles  with  the  idea  of  receiving  love  when  he  feels  utterly  unprepared  to  give  it  fully.  even  now,  his  mind  aches  to  argue  with  hyunjin,  to  suggest  that  he  perhaps  doesn’t  deserve  forgiveness  or  to  be  loved  as  he  is.  but  he  forces  his  lips  shut,  waiting  until  he  can  muster  something  more  positive.  “i’ll  work  hard  to  earn  it.”  he  promises,  offering  a  gentle  smile,  his  tear  trails  still  glimmering  on  his  cheeks.  it’s  rare  for  him  to  confront  his  vulnerability  in  such  a  raw  manner;  he’s  far  more  accustomed  to  running  away  whenever  he  feels  weakness  creeping  in.  but  perhaps  there  is  true  strength  in  facing  the  uglier,  more  fearful  sides  of  himself.  his  thumb  runs  along  the  knuckles  of  hyunjin’s  hand  and  he  glances  down  to  observe  it,  an  unconscious  attempt  to  buy  himself  more  time  to  mull  over  hyunjin’s  question.  “can  we  take  it  one  step  at  a  time?”  he  asks,  his  tone  cautious,  aware  of  just  how  much  he  has  to  lose.  “i  don’t  want  you  out  of  my  life  either.”  he’s  pretended  long  enough,  but  his  acting  has  yet  to  convince  either  himself  or  hyunjin  successfully.  “i  want  to  prove  to  you  that  it’s  not  a  mistake…  giving  me  another  chance.”  

[donaviolet]

Friendship is the most special thing in the world because no award could be give me bigger happiness than jumping around in my room and smiling because my pookie asked me if I wanted to match pfps

[csphire]

The Bearer of Bad News

To stay spoiler-free, if you don't know what the bad news is, try not to worry about it yet. Only know Dammon needs and deserves a hug when finding out what happened after the credits rolled regardless.

Disclaimer: This is NOT a scene that normally plays out in a game. These screenshots were made possible by this mod by oilnarak01