#i think its stupid to act like we've been struggling lately after a back to back win like this LKFJDSKLFJ

[3416]

just read a take about how 58-34-88 should play together in the playoffs bc we’ve had a baffling lack of offense without them, and i’d just like to say........... that is incorrect

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 8.8

“Wanted to say thanks.  You’ve been cool.” “Life goals.”

god I love Zed

“I wouldn’t have met the woman I’m in love with if it wasn’t for you three, so that’s worth something.”

that is a lot to put on a ~3 month teenage relationship, but I'll let him have it

She threw her arms around Booker, hugging him.  He hugged her back, picking her up off the ground.

:) I'm really glad to finally meet Booker

Ohhh.  The ‘music box’ was the subscription he’d been part of that she’d taken up when he’d left.  She’d put the album art and artwork on half the walls of her room and on some of the ceiling.

so much cooler than how I decorated (anime collages)

“Wow.  Don’t hold back there, baby sis.  I still have a bit of ego left intact.” “If you could see how I see you, your ego would be in danger in the opposite way,” Lucy said.

:)

The house felt very quiet and open in the aftermath of their departure.

I think, on top of not being happy about Booker's girlfriends, Lucy's going to struggle with Booker's presence not fixing her problems. He seems like a great brother, and Lucy clearly is used to him being able to support her. But between mundane other priorities and that she can't tell him what's going on, I don't think he'll be able to help as much, and I'm worried that will be hard on Lucy.

oh! this chapter has multiple points-of-view and even headers. There've really been some format twists going on lately

The picture on the wall was of herself, her head a triangle with jagged teeth and round ears, and Cherrypop, drawn overly large, her head round with a triangle for a nose.

awww

Melissa sat there, sitting on the steps, smoking a cigarette.  She called out, “She’s out!”

I'd almost forgotten about Melissa, interesting to see she's still hanging around Louise though. IIRC they got introduced after the party?

“Too bad,” Melissa said, bitter.  She exhaled smoke and looked skyward.  “I’m figuring out bits and pieces.  Got a spell sort of working, based on a picture I took with my phone.  Magic, can you believe that?”

fuck

Love you too, she thought.  She wasn’t brave enough to put it to actual spoken word.

:|

The kitten was in a cardboard box, lined with old towels, with a flap that could fold up and down, right next to a litter box.  The kitten roused and stood up on its legs, front paws on the edge of the box.

awwww. Jeremy winning major points here.

She made a face, reached over to pet Sir, and her fingers bumped Jeremy’s.  He pulled back, and turned, looking at everything except her.

OwO ?

“Because I really like you, and I’ve liked you for a while, and I think I said something like that at the party.” “Yeah.” “And you called me manly and that overloaded my brain.”

VALID

"I remember a few years back when my parents divorced, I’d get these really dark, intrusive, self-hating thoughts.” “I won’t pry, you don’t have to say.” "It’s just- nah.  I’m mostly past all that.  But it’s like, my grades were awful, and my dad kept saying my mom didn’t want me and she wasn’t exactly acting like she wanted me, and my dad couldn’t afford me and it’d be like… any time of day that I started thinking about any of it I’d think about all of it.”

I wonder if this is why she started emotionally dissociating and getting numb? I don't think we've seen these kinds of spirals from Verona so far, except when she got captured by Bristow. And then I was surprised by how immediate and forceful her self-hatred showed up. It makes a lot of sense if that was something she struggled with earlier, and then never got a chance to really work through it, but just started repressing it. And now she has mental barriers in place that just leave her feeling blank and nauseous when things go badly with her family.

“It’s not you, it’s probably me being dumb and it’s really stupid.  I don’t get where the lines are drawn or what the rules are.  I kind of want to ask for rules or figure you out but I feel like that’s demanding or I’m prying.  But it’s also nagging at me and that part of it sucks.”

I'm feeling a lot of sympathy for Jeremy here. He's trying really hard not to put a burden on Verona, or risk making her feel weird for boundaries that he doesn't understand

“Do you like boobs, Jer?” she asked.  “Or the idea of them?” “What?” His eyes went wide. He looked startled.

From anyone other than Verona, this question would feel like a trap

“On a scale of one to ten, how do you rate the boob?” “I… seven.” [...] “And you like girls romantically…” “Yeah… if we’re using scales, nine out of ten."

Verona is reinventing the split attraction model

“Swimsuits, underclothes…” “Sure. Seven out of ten and nine point five out of ten?” he said. “That’s interesting,” she said.  “Why nine point five?”

Verona, I get your curiosity, but please stay focused on your goal and stop using him as a research subject. This has got to be terrifying for Jeremy

He was practically frozen as she opened a drawer and pulled out some bras, placing it in his lap, hand moving to stop it from falling to the floor.

oh gods

She moved the box with Sir in it, and sat next to Jeremy, her left leg against his left leg, her right leg hooked around his butt, her chin on his shoulder, looking over it at the pile.  He still wasn’t moving.

no fucking kidding he isn't moving!

“Yeah,” he said.  “After this I’m about a thousand percent less sure I know how girls work.”

very fair

“We could work on that.  Hey, you’re done.  One mystery hopefully solved?  You’ve learned something about girls.  A little less intimidated?  Less likely to fumble when it counts?”

there is a story running parallel to Pale about Jeremy coming of age, and in it Verona is fulfilling the manic pixie dream girl role

I’m just… curious, and into boys bodies, and boy brains. And I think of you as a friend and figuring that out with a friend would be cool.

rare m/f example of the "as good friends, let's platonically experiment sexually with each other" trope

Verona shook her head. She hesitated. “Want to try it on a live model?” she asked.

WOW

(get it Verona)

“You good?” he asked. She’d resumed brushing her teeth, but she nodded, and danced a bit on the spot. She pointed at him. “I’m good,” he said. “Not really sure how to… what to do, now.”

I think the implication here is meant to be that Verona gave Jeremy a blowjob

She stood on her toes to kiss him, and it was… a kiss. Nice but not especially interesting beyond that.

in contrast to the happy dancing from a minute earlier

There was a look from her dad, like he knew exactly what had transpired, and Jeremy’s stricken look didn’t exactly help sell the casual vibe Verona was going for.

Jasmine telling him that Verona is not, in fact, a late bloomer is probably contributing here

As if the house had been strictly his and she’d just lived in it.  And now he knew it was hers too and he had to deal with the knowledge he couldn’t control everything she did there.

genuinely glad that this was empowering for Verona. Though as always worried about this prompting escalation

“Cool.  Great, so that’s probably an option.  It’d be nice if you guys were all happy and comfortable.”

Avery continuing to be sweet!

“I’ve got this cut on my arm, and scrapes at my stomach.” Tashlit paused, eyes narrowing. “Is that a problem?” Avery asked, caught off-guard. Tashlit nodded, which put her more off-guard, but then Tashlit reached out to give Avery a pat on the shoulder. Reassuring, being gentle. Oh, it was a problem, but only because it was sad, or whatever.

aww

“Oh.  Listen, I’m really thankful, this… makes a lot of things easier.  I don’t want to take it for granted, so is there anything I can get you?  Things you like?  That would make today better?”

:)

“This might be a weird question, but does it serve any function?  The skin?  Could you just… lose it?”

So Tashlit responds that she can't now, and doesn't want to, but will end up losing it in the future. Given the snake part of her ancestry, I'm guessing she'll molt at some point? And given that she appeared human until recentish, my guess is when she molts it will complete her transformation, and that she is growing scales under her skin

“I’d really like to- it’s our duty, you know, to look after Kennet.  To help you guys.  So I want to help get you to where you’re not so-so here.  Where you’re as happy as can be with where you’re at, who you’re with.”

Picking the three of them for Kennet was a really good choice

I go out there, to strange and weird places, and then I come back.  Home. Departures and arrivals.

It's good to see Avery start to figure herself out. Reminds me (in a smaller way) of the self-defintion Lucy did as part of her implement ritual.

And from a "sworn to look after Kennet" perspective, lucky that she wants to keep coming back.

“This… the fact I’m a lesbian doesn’t take away from either.”

yeah! Congrats on saying it!

“Yeah. I really do want nothing else than for all my sons and daughters to love and be loved, Avery. I really do believe you deserve that. I’m proud you’ve found yourself.” “That’s me, I’m a finder.”

the real Path you have to find was inside you all along :P

“I wish he’d… I think he kept saying I, I, I, him, his viewpoint.  I don’t know.  He joked. It was a little forced, like if I was better at noticing details I might’ve noticed how he was standing further away than usual or something.”

:(

“Stole ’em.  I don’t have an original thought in my head.  I’m a sad sack of regurgitated memes and references.”

oh mood

“Can do.  I love you, you know.” “Fuck off with that so I can get back to fantasizing that I’m an only child.”

aww :)

She’d met it head on, talking to her parents.  Departures and arrivals… she kept coming back a bit stronger. She badly wanted to walk another Path. To get ready and get stronger than she’d been for the Blue Heron stuff. She wanted to meet this, all of this Kennet and practice stuff, head on, too. As she’d done here. Head on- no. Prongs-on.

I really like the imagery of departing and returning, each time a little stronger. Seems like something Avery could lean into, and establish with the spirits as how she grows. And it fits well with a Finder's practice, where each Path you walk gives a boon.

Also, I love "prongs-on". Incredibly dorky and great.

[soul-dwelling]

you mentioned in another answer that you find a lot of flaws in soul eater. could you expand on what you dislike about it?

Spoiler warning for the entire series:

How it handles fanservice, often relying on fetishizing underage characters (Chapter 113 and its treatment of the girl characters in particular; Meme's handling in NOT)

Some plot drags after Crona leaves the DWMA and even into the final arc on the Moon. It felt like the story was spinning its wheels (some parts of the Baba Yaga Castle arc, some of the Moon arc, the stupid shower scene with Kim and Kid, whatever that sky whale chapter was doing).

Soul Eater NOT struggled to locate a plot and didn't seem to know whether it wanted a series-wide plot or just to be episodic for worldbuilding and gag chapters

Lack of back story and worldbuilding (culture and origins of witches; Immortal Clan and why Free is the last one we've seen outside of supplemental content; what were Vajra, Pushka, and others like before they died)...until [SPOILER] came along and gave a lackluster, ham-fisted back story that potentially contradicts what was already defined in canon and does so for the sake of forcing a connection between [SPOILER] and Soul Eater that does disservice to both series. (This only gets worse when you re-read older chapters of Soul Eater and look at older supplemental supposedly "canon" content, all of which got contradicted so badly by [SPOILER] that it opened more questions that will lead to disappointing answers. When fans are coming up with more engaging back story and worldbuilding for witches, souls, Lord Death, etc, there is a problem with the original work...)

Speaking of [SPOILER]: no, Kid does not look like [SPOILER]. I don't see it, not any more than any of Ohkubo's characters suffer from a "same face" problem as any other character. This isn't helped by how inconsistent Ohkubo's overall oeuvre is--which is not a flaw: his style changed, that's fine, but stop acting like you could compare how [SPOILER] looks at the end of [SPOILER] to how Kid looks at any point in any manga and say they look similar. (That also opens up questions about Asura, but any more discussion about how bad a manga [SPOILER] was and I will be at this all night.)

Speaking of the supplemental content: it felt like it was repeating the same gags or were cliche or really should've taken what worked in them and used them better in the manga to progress characters. An audio drama with Tsubaki acting like Black Star to try to jog back his memory when he has amnesia? I wish that had been a chapter. Some Soul x Maka hints? Why weren't those in the manga? Then again, you have a plot like Maka drinking a love potion, and an underdeveloped fight involving Poseidon's lance, that are problematic in the former and underdeveloped in the latter.

In retrospect, some stakes felt low. (I appreciate that so few of the main and supporting characters are killed off. But I wonder whether, in a re-write, having more deaths would reinforce that this is still a series about Lord Death, the concept of dying, and what happens to the dead. And what deaths we did get come so late in the story that, while they hurt, also feel like a last-minute instance rather than a logical conclusion, or were of characters we barely knew at all and whose personalities and relationships with other characters were so underdeveloped that, while they hurt as much as the deaths of anyone else, aren't as effective as suits the story.)

Personally, for me, I don't think Ohkubo's manga style (B Ichi era/beginning of Soul Eater, later Soul Eater, end of Soul Eater/all of Soul Eater NOT) is as memorable, appealing, or outstanding as what BONES did with the first anime.

Speaking of the anime: The original arc that wrapped up the first anime (when it diverged from the manga's plot) could not keep focus on any one character very long (we keep following Maka running for episodes, the Kid versus clowns story is a fine fighting episode but leads to an anticlimactic conclusion for Lord Death and Eibon). And that's not getting into the good and bad parts of the "punch of courage" ending. And, while this is not the fault of the series, it has opened up the interminable "I want a Soul Eater reboot!" demand from people who do not realize how bad of a monkey's paw wish that is, not only considering adapting Chapter 113 but also having to acknowledge the prequel material.

And Soul Eater NOT, as an anime, is enjoyable for me--but in addition to the aforementioned fanservice problems and lack of consistent plot progression, the series suffered from disappointing visuals and animation.

(This isn't a flaw, but since I'm mentioning the anime: I can't speak to many problems with the acting or casting in the Japanese and English versions--minus, of course, Mignogna--or the music. Just about all the acting and casting is phenomenal, just about all the music is phenomenal and doesn't come off as repetitive or overstaying its welcome.)

With more and more time, the Book of Eibon "you look like what you find attractive in the opposite gender" conceit gets more and more problematic.

And Ragnarok's annoying gags regarding Crona's gender and pulling up their outfit were distasteful and infuriating.

There's next-to-nothing I could criticize as a flaw or something I dislike with the fandom in general. Granted, there have been individuals in the fandom whom I find abhorrent (when you see some clown putting hate symbols onto anime characters, like those fucking red hats, I don't understand how you can't have anything but contempt for such inhuman people).

I wish there had been more Tom and Jerry-esque shenanigans with Blair in her cat form, like how she tricked the Flying Dutchman in the monster factory arc. Hell, I've seen enough fan works do more with Blair as a "mother figure" role or just giving her more to do than "cat who tricks people" and "fanservice checklist," and she felt under-utilized in the manga.

The Death Scythes who aren't named Spirit and maybe Marie, Justin, and Tezca felt under-developed.

(I haven't played through enough of the video games to give a fair assessment as to their flaws.)

Team B (Kilik, Harvar, the Pots, etc) were underutilized and underdeveloped. Ox got off better--but it required a forced relationship with Kim, and that's all the more bothersome when NOT had a more engaging relationship between Kim and Jackie.

SquareEnix should've made more merch and other productions. But that's less of a flaw and more me being petty when it comes to promoting your product.

[avintagekiss24]

—belated; bucky barnes

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4738

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, anal sex, biting kink, choking kink, spanking, pain kink, vaginal fingering, mean bucky (my fave), ring kink cuz i love it when boys wear rings

squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: Birthdays ; @badthingshappenbingo Biting ; @star-spangled-bingo N1: Taking Charge

request: bucky barnes + "pay attention to me or i'll make you" + anal + choking + spanking + biting + pain

author note: it's been foreverrrrr! i'm so sorry! i had to work myself through a little slump! hopefully this makes up for the almost two months we've gone without a fic! this is story #2 for my 5k celebration, all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. this was formatted in the beta text post editor on desktop, if anything looks weird, that's why :)

gif by @pedropcl ; line divider by @firefly-graphics

James Buchanan Barnes is possessive.

One of those massive hands around the back of your neck as you walk casually through the streets. Fingers wrapped around your wrist, or shoulder, or hip in a tight grip. He pulls you in close— right into his side as shopping bags hang from the tips of his metal fingers.

Bucky Barnes wants every man on the streets of Greece to know that you are his.

Not that you mind; quite the contrary. You just smile and giggle when he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and hooks the crease of his arm right underneath your chin. Slip your hand into the back pocket of his loose dark jeans (giving that little tush of his a squeeze). Slink your arm around his little waist and breathe in his scent— heavy and woodsy— as the two of you stroll.

After all, he’s just as much yours as you are his.

All of his friends, Sam, Steve, Clint, all see the change in him. The little soft spot for you that blinds him entirely— turns him in a mushy puddle of emotions and puppies and rainbows. Very different from the Bucky they grew up with, but a Bucky that the three of them have come to enjoy. It’s a change of pace from the enforcer they know.

The two of you don’t talk about his work— in fact, it’s the reason why you’re in Greece to begin with. A late birthday present to make up for the fact that his “work” just happened to be the waiter at the restaurant he chose to take you to for your thirty second birthday. Come on babe, he chuckled as you scowled back at him over the rim of your wine glass, watching as he stained his white napkin red with his bloody knuckles, you know what they say, kill two birds with one stone… not funny?

Two weeks, two nonrefundable, open ended tickets, and five grand in bikinis, shorts, and shoes later, you’re getting some much needed Greek sun on your deep brown skin.

He’s even letting you call the shots for a change. Letting you wake him up at the ass crack of dawn to have breakfast— a spread of breads, cheeses and fruits on the balcony of your room as the sun rises. He doesn’t say a word as you drag him through the city, stopping at each little boutique and shoe store. Sits patiently as you try on every dress, every skirt, and every silk top in the entire country it seems.

Bucky even bit his lip as you gazed at engagement rings— hinting that princess cut is your favorite as you held your hand up into the natural sunlight as one adored your finger. Smiling over at him and wiggling your eyebrows all the while as he narrowed his eyes and plastered a fake smile on his face.

Today has been like all the others, a lazy day spent on the beach, a quick nap underneath an umbrella, a concoction of too much sun and too many margaritas going straight to your head. Now, you’re kinda sleepy and kinda drunk, but most importantly hungry— and Mykonos sounds like a great place for dinner. Despite Bucky’s objections (you’re too tired and too drunk to handle a ferry), you’re dressed in a cute little flowery sundress, him in an out-of-character white tank top, open pale blue and green striped button down and khaki chinos— you forbade him from bringing anything black— and you’re flip flops are slapping against the cobblestone street towards the ferry.

“Drop your attitude,” You say, glancing over your shoulder as he pays for your tickets, “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, that excuse is wearing thin, girl.” You stumble a little with the motion of the ferry as you step onto it, having to grab onto the railing to steady yourself before Bucky grabs hold of your wrist, “Water only for the rest of the night.”

His voice is low and borderline threatening as he presses his lips right against your ear, and you know not to press him any further. You like to stick your toes right up against his line and that’s what irritates him most about you (always what he loves most), but you and he both know you’d never dare cross it.

Bucky pulls you behind him, hand around your wrist, that possessive trait rearing its head as male eyes fall on you as the two of you pass by. He finds an empty spot, away from the crowd, and plops down on the bench as you step up on the lower rung of the railing and stare out over the sea.

Within twenty or thirty minutes, the ferry pulls away from the dock and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. The sun sets off in the distance, the bright lights of the city turning into little pinpoints. Small droplets of the cool, salty water splashes up in your face as the wind and the ferry whips it up. You keep glancing down at the phone in your hand as you broadcast your current view to your instagram, laughing softly as hearts and emojis explode on your screen.

You lean forward, tilting your phone and smiling wide, waving into the camera before you shout out how much you love it here. The words are barely out of your mouth before an arm wraps around your middle, a wide, hard chest pressed into your back, “That’s enough,” he reaches with his metal arm, grabbing your phone, ending your live feed, “You’re too drunk to be hanging off the side like that.”

“I am not,” you struggle against him lightly as he sets you on your feet, “What is your problem?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Well, duh. Why?”

He slips your phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, sharp blue eyes piercing into yours, “Pay attention to me,” he says low, eyes dropping down your body real slow as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “Or I’ll make you.”

So that’s what it’s about. Bucky Barnes feels neglected between all the shopping and beach days and margaritas. Jealousy is cute on him.

The words though, they strike you right to your core— feel them down to your bones. A hard swallow pushes through your throat as your lips part, big brown eyes softening as your breath starts to rush a little harder. You hate to admit— not really— you love this Bucky. This is work Bucky, a man you rarely get to see. Slightly scary, anger brimming just below the surface. Jaw tight, eyes hard, head tilted just a bit. He’s menacing, and it makes your lips twitch into a small smile.

Shrugging defiantly, you cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t pay much attention to me on my birthday.”

“Not true.”

“Not true?” you nearly shout, eyes going wide, “I ate alone while you beat the hell outta our waiter behind the building! I had to wait two hours for my slice of cake!”

“How is that my fault?”

You scoff, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because our waiter was spitting out his teeth in the alley out back— all thanks to you.”

“I have to work. You know that.”

“Not,” you hiss, “On my fucking birthday.”

He knows he’s wrong for that shit, so he stands there, huffing quick before he cocks his head again and just blinks back at you— unamused. He won’t apologize, it’s just not in his nature, but his usual attempts to make you happy after he’s fucked up aren’t working; so he’s at a loss.

And you’re enjoying that. A little too much if you ask him.

But alas, it’s not fun to fight on vacation, and you have taken far too many liberties when it comes to his tolerance for attitude. It’s been fun— and you’re just drunk enough to push him one last time.

You move slow, walking right up to him, so close that each inhale pushes your tits into his body. The smirk quirked up on your lips grows as you peer up at him, eyes bouncing between his as you place your hands on his forearms still crossed over his chest.

Bucky lifts his eyebrow as you push up on your tiptoes and push your chin forward to bring your lips close to his, “And just how are you gonna make me pay attention to you, James?”

He inhales deep, pushes it out real slow as he tilts his head even further. A smile spreads on his face and you just know that this is the last thing his work sees before he rearranges the bones of their face. This is exactly why his clients pay him as well as they do.

Thick fingers are wrapped around your wrist again, nails digging into your skin as he starts to pull you behind him. He weaves you through bodies, you nearly having to jog to keep up with his strides. Laughter bubbles up in your chest, a little shriek escaping as he pulls you down some stairs to the lower level of the ferry. Once your feet hit the last step, Bucky whips you around his body, sending you spinning and laughing until you bounce into an old, rusty metal barrel.

The smell of salt fills your nose and lungs as you inhale, covering your face with your hands. Your skin is hot, lips slightly numb as you dissolve into laughter again. He’s right, you’re a little too drunk for this.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here.” You mumble, brushing your wild hair out of your face.

“I could give a fuck,” he answers, stepping up to you, grabbing your face in his hands, “You’ve been testing me the entire time we’ve been here all over some stupid shit.”

Another giggle pushes through your lips as you bat your eyes, “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky sucks his teeth as he drops his metal hand around your throat and squeezes gently, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, “I was stupid, okay? But don’t put on that little innocent act, girl. You’re trying me, and I’ve had enough.”

A smile cracks onto your face, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You wrap both hands around his one wrist and slip them up his arm, feeling the soft metal as you continue to goad him, “You got some proof, big man?”

The tip of his black and gold thumb prods at your lip, pushes just inside. You wrap your tongue around it and suck gently, keeping your eyes on his all the while.

Bucky laughs, deep and earnestly, “Proof, she says. She needs proof.” He glances around before he spins you quick, facing you away from him as he lifts your dress to reveal your pink satin thong.

You squeal loud, pushing and slapping at his hand as he grabs a handful of your ass, “Bucky! There’s people!” you laugh, “Oh my god!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, wrapping his metal fingers around your throat again, “Understand?”

A jolt of electricity flashes through you as you wiggle in his grasp. He tightens his grip around your neck as you wrap your fingers around the edge of the barrel, swallowing hard.

“That requires an answer, honey.”

The chill in his voice, added with the slow circles and soft tickles of fingertips against the back of your naked thigh sends a pang through your belly, “I understand.”

He chuckles soft and with a quick peck on the cheek whispers, “Good girl.”

Bucky curls his left arm around your chest, hooking your chin in the crease of his arm as he grips your right shoulder. You grab on to it with both hands, out of instinct, eyes wide and skirting around for any signs of other human presence down here. Bucky turns, moving you with him to eye the steps quickly again before that flesh hand sweeps around to the front.

The soft material of your dress falls over his hand as he rubs your stomach— his rings catching and snagging your skin. That hand pushes downward, over your thighs, gripping and kneading the soft flesh before he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it upward, exposing those expensive panties again.

“Bucky,” you hum, his name trembling on your lips with the vibrations of your excitement, “Baby.”

He rucks your dress right up— right up around your waist and pulls the slack behind you, pressing his body into yours to keep it in place. The dark stubble adorning his cheeks and chin cuts into the side of your face as he nuzzles in, humming to himself soft before he kisses the corner of your mouth.

Those fingertips start to trace the hem of your thong— slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. From hip to hip. Your eyes flutter. Fingers grip the soft black metal of his arm a little harder. Legs go to jelly as another hard swallow passes through your throat.

“Ain’t got all that mouth now, do you?” He whispers, fingers slipping just inside the silk of your panties to tease the delicate skin underneath.

When he slips his hand in— all the way in— cupping hot skin, fingers dancing between folds and teasing a wet slit, an influx of air fills your lungs. A gasp, small and clipped sounds in the back of your throat as his fingers start a rhythm. You melt into him, head resting on his shoulder as your hips push forward to meet greedy fingers.

A naughty finger pushes in quick, and then a second— all the way to the black and silver rings dressed on them. His arm tightens around your neck as he presses his lips right against your ear, “You need to apologize.”

He fucks his fingers into you, withdrawing slow, and then pushing back in— each time the edges of his rings stopping him from going deeper. You can’t help but purr as you continue to grip his arm with both of your hands.

“I don’t think—“

“All I want to hear,” his words clip yours, each one slow and drawn and deep, “Is I’m sorry for testing your patience. I won’t do it again.” He curls his fingers, the pads stroking that sweet little spongey spot, making you clamp your legs closed around his hand, “Let me hear you.”

You can’t. You won’t. Too stubborn and too drunk to give in to him, wanting to win just this once.

If there’s one thing James Buchanan Barnes does not like, it’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, he always says. You think too long, you get hurt. Predators don’t hesitate.

Well, you like being his prey.

Only a few seconds pass before Bucky tuts in your ear, seemingly disappointed in your obstinate behavior, but you both know it’s just the opposite. His cock pressing into your ass tells you so.

The fingers disappear. The arm choking you just right pulls away and your dress falls back around the middle of your thighs. You huff, wiping quick at your forehead and pushing your wild, curly hair out of your face again.

Your hands find your hips in irritation but he slaps them away quick as he sucks his teeth, “You must really want this spanking, girl. Keep it up.”

That you do— keep it up. Huffing again. Crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child. Brown eyes cut back at him over your shoulder to find sharp blues already on you. A smirk on his face.

Metal fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing you forward gently until your thighs press against the old metal barrel again.

“Lean forward, kitten.”

Voice as smooth as silk while you do so, gripping the rusted edges for balance. Your dress is yanked up again— rough this time— and twisted around his Vibranium hand. Then there’s warm, the warmth of skin against yours. Gentle brushes of fingers and a palm rubbing slow circles, then pinching and grabbing soft— prepping your skin for what’s to come.

He pauses for just a second, no doubt to scan your surroundings and then pulls his hand away. You lung forward with the slap he levels to your behind within a fraction of a second— the sound sharp and heavy.

There’s another, and then a third in quick succession before he’s massaging your skin again. Real soft and sweet. Tears burn at the back of your eyes at the sting that radiates through, all the way to your bones but the molten heat deep in your belly spreads like a fire. Each breath is hard and shaky, heart thumping against your chest but it’s so good.

Bucky switches to the other cheek, skilled fingers sweeping over your canvas of skin before he cracks you— one, two, three.

You squeal with each one. The thud of those heavy rings around his fingers send a quick, new shockwave every time, building on the one before it. The tips of your fingers go red from holding on to the rusty old barrel as tight as you are, but your brain? She’s fuzzy and warm, and drifting up into the clouds with each swift slap.

Bucky is a methodical man. Three for the right cheek, three for the left, three right in the middle. His hand sneaks around your hip, giving it a squeeze before it comes back around and drops to the inside of your thigh. Grabs the meat of it— digs his fingernails in just to hear you yelp. Cups your cunt in his palm, feeling the heat and the wet— makes him groan all low and dirty.

He bunches your hair in his hand, tugs you up by it. Spins you around to face him before hoisting you up and settling you on top of the barrel.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” He growls, ripping at the button and zipper of his jeans.

You just hum in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your arms over his shoulders.

Bucky grabs your chin, forcing it up before he squeezes your cheeks, “Huh? Answer me.”

Damp eyelashes flutter as hot air escapes from parted, hot lips. He leans in real close, cock pushing right at your slit and kisses you hard as he slips his arm around your waist. He breaks away quick, sloppy and loud before pecking your lips once, twice, three times again.

“You want me to fuck you, girl?”

The weight of his words are felt right down to your core, a shiver passing between the two of you. You let your heavy head fall back and your eyes close as Bucky nuzzles into the side of your face, his pretty white teeth skipping along your neck, nipping and nibbling.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper after mere seconds, finally submitting in this cat and mouse game, “Bucky, please.”

That’s all he needs— all he wants. For you to submit, after letting you have the reins for one day too long. He sinks into you slow, spreading you open with each inch, biting down into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. His teeth dig in a little deeper, a little harder as he starts to move, rocking back and forth almost succinct with the waves of the water.

You’re moving with him too, meeting each of his thrusts with your hips. You keep your legs tight around his waist, feet dangling and bouncing against the back of his thighs. A trail of hot kisses are pressed along your neck and down your shoulder before traipsing back up— teeth grazing along your jaw.

Long fingers skip up your side and between your bouncing tits to only wrap around your neck again. They squeeze, gently, as his pace starts to pick up, hips shoving harder and faster— that old barrel starting to scrape against the wood floor.

The force makes you louder, moaning with abandon as if the two of you are all alone on this little ferry. Bucky makes quick work of you, shoving metal fingers into your mouth— giving you something to suck on to keep you quiet.

“That’s a good girl.” he growls, voice gritty and low.

He’s punishing after that. Each snap of his hips thrusting you backward, the barrel you’re on top of tipping back and then slapping down on the floor. You yelp with each one, your mouth going slack around his digits as your hands fall to the edges of the barrel for some semblance of balance.

It’s obscene, the way you can hear your fuck. The wet of your cunt. The squeak of his cock plunging into tight, slick muscles. The heavy thud of his hips pounding into yours. The slap of your flip flops falling to the wood floor as he’s quite literally fucked them right off of your feet. It’s filthy— crude— and so very Bucky.

You’re back on your feet before you know it— before you realize it. Spun back around, Bucky’s hard chest and stomach pressed into your back. He grabs both of your hands and places them back on the barrel, his metal hand staying on top of yours, fingers gripping fingers.

Eager hips wiggle back into his as you hiss and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, groaning low. Your head drops when you feel his cock push through your ass cheeks— wet cockhead pressing against your hot rim.

He starts to fumble around behind you, each passing second making you more and more impatient. There’s a soft click, and then a light suction sound— something squeezing.

“Bucky,” you hiss, pushing back into him again, “Hur—”

The word breaks off right in the middle as he levels a quick smack against your hip— a warning. Then your ass cheeks are pulled apart, wet, slimy fingers sliding and prodding at your quivering rim. He brushes slow strokes, circling, pressing his fingers gently as he preps your little hole for what’s to come.

“What kind of freak brings lube to dinner?” you smile, gasping as he pinches the inside of your thigh.

You lurch forward when he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you back into him, lips right against your cheek, “The kinda freak that was gonna fuck you in an alley after dinner. Now shut that mouth.”

He’s pressing again, this time harder, his cockhead popping into you with force. You grunt with the initial intrusion, Bucky stopping his assault to allow you time to adjust to him— but that doesn’t last long. Your mouth goes slack again. Eyes slam shut, head falls forward as he slips in, deeper and deeper and deeper until his stomach is flush with your ass.

He wiggles— so you can feel him, feel him tickling the deepest part of you. Slaps at your ass again, quick, fingers glancing off your skin and leaving behind a hell of a sting. Then he’s fucking you again, slower this time, savoring the tight, glove-like hold your body provides.

Metal fingers grab at the hem of your dress again, tugging it up before they push back into your panties, finding a swollen, hot nub. Pinching and rubbing smooth circles against it, flicking and thrashing at the bundle of nerves before he shoves his fingers back into your cunt. They curl, those fingers, and pet your insides with surgical precision— only James Buchanan Barnes knows how to fuck you like this.

The heel of his palm slams against your clit as he fingers you rough and fucks your ass with gusto. Sleazy sounds gurgle up in your throat, the slapping of skin and the waves crashing against the side of the ferry, the rush of the wind filling your ears. Bucky pulls you flush against him and slithers his tongue just beneath your ear before his teeth grab a hold, tugging soft.

Teeth keep nipping— along your jaw, your cheeks, ears, neck. He fucks into you hard as he shoves his flesh hand into the neckline of your dress, gripping your tits. Pinching and kneading hard, thick nipples, mumbling sweet nothings all the while.

Your stomach churns, muscles tensing and flexing as synapses start to fire off in quick succession. Quick goosebumps pop up along your skin as your stomach tightens and you can taste it it’s so close. Bucky knows it, feels it as your walls constrict around his fingers, your asshole tightening around him. Vibranium fingers keep rubbing, keep fucking into your pussy hard, palm slapping against your clit, adding more and more pressure until the coil snaps.

It’s hard, and sudden— your body freezing as your orgasm consumes you. Bucky clamps a wet hand over your mouth as you mewl and bite into his palm, your hips thrusting forward with each wave of your release. He pulls his fingers from you to slap at your jumping clit, pressing the pads into it before he rubs quick little circles and then slaps at it again.

He drops his hand to your chin, yanking it up as you nearly cry, mewling and trembling with your release to kiss you hard and sloppy as you come. He kneads your tits with his mammoth hand as aftershocks flash through you, your used body jerking at random. Within seconds, there's a cloud of warmth in your ass. Rough grunts in your ear, growing louder with each spurt of his cock, your hot muscles milking him.

You let him use you, let him fill you up full of his silk. Grab his hands and lace your fingers with his as he empties long ribbons in you. Pull his arms around your waist and hold them there as he rides it out, his head falling to your shoulder. The two of you stand there, resting against that old barrel, breathing hard, skin sticky and balmy. Salt from the ocean in your nose.

Bucky’s the first to pull away, glancing back at the stairs before he pulls himself gingerly from you, leaving your body empty, a dribble of his come slipping out with him. He catches it with his fingers, drags them up the back of your thigh and between your ass cheeks before he shrugs out of his collared shirt and white tank top.

He cleans you up sweet with the tank top. Keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as he wipes at your thighs and your hot, sticky, puffy cunt, shushing you soft when you jump and whimper at the contact. He flings the messy tank top over the side of the ferry and rubs your hips and stomach real slow, murmuring into your ear all the while.

Diligent fingers then rearrange your thong— and cop a little feel, cupping your sensitive, swollen sex, giving it a little pinch so he can laugh when you shiver and squeak. Bucky pulls your dress, tugging lightly to get it back straight around your waist before smoothing it over your ass and thighs— even pulls at the top, making sure your tits are sitting pretty.

You can’t even open your eyes, overcome by alcohol and sleepiness and a post sex high. He fumbles with your fingers as your head lulls on his shoulder, a soft hum vibrating in your throat in your murky haze. Bucky lifts your arm by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm until he’s cupping your hand in his.

“Open your eyes, baby.” You groan in protest, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest, “Come on.”

So you do. You always do whatever this man wants you to do— and there, right on your finger sits that big princess cut engagement ring you teased him with days before.

“How about we skip dinner and find a church, huh?” he whispers, kissing your cheek soft and sweet.

You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wet as a smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And if I say no?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He laughs as you adjust in his arms, pushing up on your tiptoes to cup his handsome face and kiss him on those pretty pink lips, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into that pretty mouth of yours, won’t I birthday girl?”

[misqnon]

big long vent under cut

i'm really tired.

of this pandemic, of the world's reaction to it, of peoples worst sides coming out, of people moving on, of people acting like its back to normal now, of people not accommodating, of people having no sympathy or flexibility in a terrible time in the world.

and i don't just mean removing mask mandates and reopening the public. I mean people won't even accommodate for mental health issues or the sheer utter pressure everyone is under right now. even less than accommodating, they can't even lift the pressure or try to be a little more understanding. I saw a classmate say with everyone that's going on we should just give everyone an A this semester and be done with it.

I know that's an exaggeration, but God, the point they were making hits too hard. as a university student I am without a fucking break these past 2 years. i'll come back to this point.

im tired, and I'm angry. in fact I'm infuriated. stupid word, but I'm feeling a stupid fucking feeling. it's not that people haven't complained about the pandemic still being here- people have made the same point I'm making now. But I haven't see anyone say it with more than jjst a disappointed tone. I'm saying it with way more emotion than that.

every single day I get up and struggle to get out of bed from how utterly tired I am, and this is with 8 to 9 hours of sleep every night. I walk through the snow and slush to my car and I spent 10 minutes defrosting it and shaving it of ice. I drive to work and school with idiots who can't drive and on roads so full of potholes it should actually be a lawsuit. i go to classes for 10-11 hours a day, every day, and the workload is enormous and no less than it was pre-covid, if not more (I'm not kidding. they've incorporated things from covid times in IN ADDITION to the previous normal workload, so now there's even more to do and think about)

I consider taking the bus every day but never do, and I walk 15 minutes to my car in the snow and wind again to drive home.

The worst and best moment of every day is finally getting in my car after all of this and taking off my mask(s) to realize how raw my ears are from the mask straps, how cold my face is, how my nose is running and has gotten snot all over the inside of my mask,which has smeared on my face, how my bones ache, my nose has a red line where my mask sat.

And I sit there and arrange my shit and get ready to drive home where I can rest for only a couple hours in between chores and tasks and more homework before I go to sleep and do it all again.

the professors don't care that we've lived through, and are living through, a pandemic. We lived through an insurrection. We're possibly about to live through another world War. And aside from these major things we live through social issue after social issue of minorities being fucking pummeled into submission and oppression

But thr workload is the same. The grading is the same. There is no "these kids have been through a lot lately, I'm gonna grade them a little easy." there isn't even a lenient attendance policy anymore. Some classes I'm in only allow 2 absences per semester before you go down an entire letter grade on your third absence. 4 absences in one semester and you fail the class.

In one class we all hate and have been struggling in we had a mechanical issue (nkt the students fault) that affected everyone that set everyone back a few weeks. But the amount of work to be turned in at the end of the semester hasn't changed despite this.

our school doesn't require the vaccine, it doesn't regulate large frat parties, it doesn't even allow workers to tell people to wear a mask even tho8gh it's required.

classes are 100% in person and full capacity despite everything.

but they still want us to to as much work as we used to and at the same quality.

We are all fucking tired. Actually. We are fucking exhausted. I feel like a fucking machine that just repeats work over and over again every day and I'm breaking more and more. More tired each day. But the world doesn't give the compassion it should in response to all this.

[devilbat]

The Mummy

Warning: violence, guns, implied smut. Getting handsy.

James Conrad x reader. (This is My first James one shot)

A/n: another one to add to my classic Movie monster AUs Tom Hiddleston character. 

Happy Halloween 🎃

           This was your first real big break as a archaeologist. You had always been at the desk in the museum working on and restoring old artifacts. When you heard that your predecessor was ill and couldn't not make the Journey to Egypt. You jumped at the chance. Begging him to let you. At first he didn't want you to go. Being you were a woman and a lot could happen during this time and age. With a lot of convincing and arguments, you were on your way with his long time buddy James Conrad a former British army SAS Captain. Now freelance bodyguard as you put it. He was not what you were expecting. When you met him. You were bubbly and looking for Adventure. He was bruty, always on Guard and seemed to be annoyed all the time. Well at least around you.

        Handsomely overly attractive how could one man be that rugged, ruff around the edges and still be so damn hot. His jawline line was sharp with a bit of stubble. Oi and let's not forget his deep velvet smooth English accent, could make your panties drop with just one word. He was getting on your nerves. You could never stray to far from him. The first night in Egypt, you just wanted explore the rich culture, the food. James had other plans for you. As you were set to stay in the hotel room until dawn. When you would embark the long travel by camel to the valley of the kings.

            To say you were hot was understatement. The camel that was unpleasantly jilting you around on, had this obsession to nip at you ever chance he got when you weren't paying attention to him. Let's not forget he had bit of a smell to him. If you had a hose and some soap he would, damn well get a bath. The long days turned in to short moments of coolness from the heat of the sun. You had decided to name the stupid animal after one of your ex's just because he was acting as an ass. When your group stop to rest. You complained about you ass hurting and in need of a shower. Mostly you were talking with Carl your camel. But you saw the roll of Conrad eyes directed at you. Making you huff, you were sure he just saw you as some rich city girl that knew nothing of a hard life.

          James couldn't help be a bit annoyed when his friend asked to take a team of archaeologists to search some dusty old tomb. Sure his friend paid him well. What was one more favor. Even if James save that mans life more then once while they served together. He was no babysitter and the girl, the girl was a bit of an inconvenience. Knowing she was going to somehow get her cute ass in some kind of trouble. Right now all he really wanted to do is go back to some hole in the wall bar and drink himself to death, perhaps. 

             "Owe, You know Carl we've had this moment there where you didn't nip at me and now you've gone and done it." You hissed softly Swatting at the camel pushing his head away from you butt.

            "Why did you name the Camel Carl?" James question, never looking over from what he was doing as he pulled the canteen from the rucksack on the camels back.

           "Why are you ease dropping?" You huffed glaring over at the back of the mans head, eyes wondering over his back as ever muscle flexed when he moved about taking a long drink of water. You licked you lips at the sit. His Adam's apple bobbing along as he drank. Sweat trickling down his neck. If your mouth wasn't dry before it was dry now. No amount of water quench that thirst. The thought of running you tongue along his neck. Tasting that saltiness of his skin. You mind started to wonder about the Captain. "Owe! Carl that was more then enough ass the last time" You shrieked. The camel In question bit a little hard this time taking a bigger bite. Carl made a grunting and what sounded like a laughing noise. Making James choke on water as he tried not to laugh. "Hey! Don't side with Carl."

              "I think he likes you." James smiled a bit more. You huffed in announce mumbling 'men' under your breath, and walked away. Carl followed closely behind nudging at you backside. "Knock it off." You hissed pushing the camels head away from you. James chuckled more audibly after his small bit of coughing mostly trying to cover his laughter. But he couldn't help it the camel had a thing for you. It was quite cute. Seeing Conrad smile finally after only seeing him with a bruting expression, was kind of nice. He was just as handsome if not more with a smirk on his face. Sure you wouldn't mind kissing it off of him. No wait you wanted to punch it off of him. Cause he was an ass like Carl, who was not taking no for an answer.

           The valley of Kings, was without a doubt the most breath taking view so far. After about a month of excavating and exploring. Strange things started happening. You swear you heard your name being called late at night, after everyone was asleep. Thinking it was James messing with you. Calling him an ass later that morning, as you walked passed him. You were digging in an empty room, one of many. You needed some distance between you and the captain. You couldn't focus around the man. So when he wasn't looking you snuck off. With one other, one of the many sent to help you excavate. Everything was going well, until the sand floor of the tomb started to move. Like sand in an hour glass. It took you down with it.

          "Help." You called up from where you had landed. You could hear your name from above you. So that meant you weren’t to far down. "Down here." The dark room made it impossible for your to see what was around you. Knowing if you stayed put Jame even though he would be not to please with you. Would more then find you. It was what he did. Even if the itch to feel your way about the area was driving you to scratch.

         "Y/n?" You heard your name. It sounded like it was coming from beside you.

         "James, I'm down here." You yelled, Not sure if you should move. This eerie feeling crowded up you spine. It almost felt like someone was next to you. You heard your name again. Knowing you had a lighter in your pocked, digging in to retrieve it. Striking the lighter with your thumb, the flame flickered. Helping you see a bit. As you turned around slowly. 

          A blood curdling scream ripped through your throat. When your eyes landed on the man in front of you. Ratty old dusty bandages wrapped around its entire form. This man looked to have been dried up like he had been in the sun for months on end. His lifeless empty eyes stared at you. A moaning like a zombie, erupted from its throat. It wasn't a man it had to of been one of the mummies you were in Search for. The lifeless corpse jerking as it moved towards you. Another scream was pulled from you as you attempt to move away. Only to fall flat on your bitten bruised ass, damn Carl. Hitting your head on something hard, the last thing you heard was James from above calling for you. Telling you to "stay put." Tell that to the thing pulling at your leg. That was not going to be an option.

        Hands that's what you were feeling. Strong boney fingers roaming around expose heated skin. Though your don't remember at any point taking you clothes off for the night. You moaned out James name. His hands were ruff most likely from working with them. Holding a gun with those hands and now they were on you. James strong voice calling your name, making you squirm. You eyes fluttered open, the room was large and brightly lit by glowing flames along the walls. Were you back in the city? Oh but those hands still roaming. Your movement was minimal like there were wall around you. Your were in a sarcophagus. Panic set in as your eyes moved to see those hands that were on you. You shrieked as you grabbed the mummy like hands that moved without a body.

            Sitting up you could see the room clearly now. You head felt heavy like something was on top of it. Your hand moved feeling the large head pice. Pulling it off to get a better look. It was incrusted with jewels and a beetle in the center of it. It was beautiful. Looking down you saw that your breasts were cover not by much. But were covered with some kind of bird that laid between your breasts as the wing covered you nipples. It too was covered in jewels. The same went with your lower half. But only shear fabric covered front and back of your legs leaving the side exposed.

         This had to be a dream still. Mummies could not come back to life. Nor could they kidnap a girl and dresser her in practically nothing, like some Egyptian goddess. Where was James? Hell where was Carl your loyal ass of a camel. And where the hell did those hands go. Pulling yourself out once you figured it was safe. Standing on unsteady legs, you lurched forward almost falling.  Slowly walking around. The sand was cool on the bottom of your bare feet. A shiver ran down your spine.

It felt like something was behind you. And there was, the mummy stood there arms without hand reached out for you as you lurched forward. The dried bones clothed hand grabbed at your ankles cause you to fall on you back and the mummy attack you. Screaming as you tried pulling away. Hands finally meeting arms, as you struggled to get what shouldn't have weighed that much, off you. You name being called from the mummy. Pushing it off of you scrabbles to your feet, it did too. The corpse backing you into a corner. You closed your eyes tears fell free, you called for help. A loud bang followed by another, then another. You opened your eyes to see James in the clearing of the wall. Armed with his pistol, amid at the mummy. It longed at James. But this time James amid for the head. And it seemed the mummy stayed down.

        "Y/n, are you all right?" He asked, before he could get a chance to look you over for any injuries, you wrapped yourself around his midsection shanking. Tears soaking his light blue almost grey shirt. "Hey, shhh, it's all right. I'm here, I'm here." He rubbed your exposed back. Finding a tapestry on the wall, he wrapped it around you holding you closer to him. The sun had long set as he guided you out of the pyramid, taking you back to your tent.

        "Y/n, I'm going to take a look to see if you’re injured now, ok?" James voice was above a whisper. Setting you on the cot like bed. He pulled the tapestry off your shoulders. He had someone fetch him a first aid kit. His eyes roamed over your form. To say you were absolutely stunning was an understatement. He didn't realize what a Beaty you truly were until he though you were lost or worse. The kid with the first aid kit pulled James out of this thoughts. Clearing his dry throat as pulled the kit open. You winced a bit when he gently dabbed at a scratch. "Sorry."

          "Thank you." You mumbled, looking at him as he gently whipped each cut. Each time made you whimper.

             "I wasn't going to leave you down there. And that, that.." James trailed off.

            "The Mummy." You hissed out as James hit a deep bruise. "I think it's safe to say everywhere hurts. Besides my forehead." You announced when he tried to press on a bandage. Not noticed his sly smile, he kissed your forehead. His warm lips lingering a bit before pulling away. "My cheek as well." James lips moved to your cheek. Lips pressed firmly against it. His stubble scratch just a bit at smooth flesh.

         "Anywhere else?" James mumbled against you cheek before he moved away. You hands pressed against you lips.

          "And maybe my lips?" You question, before moving your fingers. As soon as your fingers left your lips. His lips were on yours before you could breath out. Finding yourself kissing back. Your own hands gripping the nap of his neck and tangled into short hair. You felt your back on the cot and James chest pressed against yours. His strong warm hands glide easily over your skin. Cupping the underside of your breasts that were exposed. You moaned out His name. His lips left your swollen lips, tracing along your jawline before moving to you neck. His other hand rounded over your backside, large hand grabbing, groped at you. Pulling at your thigh lifting up over, giving him better access.

You gasped at the feel of his length pressing against you. Both of you jumped when you heard a grunt followed by a roar. Both of you looked over at the opening of the tent. Carl head poked through the now opening. Grunting out, his foot stomped and dragged, clearly not happy. James huffed but turned back to you, his lips back on to yours. Trying to ignore the beast. Carl didn’t like this and pulled his body in more grunting his displeasure.

“I don’t think he likes you.” You mumbled against his lips. James groaned in annoyance. Knowing that camel would not stop. James pulled away from you. Which made you whimper. “Please don’t go. I don’t want to be alone at least not tonight.” James smiled and did as he was commanded. Though he did give you his shirt so you wouldn’t be that distracting. It really didn’t help either.

Everything in the camp was packed up. After what happened to you. The locals said this was cursed grounds and would not continue. Leaving you no choice to pack up and leave. Which hurt you to have to leave knowing there was so much that was yet to be discovered. Even with the items that your wore and the tapestry James used to cover you amongst other things. Walking towards James, Carl trailing behind. He smiled at you, still wearing the shirt he given you last night.

“You know, I have to say Carl is a real hero. He really did save my life.” You teased, making James raise his eyebrow at you.

“What about me?” James pouted a bit. Hands pulling you against him.

“Well I guess you helped too. You were like the side kick. Carl and Captain James Conrad. I mean you did do all the heavy lifting.” You smirked wrapping you arms around him.

“Really?” He smirked pulling you in to a passionate heated kiss. His other arm wrapped around your waist holding you close. Carl hissed and grunted in annoyance. Not getting his way, he moved forward nipping James right in the ass. Making the man yelp. You giggled as James rubbed at his ass. Which you may have placed your there instead.

“I think he likes you.” Kissing his cheek. Before pulling away.

“Oh I can’t wait until he is returned to his owner.” James hissed.

“I don’t know I think I might keep him.” You teased.

[punkscowardschampions]

Bea & Ro

Surprisingly productive argument/turned actual conversation, about Drew, Ro’s self-loathing, sister issues and their parents/going to London soul-searching.

Bea: Back with him then? I thought you'd learned your lesson (finally) last time...Well? Ro joined the chat 3 hours ago Ro: Yes, it was rather unexpected, and sudden I suppose, hence I didn't get a chance to let you know individually Ro: Well, actually I have learned a lot. As has Drew. Bea: That's always good, rushing into commitments, being at his beck and call... Bea: And obviously he has, how else would he deceive you, again. Got to have new tricks. For goodness sake! Bea: What does he actually do with his time, Ro? What do you think? He isn't in Schooling, fine, but where's his REAL job? Bea: What are you getting out of this? Except heart-ache and being made to look a fool at the end of it, every month or so Bea: I thought you were in a good place? Ro: That isn't at all what I meant. There was a lot going on with my birthday celebrations and everything as you yourself know. Ro: Oh Bea that's just uncalled for! He's changed and with is finally being more truthful with me. Ro: I thought you, out of everyone, would understand standing on your own two feet and making a living for yourself your own way. He didn't enjoy school but he's using the skills he has to support himself Ro: What is so wrong with that? Ro: I am in a good place now. With him. He loves me. What more could there be to get 'out of it' Bea: Wait, he didn't try all this AFTER you read the letter, did he? Bea: It's always an emotional time for you, regardless if it was before or after anyway; it's wrong for him to exploit that for his own gain Bea: No, he hasn't! If he had, he'd leave you alone, or at least let you come back to him. He hasn't changed at all. Bea: So tell me what he does, if it's so admirable, tell me right now what you think he does, what has him out all the odd hours Bea: I, out of everyone, know where dealing in the things he does, can get you. You don't remember what it was like for Tess and Fearghal back then, you were too young, but they've told enough war stories for you to know better! I know you do, so why are you choosing to ignore what you know to be true for his sake? Bea: He isn't worth it. For God's sake, being associated with him could risk your career before its even began. Is that what you want? Think on! Bea: Oh, Ro. There is so much more than those words, even when they're not empty. Ro: Why must you take something so nice and twist it into something HORRIBLE! I hadn't even opened your gift when Drew and I reconciled. Mum and dad have nothing to do with this and he would never do anything to involve them after everything he has been through with his own family. Ro: You don't know anything about him. Or us. You barely know me. Ro: He does all kinds of things, odd jobs, fetching and carrying for people that sort of thing. I didn't need all the ins and outs because I trust him and honestly it hardly matters if you don't. Ro: I've also been told enough stories to understand that people deserve second chances, as have you. He isn't as lucky as I was. He remembers every struggle before Caleb's family took him in and he does what he has to do to make sure he and Meena will have a future whatever happens next. I can't blame him for that and you shouldn't. Self reliance is the opposite of a risk and I'm proud and lucky to know him, thank you very much. Ro: You clearly have no idea what he's worth so you'll excuse me if I don't bow to your 'wisdom' on the subject. Ro: Besides, it's my career. Not yours. You've made your own choices why can't you let me make mine? Ro: How can you say that Bea! You live by them. Fraze is everything to you and you've never listened to a word against him, have you? Bea: You're just seeing it as it actually was, and not through rose-tinted fairyland glasses. Bea: I know enough. More than you, as you continue to choose ignorance over swallowing the bitter pill and moving the fuck on. Bea: And there is no 'us' as in 'you and him'. There never will be because that is not what he wants from you. Bea: You are ridiculous. This is not 1950s America in a cheesy movie...He isn't a fucking boy scout doing bob-a-job. Listen to how stupid you sound, for what? He doesn't defend you, or do anything that inconveniences him, in fact, for you. Its one-sided and unfair and you deserve better, I know you think otherwise, and that you won't get better but its true, and possible. Bea: Boo fucking hoo. He doesn't get to use his sad backstory to be a criminal. All that will happen is that he'll end up in jail, leaving his wittle sister alone. And Meena will be just fine without him, because she's got a fucking brain in her head. God, I wish I could say the same for you. Bea: I don't care to know any more about him that is plainly evident for all to see. You're not going to get a doctorate for giving a shit about him. He isn't special. He's not intriguing. He's a waste of your time and energies. Bea: Don't even bother going to Cambridge if you're going to throw it all away on him. Save the country the debt, get yourself knocked up now and waste away waiting for him to love you back. Bea: Because we have common interests, goals, and you know, we make each other's lives better by being in them? And we've always both been willing to put our money where our mouth is, in terms of love and working together to get what we want and need. So please, don't ever try and compare this teenage infatuation of yours to my relationship with Fraze again, it is just laughable in the saddest way. Ro: Stop. You don't know half as much as you think you do and frankly what information you're working with isn't correct anymore if it ever has been. You're the one being ridiculous, not me. Ro: Not to mention judgmental! You don't get to tell him how to act or what his future may or may not be because you aren't a monopoly on tragedy. Ro: I wish you'd stop pretending to have any stake in my own future either. It isn't so and I'm not going to do as you say just because you say it. Not that it's any of your business but getting pregnant is the last thing I intend to do but if I did it has nothing to do with you and there is no reason I'd have to choose regardless. You didn't and Ali isn't. Ro: I've already told you he does love me and he does make my life better but since you clearly need to hear it, we also have plenty of things in common. Bea: No, I won't. Because someone needs to tell you, and it will go in. And one day, you will see sense. Bea: Yeah my judgment is the least of his worries, try the judgment of the fucking law because did you forget, its illegal? Bea: He's a moron, everyone in Dublin knows he's dealing, he'll be lucky if the police find him before rivals do and break his fucking kneecaps. Bea: I do, I'm your sister, you don't have to like it for it to be reality, you can't write me out of your fucking fairytale, Ro. And if you want anything to do with your niece or nephew, I'd reconsider the path you're going down because fat chance I'm letting them near that scum, or near you when you're behaving so irrationally. Bea: All you have in common is co-dependency on toxicity and fucking up your lives and your poor attempt at trauma-bonding. What fun! Ro: We're sisters when it suits you, Bea. I'd be surprised you have time for this conversation except I'm well versed in the fact that you live to berate me. I thought things were getting better between us but apparently I'm wrong about that above all. Since we've come to what is really, and consistently, the heart of the issue once again, I won't try and change your mind or apologise, once more, for not being good enough for you. I'd hate to sound even more like an irrational teenager when you read back this conversation to bask in your superiority. Ro: What's fun are these constant fights and reminders of what a failure you believe I am. Ro: If you don't want me around Nancy and Buster then fine, they are your children. I don't feel the need to tell you what to do or you're doing wrong. Bea: So you want me to leave you alone? But are also so sad about the fact I'm never there for you? Sounds like someone's confused! Unsurprising when you believe lies and won't see or hear anything real. Bea: And I haven't berated you, I've berated him; you are not one. Which is the real heart of the issue, you taking responsibility for and internalising all his bullshit. Bea: And I have bad news for you on that front, except you sound like what you are, a child. Bea: I've never been ashamed of you. Until now. Bea: You won't be in and out of their life when it suits you, just an Auntie when he leaves you, AGAIN. So, you've made your choice. I sincerely hope you can live with it. Goodbye, and good luck, Ro. Ro: I must take after you what with you contradicting yourself so heavily. If Drew and I aren't one, as you're so keen to stress then why are you so quick to try and tell me that I'm not separate from his choices or mistakes. Ro: Sadly you're too late as well because I'm not a child anymore. However my relationship continues or ends I'm living my own life. I didn't expect to have to do so without you but I fine. Ro: As for the kids, I wouldn't do that when I know how much it hurts. Ro: For the record though, this is the choice you made. It's been forced upon me but I guess I will have to live with it all the same. Bea: No, Ro. You chose to make the wrong decision. Bea: You love getting a chance to be the victim. Well, be his victim. But you're not mine, you did this to yourself, I gave you the choice. Ro: There shouldn't have even been a decision to be made but you need me to be wrong so badly don't you? In every way you can. Forgive me for being sick of it. Ro: No Bea, you love me to be a victim so you can heap your scorn on me. It's not the same thing. Just like a choice isn't the same as a ultimatum which is what you've thrown at me. Bea: No, I need you to fucking love yourself! Maybe you're sick of feeling wrong, feeling like you're never enough. That is coming from you and you alone, so don't you dare try to push your self-loathing onto me and say that's how I feel about you, because it isn't, never has been, and it never will be. I love you. Bea: I pity you, it hurts you like scorn because you've still got an ounce of pride left in you somewhere. I'm just asking you, begging you, to hold onto it and make use of it. Ro: Then just love me! Let me be happy without trying to ruin it and be cruel all the time. That hurts me and it does, and is, coming from you. I can't keep having the same fight with you. It's more exhausting than anything Drew's done. Pity me for saying so if you want. I can't control that either. Bea: If I have to be cruel to be kind, then that's the role I have to play. I hardly enjoy it, it hurts me too, Ro! But I'm not going to lie to you, to pretend something is okay when it isn't, just because that's what feels best to you at the time. Because its not going to feel good when you look back, for me or for you. I'm not prepared to wrap you in cotton wool. You're an adult now? Then I'm treating you like it, no coddling. Ro: But you don't have to! You don't have to like him but why can't you accept that I do? I love him. Why can't that just be okay? Nobody else is lying or pretending, I mean look at Tess, but she's not being like this. Like you. Ro: You're my sister but you don't have to be anything to him, I'm not asking for that. We aren't married, Bea. Bea: Because I AM your sister! They're all family, but they're not; there are boundaries. And Tess is a parental figure, parents let you make your own mistakes. But I am your sister and I happen to think you've made the same mistake enough times now. There's nothing more to learn from this, from him. Nothing of worth for you and your personal growth. Bea: But I know you're not going to stop, so, there we go. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try, it will help one day. Ro: But maybe it isn't a mistake this time. Or maybe I am just tired of always having to think in terms of what I can learn or take and want to just have what he can give me... Ro: why can't this be worth a try? Bea: Because you're worth more than just taking what you can get from someone who isn't giving enough, nevermind their all. Ro: You're just saying that because you don't like him. Bea: No, Ro, I am not. And you know that. Ro: I know I'm not you. Or Ali. And I know what people say about me. Why they bully me. I'm not stupid. Bea: You're socially awkward, that's all. People with competent enough social skills themselves can easily get past that. And you're clever, all that just combines to make people feel insecure so they project that onto you, make you feel the same. Bea: Its not as if I had any real friends at School either. There's a whole world out there, Ro. Filled with people who will like and love you, will get you. Bea: And you have Ali, and Meena, don't you? Ro: No you're clever, I just work hard. Try harder. Ro: You don't get it, he's not the one who's wrong, I am. Ro: He loves me, why can't I have that? Ro: And yes, of course, but it's not the same Bea: But what's not admirable about that? Being 'clever' innately (which in School just means having a decent store and recall memory to pass tests) isn't anything to shout about particularly, but putting in the work is. Bea: What's wrong with you? Different is not wrong. They're all the same, it makes it feel wrong to be different, but do you want to be like all the other girls in your School, really? Bea: You're better. Bea: Don't make me say it, Ro... Ro: In theory yes but in practice it's simply exhausting and frustrating and anything other than admirable. Or likable. Ro: I just don't want to be this. It isn't about comparison Ro: He makes me happy that's all. Bea: It feels like it when you're there, but School isn't a popularity contest. Its to get you to where the fuck you actually WANT to be, that's all. You don't want the only place you ever wanna be to be the School playground 'cos you've peaked, 'cos you're leaving in a year's time and there is no going back. Bea: You're going to have a life that is more than just nostalgia Bea: That's all this is, that's all I'm trying to prevent here, don't fall into the trap, okay? Ro: I know that. Ro: But this isn't just nostalgia though, I know that as well. Bea: Okay, but one day it will be, and I want you to be able to look back at this time with more than just regret Ro: And I want a chance to be in the moment, for once, instead of constantly looking back or worrying about the future Bea: Then go for it, like I said. But 'living in the moment' doesn't magically absolve you of making choices that will affect your present, your future, and how you look back on it as the past one day. You can not think too much about it when you're in it, sure. But you will have to live it and re-live it. That's just life, baby sister. I know it better than most. Ro: Okay, so what you have me do, leave him because of how he might behave and how he has in the past, in spite of his apologies for it? That isn't right. Bea: The past has a habit of not staying in the past...It creeps up on you, and on him, no doubt, old habits dying hard. If you can live with how he treated you, how everyone knows he treated you, the cheating and lying and just cruelty, he threw your way- then, well, I can't stop you. I wasn't trying to, I was only ever telling you how it is, how I see things. Bea: Is sorry enough? Because you know, it can't fix everything, don't you? Ro: I have to believe it can Bea: Then...I wish you luck. Ro: Is that all? You don't hate me again, do you? Bea: I never hated you, Ro, and I don't Ro: I hope so. I'd like to come and see you. I've been thinking about the woman that wrote you the letter a lot and was wondering if I should send her one back or something. Bea: You could- Or we could go visit her, she did offer Bea: I have been pondering what to do too Ro: Oh, that's an even better idea, if a scarier one.... Bea: Yeah Bea: We'll be okay. I'm certain she's legitimate, as in she was a true friend, not just someone who went to the same School and had a vague recollection and some old photos. I did a lot of digging before I reached out and she'd done Facebook posts on mum's Birthday, and the anniversary of the crash, year upon year, and she had more photos on their too. Bea: She could probably give us a real sense of who they were, and the area, she's still there...Its not somewhere in London I'd been previously and I haven't gone without you Ro: I don't doubt that or you, it's just...what if I'm not how she expects. Ro: The whole thing could be a huge disappointment Bea: It's not an audition. We're their daughters and that isn't up for debate, nor judgment. Who would she be to do that? Not that she sounds like that but you know, fuck anyone who would, they don't know us, what we've been through. Bea: It could be, yeah, but we've not got anything to lose, have we? Ro: You're right. Okay let's do it. When? Bea: Well, its a pretty good season to do it in, I think. Goodwill, being with new friends, reminiscing on old, reaching out to your fellow man and all that. We can get her something, to say thank you... Your last day is the 21st, right? So, if we do Sat 22nd, you can come back to Cambs with me for the Sunday and we'll all go back to Dublin together on the Monday, for Christmas Eve. Bea: Is that too soon for you? Its a few weeks but if you need longer, we can do it AFTER Christmas. I just think the festive season is as good an excuse as any, it'll make us all for more comfortable, I feel. Ro: No no I agree. That's a perfect time. Bea: I'll talk to Tess but I know she'll be fine. Bea: I'm really looking forward to this Ro: Anything to distract her from it being Caleb's family's turn to have Ali and the kids for Christmas, bless her. Ro: Me too. Thanks again, Bea. I know I've said it a hundred times already but Bea: Oh dear, I better catch up with her so she can rant, save your ears from it for the hundredth time, especially Ferghal's! Bea: Its okay, hopefully we'll get even more from this visit, fill in the blanks once and for all Ro: I really hope so, yes. Bea: I better get on, lots to do. We'll talk soon. x Ro: Okay. Kiss the twins for me 💕 Bea: Will do 💞