#in which post bbq hey i know you

[royalarchivist]

YD: Ahh, so adorable. I recorded some stuff, like them trying yukke. [Reading chat] Right? I was flabbergasted when I heard his age! I didn’t know that he was… 20 years old??? He was also shocked when I told him my age. I don’t really ask their ages when I’m talking to foreigners, we’re just friends, ‘cause they don’t have distinct honorific and informal languages like we do. And he guessed I was like, 23? [Laughs] I laughed my ass off.

YD: These kids are polite. They seem very polite, don’t they? Especially after hearing how old I am. It feels like they’re saying, “Yes ma’am, it’s very delightful.” So cute, and they seemed like they really enjoyed their meal.

YD talked about meeting up with Tubbo while he was in Korea and shares two videos of them eating food at a Korean BBQ place!

MASSIVE thank you to @Forgetmelotz on Twitter, who translated and subtitled this video and gave me permission to share it on Tumblr! Please make sure to give the original video a like.

[Full Video and Subtitle Transcript ↓ ]

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⚠️ This transcript is VERY LONG! ⚠️

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YD: So I was planning to have a dinner with Kei [a Kpop Idol / Singer], but unexpectedly, there's a foreigner friend I met on QSMP named Tubbo, he's from the UK, and apparently he's visiting Korea. And he posted an Instagram story about it. I saw it and was like "Wait, are you coming to Korea?" and it [Tubbo's post] even says Korea blah blah within the date two days after my birthday. So I sent him a DM and he responded with "Haven't you seen my Twitter DM?"

YD: I recently distanced myself a little from Instagram and Twitter for a while, yeah I didn't check my phone that often, and it turns out he messaged me about 3 - 4 days ago saying "YD, I'm flying to Korea! Blah blah–" so I was like "Oh, oh... I'm sorry I didn't see that!" and I checked the DM the day before he arrived here... I told him that I am so sorry and asked if I can meet him in person.

* [Translation note: this can also mean the other way around, ie: he may have asked her if they could meet in person]

YD: So we ended up seeing [each other] on the 21st. I was supposed to have dinner with Kei, so I told her "but my friend from abroad... is in Korea now... what should I do..." and we rescheduled the dinner to inviting her to come over next week. So um, the, right– Tubbo, Tubbo's friend [Eryn], Seoneng [one of YD's crew members] and Kang-si [YD's husband] the 5 of us had dinner together.

YD: We went to a Korean BBQ place. I was searching through restaurants thinking “Uh… which Korean restaurant should I take these foreigners to so that they would be super impressed?” [YD thanks a dono] Yeah, I was searching hard and so I asked Ryeori. You know the Kwak tori & Ryeori couple? Ryeori the hair designer, I asked him, “Reyori, I’m trying to buy a dinner for my foreigner friend, do you have any recommendations for where I should bring him?” and he started listing up like Michelin star-rated pork gukbap restaurants and stuff. Then he also tells me that it’s really difficult to find an actual Korean restaurant in Hongdae, like it’s difficult to find a decent place. There are mostly fusion Korean food [places]. But then he goes, “Oh, hey, this place looks fine” and recommends me this Korean BBQ restaurant. I decided to bring them there and fed them.

YD: The reason I liked that place was that they sell doenjang-jjigabe, galbi-tang, jeyuk bokkeum, and other dishes as well as their main menu, the beef KBBQ. The banchans [side dishes] were also served neatly, they even had japchae, they sold yukke. Obviously there are better Korean restaurants outside of Hongdae, but their hotel was located there. It wasn’t like he had a car here, so I was trying to meet them somewhere they can just walk to. So Hongdae it was. On top of that, YD 4-cuts is also located in Hongdae.** So I thought it would be the best to just eat out here. And while we were eating, I’ve recorded some videos.

** [Note: This is a photo booth event with custom YD frames, as show in the background of this video]

YD: [Scrolls through to find the videos and laughs] Ahh, so adorable. I recorded some stuff, like them trying yukke. [Reading chat] Right? I was flabbergasted when I heard his age! I didn’t know that he was… 20 years old??? He was also shocked when I told him my age. I don’t really ask their ages when I’m talking to foreigners, we’re just friends, ‘cause they don’t have distinct honorific and informal languages like we do. [She thanks another dono] And he guessed I was like, 23? [Laughs] I laughed my ass off.

[YD plays a video she took of Tubbo and Eryn at the restaurant]

Tubbo: Oh, ok. [?]: You should tell them how to eat it together.  Tubbo: You’re overestimating my chopstick skill.  [?]: Here. [Passes Tubbo some of the meat]  Tubbo: Oh, thank you. [?]: And here, together. Tubbo: Ok. [Takes a bite] Waitress: With this vegetable. Tubbo: Mm, it’s really sweet! [?]: Foreigners quite like it. Eryn: [Reaches over and tries some food too, struggling a bit with his chopsticks] [?]: Unexpected, right? [?]: Oh, they like yukke? [?]: They just need to get used to it. Waitress: I will grill and hand it over to you, so please help yourselves. [?]: Ok, thank you. Eryn: [Tries more food and gives it a thumbs-up] [?]: Hm, good?! Tubbo and Eryn: Yeah! Tubbo: So far 10/10.

[The video ends]

YD: These kids are polite. They seem very polite, don’t they? Especially after hearing how old I am. It feels like they’re saying, “Yes ma’am, it’s very delightful.” So cute, and they seemed like they really enjoyed their meal. They were eating it up. They drank soju, they ate some noodles, and even doenjang-jjigae. I’ve heard foreigners don’t really like the taste of doenjang-jjigae, but they ate pretty much [all] of it. The restaurant also had pot rice, so I made them try that too. They ate that well too.

[YD plays the second video she recorded of them at the restaurant]

Tubbo: Go crazy ok, yeah! Alright.

YD: We ordered naengmyeon for a palate cleanser too. We ordered a lot.

Tubbo: [Struggles to cut the noodles with the scissors that were handed to him]

YD: He’s asking why we cut the noodles.

Tubbo: [Manages to cut the noodles] Kang-si [?]: Ok, and- and– [does chopstick motion] Tubbo: [Laughs] What am I gonna need?  Eryn: Chopsticks? Kang-si [?]: Yeah. YD [?]: Chopsticks, mm. Eryn: [To Tubbo] You go first. Tubbo: [Inaudible] Why is it cold? YD [?]: Oh, because the noodle is cold.

YD: Yeah, he found it interesting that the noodle is cold.

Tubbo: [He struggles with his chopsticks] Oh no, oh no… [Everyone laughs] Kang-si [?]: Very difficult. Ok! Tubbo: [Manages to fish some noodles out and holds his hand under them so they don’t splash everywhere as he transports them to his bowl] Seoneng [?]: Oh, uh, oh! It might be difficult for them to eat that. YD [?]: Hm? Kang-si [?]: Do you want some, Seoneng? Gimme the chopsticks, I’ll share you some. Eryn: [To Tubbo] Slippery. How did you get it?  Kang-si [?]: I’ll give you some, hand me the chopsticks. Seoneng [?]: Can I hand you mine? Just a small amount, please.

YD: They mimicked how Kangseok [Kang-si, YD’s husband] handles the noodles. Like, picking up the noodles like this and moving it to your dish.

Tubbo: That’s why you’re better than me (?).

YD: That’s Seoneng.

Kang-si [?]: Here’s your chopsticks, Seoneng. Eryn: I think this is enough. YD [?]: Oh, he’s taking some to his dish. Seoneng [?]: He learned. Tubbo: Do you like, spin 'em? Seoneng [?]: Scissors? Kang-si [?]: Like– [He holds up his chopsticks and shows them how to do it. Ok. OK! Eryn: [Picks up only a few noodles, which dangle] Seoneng [?]: Good! Tubbo: Maybe I did- I did a sht job of cutting, I'm sorry. Eryn: That's ok. Doing good.

YD: It had a nice atmosphere.

Eryn: Bravo. Tubbo: Oh, thank you. YD [?]: The noodles might be a bit slippery for them to...

YD: They really struggled to pick the noodles up. They asked why we cut the noodles then proceeds to eat like that 'cuz it's too long.

YD [?]: Shall we cut it? Kang-si [?]: Eryn? [He leans forward and cuts Eryn's noodles with scissors]

YD: –So we had to cut it for him like he's a baby.

[Everyone laughs] Eryn: It kept on moving!

[The video ends]

YD: [Laughs] Ah, so cute. It was fun. So we tried various dishes together. And uh, UK– UK– both of them are from the UK, but they didn't know there is a viral series of British students trying Korean food,*** so I told them "Seeing how you react to unfamiliar foods, like... How do I put this? You were very polite trying these out, not making any weird disgusted noises (so you can go viral too)." They didn't refuse anything. Well, they also said that this was the best Korean food they had so far. They might've been just being polite, but still, you know, they were... Hmm, very neat? Yeah. I get why he's so popular.

*** [Note: YT: Korean Englishman]

YD: Anyways, it was a lot of fun. After the meal, I asked them if they wanted to go take a YD 4-cut with us, explaining this is a trending form of birthday event amongst fans of younger generations in Korea where they rent and run a photobooth for their YouTuber / CCs / Influencers. I asked "It's close from here, you wanna go?" and he said yes. That's how we ended up taking a group photo. It wasn't planned beforehand.

YD: We arrived there– [Laughs] I tried, I knew it closes at 10pm, so I tried to visit there around then (to avoid people). So we got there around 9:30? And my fans were sitting there waiting for me. As soon as they spot me they go, "Wooooooo!!! It's so good to see you in person!!!" ...then they started crying, which made Tubbo and Eryn panic a bit. They were like "Wow YD, u a superstar! Whoa." [Laughs]

YD: No, 'cuz I told them that there might be a few fans because it's my birthday event, and they were OK with it. Well, he's also a Youtuber, so he wouldn't be too unfamiliar with this kinda situation I figure. But even though I warned [him] about it, they seemed a bit surprised as people started SOBBING, so Kangseok evacuated them all. He told them, "Let's get out and try some salted butter rolls while she..." The boys leave and get bread, and I go have a short conversation with my fans, take photos, give autographs... [Laughs]

YD: It was a LOT of fun. It was a memorable day.

The original VOD can be found here (please note that the video is only available to VIP members of YD's channel).

Timestamp for this conversation: ~12:30 - 23:00

[twopoppies]

I've only been down this H&L rabbit hole for about a month. I have to admit that the whole story sounds crazy--Two teenage boys whose love has been hidden by the music industry by making them appear to "date" women and creating a fake pregnancy for one of them. However, once I really got looking into things, I am a believer. I don't just look at the pro-Larry websites to make my decisions. I also actively seek out blogs and sources that try to debunk Larry and BBQ (I accidentally typed BBQ instead of BBG, but I think it's fitting....the whole situation is a hot, sticky mess).

There was definitely something between L & H in the 1D days, and there is a possibility that it's still going on. There was something off about L suddenly becoming a party boy and impregnating a one night stand (ok, maybe it was 2 or 3 nights, but what do I know) and his PR team not hiding it and not recommending a paternity test.

I admit that I can see L in the photos of F but I can also see Brett and Austin (I think that's Briana's half brother's name). I've also seen blogs where people post random pictures of a blonde haired boy with L smirk on his face, and those too look like L. I'm still researching about the photos of F possibly being altered to look more like L. I'm assuming if that happened, it was done by someone at the PR firm and they didn't leave it up to Briana and her mom, and that's why the photos look realistic. I don't think that Briana would have the free time to alter photos and also set herself on fire :)

Sorry for rambling for so long, but I just wanted to say that I can see why people who haven't taken the time to really look into the H&L story would believe that it isn't true.

I'm glad you're taking your time and are looking into every angle. I think it's the only way to feel confident about your beliefs in the end.

And I agree, people who haven't taken the time to do the same or aren't familiar with the lengths to which a label will go to get their way would absolutely think the story is insane. I get it.

But when you have a whole group of people who, for NINE years, are saying, "Hey, there's something really fucked up here," it might make sense to do just the slightest bit of digging before simply accepting what random people on the internet say.

[galway-girlatwork]

Fandom: The Last of Us-AU-No outbreak

Rating: Mature-There is angst. Fluff at the very end.

Central Characters: Joel, Sarah, Tommy, Tara (Original Female Character)

Central Relationship: Joel and Tara

Word Count: 2,534

AO3

Please do not copy my work. If you liked it, please re-blog and tag me. Please do not steal my mood board. I do not give permission to copy, translate, or post my work to any other platform.

Music inspiration: Hold On By Chord Overstreet-Hurricane by Tommee Profitt and Fleurie. Never Not Love You by 30 Seconds to Mars. Carry You by Ruelle and Fleuire

Written for @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope Writing Challenge

Amnesia

SUMMARY:

The aftermath of a traumatic car accident leaves a family struggling with fear and uncertainty. The emotional toll weighing them all down as they try to find some normalcy which they all know is impossible until he wakes up. Vulnerability and desperate needs for the man who is the center of their lives to remember who they are and the life he had with them.

Fragile State

It was one the most cliché things that could happen. Something you hear about on the news, read on the internet. You feel bad to those it’s happened to, the “oh god that’s terrible” but then you move on with your day of mundane tasks that you are imprinted on your brain. They were just coming home from picking up dinner from some random drive thru when it happened. Some asshole running the red light, t-boning the SUV they were in, his side taking the most damage, the impact so brutal, they were surprised he had survived.

That was four days ago and before then? Life was normal. It was school, work, soccer practice, backyard BBQ’s and sleepovers. Now it was sleeping on hard cots, hospital food and coffee, unwashed bodies and constant beeps of machines that you swore were driving you slowly insane, each one, one push closer to the edge. Standing you walk into the bathroom, staring into the mirror, you notice bruises turning sickly shades of yellow and purple. The black eyes are second to the blood-filled sclera that surrounds your irises. You and your step-daughter were “blessed” as they put it, minor scrapes and bumps but your body disagreed when you did the simplest of tasks. Washing your hands was one of those tasks, they trembled under the gush of warm water, the room always slightly above sub-artic. Turning off the water, towel grabbed and as you dry your skin, light reflects along your engagement ring, remembering the night he proposed. He was nervous as fuck, not knowing if you’d say yes. Hands gripped the edge of the counter, bottom lip between teeth, hoping the pain would hold back tears. It didn’t and ten minutes later, face now washed, teeth brushed, you walk out of the bathroom and the constant beeps are back, knowing you should be grateful for them, since they marked the fact that he was still alive.

An hour later, doctor and nurses, come and gone tell you the same thing as the day before, there was no change. Tommy and Sarah texted to let you know they were on their way, asking if you needed anything. A quick text back letting them know you were desperate for Starbucks and that you would Zelle money to him. Proficient taps to the screen of your new phone, the other one lost in the carnage of your wrecked car, had money sent, email checked before you put it on the charger. Body slid into the chair by his bed, hand taking his, head resting on his forearm.

“Hey baby. Tommy and Sarah are coming to see you. She’s not happy by the way, that she has to go back to school Monday but I think it would be good for her. Thank god I have as much PTO as I do but Rick’s been really understanding, letting me know I can take as much time as I need so I can be here.” A shuddering sigh, a sniffle taken before you look at him. “Joel, I really need you to wake up. I can’t do this without you. I am not as independent as I pretend to be. Maybe I was before you but now...It’s different. It’s your fault you know, if I’d never met you and Sarah…Let’s face it babe, if I hadn’t met the both of you, I’d still be living in a one bedroom, eating out of take-out cartons. You two changed my life and I can’t imagine it without you in it. So fucking wake up.” Nothing came from the body in the bed, hooked to wires and tubes, head wrapped.  

She must have fallen asleep, a hand on her shoulder, repeating your name, finally brought you out of a troubled slumber. “Tara, wake up.”

“Hey sweetie.” Standing, you hugged your step-daughter who is more yours than not. She was ten when you met her, eyes peeking up at you through a head of curly hair as she partially hid behind Joel. The two you of had been dating for eight months when he decided he wanted you to meet her. It was you had suggested pizza and Disney, wanting to make her feel comfortable in her home. Of course, you were an instant hit because how many women would cater to a ten-year-old? Four months later you moved in. Now she was fifteen, a sophomore in high school dealing with daily teenage angst and peer pressure. “How are you feeling?” Side air impact bags coupled with the fact that she always sat in the middle, meant she’d walked away with just some bruised ribs from the seatbelt.

“I’m ok. Just sore. Tara, when are you coming home? Uncle Tommy can’t cook worth a damn, I think he might be worse than dad.”

A slight chuckle rumbled in your chest. “I’ll come home tonight. Doctors were here earlier, no change, said I should go home, shower and eat real food so…”

Tommy came up behind you, giving an awkward hug and you wondered if he was taking this harder than you and Sarah. Joel was his big brother and even though Tommy could be the biggest pain the ass, it was still his brother. “He’s gonna be ok. Just give him some time. You both know how stubborn he can be.” You prayed that, that stubbornness would keep him around just a little bit longer. You wanted to grow old with him, watch Sarah go off to college, get married, have babies.

Turning, coffee taken from Tommy, you sat on the couch beneath the window, Sarah curling up next to you, phone in hand, scrolling through her Facebook, the annoying beeps taking up space in your head once more. Looking at Tommy, who was pacing like a wild animal, you asked about the job that was now on hold, him letting you know the client was more than understanding, guaranteeing they wouldn’t lose the remodel job. “Tommy, why don’t you go home. There’s nothing you can do here and the rental place dropped off the loaner yesterday so I can drive us home. You look like you are bout to lose it.”

Glaring at you, a mumbled yea was tossed over his shoulder as he left. You knew he blamed you. Not so much for the accident but for the fact that you all were in your car and not Joel’s truck. He’d been such a hurry to get home for soccer, he’d forgotten to put gas in the bemouth truck of his, so of course they took your car, the girlie car as he put it, with all the frilly things on the inside, courtesy of Sarah. Trinkets she bought you for Christmases and birthdays, things she knew you would never buy for yourself. Flowered hair ties around the gearshift, the car freshener from Bath and Body, the little flower key holder that went with the steering wheel cover. Things now lost, kinda like her husband. Feeling Sarah tense up next to her, you hold her tight, shaking your head. “He’s just scared honey. Like us and he doesn’t know how to handle it. No worries, okay?” A nod of her head let you know she understand, may not have liked it but got it.

Hours passed in silence, only broken the few times nurses came in, the look in their eyes spoke volumes if you paid attention and that was something you did. Always paying attention to every detail, it’s why you were good at your job, even though everyone wondered why you were an accountant, it was because of details and numbers. Things you knew were reliable, constant, predictable. This was none of that. A rumble of Sarah’s stomach was the clue that it was time to go, for now. “Come on baby, let’s get some burgers and get home. We’ll come back in the morning.” Nurses reassured you that if anything changed, they would call you but something deep in the recesses of your mind, you knew that call wouldn’t come tonight.

The drive home was nerve wracking, Sarah letting you know to order Doordash when she noticed how clenched hands and jaw were as you left the parking lot. “I think that’s a way better idea.” What you didn’t realize was how different home felt without him here as you stood in the kitchen, mail stacked on the counter, sink full of coffee cups and cereal bowls from the morning of, Sarah staying with Tommy.

“I’ll take care of it.” Was her response when she saw tears silently falling.

“Leave em. We can do it in the morning. Can you order while I shower? Order from where ever you want.” Gathering her close, you hugged her, a little tighter than normal but then what was normal at this point? Nothing. Not a fucking thing. It was okay though because she clung to you just as hard.

It was when you were in the shower, body on the floor, pulled inwards, hot water blasting your back that all the tears finally let lose. Gut wrenching sobs that would have frightened anyone who heard them, sounding as if your soul was being ripped out of your body. Your relationship with each other wasn’t something that either one of you had planned. It was pure coincidence that you had met each other. When the tears dried up, dehydration at it’s best, you scrubbed your body until you couldn’t take the pain anymore, it’s way of letting you know that you were still alive. Hey at least you felt somewhat human now, right?

Both of you were quiet during dinner, food was picked at until you decided you were done. It was after eleven when you both decided to call it a night, the hours from then til now, were filled with a movie that neither one of you could remember turning on. When two am hit and you were still wide awake, blanket and pillow were dragged downstairs, deciding the couch would be better, at least until he came home.

It was on the sixth day that he finally woke up, fighting the tube, panic filled eyes searching the room, one hand gripping his as the other pressed the call button. Suddenly the room was filled with too many people, and you were helpless as you were gently pushed out into the hall, door closed behind you. Sliding down the wall, the velvet ponytail holder violently ripped from your head, fingertips kneading your scalp as you waited and these days, your patience was running below empty.

Minutes felt like hours before the doctor came out, letting you know that yes, he was awake but there was a problem. Standing in front of him, bits and pieces of what he was saying sank into the gray matter of your mind. He didn’t remember the car accident. Thank god for small miracles right? But he also couldn’t remember his name, that he was married, that he had a daughter, repeatedly asking questions before the panic attack started, the need to sedate him and he was sleeping. “Come back later today but don’t bring your daughter, it can be upsetting to both of them.” The drive back home was a blur, the paperwork they’d given you on short term memory loss was still sitting in your purse, once again it was explained that it was from the TBI and it would only last a week, maybe two but there was a rare possibility it could last for months.

What the actual fuck? A million questions came up but the most important one was what would this do to Sarah? Now standing in the middle of the room you both shared, rage bubbled up and overflowed like the volcano you helped Sarah make for her sixth-grade science project. It erupted from your small frame, as one arm swiped everything from the top of the dresser, the fan picked up and slammed against the mirror, reflective glass exploding. Perfume bottles followed suit, leaving the space to smell like a cheap whore or an old woman, take your pick. Collapsing in the space, you lay there wondering who your wronged and why Karma and Fate did this now. Exhaustion must have laid claim after rage took a vacation because that is where Tommy found you two hours later.

He sat you on the bed as he took in the damage. “Sarah’s going to be home by four. She can’t see the room this way, please Tommy?” Nodding, he told you he’d clean up and have a new fan and mirror before then. Asking what caused the chaos, you told him what the doctors had said or what you could remember. “Is it permanent?”

“I don’t know.”

“Go back to the hospital. I’ll be here and we can talk to Sarah tonight.”

“Thank you Tommy. I’m sorry.” You were admitting to your part in this. You had to have some part, right? Maybe reminded him before coming home to get gas. Maybe not fighting him on driving your car so it would be you instead of him. It was a hell of lot maybe’s.

“Who are you?” His voice startled you from the far away place you’d gone while you sat in the chair next to his bed that now had the imprint of your ass on it.

“Hi Joel, I’m Tara.”

“Thirsty.”

“Hold on.” Flimsy Pepto colored cup was filled from the pitcher baring the same hue, plastic straw pressed against dry lips, he drank half before pushing the straw out of his mouth with the tip of his tongue.

“Tara? Tara? I should know you, right?”

“Yes, you should but there was an accident and things are fuzzy for you right now.”

“How do I know you?”

“We’re married. Have been. Three years in October.”

You’d wanted a Halloween wedding but he’d refused to actually get married on the holiday, said it was bad luck, so the 30th was a compromise along with the promise that you wouldn’t wear red or black, his desire to see you in white.

“I wish I could remember.”

“You will, just be patient, something you are not always good at.”

“Tell me more.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Okay.”

Hours passed as you told him about Sarah, Tommy, the life you’d built together, his job, your job, soccer practice, Sarah’s first school dance, your wedding…conversations peppered with questions, showing him photos that have taken up almost all of the memory of the new phone that now pinged with a text from Sarah, wanting to know how he was and when you’d be home. Texting back, you let her know he was awake, still not remembering, that you’d be home soon and to order pizza, there was fifty dollars in the coffee can above the fridge, tucked behind the fake plant.

“Sorry, Sarah was asking about you and wanted to know when I’d be home.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Joel, why are you sorry?”

“That I can’t remember anything.”

“You can’t remember everything right now. Give it time baby. Be patient.”

“I must have loved you a lot.”

“You did.”

“Think I will again?”

“Yes.”

"Good."

[sephirthoughts]

The Ghost of Shinra Manor

Chapter 4 of this

summary: It's been two years-ish since the events of Dirge of Cerberus. Cloud visits his hometown, and investigates a rumor of a ghost, haunting Shinra Manor. If you're surprised by who it turns out to be, you are beyond my power to save, comrade.

tags: g-g-g-ghosts!!! sefikura, sephiroth x cloud, sane!sephiroth (sort of), post advent children, post dirge of cerberus, canon timeline, delusions, intermitten amnesia, low drama, enemies to…whatever the hell they have going on

warnings: references to death, PTSD, child abuse, etc. all of hojo's greatest hits, canon-typical violence

rating: teen and up [BE ADVISED: THIS RATING WILL CHANGE]

Part 4: Resolve

Cloud didn’t check his phone till they were back at the cabin, by which time he’d accumulated a number of alerts.

MISSED CALLS(4): Tifa

MISSED CALL: Barrett

New Messages(5)

He decided to deal with them in order of priority, and opened the messages app first.

Strife: hey what do you know about ghosts

Chadley: Hello, Cloud. It’s good to hear from you. Ghosts aren’t really my area of expertise, unless you’re referring to occurrences of unusual fauna, which are often erroneously reported as ghost sightings. May I ask what this is in regard to?

Strife: like how to identify one and how to get rid of it

Chadley: Hm. There are a number of so-called spirit mediums and exorcists, who claim to be able to detect and communicate with spirits, but since there isn’t an established scientific discipline, I’m afraid the field is fraught with charlatans.

Strife: so there’s no one who knows anything?

Chadley: Don’t lose hope, my friend. It just so happens that an acquaintance of mine is what I would call the world’s foremost lay-expert in spectral phenomena. If there’s anyone who could answer whatever questions you have, it would be him.

Strife: lay-expert?

Chadley: That means he’s highly knowledgeable, but it isn’t his day job.  

Strife: what’s his actual job

Chadley: He works as the concierge for the Haunted Hotel, at the Gold Saucer.

Strife: tell me you’re not talking about that upside-down lunatic bellhop

Chadley: Oh, are you acquainted?

Strife: forget it. i meant someone sane

Chadley: Don’t let his sense of whimsy deter you. That’s his professional persona. He’s actually a very astute and level-headed person. I assure you, there’s no one more knowledgeable in the field.

Strife: really?

Chadley: Indeed. Shall I put you in touch?

Strife: yeah ok

Chadley: Excellent. I’ll give him your contact information. Good luck!

Strife: thanks

Tifa: hey you, just checking in to see how you’re doing. how’s the job going?

Tifa: btw denzy managed to fix that old bike they found. he even rode it around today

Tifa: marley took these pics of him aren’t they cute? .img .img .img

Tifa: good news! i just got off the phone with barrett and he’s going to be in town friday. we’re thinking of having a big bbq dinner for everyone at the bar. you’ll be back by then right?

Strife: won’t be back by friday. something came up i have to deal with

Several minutes passed.

Tifa: i guess there’s nothing you can do when a rush job comes up. when do you think you’ll be back?

Strife: can’t say. could be a while

Tifa: oh i see

Tifa: ok well try not to stay gone too long ok? the kids miss you

Cloud was attempting to formulate a human-sounding reply, when his phone lit up with a new notification.

UNKNOWN: greetings cloud! my name is benjamin hopkins. my friend chadley said you’d like my help with some ghost related information. feel free to give me a call any time, and I’d be happy to assist you however I can.

He stared at his phone screen. A bellhop. Named Benjamin Hopkins. What the fuck ever. Of course that weirdo in the mummy bandages would have a weirdo name.

Sephiroth’s high-school AU version was still wearing the Gold Saucer t-shirt, with the addition of a pair of Cloud’s black jeans, which fit him far too well for Cloud’s liking. At the moment, he was sitting at the camp table, staring into space, because Cloud didn’t have any chores for him to do except wash dishes, and he’d done that already.

“Sephiroth,” Cloud said, giving him a start.

Big, blue-green eyes looked up at him, full of hope and trust. “Yes, sir?”

“If you want something to do, why don’t you go out and chop some firewood, before we’re ass-deep in snow. From the look of things, we’re gonna need it.”

Sephiroth jumped up eagerly. “Yes, sir. How much should I get?”

“Just whatever you can cut while I’m on the phone,” Cloud said carelessly. “The axe is hanging up over there. Shed is behind the cabin. I’ll come check on you, when I’m done with my call.”

“Yes, sir. You can count on me.”

“Sephiroth.”

“Mn?”

“Jacket.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And knock off that sir shit. Call me Cloud.”

“Yes, s—Cloud.”

With a sheepish grin, the boy pulled on the old down jacket Cloud had given him, grabbed the axe, and strode out into the snow, full of determination. Cloud stared at the closed door for a full thirty seconds, after he’d gone, and had to physically shake himself out of the reverie.

Seeing Sephiroth this way was wreaking havoc on his emotional state. The child version had been easy. Similar but unfamiliar. Cloud was able to dissociate him from the mental index he had for Sephiroth, and just see a little boy. The adult version was even easier. He was fully familiar and fit neatly into Cloud’s ‘mortal enemy, hated with the fire of a thousand suns’ index.

The teenaged version was more complicated. This was the Sephiroth who had been his idol and hero, when he was the bullied and ostracized poor kid in this tiny shit town. His reason for never giving up, when things seemed hopeless.

This was the Sephiroth he’d fallen in love with, in the innocent and wholehearted sincerity of childhood. The Sephiroth that a part of him, no matter how forcefully denied and deeply buried, still loved.

He clenched his teeth and swallowed the ache in his throat. If some fragment of himself was still idiotic and delusional enough to harbor anything approaching love for Sephiroth, that was just one more reason to quickly figure out how to end him, once and for all. The sooner the man was gone for good, the better. With fresh resolve, he pulled out his phone and dialed the bellhop’s number.

“Benjamin Hopkins, how can I help you?” said the man’s (not quite as deranged as Cloud remembered) voice.

Cloud sighed audibly. “Is that your real fucking name?”

“No, it’s not,” he retorted. “If you must know, my real name is Subject N-2, and thanks for bringing up that very painful memory. Would you like to talk about ghosts, now?”

“Uh. Sorry,” Cloud muttered. “Is this a good time?”

“Good as any. I’m at work, but it’s a pretty slow day, to tell you the truth, so I’m just hanging around.”

Cloud stifled another sigh. “Did you say that because you’re literally hanging upside-down right now?”

“Eh? Have we met before?”

“Couple years ago. My friends and I were looking for rooms at the hotel. One of them may have been a bit…aggressive.”

“Oh…oh! Are you the little blonde who came in with the giant, the vampire, the cowboy aviator, and a robot cat?”

“I’m impressed you remember us.”

“Ah, ha ha. Mr. Strife, how many times do you think I’ve had an arm-mounted minigun shoved in my face, at my place of employment? Just, ballpark estimate.”

Cloud swallowed. “Is it…one time?”

“Ding ding ding! Correct! Just the one time. So yes, I remember you. A man doesn’t tend to forget that kind of character-defining life and death experience.”

“Sorry about that guy. He has anger issues and trust issues and impulse control issues, and also he’s scared of spooky stuff, so he was acting tough to hide it,” Cloud explained, blithely throwing Barrett under the bus. “But, now that I think of it, I remember you seeming pretty chill about the gun. You didn’t even flinch.”

“Ok, you got me,” the bellhop tittered. “I was exaggerating about the character-defining life and death experience stuff. I’ve been through way worse than that.”

“You have?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all part of my tragic backstory. However! It was highly inappropriate of your friend to threaten a member of the hotel staff with a firearm. Imagine if a normal employee had been the one at the counter, instead. They’d have trauma! I’m sorry to be strict, but for the safety and mental health of the staff and guests, I’m afraid Mr. Barrett Wallace is not welcome on Haunted Hotel premises, until further notice. I hope he takes the opportunity to reflect carefully on his actions.”

“Fair enough. I doubt he’d go back there if you dragged him, anyway.”

“Good. Now that’s settled, let’s talk about your ghost problem. What seems to be the trouble?”

“That’s part of the problem,” Cloud said, feeling a little stupid saying any of this out loud. “I’m not even sure it’s a ghost.”

“Ah, say no more. I happen to have my ‘Got Ghosts?’ checklist handy. Why don’t we go through that, first. More often than not, the phenomena people misidentify as evidence of hauntings are perfectly mundane, explainable things.”

“Um. Ok.”

“Do you have any of the following: shadows or other unexplained movement in your peripheral vision?”

“No.”

“Sensation of falling, while seated or lying down?”

“No.”

“Cold spots in the house?”

“This is Nibelheim. The whole house is a cold spot.”

“I’ll go ahead and check no for that one. Voices laughing, or speaking in whispers/low tones?”

“No.”

“Thinking you hear someone call your name, when alone in the house or with others who deny having done so?”

“No.”

“Scratching or tapping on walls or under floors?”

“No.”

“Sound of footsteps, from empty rooms?”

“No.”

“Lights flickering, or inexplicably being turned off?”

“No.”

“Waking up to the certainty that there is a terrifying presence in the room with you, but unable to move or call for help?”

“No.”

“Pets behaving strangely, and/or interacting with something that is not there?”

“No pets.”

“Objects moved to strange locations, cabinets found open, doors opening or shutting on their own, et cetera?”

“Nope.”

There was a pause. “I’m a little confused, Mr. Strife. If none of these things are occurring, what leads you to believe you might have a ghost?”

“I found a dead person—”

“You found a body??”

“No. Let me finish my sentence, will you? I found a person who I know to be dead, except he’s not acting dead, and he was hanging around in an abandoned basement, naked and crying.”

“He was…that’s uh…wow. A lot to unpack. You’re sure he wasn’t just abducted, and presumed dead? Because, to be honest, that’s kind of what it sounds like.”

“I’m sure. I killed him, myself.”

The bellhop choked audibly. “I—I see. And, uh…the person you found in this basement, who resembles the person you killed—”

“Not resembles. It is him. He answers to his name and knew where he was. But he doesn’t remember me. He seems to be having some kind of weird amnesia, where he’s only getting parts of his memory back.”

“And, um. Not to belabor a point,” the bellhop said gingerly, “but, what makes you think he’s a ghost? I mean, apart from the fact that you claim to have killed him and are definitely one-hundred percent certain that he did actually die.”

“He’s pale. Like, corpse pale. His body is ice-cold. All of it gets kind of transparent, sometimes, but mostly his hands and feet. He has trouble touching things, without his fingers going right through them. And sometimes, when he talks, he fades in and out, like a radio.”

The sound of a pencil scratching, from the other end of the line said enough, so Cloud continued.

“Normal lighting hurts his eyes, so I have to use a gas lantern or just the fireplace. He doesn’t seem to see very well, or maybe he’s just seeing things that aren’t real. Less than two hours ago, I watched him walk straight through a solid wall of stone that he insisted wasn’t there. Also, when I found him yesterday, he was an adult. When I woke up this morning, he was a little kid. Now he’s a teenager.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Mr. Strife—”

“Cloud.”

“Cloud. If you would go this far, just to play some kind of mean-spirited prank—”

“Do I seem like the type of person who plays pranks, Benjamin?”

“Not really,” he conceded. “If anything, you seem to be the 'broody edgelord who takes himself way too seriously' type.”

“That’s not…inaccurate. So, can you help me, or not?”

Benjamin let out a long breath. “Hoo, boy. Let me be honest with you, I thought I was prepared, but none of my usual checklists cover anything like this. That said, your guy actually sounds a lot like a ghost. There are inconsistencies, but if what you’re telling me is the truth, I can’t think of any other explanation. Um. Let me look something up, real quick.”

“Sure, take your time.”

There was another lengthy pause in which Benjamin muttered to himself and Cloud heard pages turning.

“Alright, found it. So, the Cetra believed that the spirits of human beings could be temporarily unable to enter the lifestream, for a number of different reasons. A spirit can’t inhabit its dead body, though, so they show up as disembodied entities, mostly resembling intangible wisps of light. These are what people would commonly call ghosts.”

“But mine’s not an intangible wisp, or whatever,” Cloud pointed out. “He’s actually pretty solid. I even carried him a few times.”

“Right. Hence the inconsistency. The only stories of ghosts being able to take physical bodies and walk around interacting with living people, are from ancient oral traditions, and those were supposedly the spirits of demigods.”

“Ok, back up. Forget about the body thing, for now. What are the reasons someone could be unable to enter the lifestream?”

“Strong resentment, unfinished business, promises to keep—any kind of attachment so strong that it keeps them hanging on, past their time.”

“So, if it was that, what would we do about it?”

“Supposedly, the attachment has to be resolved, then the spirit can be freed and enter the lifestream. For humans. For the demigods…that’s a different story. They were considered to be corrupt beings, so they were rejected permanently. Pretty sad, if you ask me.”

“Corrupt how?”

“Well, demigods are the offspring of humans and gods, which is a big ontological no-no. Gods can’t die, and can’t enter the lifestream, but that’s a whole other thing. The children of an eternal god and a mortal human, therefore, are stuck between worlds. Their bodies can die, but their spirits can’t ascend to godhood, and they can’t join the lifestream either, so they just linger. Some of them go mad and turn into malicious entities, that spread plague and disaster and war, and some just gradually lose themselves, fading but never disappearing. Like Zeno’s paradox, but with existence, instead of infinitely shrinking distances.”

“Shit. That is pretty sad.”

“Yeah, man. Have you studied any mythology? Like, ninety percent of it is a huge bummer.”

“There’s another thing. I attacked him with a sword, when I first saw him. He wasn’t hurt at all, but the attacks backlashed on me, really badly. I’m still recovering from the internal injuries. What could cause that?”

“Huh,” Benjamin said thoughtfully. “A sword attack certainly shouldn’t be able to harm a ghost, but how does it backlash?”

“It wasn’t the blade I hit him with. It was a directed energy spell, using the blade as a catalyst.”

“You used a mana-based attack on the alleged ghost, and it backlashed on you? Holy shit.”

“What?”

“Well, in my experience—I mean, my experience researching ghost-related phenomena, obviously—untethered human souls are extremely fragile. An energy spell should have scattered it, if not destroyed it completely. I’ve never heard of one defending itself, let alone being able to harm a living person.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. So, to be on the safe side, maybe don’t do that anymore. In the meantime, are there any other extremely significant details that you haven’t bothered to bring up, yet? Because, I’d really like to just hear it all at once, if that’s ok.”

“Just a few things. He has these memory flashbacks, he gets caught in. He can bring me into them, but he doesn’t know how. It’s happened a few times. Also, when we were sleeping, last night, I dreamed a bunch of random pieces of his memories.”

“You believe he’s a ghost, and you went to sleep, in the same room with him?”

“I just said sleeping. Why do you assume we were in the same room?”

“Were you?”

“Yes. What does it matter?”

“I’m impressed, is all. You’re a different breed than most huma—ahem—most people, aren’t you.”

“He was a lot scarier alive. That’s why I want to figure out how to kill him permanently, as soon as possible.”

“Without killing yourself along with him, you mean.”

“Sure.”

“O…kay. Anything else you haven’t mentioned?”

Cloud opened his mouth to tell Benjamin about the pain in his chest, that had been growing since he approached Nibelheim, and how it had gotten unbearable when Sephiroth started to fade, earlier, but for some reason, he became extremely reluctant to talk about it. “Uh. No, that’s all.”

“Alrighty,” Benjamin said cheerfully. “I’m gonna have to do a little research and get back to you, because, um. Ha ha. I’ve never heard of anything like this situation, in my life.”

“Right. Well, thanks for doing this. I appreciate it.”

“Anything for a friend of Chadley. Hey, just out of curiosity, where’s your ghost, now? You didn’t talk about all of this in front of him, right?”

“No, I sent him out to chop firewood, so we could talk.”

“You sent him to chop firewood. And he just…obeyed you?”

“Yeah. He’s been cooperative, the whole time.”

“Wow. Are you sure you don’t want to keep him? Joking, joking. Oop, got some customers. It was nice talking to you! Bye!”

“See ya,” Cloud replied, but the man had already hung up.

What a strange person. Which, upon mature consideration, was rather unsurprising, for an upside-down bellhop at the Haunted Hotel, who dressed like a mummy for work, and studied ghosts in his free time. Despite all that, Cloud felt inclined to trust him. There was something familiar and reliable, in his aura. Like they’d already known each other.

Cloud’s hyper-tuned hearing didn’t detect any chopping, outside the cabin, so he went out to see how Sephiroth was faring. Fat snowflakes were falling heavily, and the world was still and silent, the way it only gets, when everything is muffled under several inches of snow.

Sephiroth was nowhere in sight, so Cloud went around to the back and stopped short. The woodshed door was wide open, and what appeared to be smoke was billowing out into the cold air.

“Fuck—Sephiroth!” he exclaimed, dashing for the shed.

The boy popped his head out. “Cloud? What’s wrong?”

“What’s going on?” Cloud asked, confused. “What is all this…steam?”

“I filled the shed all the way up, and now I’m using a desiccation spell, to dry the wood out, so it’ll burn better and it won’t rot,” Sephiroth explained brightly.

Cloud peered into the shed, and saw the neatly and tightly stacked wood, already split and free of twigs and foliage. Sure enough, there was a thin layer of yellowish light on all of it, and it was cheerfully releasing steam, like a huge stack of fresh baked buns.

“What about the wood that was already in here?”

“I moved it all to the woodpile, at the front of the cabin.” Misunderstanding Cloud’s expression, Sephiroth’s face fell, “I—I’m sorry, I know you didn’t tell me to do that, but I thought—”

“No, it’s ok,” Cloud interrupted. “I was just surprised that you worked so fast. You did everything right. Good job.”

The beautiful boy lit up like a firework, at that little bit of praise, nearly annihilating Cloud on the spot.

His cheeks and nose were touched with pink, from all the exercise in the cold, which only made him look even sweeter and more innocent, as he beamed up at him. If only he could’ve stayed this way. If only he hadn’t been tortured and horribly abused, until he became the very monster he’d always feared he was.

The moment his heart began to soften, a surge of black bitterness rose up in Cloud’s throat to choke him. How could Sephiroth ever have been like this? He was always beautiful, but he couldn’t have been innocent and sweet, even at this age. He was already a cold-blooded killer, after all. It must be a deception, to manipulate him.

“You look sad,” Sephiroth said. “Is everything alright?”

“You’re turning pink.”

“Am I?” Sephiroth reached up to touch his cheeks, self-consciously.

“Yeah. But why?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re dead,” Cloud said flatly. “You don’t have blood. So how would your cheeks flush from being cold?”

The boy’s eyes suddenly went hazy and unfocused. “I’m…I’m dead.”

Sure enough, the flush of color drained from his face, leaving his skin waxen white; so translucent, that his veins were visible in his cheeks, as faint, bluish lines. His whole person seemed to wither, and become greyer and duller.

Cloud immediately regretted listening to that bitter part of himself, and lashing out at the boy. Whatever evil Sephiroth had done, this child hadn’t done it, yet.

“Seph…I’m sorry,” he said, gingerly patting the boy’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t have talked to you that way.”

Sephiroth’s skin instantly began to brighten, again, and that dead, grey cast fell away. But now his eyes were dewy and pink-rimmed. “Wh—why did you call me that?”

“What?”

“You called me Seph.”

“Isn’t that how people usually shorten your name?”

“I don’t know.” Two big, round tears rolled down his rosy cheeks. “No one ever has.”

Cloud was utterly at a loss, so he just patted the boy’s shoulder again. “Come on, don’t cry. Let’s go inside. You’re covered in snow.”

They hung up their coats on the hooks by the door, and kicked the snow off their boots, which they set by the fire, to dry. While Sephiroth put more wood on, Cloud was assessing the food supply, in case this storm lasted a while. He wasn’t too worried, though. He’d stocked up well on canned and dry goods, had plenty of fish in the freezer, and could always hunt.

It was no problem for him to traverse the route into town in extreme weather, but that wouldn’t do a lot of good if the town was too snowed in to function. If worse came to worst, he’d go over and clear the main roads. That was work that would be long and arduous for an entire crew of regular people, but with his strength and fire spells, wasn’t even difficult. He’d done it before.

While Sephiroth was bathing, Cloud toasted up some simple, grilled cheese sandwiches, on the skillet, which he cut into triangles. Then he got out a saucepan and began to heat up some milk.

The heavy snow put him in mind of winters with his mother, in their little house, and the rare luxury that was hot cocoa. He didn’t have peppermint sticks or marshmallows, so he sprinkled a little cinnamon on top.

He was just pouring it into the mugs, when Sephiroth came out, in those old sweatpants and another of Cloud’s t-shirts. He’d pulled his damp, chin-length hair back into a mini-ponytail at the base of his skull, which looked ridiculously cute.

“Dinner,” Cloud said.

Sephiroth sat dutifully at the camp table. “What’s this brown stuff?” he asked, wrinkling his nose at the mug Cloud set in front of him.

“Cinnamon.”

“And we drink it?”

“If you want. You don’t have to.”

Sephiroth reached for the mug, which his solid-looking fingers picked up with no trouble. Putting it to his lips, he took a cautious little sip. He froze for a beat. Then his eyes went round and starry and he sucked down every last drop of the warm, creamy cocoa, smacking his lips and ‘mm-ing’ delightedly between slurps.

Cloud nearly spit his own cocoa out, laughing, at the tragic face he made, when he realized his mug was empty. “You like it, huh?”

Sephiroth nodded vigorously. “Mn! I love it! I want to drink cinnamon all the time!”

“It’s called hot cocoa,” Cloud corrected. “Cinnamon is just the stuff sprinkled on top.”

“Hot cocoa,” Sephiroth repeated. “What is it made of?”

“My mom made it with chopped up chocolate and sugar, but I just use the tinned mix. There’s more in the saucepan, if you want.”

Sephiroth’s expression became grave. “Your mother taught you to make this?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re sharing it with me?”

“Looks that way.”

“Thank you,” Sephiroth said, dipping his head, as Cloud poured more cocoa into his mug. “I feel very honored.”

“It’s just hot cocoa. I’m sure everyone’s moms made it for them.”

“My mother…would have made this for me?”

“Probably.”

Sephiroth fell silent, looking reverent and reflective, as he slowly sipped the cocoa, this time, carefully savoring every mouthful, seemingly lost in his own little world. He didn’t touch the grilled cheese, but Cloud hadn’t expected him to. He was surprised enough that the boy was able to drink the cocoa. He ate both grilled cheese sandwiches, himself, without remarking on it, then went to take his shower.

When he came out again, Sephiroth had washed the dishes and tidied up the kitchen. Cloud had never thought of Sephiroth as someone who would be able or willing to undertake such mundane tasks. He’d only seen the lofty and beautiful hero, standing at the vanguard, sword in hand, sweeping away enemies like chaff on the wind.

This ghost, however, was turning out to be quite the cheerful little domestic helper, willing to do whatever task was at hand, and very good at everything he put is hand to. He’d even piled more wood onto the fire, swept the floor, and tied up the garbage in a neat little bundle, by the door, to be carried away.

Cloud lay down in his bed, but seeing the teenaged boy curled up on the rug, by the fire, wrapped in his one blanket, was too much for his conscience.

“Seph,” he said. “It’s too cold to sleep on the floor. We can share the bed.”

The boy looked up timidly. “Are…are you sure?”

“Yeah, come on. If you get sick, it’ll just be more trouble for me.”

Thus reassured, Sephiroth hurried over in his blanket and threw it over the top of the others, then shimmied in under the covers.

“Oh,” he breathed. “Your bed is so soft!”

Cloud squinted. “Is it?”

“It’s the softest bed I’ve ever been in! It’s amazing!”

“It’s just a futon on a wood frame.”

“What’s a futon?”

“It’s um…a Wutaian mattress.”

For what seemed like a very long time, Cloud lay stiffly on his back, staring up at firelight dancing on the ceiling, and carefully avoiding touching the boy, who was writhing and wriggling about, like he had fleas. At long last, he seemed to get comfortable and settle down. But just as Cloud was closing his eyes to drift off—

“Cloud?”

“Hm.”

“Why does your hair stick up like that, but mine hangs down?”

“Dunno. This is just the way it is.”

“Can I…can I touch it?”

Cloud eyed him dubiously. “Can you touch it? I mean…I don’t know why you want to, but I guess so.”

Sephiroth reached out and delicately prodded the blonde spikes. “It feels just like my hair. I thought it would be more like goat hair.”

“What? Why goat hair?” Cloud scowled.

Sephiroth grinned and kept petting his head, absently scooting closer, till their knees touched.

Cloud’s stomach fluttered nervously, in spite of himself. Yes, he was an adult now, but this was his first love, after all. In his mind, he was suddenly eleven years old again, gazing at a Shinra recruitment poster he’d kept secreted away in his bedroom, daydreaming about what it would feel like to kiss those perfect lips.

“Ok, time to sleep,” he said abruptly, turning onto his side, with his back to Sephiroth.

“Goodnight, Cloud,” Sephiroth whispered, after a few minutes had passed.

“Goodnight, Seph. Now, no more talking.”

THE AUTHOR HAS SOMETHING TO SAY credit to @soundcrusher for the bellhop's name and backstory, which they let me borrow for this fic 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

ao3

[theghostinmeisyou]

As it is pretty clear that "Price's Daughter AU" is going to win the poll, I thought it silly to wait the remaining hours before posting 1 of 2 fics I've written for this au (the other fic is gonna be a long one so hold on!)

So here you have it, Price's Daughter AU with Ghost x Reader smut

You hate big family gatherings, but on the 4th of July there’s no excuse to not come visit your dad’s yearly bbq fest where he invites the whole neighborhood and a few of his colleagues to come enjoy some cold booze, colorful fireworks, and the best goddamn barbecue in all of the US of A.

Already there’s a ton of cars parked in front of your parents house, which unfortunately means you’ll have to park further up the street, having to walk all the way back.

“Fucking, stupid…” You decided to wear the absolute worst heels for an event like this, but you like looking good, and the men’s attention isn’t fully unwanted either, up until the moment Price (your dad) tries to play matchmaker with you and Gaz. There isn’t really anything wrong with Gaz, he just doesn’t do it for you, and besides your dad intervening makes it even less appealing.

But you arrive on time, as the dutiful daughter, and walk into your former home.

“Hello?” you call out, and near immediately your mother, Betty Price, comes rushing from around a corner.

“Oh my darling daughter, it is so good to see you again!” She comes at you with open arms.

“Hi mom.” You accept the smothering hug and kisses, where your mom tries to wipe off the lipstick stains by licking her finger and rubbing your cheeks. “Mom, God! I can do it myself, just- doesn’t dad need you?”

“Oh stop whining, you’ll never be too old to let your mom dote on you some! But yes, you are right, I have so much to see to! Go upstairs and get settled in, then come help your dear mother, okay?” She squeezes your shoulders.

“Okay fine,” you say and roll your eyes, feeling like a teenager again whenever you enter this home, but it’s been 8 years since you moved out, you really should act more mature.

Yet you do as told, which isn’t an odd thing coming from an army family, and you walk upstairs and into the bathroom with a window facing the backyard. You look at yourself in the mirror, wearing a pretty yellow summer dress that is, in the right light, a bit too sheer perhaps, and your dad will undoubtedly comment on it, but it’s too late to change now.

While you’re trying to wipe off the red lipstick stains your mother left on you, you hear talking through the window.

“You really can’t go anywhere without that mask, huh?” You recognize the voice as Soap, and walk to the window to see who he’s talking to.

“Not really. It’d be chaotic if all the women got a glance at my face.” A different voice, British, and not one you’ve ever heard before.

The man in the mask is tall, buff as all hell, and indeed wearing a skull mask. Intriguing, could this be the famed Ghost guy?

“How will you expect to eat any of the food then?” Soap continues.

“Can’t go a whole day without eating!” Gaz says, and urgh of course he’s here already. “Hey Captain.”

Your dad approaches them, beers in hand as he offers them to his esteemed guests. Ghost accepts one but doesn’t do anything with it; how’s he supposed to with that mask on?

“So, where’s that daughter of yours?” Gaz again, inquiring about you.

“She’s upstairs getting ready, you know how women are.” And all except Ghost laugh at that.

You roll your eyes; you’re not getting ready! You’re trying to clean up after your mother’s barrage of kisses! But you won’t let a bit of misogyny get in your way of having a fun day. So you push your tits together, creating an even more enticing cleavage, fluffs up your hair, and out the bathroom door you go again.

“There she is! My darling daughter!” your father proclaims as you step onto the back porch, and absolutely everyone turns to look at you.

Embarrassed by the attention, knowing well you’re dressed in a manner that will leave the wives gossiping, you step down onto the grass and approach the gathering of rather handsome men - yes even Gaz is attractive enough, but he’s like a puppy to you, you can practically see the tail wagging the closer you get.

“Hey Soap, Gaz.” You greet them with a smile and slight wave.

“Darling, I don’t think you’ve ever met Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley here,” Price says and gestures toward the man towering above you.

So tall indeed that you have to look up to meet his intense, burning gaze.

“Ma’am,” he says, all gruff and low, and accepts your handshake when you extend your hand. “Firm grip.”

“Father taught me well,” you muse and feel kind of proud to be complimented on your handshake. “Here, let me take that for you.” And you gladly take the beer from his hand, keeping eye contact as you take a sip from it.

“Thanks,” he grumbles.

And those were the last words you two exchanged for several hours. You talk with the neighbors, with Gaz, your parents, and everyone else except Ghost. It’s not fully intentional on your behalf, it’s just that he never approaches you, a thing you’re so used to, and you might be just a tad bit shy against his cold and hard exterior, yet whenever you look at him he’s staring at you, arms crossed, standing close to Soap. Truth be told, the summer heat isn’t all that’s getting to you, it is unbearable being underneath his intense and burning gaze.

You hope he's thinking what you're thinking as you step past him, eyes locked together, a sly smile on your lips and you see it, a hint of something primal in his glare, it's as if he hates what you do to him, and you haven't even begun yet.

So you walk upstairs, into the bathroom you were in earlier, and stand in front of the giant mirror, waiting.

Not that you have to be particularly patient, as there's a knock on the door soon after you arrive, and opening it up reveals-

Ghost, nearly the height of the goddamn door, standing there quietly. He then steps in, doesn't wait for an invite and looks around, letting out a slight, "Hm," as if 'this'll do'.

He turns to you, meeting your inviting gaze, peeling off his gloves. "You want this?" His hand reaches down to grab at the outline of what looks to be quite the erection - quick on the draw, ain't he.

"Yes-

"Yes sir," he interrupts, "Say it."

Heat shoots through you, warming and wetting your cunt. Ghost looms over you, bringing a hand up to swipe his thumb across your parted lips. God you want him so so bad.

"Say it."

"Yes, sir."

He hums, pleased. "Good girl."

And if possible, that makes you even more excited, your pussy thrombin, declaring its need for attention now.

"Lift up your dress," he commands like he's on the battlefield whispering into a walkie talkie.

You do as told, pulling on the fabric, revealing your soaked, lacy, light blue panties.

"Take them off," Ghost grumbles.

Again, following orders like you were one of his privates on the battlefield. He extends a hand, waiting, and it takes you a second to realize what he's asking for, handing him your used underwear.

He sniffs it, taking a long, deep breath, and exhaling with a guttural, animalistic, "Harrh," his eyes now hungrier than before.

Then he grabs you by the hips, spinning you around so that you face the mirror, and bends you slightly forward, testing how far down you're willing to go without forcing you.

And you feel it, the head of his cock teasing your entrance, you can't help the slight whimper as you bite down on your lower lip to keep quiet.

Slowly he pushes in and for a moment you swear it won't fit, stretching your pussy to its limits the deeper he goes, your hands gripping at the edges of the sink, but God if it isn't the most incredible feeling you've ever felt. Barely has he moved and already you're on edge, dripping wet and wanting to moan out louder than you ever have, and you're no virgin.

Ghost grabs you by the hips, not so hard that you'll bruise, but with enough force to remind you who's in charge here. He groans out as he pulls out and thrusts into you.

You watch in the mirror how he looks down at where you swallow him whole, again and again as he sets a rather calm and collected pacing.

"Y-you can go faster," you utter carefully, eyeing the open window where everyone will hear you if you don't control yourself. "I won't break."

"But can you keep quiet?"

"Why?" You smirk. "Afraid Captain Price will hear his precious daughter getting pounded by someone she doesn't even know?"

"He trusts me."

"Clearly he shouldn't, seeing how you're defiling his only child."

"Stay quiet and I may give you what you want."

"Pinkie promise," you laugh and he smacks your ass hard enough to make you yelp.

And then he sets a faster pace, rougher and harder, making you whine with pleasure.

"Fuck that's good, so tight," he groans, eyes glued to where you meet.

With every thrust his cock massages every sweet spot inside your cunt, bringing you closer and closer, and you warn him,

"I-I'm close, haah."

"Show me that pretty face of yours," he says all deep and vulgar, voice thick with lust as he meets your gaze in the mirror, staring just as intensely as he had earlier in the backyard.

And you show him just how good his dick makes you feel, mouth wide open, eyes on him, a wonderful blush across your cheekbones, and you screw your eyes shut as you cum with incredible intensity, the kind that can bring tears to your eyes as you let out a choked moan to the beat of heat exploding in your cunt.

"God that's it, arrh, haha," he grumbles quietly when it's his turn to cum, fucking you vigorously so that your tits nearly pop out of your bra, pounding you to a point where you'll be wonderfully sore for a few days. And it must have been a while since he last came because he fills you past the brim, his cum dripping out of you and onto the floor while he's becoming flaccid inside your hole, and when he pulls out, you gasp, feeling how it all spills out and drips down your leg.

"That was… wow," you laugh and look at the floor. "I'd better clean this up before it scares someone to death."

"And I'd better get outside again so your dad doesn't get suspicious." 

But you don't want him to leave, you could honestly go for a second round, maybe even three, but you get it, this was a one time thing, as wonderful as it was.

"Yep yep, you better get going then," you say, avoiding eye contact.

He grabs you by the chin and angles you upward so that your eyes may meet.

"This was lovely," he says with that deep, baritone voice and heavenly accent of his, then leaves you weak in the knees.

After cleaning up real quick and waiting a moment for it all to flow out of you, you return to the backyard and to your smiling father, so proud of his daughter, and waves you over.

"Sweetheart, come here and listen to the hilarious story Gaz just told me!" he calls to you.

You pass Ghost as you walk across the lawn, but neither of you look at the other, despite the fact that some of him is still inside of you.

[saraph-smidgens]

Prologue - Away With The Fairies

I've always been pretty good at recounting my thoughts and experiences and putting them into my writing, so I'll recount this as best as I can in the most story-like way that I can.

October 31st, 2024. Just yesterday, right? The day I first posted on this blog, which occured right after the “experience” that's probably going to have “quite an impact on my everyday life”.

I'd ordered Domino's© to eat, my usual: Texas BBQ and chicken strippers. BBQ and garlic and herb dips. Standard. Two YouTube series that I love had been updated and I had happily consumed the new content along with the meal.

Despite the hot electric blanket and chocolate drink in my skull-shaped mug, I felt… incredibly bored. I watched Coraline for the 1000th time, which I obviously loved, but it didn't lift the heavy feeling in my chest. Neither did putting on super loud music and coming up with music videos in my head for my blorbos. All that did was give me a headache.

Yet again, for probably the 10th year in a row, I'd done nothing for Halloween. I still remember one day, in my old house, where I went trick-or-treating. I don't remember my costume, only going out with my mom across the street and one of my neighbours happily complimenting it.

I know I've long overgrown that spooky ritual, but still, why couldn't I have at least worn a costume to post on Instagram or something?

I just want my life to be more interesting.

Right when I finished that thought, I felt some… change in me. The heaviness in my chest itched and swirled and tightened, and a flurry of half-baked ideas grasped my brain for a moment before leaving as quickly as they arrived. It was similar to the tightness I feel in my chest sometimes when reading an especially angsty fanfiction.

I shook my head and tucked a few strands of sweaty curls behind my ear. It probably meant nothing, just my mind’s way of stimming from the new fandom content I had been handed on a silver platter just a couple of hours ago.

I would've thought nothing else of it if there wasn't a stranger sitting at the foot of my bed.

Before I could comprehend anything else about the image in front of me, I instinctually went to scream bloody murder.

But my throat tightened.

“Hey… Hey!” soft words fell out of the figure’s mouth, “keep quiet, okay?”

My whole body was shaking, and I tried to discreetly turn my head to look towards my desk, where my usual pair of scissors sat. I quickly discarded that idea. At that moment I was tucked underneath my duvet and aforementioned electric blanket, and the figure was in a kneeling position, back straight and looking down at me. They were in a much better position to leap up and grab the sharp item.

Instead I tried to control my sharp breathing and fully comprehend what I was looking at.

A trick-or-treater who didn't share my opinion on when you had outgrown the tradition, I guessed.

Their light purple minidress practically glowed from the glitter on it reflecting the light from the TV, which was currently playing another series that I was mildly obsessed with.

Their hair was an organised mess of voluminous curls, some let loose and others tied with a pink bow to create a half-up half-down style.

Their giant purple butterfly wings where could you get ones that looked so realistic?! almost fluttered a little every time they rocked on their knees, and I could catch a glimpse of a pair of purple heels with little fake butterflies attached to the straps that encircled their ankles.

“Um,” I choked out, every muscle in my legs and arms locking up from adrenaline, “nice costume and all, but trick doesn't equate to home invasion.”

They stared at me for a few seconds before sighing softly and rolling their eyes, “God, I know you're dumb and all, and that you Combos get blinded by fear, but this is kind of a hard thing to miss unless you have literally never looked in the mirror, which I know is not true.”

I stared back for a long minute, my mind just as frozen in my body, before it clicked.

That's. My. Fucking. Face.

My mind came back and immediately rushed around for an explanation. Several came forward.

“No,” the clone(?) interrupted, “you're not dreaming.”

Well, maybe-

“There were no drugs in the Domino's©. Probably.”

Hmm, well-

“I didn't make a silicone mask of your face-”

What if-

“Enough!” They yelled and my thoughts escaped me for a moment.

“First of all,” they sighed, “I can hear your internal dialogue, use she/her please. I know you say on your profiles to use any pronouns but I'm kind of the reason you mildly prefer this set,” they- she then gestured towards her extremely feminine outfit.

But cl-

“I know that clothes don't equal gender, you know what I'm trying to say though.”

“Sorr- wait, wait, wait. Explain literally everything else you've said the past minute. You can hear my thoughts? What do you mean you're why I tend towards she-”

“Oh my God,” her wings stretched out enough to touch the walls, “how has it not clicked yet?! Am I not good enough at my job?!”

I glanced towards my TV again, peeking over her right wing, and let my eyes linger on what was playing. An episode from a YouTube show that I fell in love with in 2018, and left the fandom in 2021, before returning to just a few months ago-

“Do you get it now?”

Everything settled into place.

“You… You're a si-”

“We prefer the term smidgen, actually.”

“...why?”

“Well, y'know how a while ago you were writing a fanfic for that show and wanted some synonyms to use for that word? That was one of the ones you didn't pay attention to when googling it, but I kept it.”

“That doesn't explain why.”

She shrugged, “I don't know, it's just cute.”

I laid back, my head involuntarily shaking gently with my mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air after being caught and tossed into the bottom of a boat.

“What are you then? Give me a whole exposition dump, I can take it.”

“I-” she smiled and stretched her arms out to feel the giant butterfly wings, “am your Creativity.”

“Oh,” I hummed, “like Ro-”

“This is nothing like that show, alright?! Sure, our manifestations as people are partially inspired by it but that also comes from, like, Inside Out, and that one CGI short film about two parts of a guy's brain trying to woo a lady! Sever the connection now, I'm begging you!”

The outburst had me pressing my back to my headboard, looking at a copy of my own face with eyes that I then realised were not protected by a pair of glasses and were pointedly not dark brown. And with no pupils. Quite a wacky pair of contacts, I guess.

Then, I quickly sat up, “I- listen, this whole little act has been real cute but you need to leave my hou-”

“Saraph!” She yelled, and continued before I could comment, “don't ask what I know you will, the reason I know your nick-and-name is simple and it's because I. Am. You! Well, a very strong part of you. The bit of you that fell in love with Alexa from Barbie And The Diamond Castle and wants her to be a cottagecore lesbian couple with Liana-”

Something in me snapped, and my breathing picked up again, though the type of fear I was experiencing as I curled up into a ball in my bed was different from the one I felt when I realised I wasn't alone in my bedroom.

“And then Mariposa and Princess Catiana were also- wh- hey, wait, c’mon, it's-”

The other me’s voice became distant as tears welled up in my eyes.

“I've fucking lost it,” I whispered, “I knew the paranoia and floating colours meant there was something up but I decided it was nothing so I said nothing and now I've gone off the deep end, I'm literally talking to myself but I was a fairy princess and-”

“It's okay,” the voice came back, the speaker's wings having relaxed at her sides, “you're not crazy or insane or anything like that, I know for a fact you aren't. You're imaginative at worst- honestly I kinda wish you were mad because that would make writing surrealism much easier- listen, I know that this is very new for you but, well, you kind of asked for it.”

“H-how?” I breathed out.

“Well, about 5 minutes ago you thought to yourself, quote-unquote ‘I just want my life to be more interesting’.”

I groaned and uncurled my body, pressing my hands to my face, “God, I did, didn't I?” I then let my arms fall and sat up again, “but I didn't know this would happen!”

“So?” Creativity smiled, “you're always wanting change. And you're good at adapting to it. This could be a good opportunity for learning new things about ourselves… And for drawing and writing. Like with everything you do.”

I stopped and looked at her, “you just asked me to not make referenc-”

“I meant what I said!” she snapped, but it was gentler than before, “but I just had to get that line in.”

“Alright,” I nodded, “okay, alright, cool.”

For the first moment in the last few, long moments, it was quiet. I realised then that, with this revelation, I might not have as many opportunities for silence as before. Even though I've craved a lack of unnecessary noise for years.

At that moment, I couldn't help but look at the large, thin, pink-purple appendages which stuck out of Creativity's back.

“I like the wings,” I mumbled.

Creativity grinned and stretched them out again, “aw, thanks. They really drive the point home, huh?”

I nodded, “I was going to ask if they were real but I doubt you could have that much control over some pieces of fabric.”

“There probably is someone out there who has created mechanical cosplay wings that you can move,” the smidgen mused, “but you're right. They're real. Well, as real as the rest of me.”

My right pointer finger and thumb came up to rub at my eyes, “so, what happens now?”

“You're sleepy,” Creativity stated, “and on top of that, the clock is about to strike midnight, so I must be gone now if you are to slumber.”

“Why are you talking like that?” I yawned, “I don't like Disney that much.”

“It's the first thing you thought of, isn't it?”

“I guess…” another yawn made a crackly sound fill my ears.

Creativity finally got up from her kneeling position, instead standing on the carpeted floor. The heels made her tower over me from where I shifted to lay down more.

Her voice softened, “your art and writing's going to get so much better from this, let me tell you.”

Before I could respond, she had sunk out.

The room somehow felt emptier than it did before she arrived, but that was soon mended by one of my cats jumping up onto the bed and curling up in the place Creativity had sat just a moment ago.

My eyes grew heavy and my thoughts began to slow down in the way they always did as my brain tried to convince me to sleep.

A human-like being representing all my creative ideas, who I can talk to face-to-face and go over my reverie with…

Maybe that could be better.

Yeah, fucking weird right? Who would've thought the embodiment of my Creativity would take inspiration from my childhood love of Mattel, Inc.'s Barbie movies? And why those ones and not the Rapunzel one? A recluse, introverted painter seems more fitting to my personality than Mariposa. Oh well, I'm writing this right after I woke up on the morning of November 1st, meaning that the spooky month is officially over unless you're those two kids.

Reiterating what I said at the start, I'm pretty good at writing out shit that's happened to me in the form of a story, huh? There may have been a few pieces of dialogue that I missed out but I just woke up, alright? And I was in a state of panic for most of it. Forgive me for my imperfect memory.

I hope this was at least mildly enjoyable for you, and if so, I'll post any more strange happenings with these “smidgens.” as long as this gets more than a handful of notes on Tumblr.

Have a good start to the month with the American colonisation holiday!

[claireelle18]

The Reactions

A/N: These are the reactions of fans meeting their favorite hockey player and the player's significant other. There are 3 players for this one. I am open to writing more - just send a request in!

Ross Colton:

It was a balmy day, that pre-afternoon thunderstorm humidity creating a thick wall outside of any area that could potentially hold air conditioning.

The season ended for the Bolts, but the battle for Lord Stanley continued for other teams. Bogo invited the team over to watch it while having a BBQ. He had asked that a side dish, snacks, or dessert was brought along, which prompted the rushed trip into the local grocery store.

Ross's frame hid her smaller frame as the two decided what to bring to the barbecue. The case of beer held by his side, the other arm wound around her waist. "How about we just bring some hummus and pretzels? We could also bring a box of cookies because we both know the kids would love us forever," he suggested, grabbing the bag of tiny pretzels. She nodded along, starting to walk over to where the cookies were in the bakery.

With their quest for snacks completed, the couple head to check out. She chirped about him not grabbing her some drinks, because 'beer is awful.' He chuckled, went to grab her a case of her own drinks, and return to the long line. That's when a young fan popped up behind them.

"I am so sorry! He just saw you from down the aisle. He's a big fan of yours," the frazzled mom spills.

Sharing a look, Ross turns to the boy. "Nice to meet you...."

"Jason!" A toothy, energetic reply comes. "As mom said, I am a huge fan. I watch everything I can! Can we get a picture, please?"

"Well that's very nice of you, buddy. Absolutely so," he says to him. "Hey hun, do you need my card?" he asks, turning to you.

"No, I've got it," she explained. He turned back to Jason, his mom ready to snap the picture. The two boys pose, large smiles on both faces.

"Who's that?" Jason questioned, peering over towards her.

"That little dude is my girlfriend."

Jason's jaw drops. "She's super pretty!" Hearing Ross chuckle, you turn and give the boy a soft smile and a little wink. "Lucky her! Can she be in the picture too?"

"Nah, I am the lucky one! Only if she wants to be." A set of pleading eyes convinces her to join the picture. The two leave to continue their shopping, and to let the couple get to where they needed to go.

Later that day Ross found the picture of the three, along with the caption, 'Thank you Ross for stopping and taking the time to say hi and to both of you for taking a picture with the little man.'

___________________________________________

Brandon Hagel:

A day spent accidentally burning in the sun, playing tag and soccer, crashing in the waves led to catching a bite to eat at one of the various beach restaurant locations. The Key West styled and painted building invited the couple up to the roof top bar.

Amidst the semi-impromptu sunset dinner date, she notices a girl, who she couldn't decide if was closer to the teens or early twenties, glancing over at their table. He also clocks her on his radar, but continues to focus on his lovely company. "Honey, you're going to need to apply aloe!"

She groans, "Ugh! I swear I had enough sunscreen on, but I can feel that post sunburn feeling already starting to take affect."

He throws a few ice cubes from the bottom of his water glass at her, laughing then starting to hiss like when water hits a burning hot pan. She makes a face at him, sending a glare towards him, as he continues to laugh. "My poor poor little crispy tater tot. We can stop on the way home to make sure we stock up on the sunscreen and aloe," he promises.

The two continue their meal, making the occasional chirps at each other. "Finish watching the sunset, to the store for the promised relief, then home for a shower," she compromises with him. He downs the remainder of his third water cup, reaching to grab the half drank beer. Again he clocks the other girl. Their table had just been cleared from the food baskets, which is when she decides to take her chance.

"You're Brandon Hagel," she states looking at him after approaching the picnic table.

He swallows his drink, "That I am. Can I help you?"

"I think I can help you. I cannot keep my eyes off of you. Can maybe I get your number?" She asks, a small pout to her lips, while she twirls a strand of hair.

"I don't have an issue taking a picture with you, but as you can see I'm here with my girlfriend," he motions toward her. The fan turns toward said girlfriend, eyeing her up and down. "You didn't even acknowledge that she's here. So please be kind to us.”

After she stalks away, he turns to you. “So tots - you ready for that promise relief?” A set of pleading eyes sends the couple off to retrieve the items and take a much needed indoor break.

————————————————————————

Brayden Point:

Her coworkers and begged for a drink after the long day. She agreed, but texted him to join them at the local restaurant. This really would be the first time he meets the entire work family. When he arrives, she disappears to retrieve him. “Team this Brayden. Brayden these are the lovely ladies who help me survive the day.”

“Nice to meet everyone,” he nods.

It takes a bit before Janet, the work team grandma, puts two and two together. The dots connect for her. Brayden had just excused himself for a moment. “Wait wait wait tots! You’re telling me that your boyfriend is Bolts player Brayden Point?! How am I just putting this together?”

She laughs, “Jan, we don’t really put this out on display for everyone. Neither of us want to draw attention to our private life.”

“Right there sweetheart. Never really gets questioned too much honestly. I think poor Bea gets confused as a fan or a friend of one of the other guy’s girl’s more than anything else,” he chuckles sitting down, arm draped around her shoulder.

“I can’t believe you never said anything!” Janet continues. “You’re dating basically a local celebrity!”

“Well you never really asked, and we don’t tell many people. Rather just let them find out on their own,” she shrugs. “We joke that it’s a secret club once people find out about us. So umm…welcome to the club I guess!”

[orionsangel86]

Okay so I have a bit of a random question that you might or might not know the answer to. For context, I’m gonna be doing a working holiday in Ireland because it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity due to having to be currently enrolled in college or at least within the first year post graduation. Well I’ve been told by multiple people, who have no relationship with each other, that it’s much better for me to say that I’m from Texas than say I’m an American. While both are true, they’ve told me that people have been much more friendly towards them when they say that they’re from Texas and just leave it at that. Do you by any chance know why that is? I’ve tried to look it up, but all I’ve found was the impression y’all get from us are basically guns, big, and BBQ. To me those don’t seem like things that correlate, which has made me more confused.

All good if you don’t know or if it’s not even something you’ve personally experienced or heard of people experiencing. I’m just curious more than anything

Hey! Well I'm a Brit, London based, very English, so I can't speak for the Irish at all (and wouldn't dare even if I thought we might share an opinion on the matter!) but I've never heard of this.

Honestly though? Its just my opinion but I would have thought it would be the other way around? If the people telling you that are from Texas, I'd say thats a bit biased as I know Texans are known for being very proudly, well, Texan.

Most people I know from this side of the pond, whether British or European, aren't gonna judge individual Americans just on the fact that they are American. Unless you are a walking stereotype and rather obnoxious about it I wouldn't be too concerned. We are aware that America is a huuuuge place with a LOT of different types of people living there.

But Texas does have a reputation. The Texas stereotype is more ingrained that the general American imo. Loud, large, right leaning, guns, cowboys, etc...

Texas is one of the more recognisable states to most people over here along with New York and California (and Florida although I think most Brits (again, I cant speak for the Irish) just associate Florida with beaches and Disney World). So whilst I doubt your friends assumptions that people here are friendlier to Texans, its likely coming from a place of recognition. The reaction upon meeting a Texan might be "oooh Texas! Cowboys!" And the Texan in question would view that recognition as extra friendly when its really just "i am aware of you" whereas if you said you were from say Missouri you'll be met with a blank face.

A Californian might feel the same reaction applies to them, that by saying theyre from California, they are likely to get a stronger reaction than saying they are just from America simply because the European person is more aware of California and can make assumptions based on their general knowledge of California.

So thats my best guess. If you want people to associate you with cowboys, horses, guns, bbqs, etc, then by all means proudly state you are from Texas - you just might need to elaborate to then fight a general stereotype.

Just to be clear, I'm not saying everyone will stereotype you, but these are generalisations. I'm actually from Essex, and I often don't admit to that because Essex in the UK has a very strong stereotype which was only further encouraged by that ghastly reality TV show about it. If I say I'm from London, people aren't gonna make too many assumptions. Saying I'm from Essex I immediately get the smirk and the knowing look and the "oh youre an Essex girl are you?" And I HATE it. But some women from Essex might get a kick out of that I suppose.

So what I'm actually saying here is it all depends on how you want to be viewed. Its not about friendliness. People arent friendlier to Texans than other states. Its about whether or not you wanna be associated with peoples general stereotypes of Texas and whether you view those associations as positive or negative.

[recoverywithgh0ul]

Hey there, Ghoul here! Welcome back to another what I eat in a day. I’m back~ I took a couple extra days just to decompress, because I was having kinda shitty jet lag. BUT it was well worth it, because honestly, I wouldn’t have traded that trip for anything~ :>

Also just a little note, I know specifically on my tumblr I alluded to possible making a ‘what I eat in a week’ though, that didn’t really happen lol. When I got there, honestly I was just trying to be present in my time with my partner, and just enjoying my experiences with them. Though to make up for it, I do have a post idea. I should have it up hopefully this week, so stay tuned for that~

Anyways,, onto our regularly scheduled programming!

Breakfast~

Oatmeal and fruit, with a side of avocado toast

Snack~

Half a package of hot fries, carrot and hummus

Lunch~

BBQ tofu rice bowl with veggies

Snack~

Yogurt cup, and some bbq chips

Hummus platter with veggies, pita chips, and a cheese slice

Dinner~

Bread chunks, cooked ham, and egg scramble, with a side of peppers and cucumber

Drinks~

Protein coffee

Water throughout the day

So today was a bit of a confusing day. It was really hard to differentiate between mental hunger and body hunger. Which is okay, I’m just honestly trying to be patient with myself and just go with the motions and do the best I can to take care of my body and mind. And also instead of justifying my food intake, I’m just not. It’s what my body needed, and that’s okay. Not everyday is going to look the same, and when you’re healing your relationship with food sometimes just eating the food your body’s will need will feel like you’re out of control. I promise, you’re not. If you’re getting hunger cues, I can guarantee they’re for a reason. As always I’m not a professional, so I can’t give you professional advice, I can only share my experiences and the knowledge I have. I hope this helps, remember to honor and care for yourself~

As always, you deserve recovery, good luck on your journey, and until next time~

[kitchenghor]

What is the difference between Weber vs kitchenaid grill?

🔥 Grill Showdown: Weber vs. KitchenAid! Which Sizzles Your Summer Better? 🌭🔥

Hey LinkedIn Grill Masters! 👩‍🍳🔥 Let's talk grills – the heart of every backyard cookout. 🌞 I recently dove into the Weber vs. KitchenAid debate, and the results were sizzling! 🥩🤔

💡 Did You Know? Choosing the right grill can make or break your BBQ game. Weber and KitchenAid are two heavyweight contenders in the grilling arena. But which one deserves the crown? Let's find out!

🌟 My Grilling Tale: A Quest for the Perfect BBQ Last summer, I found myself standing in the grill aisle, overwhelmed by choices. Weber's iconic design called to me, while KitchenAid's promise of versatility intrigued my culinary side. It was a tough decision, but I ultimately made a choice that transformed my backyard into a culinary haven.

Weber: The Maestro of Tradition

Unmatched Legacy, Unparalleled Flavor

Weber's history is like a perfectly marbled steak – rich and flavorful. 🥩 With decades of grilling expertise, Weber delivers that classic, smoky taste we all crave. The sizzle of a Weber is not just a meal; it's a symphony of tradition and taste.

KitchenAid: The Versatile Virtuoso

Beyond the Grill: A Culinary Companion

KitchenAid grills redefine versatility. 🍳 From searing steaks to baking pizza, it's a culinary companion that wears many hats. The thrill of experimenting with different cuisines is what sets KitchenAid apart – a modern twist to the classic backyard BBQ.

Your Turn to Decide!

Now, I want to hear from YOU! 🔊 Comment with your favorite grill or share your grilling story. Are you #TeamWeber or #TeamKitchenAid? Let's turn up the heat in the comments! 🔥👇

📌 Pro Tips:

Like this post if you're a grilling enthusiast!

Comment with your go-to grill brand.

Share this post with a friend who needs a grilling upgrade.

Explore the hashtags to join the Weber vs. KitchenAid conversation!

[puckoffsdaily]

Puck Offs, Pit Rooms & Pigskins!

Hello, Houston Puck Offs aficionados! It's your favorite beat writer, the ever-curious and cat-lovin' Xavier E. Novak. Guess what? Yours truly got a front-row seat to Day 3’s antics, and trust me, it was a whirlwind! No longer lurking in the shadows (or under cars chasing my feline friends), I was officially invited! Yes, dreams do come true.

Firstly, let's address the wheely big topic. Roller skates at a hockey training camp?! I've been to roller discos that were less fun. Their explanation? Testing adaptability. My theory? Maybe they're just prepping for when climate change finally makes maintaining an ice surface in Houston, Texas a literal impossibility (although in that case, I suppose snorkels and flippers may be more appropriate). In fairness though, they did eventually graduate to real ice, so it’s not a total roller derby shift.

The communication comedy continued unabated for some time this morning. Megaphones everywhere, like a cat with two tails, I didn't know which way to turn! With some additional experimentation however, the team did appear to arrive at a solution. The new setup, with radio-connected earpieces. Purrrfect. No more echoes, just some crystal-clear translations.

Strategy implementation time was just as entertaining. Seeing players attempt to block each other with a fist-to-face strategy made me wonder if perhaps they've been watching a little too much boxing (Rocky is a very popular movie overseas) and not enough actual hockey. But hey, everyone's got their flavor.

Now, onto the juiciest tidbit – the BBQ pit stop. "The Pit Room" should perhaps consider renaming itself "The Nap Room" after that post-lunch performance. Though, between you and me, I think they might've slipped in some catnip into those BBQ sauces.

As for the fisticuffs, let's claw into that, shall we? So, while the team keeps the combatants' identities hush-hush, my whiskers were twitching at the scene. An argument about the greatest pro football team of all time turned rather heated. The '93 Dallas Cowboys were mentioned, and the retort? Let's just say it was not in English and certainly ruffled some feathers (or fur). Thank heavens for the ever-serene Heikki Korhonen, our in-house Zen master, who split the two before things turned hairier. Peace was restored quicker than a cat chasing a laser dot, with just a few scratches to show for their passionate debate.

In summary, Day 3 was a spectacle - full of twists, turns, and a touch of cat-like curiosity. The journey continues, and this cat's got his eyes on the prize. Stay tuned, and as always, keep it purrfect, Houston! 🐱🏒🎤🍖🛼

Meow,

Xavier E. Novak

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Mon 22 Feb ‘21

Will Harry appear in Marvel’s Eternals, the discourse rages on (and not everyone is happy about it! Ah, they’re just bitter about being SO WRONG about Eroda well SO SORRY REDDIT, fangirls always be winning...) Anyway, a person whose account listed them as Jordan Samurakami, Marvel social media team employee, followed Harry; on the one hand, the social media coincidence stack is growing, but on the other hand 37 million people follow Harry and I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say most of them just do so to see his posts rather than because they’re pals with him or have Something to Tell us. Still, this guy does do social media for a living so it’s possible he knew what he was about, sure. It was an account with 4 posts and 100 followers that listed his Marvel connection top and center and when the follow drew fan attention he deleted both the instagram and his twitter; that part is a pretty rational approach to drawing the attention of the harrie hordes, but the question is whether the man is great at his job and made these little accounts to do this with and then deleted them, if he was blindsided and reacted accordingly (which I have to say would be a bad look for someone in his line of work) or if the follow was related to his Marvel job at all- it was only his being followed by Harry musical collaborator Tyler Johnson (not just now, a while ago) that drew attention to him at all and as mentioned it was a very small lowkey account. Overall: another day, another meaningless tidbit and a lot of chatter about it, probably cause not much else is up which is certainly the only reason I’m going on and on about it god knows. Well, what about the movies we know for sure Harry IS in?! Well, Olivia Wilde reposted one of the pictures of Eternals director Chloe Zhao in the TPWK shirt today so that one brings us right back to Marvel discourse, dammit! Olivia has been posting about Zhao already lately though, and overall all of famous Hollywood is a small town with a lot of overlap and a lot of the stuff we see reflects that, so this one really could just be a Holiva thing rather than an Eternals thing. But here’s one with no MCU crossover at all! An extra call has been posted for My Policeman-- looks like it’s due to begin filming in Brighton in April. No rest for the Harry, he just keeps on dancing going! Next up though is the Grammys-- promo is live and happening for the March 14 broadcast, featuring Harry, but no new footage yet.

[petterwass]

Hey peeps. So something I ended up discussing on Facebook is how old Ifrit is and I thought it was fairly interesting so I figured I'd post it here as well.

The true answer is that we don't know. Ifrit does not have a official age. But we can infer some things based on her profile, personality and actions.

Firstly, Ifrit is not short. At almost 160cm she towers about her adoptive mother, Silence by a couple of centimeters, though she has some way to grow still before she catches up to her adoptive father, Saria.

Purely by virtue of her body shape (she is very lanky, much like a real teen, all flat planes and sharp angles, elbows and knees) as well as her impressive height we can assume that she is not a pre-teen or a early teen. Indeed, purely by a visual basis I'd put her between 14-16 years old, thought she could well be older with malnutrition making her not develop any curves.

(I'm using her Coral Cost skin because it shows the most of her body)

She weights either 43kg or 48kg depending on if you use the normal or the corrupted data on her profile. We will use the normal one, so 43kg.

She is also noted to behave like she was about 6-10 years old and in another place like she was 5-6 years younger than she actually is. I'm other words, she has a emotional immaturity, Which is not uncommon in victims of trauma, abuse, or torture, and Ifrit is all three of those. Likewise, we have no indication that she ever had a normal childhood, likely being raised in a lab or acquired while very young, all of which would retard her emotional maturation.

Looking up some growth charts, 43kg would but her as in the lower normal weights for a 14-year old, the absolute youngest I think she can be.

I will assume that most races in Arknights are built mostly the same as humans, with the exception of those with major inhuman bodies (Tomimi's tail for example, probably accounts for a significant part of her body weight!) or those that are noted as being very strong (Vouvre) or very light (Liberi).

I'm this case, as a Sarkaz with a fairly significant tail at 50cm long at two 23cm long horns, we can assume that Ifrit's normal healthy weight would be somewhat above that of a human.

So for a 14-year ond She's a bit underweight.

However, I don't think she's that young! I think Ifrit is a good bit older than so.

I think that due to her nature as a lab experiment and torture victim as well as suffering from very advanced magic turbo rock cancer.

I also think she she acts more mature most of the time than a 6-year old. She's more like a 10-12 year old in my mind, which I'd we accept her real age as 4-6 years older than her emotional age would put her at about 16 years old, which is what I believe to be true.

160cm is a decent size for a malnourished 16-year old and many Sarkaz seem to be quite tall, se we'll even put it down to somewhat short for her age.

43kg is of course gravely underweight for a 16-year old. But I assume that between Oripathy and massive amounts of trauma that she is malnourished and some days may have problems keeping down food.

I'm sure the Greater Rhine Labs Polycule is doing what they can to keep her fed, but making teenage girls gain weight can be tough even for normal girls, much less traumatized torture victims with a fire demon living in her head!

Further supporting this age is that in the Siesta event she was handling the BBQ grill all by herself, which is not something I'd feel comfortable letting someone less than say 15-years old do not matter their pyromantic skill.

So my conclusion then, is that Ifrit is around 16 years old, but severely malnourished and traumatized, both of which make her look and act like she's younger than she is. Likewise her experience as a combat operator can make her sound older and and controversially, even more emotionally stunted than she actually is when taking about acts of violence and burning people

[multiples-fandomswontkillme]

~Metal Family headcanons~

These are like my... general hcs)? which means I didn't include my main hc that Glam, Ches and Vicky are polyamorous, married and started dating after Glam met Vicky, and absolutely everything that implies for the kids and the relationships between each member of the fam. Maybe I'll make a separate post for that or maybe not! Who knows lkfwnlfqnf

Glam

Bisexual

Glam has constant nightmares and ocasional night terrors ever since he ran away home and is an active sleep walker. Ches helped him through the worse ones when they were younger, and learned how to deal with them, always preferring not to wake him up but being with him until the episode passed. Vicky has learned how to deal with them, though she normally asks Ches for advice with it cuz she comes out short sometimes.

He has PTSD. I bet it's diagnosed too, he takes medication and goes to therapy, it doesn't mean he still doesn't have his bad days anyway. He's trying to get better.

Glam has talked to Vicky about his past, his father and his family. This is a direct contradiction of Alina's confirmation that Glam doesn't talk about it with anyone but man FUCK THAT. We love good communication in this house, Vicky tries her best to help him, but there's only so much she can do to help.

Glam enjoys gardening, cooking and making models, he also likes doing his make up, painting his nails and dressing up in fancy, extravagant clothes even if he has nowhere important to go.

He likes taking care of everyone's hair, and constantly helps Vicky brush her hair cuz there's so much of it, Dee when he gets stressed over how tangled it can get, buys Ches hair products so he actually takes care of it, and chases Heavy so the kid actually washes, untangles and brushes his hair.

This one is kind of weird, but I refuse to think any adult in the family is unarmed at any time. Glam owns a taser and pepper spray. They're bright pink and sparkly.

This man cried his eyes out while watching Coco. He's hell to watch movies with cuz he talks and predicts what's gonna happen during the movie, judges them with scores at the end and all.

Vicky

Also bisexual!

Vicky's the one who does everyone's laundry most of the time. She prefers it that way since she's the only one that knows how to wash their black clothes so the colors stay vibrant. (This is based on my gf shaming everyone but Vicky cuz their black clothes always look so muted and almost gray, but Vicky's whole outfit is always the same vibrant black colors, so we decided that neither Glam or the kids know how to wash dark clothes)

She has anger issues, if it isn't obvious. I think she also has PTSD, mainly survivor's guilt due to her surviving the accident her brother died in. She blames herself and cannot bear to talk about it, in some sort of deep denial. If she can't remember, it can't hurt as much, right?

She has scars on the right side of her back and her hip, from the road rash she got on her brother's accident, she never treated it due to grief and it scarred badly. Apart from that, the scar of the caesarean section from Heavy's birth. She doesn't really mind both of them, they happened, nothing to do about them.

She likes watching boxing competitions, brawling matches and motorcycle repairing on TV. Loves doing BBQ's and going to the pool. Also an enjoyer of teasing her kids, kissing and loving her husband at random times, spending time drinking and bonding with Ches and bragging about her family and punching anyone who thinks they're not that cool.

Not particularly a fan of make up, skirts and dresses or any traditionally femenine-perceived stuff. But has been making exceptions due to Glam and Ches being unashamed of being seen as femenine, and actually rocking the looks. The internalized misogyny is kind of slowly dissapearing.

Apart from the guns she carries in each arm (I mean her biceps, have you looked at the size of those?? She strong) she has brass knuckles on her at all times. Glam gifts her new ones sometimes, she loves having multiple choices to punch people teeth in.

Loves horror, thrillers and action movies. Falls asleep during rom-coms and dramas. Ironically, loves gossip and talking shit about people. Enjoys hearing Ches talks about the gossip going on in the nursery home even if she doesn't know who the hell he's talking about.

Rest of the family under the cut!

Heavy

Heavy is a trans boy! He doesn't know his sexuality yet though, he's still figuring himself out. When he's older, i think he definitely dated some men but had better luck with girls.

Heavy has had innocent crushes on some girls on his class before, but they never turn into anything more cuz he's not the best at expressing himself. He follows the bother-the-girl-to-death-until-she-hates-you gimmick, and unsurprisingly, it doesn't work.

I'm sorry to break this to u but Heavy totally had an among us phase, and uses so much reddit and twitch slang... You know he does.

Likes bullying and teasing his brother to death. You know that when Dee had his first romance, Heavy was ALL up in his business being a tease and a bad attempt at a wingman. He means well tho.

He's not squeamish at all. Also has great pain resistance. This kid has picked cockroaches with his bare hands and loves cats, of course the cats have scratched him. He's tough!

Grows up to be the charming himbo he was always destined to be.

Dee

I hc him as demisexual. Kind of inherited his dad's tastes for the takes no crap, intimidating but pretty kind of people.

Can't cook. He tries but he can only do basics like rice, cereal, chicken nuggets or eggs. Complicated meals always burn or don't taste like anything at all. It drives him crazy.

Dee was a quiet and very well behaved toddler before Heavy was born. He never threw tantrums or got whims. After Heavy was born though, and despite the fact he understood his brother was small and needed special care, he started craving attention often and cried and got mad at little things. Typical jealousy of the oldest sibling.

The first time Dee fell in love with someone, he didn't recognize it was love at first. He just thought his interest on the person was born out of curiosity and aesthetic attraction, but as soon as he realized he seeked validation and companionship, that he liked seeing them smile, that he wanted to protect them, that he yearned for more time alone with them and that he wanted more than what just a simple friendship implied, it was an instant 'oh hell no'. He wanted those feelings to get the hell away, but unfortunately, they were there to stay.

Canonically likes MLP, psychological and horror anime like Death note and Hellsing, so I'm deciding he also watched Death Parade, had a FNAF phase, is very into The Walten Files. This guy enjoys any kind of specially dark ARG's and knows a ton of lore of real crime, unsolved cases, ghost appearances and other stuff. Doesn't believe in the supernatural, but sure is entertained by it.

He's a mess at romance. Flirting? His attempts at compliments are hardly flattering. Giving gifts? The best he can manage is jewelry and you can kind of tell he asked his dad for help. Dates? He's so nervous he's silent for most of it, but begins getting comfortable and having fun if his partner really knows how to get him down from his negativity cloud.

Ches

Pansexual.

He's very good with kids. He has the patience of a saint and he's laid-back, chill and fun but still is an authority figure who knows how to put limits. Sure, he's gonna let the kids light up a house on fire BUT hey, now they know everything about fire precautions, burns and how to treat them AND how to get away with arson. What an educational evening, am I right?

Due to certain info from the "Goodbye" official comic, I headcanon Ches as depressed. I don't want to elaborate a lot 'cuz of spoilers, but... God, everything related to his mom fucking hurts, man. How did he deal with all that?

Ches has been Dee and Heavy's babysitter so many times he cannot count them with all his fingers. He learned how to put those kids to sleep almost immediately (Sing Bon Jovi's "This ain't a love song" and any cheesy love song in a slow lullaby style and they're out), which movie were their favorite as kids (Heavy loved 'Monsters Inc.' and Dee never looked away during 'Meet the Robinsons'), how to console them after nightmares (Heavy needed reassurance, sweet words, and to be with someone until he fell asleep again. Dee just had to be tucked in, get his nightlight turned on and kissed in the forehead). He practically raised those kids along with Vicky and Glam.

More than once, Dee and Heavy have slipped and called Ches "Dad". Ches immediately gets his shit eating grin on and answers "Yes, son?" and does a couple of dad jokes just to mess and embarrass them. He's actually very flattered and surprised at how proud of himself he is for being a father figure to both kids.

Has a scar on the left side of his forehead due to a bottle his mom threw at him when he was younger, around the time he met Glam. He hates the scar with passion, it's a permanent reminder of the fact she never cared, that's why he always keeps it covered with his headband. Gets sad about it sometimes.

Ches likes to spend his time with a group of grannies of the nearby nursing home. He genuinely considers them his friends and gossips and hangs out with all of them on weekends. Bingo, billiards, walks in the park, soap opera marathons, you name it. I even designed them, gave them names and backstories... God, i just love the concept too much. I'll make some art about Ches and his granny gang FOR SURE, you're NOT ready for them.

Carries a pocket knife on him at all times. This man grew up on a bad neighborhood and absolutely knows how to defend himself, he can be intimidating when he wants to be and will pose a threat if needed. He's fucking terrifying when genuinely mad. Just cause he looks harmless doesn't mean he is, darling.

That would be all!

[lokislastlove]

Rural Rivalry (Bucky Barnes x Reader x Clark Kent) p1

Summary: Moving back home is made tolerable when you start dating you old grade school crush, but tensions build between him and your childhood best friend.

Warnings: NONCON/DUBCON, smut, fingering, rough sex, spanking, (some others but ya know… spoilers 🤫)

Note: This was the first thing I ever wrote, and I decided to go back and edit the hell out of it because it was BAD 😬. I feel a bit better about it now so I figured I’d post it. Fuck it. THIS IS A DARK FIC! Mind the warnings y’all. 😘

🍂

Chapter 1:

The bed squeaks as you stand to peek out the sheer curtain for signs of your boyfriend. It’s Friday, which means it’s date night. There isn’t much to do in this town, dates are limited to a movie at the small theater or dinner at one of the grand total of three restaurants - if you can even call them that. One is a 24 hour diner, another is just the local bar that serves some notably tasty BBQ.

Tonight, however, your destination is a bonfire by the river with a couple friends. Not a particularly romantic date, you suppose, but still one of your favorite nights out. It is likely the last bonfire for a while as the weather starts to chill, the familiar biting breeze creating goosebumps with each passing gust.

A smile brightens your face as dim headlights turn down the long dirt road leading to your family’s farmhouse. Stepping away from the window, you check yourself one last time in the mirror before grabbing your phone and heading downstairs. You have had a little extra bounce in your step for the past six months since you officially started dating. Really, you doubt you’ll ever get rid of those butterflies that flitter your stomach at the thought of him.

Jumping the last step on the stairs, you rush toward the front door and grab your coat. You hear the short honk of the horn outside and holler goodnight to your parents, currently lounging in the living room as they do most evenings.

With a sharp snap, you close the door behind you and shoot your most dazzling smile to the man leaning against the dusty muscle car.

“Well hey darlin’ you ready to go?” He smirks as he makes no effort to hide his eyes wandering down your body.

“Aren’t I always?” You grin back, dragging your fingers teasingly across his broad chest as you slide past him onto the soft leather seats.

“Mmm, good girl” he hums, throwing you one last flirty look before closing the door. He knows you love hearing him say that, it’s always a sure way to get you flustered which he finds irresistible.

The engine roars to life as he places his large hand on your thigh. It became a regular gesture after the first month, around the time you let him take your virginity. At first it felt like he was just trying to be close but over time you start to recognize the possessiveness in these seemingly casual caresses.

Still, it doesn’t bother you, in fact you kind of enjoy this dominating side of his personality, it’s a huge turn on. You can’t help but stare at his beautiful blue eyes and long dark hair, pulled back into a low bun that matches the dark stubble littering his strong jawline.

“You’re so pretty, Bucky” you coo as you caress his cheek.

Pretty is an understatement, gorgeous is more appropriate. Too stunning to be hidden away in this small town, but who are you to complain? The corner of his lips lift in response and he shifts to give your hand a quick kiss, but his attention is stolen by something ahead.

“What is it?” You frown and follow his icy glare only to spot your neighbor, Clark.

Clark is shirtless with grease spotting his thick arms and broad chest. He stands straight as he watches Bucky’s approaching car, toned muscles rippling as he reaches to close the hood of the truck he had been working on. He gives you a curt nod of his head and you return a small smile and brief wave as you pass.

“I don’t know why he makes you so angry. He’s harmless.” You say, taking one last peek behind you at Clark whose eyes are still fixed on you as you drive away.

Bucky’s hand tightens on your thigh as he scoffs, “is that why he’s always watching like he wants to make a meal out of you?”

You roll your eyes, “oh come on. We grew up together! We are just old friends and I think he’s just a bit protective, like a big brother.”

“Mmhmm. Whatever you say, doll” Bucky grumbles, trying to avoid discussing this again.

Out in the country where large family plots keep your neighbors at a distance, it was inevitable that Clark would be your friend. You grew up together, the only kid your age you saw on a regular basis. You stayed best friends throughout your childhood, until around high school when puberty drove it’s awkward wedge between you.

He started to gain muscle, lots of muscle, and he quickly became one of the most popular boys in school. Despite his obvious good looks, however, it was hard for you to see him as anything other than the goofy boy you used to have sleep overs with. Hardly anyone knew about his fear of thunder storms, or the small brown spot in the blue of his left eye. You never thought twice about his lingering touches or appreciative stares because he had always felt like family.

Which is why it is so frustrating that Clark and Bucky never seem to get along, something you hope time will heal.

—

After spending the car ride placating Bucky, you finally pull up to your usual spot near the river. Bucky grabs your hand, turning it over to place a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist while looking into your eyes before releasing you with a sweet smile and hopping out of the car. You can tell he feels bad about letting his jealousy ruin the start of the date, but those sweet silent gestures always manage to win you over.

Gripping his rough hand, you climb out of the car and breathe in the fresh air. It’s chilly, your breath puffing in front of you as you catch the subtle scent of burning logs. The trees practically glow as the last bits of sunshine pierce the red and orange leaves. Despite how mundane you find living in this small town, you have to admit it can be beautiful.

“Pick it up darlin’ or there won’t be any beer left.” Bucky warns as he tugs you along.

Dust billows around your boots as you walk down the short dirt path to the shore of the river. Steve, Tasha and Wanda’s laughter reach your ears before you spot them through the trees, they clearly started without you.

“Finally! I was beginning to think ya’ll ditched us to go do something more ... labor intensive” Wanda winks as she rushes to give you a tight squeeze.

“Oh hush” you scold, hugging her back before going around to give Steve and Tasha a friendly embrace.

“No date of your own tonight, Wanda? That why you can’t help fantasizing about us? I mean if you are that desperate I won’t say no to you joining us,” Bucky teases and you punch him playfully.

“You better watch it punk, your girlfriend has a pretty mean right hook” Steve chuckles and takes a sip of beer.

You smirk knowing that Steve had received one or two solid hits from you in the past. Steve is a true gentleman and a close friend of yours, but that doesn’t protect him from your wrath when Tasha comes complaining about some fight. They are a great couple, but Steve is stubborn and Tasha is guarded, which makes for some seriously epic fights, with you being their unofficial ref.

“Well... I actually did invite someone but I’m not completely sure they are coming” Wanda bites her lip and shifts uncomfortably, shooting you a guilty look.

“Oh?” You frown, brows furrowing. “Who did you invite?”

Wanda coughs and looks down briefly before nervously peeking at Bucky.

“I invited Clark.”

Seeing the flicker of anger in Bucky’s face she rushes to say, “But I don’t think he’s coming! He only told me ‘if I can’ which isn’t exactly a solid confirmation. And I wasn’t really thinking when I brought it up, he’s just so pretty and I haven’t had a date since Vis left months ago... I need this ok?!” Wanda rambles clearly getting flustered in her attempt to defend herself, but when she finishes with that trademark sad puppy face, even Bucky can’t stay mad.

“Maybe a little warning next time would be nice is all.” Bucky grumbles, stomping over to the cooler for a beer.

You sigh at the bit of tension in the air. It doesn’t bother you that Clark might stop by, you are still friends, granted Bucky monopolizes the majority of your time lately so you don’t see him as much these days. But maybe a couple beers, the presence of good friends and seeing Clark lavish some attention on Wanda will be the key to getting Bucky to calm down.

You rub Wandas back in solidarity as you turn to join the others and find a comfy spot by the fire. “He would be an idiot not to accept an invite from you, girl.” Smiling at Wanda as you cozy up on the large well worn log Bucky claimed next to the bonfire.

The sun is nearly set, everyone at least two beers deep, before Tasha breaks out the marshmallows. You love roasting them and have it down to fine art, never failing to accomplish that ideal golden brown.

“Damn! That’s the 3rd one in a row!” Steve complains as yet another marshmallow catches fire and melts off the stick, sizzling into the flames.

“Can’t be good at everything, huh babe?” Tasha jokes brushing a stubborn strand of hair out of his eyes affectionately. You take your perfect marshmallow and sandwich it between some chocolate and graham crackers and pass it to Steve.

“Thanks,” Steve smiles and without hesitation shoves the whole thing in his mouth.

The girls all laugh while Bucky rolls his eyes and lets out a soft chuckle. Tasha leans over grabbing the back of Steve’s head and licks a piece of smeared marshmallow off the corner of his mouth before going in for a messy kiss.

“Aw come on guys, it’s bad enough I’m a fifth wheel here. You don’t gotta rub it in,” Wanda complains eyeing the two of them as they break apart reluctantly.

“I’m sorry Clark hasn’t shown up, hun. I’m sure he has a good reason,” you get up and slide over to Wanda’s log.

You pull her into a side hug and give her a light squeeze. She responds with a half hearted smile and tries to wave off your concern.

“Or he’s just a dick, that doesn’t deserve you anyway,” Bucky snarks, eager for an excuse to insult Clark.

You give him an admonishing look but otherwise let it pass. Bucky laughs to himself but his face falls a little as he squints just over your shoulder. A crack sounds from the trees behind you and everyone turns to see the devil himself emerge from the darkness.

“Hope I’m not too late to get my hands on some of those s’mores,” Clark bellows as he strides toward the group. “You always did know how to do them just right,” he lowers his voice slightly as he comes up to you smiling with a playful twinkle in his eye.

Wanda jumps up throwing her arms around his neck in excitement, something she probably wouldn’t do if she wasn’t three drinks deep and feeling a bit buzzed. Clark returns the hug good-naturedly but his eyes stay on you as you stand there beaming. You knew he wouldn’t ghost a girl like that, especially someone as sweet as Wanda.

Before you can even think about giving him a welcoming hug, you feel a strong arm wrap around your middle and pull you against a firm chest. Bucky holds you to him securely, one hand on your hip possessively.

Suppressing the urge to roll your eyes, you place your hands on his arm around your waist to appease him. Leaning back into his embrace, you relax into his warmth and feel a bit of the tension leave his body in return.

“Glad you could make it,” Bucky deadpans over your shoulder. Clark simply nods at Bucky’s not-so-subtle flex, while keeping his polite smile in place.

“Well I guess you better catch up, Clark.” Steve exclaims tossing him a beer from a several yards away. With his star athlete reflexes, he catches the can single handed without flinching.

Bucky walks you both backwards returning you to your seats around the fire as everyone else settles in too. Wanda, ever the flirty drunk, drags the large man down next to her, finding any excuse to touch him.

The rest of the night passes pretty smoothly, the conversation flowing naturally. Bucky makes a few passive-aggressive comments towards Clark, but Clark takes them in stride. You half expected him to throw a few insults of his own at Bucky when you see the challenge in his eyes but he stays quiet, simply smirking through each remark as if he’s keeping a running tally in his head.

After a few more beers you start to ignore their little alpha male battle all together, brain focusing on the way Bucky’s hands feel when they run up your arms or the flutter you get when he randomly pulls you in for a kiss. Those full soft lips are heaven, tasting of watered down beer and chocolate.

With each hum and quiet whimper Bucky’s eagerness grows. The firelight softens his features and his eyes sparkle as he takes in the longing looks you give him. His fingers tickle your neck as he gently brushes your hair out of the way and leans in, dragging his lips along your jaw towards your ear. He places the softest kiss at the sweet spot he knows gives you goosebumps and huskily whispers into your ear.

“You keep looking at me like that and you might get yourself in trouble, little girl.”

You giggle drunkenly and he grabs your hand, casually brushing it along his lap so you can feel what you’ve done to him. Your breath hitches and you cant help but look up at him, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. His eyes flicker down to your mouth before bringing your hand back up to his own lips and kissing it to hide his smirk. You start to fidget as your arousal dampens your panties between your tightly crossed legs.

Bucky slides a hand up your thigh squeezing your leg while also pressing his thumb between your legs and swiping against your crotch. You suppress a moan and pout when he takes his hand away, finishing his beer as he stands to go get a new one. He chuckles as you shoot him a playful glare and you look around the group, the feeling of being watched pricking at your neck.

Tasha has her legs thrown over Steve lap as she feeds him marshmallows between his swigs of beer. You smile at how adorable they look together before your eyes finally land on Wanda and Clark. Wanda laughs as she acts out some outrageous story and Clark watches her with mild amusement. They could be such a cute couple, too, God knows they deserve some happiness in their lives. Suddenly, those familiar bright blue eyes snap to yours, like he can sense you watching him.

His eyes darken as he looks at you over the flicker of the flames. A shiver rushes down your spine and you can’t help but stare back, startled by the dark satisfaction in his smirking expression. But in a flash it’s gone, and he’s laughing sweetly with Wanda.

Must be just a trick of the light and the buzz of the alcohol. Before you have a chance to question it further Bucky takes a firm hold of your chin between his thumb and index finger and turns you to face him.

“Eyes on me, darlin.” Bucky’s voice is calm but you recognize his hardened tone. “You about ready to go?”

He keeps a hold on your face, brushing his thumb softly across your bottom lip. The feeling grounds you and you forget the weird tension from mere seconds ago, nodding at him dumbly.

—

After a short farewell and what felt like an even shorter drive back you find yourself sitting in your dirt driveway outside your parents farmhouse.

“So, did you still have fun despite your nemesis being there?” You joke.

“I would have preferred he kept those creepy eyes to himself. Wanda was lucky I was there to keep him from you,” Bucky snorts, wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Oh my god. You are ridiculous,” you roll your eyes. “I thought they looked like they were really hitting it off!”

“That man was eye fucking the shit out of you every chance he could. I’ll bet even Wanda noticed it.”

“No, I think it’s just you,” you counter.

“Hmm. Well I hope I am wrong, for her sake. ‘Cus I bet he didn’t stick around much longer after we left,” Bucky shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Clark wouldn’t do that. I bet, tomorrow, we find out that they hooked up. Maybe we won’t have to worry about Wanda feeling like a third wheel anymore,” you wink, trying to keep the mood light.

You hate how Bucky rags on Clark. You used to call him on it, but lately it isn’t worth the fight. Inevitably, Bucky always thinks you are siding with Clark, and he questions your feelings for him and his jealousy ruins the night. Well, not every night, sometimes his jealousy brings out his rougher side and you rather enjoy those nights.

“You coming in? There are still some homemade cookies left,” you offer sweetly, batting your eyelashes.

“Mmm, I’m not hungry for cookies tonight,” Bucky hums, his eyes taking you all in.

“Oh?” You smile, feigning ignorance. “What are you hungry for then?”

“I think you know,” Bucky practically growls as he grips the hair at the back of your head and pulls you into a hard kiss.

Clutching at his shirt, you pull him against you just as eagerly, causing you both to moan into each other’s mouths. You are jerked away from him momentarily as his seat slides back, providing enough room to pull you onto his lap. Your knees dig into the plush seats on either side of his hips and your aching core grinds against his growing erection.

Rocking slowly back and forth, rapidly gaining that sweet friction, hardly able to control yourself. His big rough hands find their way to your ass squeezing you hard through your jeans. Your mouth falls open as you break your kiss to moan at the pleasure building faster than you expected.

He squeezes your ass tightly through your jeans, guiding your motions before he groans and leans forward to kiss you again, biting your lower lip hungrily. Hands roaming desperately, you take a moment to grip his thick silky hair before your fingers trail down to feel his toned shoulders and perfect chest.

You’ll never get over how good he makes you feel, and this is only the foreplay. Just as your fingers start to drift further down his torso admiring every ripple of his abs you are startled by a sharp rap on the glass.

Tap

Tap

Tap

“Ah!” Choking on your shocked scream, you turn to see your fathers stern face at the window staring at you.

“I think it’s time to say goodnight, young lady,” your father warns sternly, voice muffled by the window. Lowering his ring clad finger, he stands straight and steps back from the car, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Fuck,” you whisper as you attempt to make yourself presentable before Bucky grips the door handle and let’s you scramble off his lap and out of the car. Bucky manages to adjust himself before he follows you out.

“Evenin’ sir,” Bucky greets politely, tipping his head in respect. Smiling through the awkwardness he places his hand on your back while you glare at your fathers smug expression.

“Hello Bucky, enjoy your little date with my daughter?”

“Always, sir,” Bucky confirms as you cross your arms, mirroring your dads body language.

“You done, dad?”

“I will be once you are in bed like you should be at this time of night,” he lectures, raising a bushy brow at your tone.

“It’s not even that late for Christ’s sake,” you exclaim bitterly, seriously doubting your decision to move back home after college.

“Watch your language, young lady. Won’t have any of that sort of disrespect in my house,” he scolds.

“Alright, alright. Just give me a minute to say goodnight without all your hovering, old man,” you wave him off.

He’s strict but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t always had a soft spot for his only daughter. He lets you get away with a lot, and most of this alpha-male showmanship is just posturing. Walking back inside your dad pauses at the door to give you both one last dour expression. “Five minutes and then bed.”

“Understood,” Bucky concedes with a nod. “Goodnight sir.”

You wait until the door slams before turning back to Bucky with an apologetic grimace, “sorry about him.”

“Don’t sweat it darlin’. He’s just trying to protect his little girl,” Bucky’s blue eyes glint with mischief and that familiar hunger from moments ago.

“Yeah well he’s a bit late to protect me from you,” you smirk playfully as you lean in to place a sweet kiss on his waiting lips. His hands trace the sides of your body and come to rest lightly on your hips before groaning in frustration.

“Well you better get in there before he comes and chases me down with that prized shotgun of his.”

“He wouldn’t dare,” you laugh and give him one last hug before whispering, “goodnight, Bucky.”

“Sweet dreams, darlin.”

Throwing your coat over the back of the chair, you go the window and watch Bucky turn out your driveway, a swirling trail of dust in his wake. With a small sigh you change into your favorite oversized night shirt, stolen from Clark years ago, before getting ready for bed.

The coolness of your room has you stirring in your sleep, waking to find your blankets slipping off the bottom of the bed. You blink owlishly to see that you are laying there completely exposed, shirt riding up and barely covering your chest.

Must have kicked them off during your weird dreams. As you pull the blankets back up, the cool breeze from the window rustles the pages of your open journal, teetering precariously on the edge of the mattress. Strange, you could have sworn you closed the window. Tossing the journal back into the drawer, you shuffle over to the window and peek out at the darkness before shutting it securely.

Chills roll down your body as you turn to face your quiet room. The ominous shadows leave you feeling vulnerable and you quickly hop back into bed before you could creep yourself out any more. You pull the blankets up as protection from the child-like sensation of someone watching you. You flinch with a gasp as your phone shudders on the table breaking the silence with its dull rumble. Grabbing it quickly before pulling the covers up once again, you slide open your phone and let out a breath as you see a text from Clark.

Had a good time tonight. Hope I didn’t make things too awkward for you and your boy toy. ;)

You shake your head and laugh at the nickname.

Stop calling him that! Lol I’m glad you came. You and Wanda looked like you got along nicely.

You wait for his response, staring at the three dots as they dance on the screen, thankful for the distraction from a possible oncoming panic attack.

She’s a sweet girl, not really my type though.

You frown. For one, you thought that they seemed to be really into each other at the bonfire, but mostly you just hate when Bucky is right.

Oh? She seemed really into you. You should give her a chance, she’s one of my best friends, and you know I am a great judge of character. ;)

The dots pop up again but you feel your eyes drooping as your sleepiness starts to take hold once more. Phone slipping from your grasp it tumbles and lands on your face startling you awake and you type groggily without waiting for his response.

Sleep time. Ttyl. <3

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen @threeminutesoflife @queenoftheworldisdead @needleandhammer @buttercupfangirl @thiskindahotkindamusic @lokiswildheartcantbebroken

[liecastillo]

WIP

Hey! I know I haven’t been really active in the last couple of weeks (been really busy with life) but I thought I could at least show you what I’m currently working on so here are my WIPs. 😊 I’m going to update this post as I go and reblog it everytime there’s something new. 

🔥 smut ✨fluff 💔angst

Chris Evans

Juicy 🔥 You squirt for the first time and Chris loves it

Rich Boy 💔🔥✨ Your father thinks you’re not going to make it on your own so he finds you somebody to marry (Inspired by a song by Sara Kays)

Cover Up 2 🔥✨ It’s the day of the Gucci photoshoot and although you planned not to go, Chris needs you

Prompts -TITLE TBA- ✨(maybe little bit 💔) Everyone around you sees how much you love each other except for the two of you. At least until you end up in the hospital...

Henry Cavill

Dangerous Woman 🔥 Your mother brings her new boyfriend to the family BBQ and you’re smitten by him

Henry Cavill & Chris Evans

Oh, Dear Professor 🔥 Your stepfather finds out you fucked your professor and punishes you accordingly

Which one are you looking forward to the most? 😊

Beware, some are just ideas but I’d like to make all of them happen.

If you want to be tagged in any of these stories let me know!

Taglist: @keanureevesisbae​