#incredible site thanks guise

[mwagneto]

how come I've never heard of the Tardis Guide before oh my fucking godddd finally a way i can catalogue all the doctor who stuff I've seen/read/heard etc holy shit

[mysterycharacterflowers]

Snapdragon 1

Meaning and why this flower was chosen: this flower represents both graciousness and corruption. He appears to be a kind, justice seeking person, but secretly he uses these notions of justice as a guise in order kill for pleasure

Description:

This character is a member of an elite military squad despite being blind. He works for the government, claiming he wants to uphold the law and enact justice by any means necessary however, this character uses justice as a guise, a ruse in order to get away with killing people for fun/pleasure (his sadistic tendencies are only kept in check thanks to his partner with an incredibly strong sense of justice)

(The picture was taken from this site!)

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

-Being The Duke’s Assistant- (3)

(a/n: some people really like this fic lol so here’s another chapter for y’all! also if you want a chapter 4 then please comment and reblog! otherwise I won’t have the motivation to keep writing more! thank you! <3)

–

-Learning About The Lords-

–

You’d seen more of your ex-neighbors since your run in with Vasile Kazloŭ the week previous. Seems word got around the village that you’d not in fact frozen to death or been caught and dragged into the woods by some snarling beast. And you knew a good few of them were just stopping by the Duke’s carriage under the guise of shopping just to see if those rumors were true. Not that you particularly cared what your ex-neighbors did now. If seeing you for whatever reason got them to buy something from the Duke then no skin off your nose. 

But today was different. Today the Duke said he’d be educating you on his biggest trade deals. Such deals being the Four Lords of the village. You’ll admit you gulped at hearing that. The four lords were quite notorious to the people of the village. And not for anything good despite what the fanatics would like to think..

Lady Dimitrescu, the mysterious lady who ruled the imposing castle upon the mountain that takes young women in to work but never lets them leave again. There’s a saying in the village that if a girl you know is going to work at Castle Dimitrescu then you should shower her in kisses since you’ll never see her again.

Lady Beneviento, the mysterious veiled doll maker who lives in a shadowy haunted manor that makes all those who enter there see their deceased family members. Seeing visions of the dead drives all who enter there to insanity. Most never leave, but the few who do are never the same as they were upon entering.

Lord Moreau, the monstrous looking recluse who controls the giant killer fish that has swallowed whole more than its fair share of poor fishermen of the village. It terrorized the workers at the Reservoir, devouring men like fish until they’d had enough and abandoned the site. It now sits in decay, waiting for the next fool to wander in.

Lord Heisenberg, the lord who owns the cryptic factory on the very edge of the village, where all the dead villagers bodies are sent and never seen again. Rumor has it that it used to be a coal mine but nobody living from the village has set foot in the rusted structure in decades. But despite this the factory’s smokestacks constantly billow dark soot into the sky.

Every villager knew of the four Lords. 

But apparently you were going to be learning more detail on them. Which you admit to not having much of. All you knew is what most every other villager knew. To be wary, be respectful, to pay your tributes, and do not draw attention to yourself otherwise. Those that drew attention were quite often known to draw their last breath.

The Duke it seemed was on good terms with each of the lords, at least you assumed so since he talked about them quite candidly. Not whispering their names in a hushed tone or with any amount of fearful reverence. Actually he talked about them as if they were just fellow business partners he has evening tea with. Which... well as far as you knew, could very well be the truth. But despite the Duke’s blasé outlook you felt yourself tense up when he mentioned how, as his assistant, you would be accompanying him on his future meetings with them, so it was best he told you about them now so you didn’t go in blind. Part of you wanted to just avoid that by not even going into the same building as the four lords. But the Duke squashed that thought by saying he couldn’t very well leave you to sit and twiddle your thumbs in the carriage while he was inside. 

Which you supposed you should have seen coming. You were his assistant after all. Where he goes, you go. It’s your whole job. So you steeled your resolve and took solace in knowing that while under the Duke’s protection you would be fine. you weren’t some random villager now thankfully. But even still... seeing the towering Castle Dimitrescu looming in the distance made you queasy. Your mind swam with the stories you’d been told as a child, warning you of what laid in that castle. The carriage drew closer to the imposing structure but you remained straight faced, not wanting to reveal how anxious you were. Plus, if you were being honest? This was all pretty exciting in a way! You’d left the village years ago sure, met lots of new people while you studied abroad. You learned about all the goings on of the world outside your simple village. But all of that paled in comparison to getting to meet the Four Lords.

You hoped you didn’t embarrass yourself..

-0-

While you got closer to the castle the Duke told you about the first Lord, Lady Dimitrescu and House Dimitrescu. Apparently they were famous for their incredible wine. The Duke even admitted to having a bottle of it himself stored away in the back. “For special occasions,” he told you with a smile. You also learned that House Dimitrescu also had their own vineyard where they grew all the grapes that went into the wine they made. He also revealed that there was a ‘rumor’ that Lady Dimitrescu had a very special bottle of wine in her possession, one that has belonged to her family for generations, that was called Sanguis Virginis. And its literal translation is "maiden's blood". The Duke was a touch vague on the wine, but he said that Alcina Dimitrescu has a secret process that enriches the wine’s flavor and gives it a thick bouquet. 

After that he began talking about the second Lord, Lady Beneviento and House Beneviento. The Duke spoke with a sad tone here, saying the Beneviento family slowly fell apart a long time ago. One by one the family members disappeared. And the current head of the household, Donna Beneviento, had a sister when she was a child, Claudia. But Claudia grew ill and passed away, causing her parents to grow depressed and soon after take their own lives, leaving poor Donna alone. The Duke knows Donna to be very kind, but also very lonely. She’s an incredibly skilled doll maker, even better than her father had been when he was alive. But she has trouble speaking with people without the aid of the doll friend, Angie, that her father gifted her as a little girl. He warned you that Angie could be a bit of a troublemaker, chuckling as he did.

Then came the third Lord, Salvatore Moreau of House Moreau. You raised an eyebrow when you noticed the small hint of revulsion in the Duke’s voice as he spoke about this lord. It seems that Moreau was... an odd one. The Duke tried to speak kindly of the man but even he, with his usual jovial outlook, couldn’t hide the slight way he cringed as he explained Moreau’s history. It seemed he had been a sailor at some point, and the very last of his family line, but some years ago he’d... changed physically to the point where he avoided people. He hid himself at the Reservoir his family owned and scarcely stepped foot outside of it. And after one too many... accidents there the workers abandoned the place, leaving Moreau alone to wallow in his self pity. The Duke warned you that Moreau did not look... human. And he asked you to please not stare at the man. He wouldn’t appreciate it, surely.

And then the final Lord, Karl Heisenberg of House Heisenberg. The Duke warned you that despite Lord Heisenberg’s rather casual sounding attitude, the man was quite harsh. And his factory was incredibly dangerous. He warned you to never stray from his side while there, for your own safety. You gulped but nodded as he continued. It seems the Heisenberg factory was a coal mining factory. You discovered that the Lord was an engineer, but the Duke revealed that he’d been known to tinker with things other than machines as well. That ominous note made your stomach drop. But you felt your anxiety lift a bit when the Duke told you that he was Lord Heisenberg’s supplier for a certain machine part he needs in bulk, so the man knew not to upset him. So you would be fine.

“But I think we’ll have to cut our conversation short, it seems we’ve arrived at Castle Dimitrescu,” the Duke said in a cheery tone you weren’t matching.

‘For any god listening to me... let us be alright,’ you thought helplessly.

-0-

[bastardbvby]

transcript of dream’s twitlonger undercut

starting my onlyfans:

Okay the title is a joke, but another day another "drama", although this is the dumbest one to date as it really shouldn't be a 'drama' but it is. Recently there has been a lot of people willingly spreading "dox" information that is claimed to be about me or my family. I think this is disgusting and harmful and should never be done in any capacity. Spreading potential information about someone's family is horrible, and not to mention is against basically every single sites terms of service. I've seen commentary channels show full names and addresses under the guise of "it's news" which again is just disgusting and those people should be publicly shamed and reported for even thinking about doing something like that. I've had people spread fake pictures of me, whether they be photoshopped to be with people 'close to me' like Sapnap (as if we've taken even a single photo) or deliberately planned in a way to appear as believable as possible. Including saying things like "they were found on his moms/dads facebook" when neither of my parents even have facebook and that's the dumbest thing I've ever heard, as if I wouldn't tell my parents to remove pictures of me. Things like using a photo of Karl facetiming me he posted to say "look how big he is!" when the photo is literally just another photo of Karl that we photoshopped, which is extra funny. Obviously no one is going to or can fact check these things so it's just touted as fact regardless of how ridiculous it sounds. This started a long time ago and I made a pastebin about it, as it was something being perpetuated along with lots of horrible things by someone who used to be close with me. I don't want to bring it up again, as that was months ago and I don't want unnecessary attention on it. The people saying these things are people with ill intentions with the purpose of "forcing me to face reveal" to prove I'm not 'ugly', as there's 'no other way'. They're the same people who have attempted to harass my family and friends for months because of how "manipulative and horrible" I am for "cheating in a block game". Spreading things about me having "kids locked up in my basement", which is disgusting for a million reasons, and it's Florida they're not even smart enough to realize no one has basements. Or other things about "wishing I'm a pedo" which is equally as disgusting. On another note, as someone who has gone through weight problems in their life (I was a homeschooled gamer, no surprise there), I think it's disgusting to see people fatshame and ridicule a random person just because they "could be Dream!!". I've been fairly open about the fact that I eat fairly specific and healthy things, and the reason for that is because I sit inside doing nothing 99% of the time. I've been like that for a few years. I would be incredibly unhealthy if I wasn't strict with my diet. Sapnap dropped 70 pounds in a couple months after moving in with me because he started eating healthy food and being a skater boi (lmao). (He gave me permission to say that, and good for him he looks fucking amazing and did before as well). I don't think that anyone should be ridiculed for their looks, and anyone that does that is a piece of shit human being. I will say that it's pretty funny seeing people who hate me spread these things and get more and more frustrated as people who watch me don't give a flying fuck, I play Minecraft with my friends, not model on playboy. Also, all the creators saying "dream's fan base is so horrible for doing this", get your facts straight before you look like an absolute idiot. I haven't seen a single fan of mine spread or even give the time of day to any of the bs. It's only people who despise me and think it's some kind of win to say "dream might be fat! LOL!". Felt the need to defend my fans completely on that front. I'm not going to let anyone "force me into doing a face reveal", especially not by expecting me to be offended by being compared to a guy that is bigger than me. At the end of the day, who the hell cares? I've been "fat" at certain points in my life, who gives a shit? I've said for a very long time that I plan to do a face reveal at a meet and greet type of event, something I've said for over a year, and something that hasn't been possible due to covid. I've recently actually been planning this though and will definitely have announcements regarding it soon, so I'm looking forward to that :) Also, thanks for the added mystery to it all, now even the people who don't like me will care about it, and hopefully feel humbled when they realize how ugly they actually are on the inside (lmao) Anyway, I just felt the need to say something due to how ridiculous the whole situation is, and how willing people are to "dox" people and put people in danger just because they "don't like them". Just to reassure people who may be feeling upset with themselves or insecure after seeing all the hate recently: you are amazing and if you are happy with how you look that's all that matters. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. You are beautiful! End note; I'm just a normal looking guy and I've never claimed otherwise. If someone calls me "hot" it's not because of my "god like facial structure and beauty" no one even knows what I look like. it's because I'm good at block game and have a massive green dump truck that even your mom likes ;) https://i.redd.it/fvbset0bwn061.jpg love u guys keep being awesome :)

[dontcallmecarrie]

I’ve seen so many Loki ships I wanted to see Doom because he’s so rare but now I’m torn! Loki as Justin’s PA please please give us !! And Winter as the occasional body guard ? *chef kiss*

Justin Hammer wasn't in the habit of having a PA, normally; that was more Tony's thing, because Tony's lifestyle meant he had so much stuff going down in such short periods of time that it was a full-time job just keeping everything on track and running smoothly.

Justin, though?

He was boring compared to Tony, sure; he wasn't a jet setter, wasn't the type who got involved in scandals every few months, wasn't a visionary who revolutionized technology every time he had a moment of inspiration.

He was just a businessman, trying to make it in the industry.

...as much as the only son and heir of a multimillion-dollar corporation could be 'just' anything, anyway.

He didn't do his own bookings, sure, but as a rule of thumb if he couldn't keep track of his own damn schedule, then something was wrong.

So for the longest time, it wasn't a problem that Justin didn't have a Pepper; between the secretaries and his own planner, they'd mostly had everything covered.

But...

Nobody would question the presence of someone if he called them his PA.

"That work for you, Loki?" Justin asked over his shoulder as he got everything ready, "Fast and free way to get a better feel for this world, if you're up for it."

And so it was that Stian Hall was born: a quiet, soft-spoken young man who shadowed Justin's every move and helpfully reminded him of upcoming appointments and birthdays and made notes when necessary.

And if Justin took to making more outings than usual, well...that was his business, wasn't it?

.

Over the next few months, Justin visited museums and art galleries and libraries, all under the guise of trying to figure out which they wanted to sponsor the most for the upcoming gala.

They regularly donated to children's hospitals and cancer research, but...if Tony was branching out, then clearly it was time to do the same, now, wasn't it?

So they also went to zoos and aquariums and music halls, just to round things out, and in between also got some ideas for potential gifts.

Planning for some of the outings wasn't always easy: if Justin didn't disguise himself sometimes, the press had the annoying tendency to assume he was secretly dating whoever was nearest to him and that never ended well. Loki's skill with illusions meant it was less of an issue, but still.

Decades of living in the spotlight meant some habits were particularly hard to break.

Well. At least the outings themselves were fun— and no, they were not dates, not unless they both agreed!

That particular aspect had been one of the little nuances that Loki seemed to struggle with sometimes even as he got used to life on Earth, not that Justin blamed him; after all, people had a tendency to find epic romances out of the most innocuous of things.

.

The Winter Soldier didn't tend to show up for anything other than dire emergencies.

As such, neither Justin nor Loki were expecting him to show up in their duplex, and Justin barely had the chance to glimpse a flash of silver before the world around them erupted in green flames and they had to practically tackle Loki to keep him from killing the man.

Or vice versa, because that knife would have definitely hit somewhere vital and damn it—

"Hey! Stop it, both of you!"

If so much as a scorch mark was left, Maintenance'd give them grief for weeks because blah blah, historical site, super expensive and hard to maintain, blah, metric buttloads of paperwork they really didn't have the time to deal with, blah.

Justin valiantly resisted the urge to facepalm.

"Loki, he's an ally, please don't turn him into a frog. Winter, meet Loki, my..." They eyed him askance for a moment, trying to figure out how to best word it. "Personal assistant slash bodyguard slash whatever the hell he wants to be."

"Does he always greet you with knives?" Loki asked, a strange gleam in his eyes and hands still throwing around far too many green sparks for comfort.

"Yeah, it's our thing. Now quit it."

"You're going to get yourself killed one of these days," the Winter Soldier muttered with a groan and he was not helping, "I got a lead on another branch, wanted to know if you or one of yours had any intel worth sharing."

"I'll ask Victor." Justin managed, before Loki finally shoved them behind him and they gave up any last scraps of dignity they might've had left in favor of grabbing onto his leg like a koala.

The look he got from both of them was incredibly undeserved, thank you very much.

Well. At least it succeeded in de-escalating the situation, that was something.

[writing-in-april]

Unsolved

Raymond Wadsworth (MGG in Suburban Gothic) x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Raymond runs into the buzzfeed unsolved duo again while investigating the same place he is, plus their cute camera operator.

A/N: Day 3 of 7 for my 500 follower celebration! This ended up in a wildly different direction then I was planning on going but I still really like this one a lot- plus it’s my first time posting for Raymond! Thank you to @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff who planted the idea into my mind 🥰 Go check out their stuff it’s amazing (Especially Between Bars it’s my favorite) ~this is also unbeta’d so sorry if there are grammar mistakes~

Warnings: A few swear words, Sexual Innuendos- Plus the lightbulb breaking over Raymond story (this is way more tame then the movie however)

Masterlist Word count: 1.0k

Working as a camera operator for Buzzfeed Unsolved was a dream come true for a young adult not that long out of college like myself. Now, I personally didn’t believe in ghosts like Ryan did, but the appeal of the show for me was being able to be surrounded by great moments in history. I got to visit some of the most famous historical landmarks, ranging from the supposedly haunted ghost town of Tombstone, Arizona to the subterranean terrors of the London Tombs. Sure- it was all under the guise of ghost hunting but even that still had its charms even if I did believe every ‘encounter’ was bullshit.

My most wild encounter at a site we were investigating didn’t come from a ghost at all, rather it came from a man named Raymond when we had been at Waverly Hills Hospital. Raymond was a paranormal investigator who was far more invested compared to our group- even more so than Ryan.

It was funny to hear Raymond’s ‘experiences’ with ghosts. Compared to what I had seen with Ryan and Shane the ‘ghosts’ that had haunted him in the past seemed rather amusing to me. However- I still did not buy his story. I was more inclined to believe that any encounters with ghosts were a figment of everyone’s imagination or a story made up for profit.

When it comes to Raymond normally I’d assume that his whole story was just to get a quick buck, I mean he did have a business based around the supernatural. But, the difference between everyone else’s stories Raymond’s seemed wildly outlandish to the point that I slightly questioned his sanity. (However, that didn’t affect how attractive I found him)

Who would make up stories like his? If they were fake it was a bold move to make his whole business based off of ghost stories that even the biggest ghost enthusiast would have a hard time believing. Even Ryan raised his eyebrows every time Raymond told another one of his tales. Either that or his story of a jizz filled light that broke above his head was really true and everything I’ve ever known or believed in was bullshit. He was a puzzle for me to solve and it was one that I wanted to solve desperately.

“So you’re telling me a light bulb exploded above you and jizzed all over you?” Shane was in disbelief at this new story that Raymond was telling us. We had run into him again when we started to investigate the Sorrel-Weed house just as we were about to enter.

“I believe you think you saw that.” I piped up to say right after Shane, it was fun to get Raymond riled up. He always tended to look down at the ground with a frustrated glare whenever we tried to disprove his theories everytime we saw him. However, even though I definitely did not believe his stories, there was still something incredibly endearing about him. The way he talked animatedly and with passion every time we had a rousing debate about the existence of the paranormal or maybe it was the fluffy curly hair that looked like a bird’s nest. Whatever it was didn’t matter- just the fact that every time I was in his presence my eyes were glued to him, hanging on to every word no matter how unbelievable they were. I couldn’t help shamelessly flirting with him this time around as well the little blush he had on his cheeks everytime that I dropped a sexual innuendo during our debate only egged me on further. When Raymond left so we could film our episode I found myself getting sad, I wanted him to stay and investigate with us.

—-

After we had investigated the place we were standing by our cars listening to Ryan talk excitedly about how he saw a ‘ghost’ in the house. My bet was that it had actually been the caretaker though there was no chance in convincing Ryan of that, though I would've given anything to see Raymond’s reaction to the ‘ghost’. I was more focused on what Shane was doing at the moment, he was leaning back giving me a funny look- one that he had been giving me the whole night for some reason.

“You like him don’t you?” He suddenly remarked to me after a brief pause in Ryan’s spiel, which also gained Ryan’s attention.

“What? Who?”A blush fell across my cheeks and the rock that I had absentmindedly been kicking was now the most interesting thing in the world. I pretended to play coy, I knew who he was referring to- I had not been exactly subtle in my flirting with Raymond today.

“Raymond- You were looking at him in like- awe the whole time he was here.” He kept pushing and Ryan concurred with his thoughts. I might as well come out and admit the fact that I liked the lanky spaz. I nodded my head in confirmation to the two of them, my blush deepening even further.

“Well- just promise that you stay a Shaniac if you ever act on your feelings, I don’t want to be outnumbered.” I snorted a little at his comment and Ryan let out a little wheeze. Maybe this would be the push I needed to act on my feelings- I was pretty sure he liked me as well as his eyes tended to light up everytime I walked into a room or I started talking with him. So why not? I already happened to have his phone number in my phone so I took a leap of faith, texting him and asking him out on a date. Maybe we could go ghost hunting.

Whether or not the Sorrel-Weed house was haunted will remain-

Unsolved. (Though Ryan would debate that)

But- Whether or not I feelings for Raymond was-

Solved.

[fanfictionaries]

A Fine Line Between Lust and Hate - jbbuckybarnes Birthday Challenge

Thank you to @jbbuckybarnes for this fun writing challenge! Congratulations on over 900 followers and also happy 21st birthday! It’s a fun age, enjoy it! 

Prompt 1: Bookstore AU

Prompt 2: “Just gimme the book and fuck off!” 

Pairing: AU Bookstore!Bucky Barnes X female reader

Summary:  If there was one person you hated more than anyone else in the world it was James Buchanan “Call Me Bucky” Barnes. Or at least, you thought you did. As Bucky continues to press your patience, it becomes unclear as to whether it’s hate you feel, or lust. 

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Swearing, smut, doggy style, oral (male receiving), NSFW/18+ only

Author’s Note: Man, I do love a good rousing debate over literature. 

***

You stood in one of the long aisles as you worked on putting the store’s most recent influx of donations on the shelves. The endless rows of historical memories stretched high above your head and all around you. However, the large stack in front of you currently sat untouched, a copy of Ernst Jünger’s Storm of Steel held tightly in your grasp, as you watched the events occurring at the front desk. Your coworker, James, was leant casually against the counter, once again ignoring his work duties as he openly and obnoxiously flirted with the woman in front of him.

God, you hated him. You hated his stupid long hair that he pulled up into a stupid bun. You hated his stupid tight jeans that hugged his thick thighs and his stupid red Henley that accentuated his muscular shoulders and arms. You hated his stupid handsome face that only fueled his overall cocky attitude. God, you absolutely hated James Buchanan ‘Call Me Bucky’ Barnes.

You hadn’t set out to hate him of course. Quite the opposite in fact. When your boss informed you of a new employee who wasn’t a billion-year-old woman, you had been ecstatic. Not to say you didn’t love Lucille, but to finally meet a person close to your age that loved books so much they were willing to work at the musty, expansive bookstore was a dream come true. For years now, you’d found yourself spending more time alone, tucked into the rows of books than you did with anyone your own age. You’d think that the kitschy bookstore would be a draw to the younger individuals in town, with the rise of intellectualism or at least the guise of intellectualism within today’s youth. Not to mention, the fact that it was nestled in between the cutest antique store and 50’s style diner. But, alas, it didn’t seem to be on trend for your town. Instead, you got the odd stragglers of older individuals who still enjoyed reading physical books, and local community college students looking to either sell or buy books for classes. That’s why the idea of coming into work every day to a coworker you could relate to was beyond wonderful. However, it hadn’t taken long for James to get so far under your skin, you practically wore him like a pair of itchy long johns.

It had started with his complete disregard for the books and their safety. As a self-proclaimed bibliophile, you took great pride in the care and safety of the books in the store. They were a mix of new and used, the older ones coming into your protective arms the moment you clocked the torn corners and dog-eared pages. You spent hours restoring them before putting them out to be appreciated by the next reader. That’s why, on his third day there when you’d spotted him using his copy of Catcher in the Rye as a coaster for his iced coffee, you’d nearly had an aneurysm. You wished that the situation was a one-time thing, but every time you turned a corner, he was bending spines, creasing pages, WRITING in the margins. He was a book sadist.

Then of course, there was the lackadaisical way in which he approached his job. Not once, not twice, but ten times in the last three months you had stayed late finishing work that had been assigned to him. Why did you do it, instead of letting him take the fall for shoddy work? Well, because it was always things that needed to be done either before the shop could close or before the shop could open. Closing out the till, turning off all the lights, locking the back door, fixing the displays, picking up the giant stack of books that had fallen near the back, changing a burnt-out light using the very old and very rickety ladder.

And lastly, the one thing you absolutely hated the most about him was just how incredibly flirty he was! From the very beginning, he took every opportunity to hit on you. At first it had been flattering, but incredibly jarring and confusing. What could he possibly want with you? He looked like that and you looked like, well people didn’t really want to date the weird bookstore girl that always smelled faintly of old books. Then, it had all come into focus. James flirted with everyone. Not just you. Everyone. The moment a woman under the age of forty walked through those front doors, James was there with his stupid charming ways; “Can I help you with anything today?” “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing in here today?” “I knew a woman of your caliber would have good taste in books.” All the while, he’d chance little glances your way, smirking at you and raising his eyebrows slightly. It was all a game to him. Prick.

“Now, see, that is a fantastic choice. I knew the moment you walked in you had good taste,” stated James pointing down at the copy of The God of Small Things that was currently clutched to the woman’s chest in her perfectly manicured hands. You rolled your eyes. Ridiculous. You glanced over again to see James smirking in your direction before he walked the woman to the front door and waved her goodbye, shutting and locking the door behind her. Last customer of the day. You sighed, turning back to the stacks in front of you and swiftly putting the books back into place. The quicker you got this done, the quicker you would be out of there and away from James’ mocking face and overall itchy personality. You continued to put the books away, probably harsher than you should have, as you listened to the faint sounds of James closing out the till. Well, at least he was doing that today. I knew the moment you walked in you had good taste, you mocked him in your head, huffing and puffing at just how infuriating he was. You winced at a particularly harsh shove of a book into the shelve. Quickly, you pulled it out and inspect the corners and sides of the hard cover.

“Careful there—” a pair of large hands came into your line of site, snatching the book from your hands “—What did Michael Herr ever do to you?”

“Nothing,” you huffed, turning to grab the book back, but coming up unsuccessful. “Although, I really would prefer it if you didn’t allow customers to stay so late past closing.”

“Why? Got somewhere to be? Hot date?” James asked, circling around you to lean against the bookshelves to your right.

You snorted, “As if that’s any of your business.”

“Come on. Lighten up a little bit (Y/N). She needed help finding a good book for her English class,” said James, pulling the book out of reach as you attempted to grab it back from him once again.

“Okay,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes and reaching back down to the stack of books remaining on the cart to your left.

“What? You got something against Indian authors writing about caste relations and cultural tensions?”

“No, but I think if Roy tried to squeeze one more literary device into the text, the book would literally explode. Nobody genuinely enjoys a work where the author is intentionally trying to be clever. It’s obnoxious,” you said as you continued to put the books into their correct spaces as quickly as possible.

“Oh, so I guess you don’t care for Shakespeare then? What about Vonnegut, Anne Rice, Tolkien? Every author thinks they’re clever (Y/N). If they didn’t, they wouldn’t be writers,” said James, crossing his arms and leaning towards you condescendingly.

“That’s-that’s just ridiculous,” you responded lamely, placing the last book in your pile away.

“Oh really? Then please, oh smart one, name a single author who didn’t take themselves so seriously that it didn’t bleed through their work in some way,” James challenged, once again pulling the book in his hands away from your reaching hands.

You stood there, glowering at the man in front of you as you tried to come up with some king of answer. “C. S. Lewis,” you blurted out, wanting to kick yourself at the obviously stupid answer.

A barking laugh left James, “Oh come on. The man spent most of his career preaching Christian values and what it means to be moral. He even went so far as to write a short story on what the afterlife looks like and how to get into heaven. Or are we just going to pretend like The Great Divorce didn’t happen? Just because he wrote a bunch of entertaining children’s stories bathed in Christian symbolism with little effort does not mean that he didn’t take himself seriously.”

His astute criticism caught you off guard and peaked your anger, mainly because to a certain extent he was right. That didn’t mean you were going to let him know that though, “Excuse you! I’ll have you know he wrote The Great Divorce after the death of his wife. What else was he supposed to write about? You know what James—”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Bucky?”

“Just gimme the book and fuck off!”

Your eyes widened at your outburst. You’d never spoken to anyone like that before in your life. Opening your mouth to apologize, you quickly closed it when James sighed heavily and pushed himself off of the bookshelf. He stared at you, his eyes calculating as he closed the space between you, slamming the good on the shelf behind your head. You jumped, turning so that you faced him head on, your back to the endless rows of books. James placed an intimidatingly large arm on either side of you, bracing himself against oak shelves. You swallowed thickly at the sheer size of him. Your pulse quickened. He had never been this close to you.

“You know what (Y/N)? I think you’re just jealous,” James murmured, tilting his head dangerously low to yours.

“Jealous? Of what?” you asked, your voice embarrassingly breathy, as your head began to swim. He was so close. So close you could smell his cologne, a musky warm scent mixed with the fresh scent of soap and…old books? Subtly, you tried to inhale more of the tantalizing smell without James noticing. But one glance up and you could see that familiar smirk and cocky gleam in his eye.

“Me, and every woman that walks in here ready to fuck me in the encyclopedia section.”

You gasped at his words, “That’s ridiculous. Why would I be jealous of that?”

“Because you want to fuck me in the encyclopedia section.”

“I—I do not—I do not want to—I hate you!”

James leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours, “Doesn’t mean you don’t want to fuck me—” His head titled, his lips brushing across your cheek, your jawline, and then to the shell of your ear. “—Just say the word and I’ll take you right there. Right then. Any time. Any day.”

You shivered at the offer. Never had his flirting gone this far. Sure, James had given you a flirtatious smile and charming little comment here and there, but never had he come close to propositioning you. You should say no. You hate him. He’s everything you despise and yet…

“Fuck it.” Rising up on the tips of your toes, you wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips to his in a searing kiss. James’ lips claim yours, never hesitating for a second, as if expecting it. The soft skin of his plush lips a stark contrast to the harsh way in which you both battled for dominance. Every ounce of anger, frustration, and tension that you held towards him fought its way through your body as you nipped, bit, and tugged. James’ hands moved from the bookshelf to your body, gripping your hips and tugging you harshly against him, revealing the same level of pent up aggression. His hands traveled upwards, cupping your breasts through your sweater, roughly massaging them as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. Threading your fingers into his hair, you tugged harshly earning you a growl from James. Breaking away from the kiss just long enough to pull your sweater up and over your head, your bodies reconnected, the feel of your bare torso against him feeling oh so right. You continued to hang onto him for dear life, as his kisses left you breathless and needy. Bringing a leg up around his hip, your pelvis rocked against him, searching for any kind of friction as you climbed him like a tree.

“Eager, aren’t we?” James teased, hands moving down to harshly grasp your ass and lift you up. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you allowed him to carry you the brief distance away from the bookshelves and lower you onto the rough carpet floor. Trailing kisses down your neck and towards your breasts, he roughly yanked the cups of your bra down before taking a nipple between his teeth. You arched into his mouth, loving the sting as he bit down.

“God, I knew you’d be a fucking little minx,” panted James, sitting up on his knees. “Look at you all sexy and needy. Just had to get you to let go.”

Pushing up onto your elbows, you stared up at him, “Shut the fuck up and take your shirt off James.”

Swinging his hand down, he swatted the inside of your thigh, “The name’s Bucky, babe.”

Your head fell backwards at the contact and your pussy clenched as you moaned low. Sitting up, you ripped his shirt from his torso and threw it behind you before pushing him down onto the ground. You made quick work of removing your bra, shoes, and pants before reaching for his belt buckle. This time it was his turn to push up onto his elbows as he watched your near naked form, undo his belt and then his pants. You tugged at his pants and then his boxers in a desperate manner, James kicking off his shoes and socks to held aid in their removal. Finally, when he was naked before you, you took a moment to admire the lean curves of his muscular form and the thick cock that sat just below his belly button, nestled in a patch of short brown curls.

Running your nails lightly up and down his thighs, you smirked as he writhed below you, sucking in a harsh breath through his teeth. Lowering yourself slowly, you positioned yourself between his thick thighs and grasped the base of his cock in your hand, wasting no time in wrapping your lips around the head and swirling your tongue around him. Bucky cursed, low and sexy as you took him in your mouth. You worked him with your lips and tongue as your moved lower and lower. Spit gathered in your mouth as you breathed through your nose, giving your all into pleasuring the man below you. You wanted to once and for all wipe the smirk off of James “Bucky” Barnes’ face. When you made it almost all the way to the base, you hollowed your cheeks, sucking as you massaged the vein on the underside of his cock with your tongue. His hands flew to the back of your head, fingers lacing in your hair and gripping tight. He held onto you for dear life as you attempted to suck the soul out of him through his dick alone.

“Jesus Christ! Fuck! (Y/N),” he yelled, his body shuddering. When you slipped down the last few inches, allowing his cock to slip easily down your throat, he stilled, body rigid before he pulled you off of him with a curse.

You fell backwards onto your hands, spit coating your lips and drool falling down your chin as you breathed in deeply. A low growl escaped James’ throat as he launched himself at you, flipping you onto your stomach, and ripping your panties down your legs. His hands found your center in no time, his fingers delving deep into your core easily, aided by the embarrassing amount of arousal there. James fingered you, curving and finding that special spot inside of you that made your see stars. You yelped, bucking your hips back against him. His teeth sunk into the supple flesh of your ass.

“You’re god damn dripping down my arm (Y/N). Did sucking my cock turn you on that much?”

“Yes!” you admitted, continuing to rock your hips against him. Pulling his fingers from you, you whimpered at the loss of contact. The loss was only temporary though, as soon James was pulling your hips up, placing you back on your knees, face still pressed against the carpet as he lined his cock up with your entrance. There was no slow and delicate start. No, in one swift thrust, he was seated fully inside of you, hands firmly grasping your ass as he began to fuck you at a punishing pace.

“Fucking hell baby. Your pussy is like a vice-grip. I don’t think I’m going to last long,” he admitted, continuing to pound into you, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. He reached down, finding your clit and rubbing light, fast circles around it until you began to feel the familiar pressure building in your lower abdomen.

“Yes! Bucky! Fuck. Just like that, don’t stop!” you cried, desperate to reach your climax. The carpet scraped against your skin, sure to leave burns after. But you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about was the delicious stretch of your cunt around Bucky’s cock and your imminent orgasm.

“That’s it, baby. Say my fucking name again. Say my name as you cum all around me.”

You chanted his name over and over again, Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, until finally you were approaching the edge and falling over. Your body shuddered and hips bucked as you came, loving the feeling of every hard ridge of Bucky’s thick cock inside of you. A few seconds late, he was pulling out of you and then you felt the warm streams of cum splashing across your ass. You collapsed fully onto the carpet below you, Bucky falling after you and rolling to lay beside you. You laid there, in post-orgasmic bliss. The feeling of Bucky’s fingertips trailing up and down your spine soothing you down from your high. After a little while, the two of your stood up and began to redress. Bucky, ever the gentleman, told you to wait as he ran to the front counter and came back with some tissues before wiping up the mess he had made on your ass.

Once you were both dressed, you finished closing up the store. Neither of you spoke, instead choosing to spare the other furtive little glances as you turned out the lights and locked the door behind you both.

“Looks like the diner is still open. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” Bucky asked, looking down at you giving you a small, shy smile that you’d never seen on him before.

His question caught you off guard. He wanted to buy you coffee. “Oh, Bucky. You don’t have to feel obligated to—”

“—I don’t feel obligated. I, um, I want to.” He swallowed thickly, almost as if he was nervous. Was he nervous? “I know we just, well, I know we skipped a few steps, but I actually do want to take you out. I’ve been trying to hint it to you for the past three months.”

“So, all the flirting with the customers…?”

“Was me stupidly trying to make you jealous,” laughed Bucky, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets.  

“Ah,” you said, a smiling spreading across your face, “How about you buy me a coffee and tell me all your thoughts on Brontë.”

“How much time do you have?” asked Bucky with an exaggerated groan.

Holding your hand out to him, you reveled in the feel of his warm palm connecting with yours, “All the time in the world.”

Marvel Taglist:

@caffiend-queen

@hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

[aswallowssong]

OWP (but make it December?) Day 12 - My BFF

These are back too! I forgot I had already written this one (bless) so I guess the one that’s basically just silliness will have to wait until tomorrow... oops?

Read on AO3

-----

JJ had brought the game under the guise that they could only play so much poker in a five hour flight. 

Kit knew that it was really because Hotch would never let them play five hours of poker on the jet. Someone would come away wounded.

She also knew it was for her benefit. She’d been working between sites for two months, and she didn’t know much about anyone on the team, save for Morgan. Even with their morning workouts, they were surface level friends at best. 

Somehow she thought that it might have been Hotch behind it, but she couldn’t be sure, and she wasn’t going to ask. While still holding fast to the mantra that she wasn’t a part of the BAU team, the more they made an attempt to include her, the more she wished it were true.

“Okay, this one says, who’s your best friend?”

“Lame,” Elle said, her small grin full of mirth. Morgan nodded, “Yeah, that’s a boring one. Why do you always pick the most mellow cards, Jayje?”

JJ pouted momentarily. “You have to pick off the top, Morgan. What was I supposed to do, look through the cards until I found one I liked? That’s cheating.”

“Actually, I don’t think you can cheat in games like this, because there isn’t a point system. No winner, or loser, would be affected by the cards chosen.”

“This isn’t a game you can win,” Kit said, “If there isn’t a point system, how would you win at all?”

Reid thought for a moment with his eyebrows pulled together before he looked over at JJ and said simply. “This isn’t a game.”

“I didn’t say it was a game,” JJ said evenly, though the annoyance radiating off of her was entirely palpable. Elle shrugged as she and Morgan shared a look, but Spencer wasn’t done. “Actually, you said ‘Okay everyone, we aren’t playing cards for five hours, we’re playing a game that’-”

“Who’s your best friend, Reid?” Elle said, effectively both cutting off his verbatim quote of JJ from an hour before, and his impending death-by-Kit-glare if he continued. She hated when he quoted someone back to themselves. It felt like Reid trying to show off, and she hated a show off. 

Reid was clearly caught off guard, though he was the one next to JJ. The rule was that everyone had to answer but the person holding the card, and Reid was seated on JJ’s other side. “Oh, um. I don’t know. Morgan?”

“Aw, thanks Pretty Boy,” Morgan said, heckling from across the table. “I’ll say you, but just because you said me, and you make the coffee in the breakroom almost good compared to the way Elle makes it.”

Elle, who was next to Morgan, rolled her eyes and shoved at him. “Listen, that coffee sucks without my help.”

“Who’s your best friend, Elle?” JJ asked, she and Kit sharing the same laugh as they watched the two bicker back and forth. Elle thought for a second before she said, “I guess Liza. She and I went through the academy together, and then we were both in Seattle. We get together when she’s in town and try to talk, but…” She trailed off and gestured vaguely, but they all knew. Kit nodded along with the others. She felt like she barely ever talked to her siblings anymore, especially the ones she didn’t live with. The BAU was running them all ragged, one day at a time.

Elle looked up at Kit, nodded at her. “Alright, Lep. You’re last, go ahead.”

“Hotch and Gideon didn’t go,” Kit said, nodding towards the men on the other side of the jet. They both insisted they were not playing, but they’d still been asked every question, and both had answered with little to no interest.

“Haley,” Hotch said easily, without even looking up from his file.

“David Rossi,” Gideon said, barely glancing up from his book before looking back down.

The group of five around the table were silent for a second before Elle nodded, looking over at Kit and saying, “Okay, there you go. Haley and David Rossi.”

“Who’s yours?” JJ said, giving Kit a small, encouraging smile.

Kit took a breath and tilted her head. “Um. Oh, okay. Monty, easily.”

“Monty isn’t your best friend,” Morgan said, and Kit raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, no?”

“No, she’s your identical twin sister who you work and live with. That’s not friendship, that’s codependency.”

Kit raised an eyebrow at him, eyes going hard and defensive. She knew he was joking, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. “Okay, so, Ari then?”

“Don’t you all live together?” Reid asked, tactlessly. “That would make Morgan’s reasoning sound for both your… twins? Siblings? How are you supposed to phrase that?”

“Cúpla,” she said easily, “Ari and I aren’t identical twins.”

“You’re in a set of triplets,” Elle pointed out. “I think that counts.”

These fucking people.

“Okay, well, then…” Kit trailed off, ears burning as she realized she didn’t really have any friends that weren’t Ari or Monty. They spent their time together on Sundays, the only day they all had off, and Kit saw Ari in the evenings and Monty leaving work. All her other time was spent in the clinic, or at the BAU.

“Then?” JJ prompted, and Kit sighed and looked away from their group. “Then I guess I don’t have one.”

“You don’t talk with any of the girls from the clinic?” Morgan asked, and Kit shook her head. 

Elle prompted further, “What about your academy roommate?”

“Monty,” she said quietly, one hand coming up to tug at her left braid while the other slid along the leg of her pants. 

Morgan spoke again, gently throwing an elbow in her direction, “No secret boyfriend?”

She knew he was teasing. He was trying to bring the mood back up; the mood she’d clearly just crushed by admitting that she didn’t have any friends at all. “I don’t have time for a secret boyfriend, even if I wanted one,” Kit said, rolling her eyes and swatting at his shoulder. 

Reid looked confused at the other end of the table, next to Elle. “We have a two day weekend every week. Surely if you wanted to go out, you could go on either Friday or Saturday night without seeing sleep repercussions?”

Kit shook her head. This conversation was very quickly going from sort of sad to super depressing. “I work Saturdays in the clinic. My only day off during the week is Sunday, and if we’re on a case, I don’t get a day off at all.”

“You work six days a week?” JJ asked, clearly unaware. Kit didn’t care, she’d never told them, and hadn’t anticipated it coming up. She didn’t really care. Why would she?

She was sort of glad the conversation was scooting away from her lack of any conceivable friendship.

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug, “I have to keep my hours balanced. Three days with you, three days with them.”

“That doesn’t leave you a lot of personal time for friends.” Elle crossed one leg over the other, actively wrangling the conversation back into the super depressing. Kit wished she would have left it alone, but she knew it was strange. What twenty five year old had literally no friends?

They were quiet again for far too long. Kit refused to look up, or around, or at anything at all. She focused on the dryness of her hands, constantly chapped and raw from washing and washing in the clinic. She was startled when, out of anyone sitting there, Reid spoke up. 

“You talk to us,” he said simply.

The other three nodded immediately, words tumbling and spilling as if they’d all been wanting to speak up, and now the floodgate was open for them.

“You came to my apartment when I got strep,” JJ said. “I wouldn’t have called anyone but a friend for that.”

“And I’ve never had a better training partner,” Morgan said, “No one else is competitive enough.”

“I didn’t think anyone else would share the same taste in music as I do, but then we caught you at the bar, and I knew you were cool before, but that really sold it.”

Kit looked around at them before feeling a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth. She knew what they were doing, of course, but the feelings coming off of them were genuine. They meant what they said, and she was incredibly grateful. She didn’t let the tears that threatened to prick get any further than a threat, but she had to physically swallow and clear her throat before she could speak.

“Thank you. All of you. I guess… I guess you guys are my best friends.”

Morgan scoffed, giving her a smirk and nodding towards Reid. “You may have to fight Pretty Ricky over there for it,” he said, watching for Reid’s reaction, which was exactly what they all expected it to be.

“‘Best’' is a qualifier of relative quality, which means that its place as a superlative adjective makes it of a singular quantity. Superlative adjectives are used to show-”

“You can have more than one best friend, Spence,” JJ said, cutting him off and nodding toward Kit, who’s cheeks lit a similar color to her hair. He seemed to realize and read the situation, though he’d already shoved his foot in his mouth, and instead of continuing just said quietly, “Right. Yeah, obviously. The world isn’t a thesis.”

“The world isn’t a thesis,” Elle echoed before nudging the deck of questions towards him. “Your turn, Doctor Reid.”

He fidgeted with his fingers before pulling the top card from the deck, reading aloud, “What is your favorite color?”

“No!”

“Throw the whole game away!”

“It’s not a game! We’ve established that this does not meet the qualities that allow something to be a game!”

“Shut up, Reid!”

Kit watched as the jet settled, all of the attention being pulled away from her as a warm presence settled in her chest. 

Yes. These people, who drive me crazy, and have no concept of personal care of any kind. These people are my best friends.

[sagiow]

Dangerously Close to One Another

Byron Hale had never gone to Sacramento, but Sacramento had gone to him. 

Upon finally reaching Drum Barracks, he had struck a fast friendship with his commander, Colonel Lee. With the numerous building projects ongoing at the site, Hale had not resisted name-dropping a certain Cameron Lumber Mill. Shortly thereafter, he had been pleased to hear that this same company had made inquiries as to their needs for lumber and workhands; so Eliza was working her magic there, as well. A woman of many talents, indeed. 

There had been one winter meeting in Denver, at the new mill acquired by Mr. Cameron, to show off the various new essences the Colorado locale provided. Miss Cameron had proven the most charming of hostesses. Although their reunion was carried out under the guise of mere acquaintances from a former life, and her attentions shared dutifully between all attendees, she had more than made up for that polite neglect in the night that followed; despite the steady snow that had fallen and the fire eventually dying out, he had never once felt the cold.  

Weeks later, they had met once more, at the Easter service at the newly consecrated Trinity Episcopal Cathedral in San José. How no one had stumbled upon them behind the penstemons during the following picnic and egg hunt was truly a miracle.  

On the Fourth of July, in the heat of Hell itself, his battalion had marched proudly in San Francisco as she’d watched the parade from the sidewalk, even going as far as waving a Union flag in perhaps reluctant support. That night, at the lavish ball held by the Civil Guard in honor of the Russian Pacific fleet, she had granted him four dances, and one more in the privacy of a darkened parlour.  

Between these, they had been numerous letters, the paper burning to be read in his pocket throughout the day: always a surprise and a delight, alternating between polite small talk, scandalous gossip, comical commentary, and sprinkled with plenty of intimate innuendos. From reading her first letter in the mess hall, surrounded by his battalion, he had learned the hard way that she was just as talented in that department with her pen as she was with her person, and that her letters would be best saved for the privacy of his quarters.  

For weeks, he had paced, planned, projected this very day, making sure every aspect would be perfect. That morning, he had woken with a flutter in his chest, a spring in his step, a tune on his lips. That afternoon, under a pleasant October sun, at last, there she was, the one handing him, on a velvet cushion, the shears with which he cut the ceremonial ribbon and declared Drum Barracks Hospital open. Her applause and visible pride made him feel to be the luckiest man west of the Mississipi. The King of California. 

A tour ensued, of which he was the eager maître d’hôtel. To the many visitors, Hale proudly showed off the spotless wards over the gleaming redwood floors; the apothecary with the fine, hand-worked glass cabinets, full to the brink of all possible tinctures and potions; the lavish staff offices with their mahogany desks and imposing bookcases, of many an erudite tome, and finally, the state-of –the-art operating theater. He took the greatest pleasure in displaying the new surgical tools, the massive table in the center, the mirrored chandelier above and large windows on two sides to ensure constant adequate lighting from the ever reliable California sun.  

Once all visitors had admired his new domain, they moved on, spurred by the promise of food and refreshments in the yard, until only Eliza remained. At last, he was free to openly gaze upon her, resplendent in her rose pink dress, or perhaps was it carnation? Or amaranth? A beautiful flower, in any case, touched here and there with dark blue details; the perfect complement to the sea of navy uniforms, and surely much more comfortable under the lingering summer heat than his own heavy wool jacket, now growing increasingly warmer along with the smile she no longer held in check. 

“Anywhere else striking your fancy where I may be your humble tour guide, my dear Miss Cameron?” he asked, with an obliging bow of his head. “Perhaps, after the picnic, you might care for a visit of.... the officers’ quarters?”  

“Hmmmm… I’ve seen a fair share of those. I wouldn’t mind staying here a little bit longer.” Carefully, she drew undone the perfect bow at her neck, removing her hat. 

“Here?” Hale swallowed, taking stock of all these windows, of the hundred guests right outside of them, a mere few feet below.  

She nodded, placing the discarded bonnet on a shelf, gliding towards the exit. “That handsome door does lock, doesn’t it? I made special instructions to that effect.” In one fluid, almost silent motion, the door was shut, the deadbolt, drawn, and she turned back to face him, rather pleased. “Fine craftsmanship, indeed; the carpenter shall have a nice bonus this Christmas.” 

“It’s all splendid, truly-,” he started to thank her, but she waved him off. One finger at the time, she pulled off her lace gloves, watching him follow each movement as hypnotized.  

“I also stipulated for that surgical table to be especially sturdy,” she said. “Let’s see if that request has also been granted, shall we?” 

“The table,” he repeated dimly, his throat now incredibly dry, his neck unbelievably tight. 

With a final flourish, the last glove came off, and was set down next to the surgical tools. He watched her touch the surgical saw, her fingertips running along the mirrored-finished metal. “You once told me you could remove a limb in under five minutes,” she said lightly, before returning her gaze to him, a challenge if there ever was one. “Let’s see if you can remove a hoopskirt faster.” 

That woman will be the death of me.  

Read the rest on AO3

Drum Barracks photo from here (yes, that is apparently a camel. I no longer question the absurd when it comes to these two.)

[bits-bobs-and-barnes]

Fall From Grace; Chapter Three {Bucky Barnes x Reader}

Prologue Here!

Chapter One Here!

Chapter Two Here!

{Author’s Note: Ah! I’m blown away by the influx of follows and likes! Thank you all! If you can, please reblog this fic to help promote the series! Thank you all for all your support!}

Tags: @nickyl316h

Warnings: some language, drugs. mentions of violence

It felt like a constant cycle. After a few days, you learned the pattern. They’d deliver meals approximately six hours apart, they would deliver medicine before breakfast and after dinner, and you would be left to your own devices for the night, expected to sleep on your own time. Upon your request, they gave you a few comforts to break the dreariness: a hot water-bladder to ease the pain of your muscles, an aging book full of fairy-tales, and a slightly warmer blanket. It was by no means plush, you hadn’t yet left the room they’d placed you in or seen the sunlight in days, but the smaller comforts eased your mind.

When the shock wore off, the sterilization seemed to be the worst bit of it. What sort of experiment were they running that required such extreme measures? Your documentation had only mentioned vague bits of information: the testing was for an experimental medication that helped those with intense emotional disorders, there would be side-effects of this medication, you would have to stay on site for the duration of your employment, rigorous testing would be employed, and the like. It all seemed very standard procedure, but now, you wondered if you had been wrapped up in some international sex-trafficking ring, or had been selected as a drug mule for some cartel. The questions plagued your mind each night, and often, you couldn’t find the energy to push the thoughts away. It wasn’t as though you could escape; the walls in this building must’ve been incredibly thick, and you had nothing but what they provided you, namely, nothing you could use in an escape.

The lock gave a soft click as the door opened and the doctor entered, carrying a small set of equipment, silently taking her place on the bed next to you, and drawing out some cotton swabs and a set of scissors.

You instantly tensed and began to draw back, stopped as she rested a hand on your knee.

“I’m here to remove the stitches, Ms. Y/L/N. You’ve made a remarkable recovery, and we need to continue with our trials.” She patiently waited for you to return to your former position, gesturing for you to lift the hem of your shirt, and laying a steady hand on your abdomen, the other operating the scissors as she carefully snipped and clipped away at the remaining stitches.

“What trials?” You asked, trying not to flinch at the feeling of cold metal gently tracing along your skin. “What do you want me to do?” Frankly, the thought of leaving this room had you already antsy, the idea of seeing anything besides these pure white walls more enticing than a hot meal.

She didn’t respond, finishing her work, and swabbing at the area with a few of the damp cotton pads. “You’ll be meeting the other subjects today, and the administrator of the tests. I’ll still be there to observe, but I won’t be intruding today.” She informed, managing to avoid answering any of your questions. “There,” she stood, sweeping the rubbish back into her bag, and extending a hand for yours. “I can bring you the next round of medication, if you need it, or we can leave now.”

You quickly shook your head, taking her hand and gladly getting to your feet. “I don’t need it, I’m ready to go.”

She steadied you, and lowered her voice to a near whisper. “You need to listen to the administrator, he’s not the forgiving type. Behave, and things will get a lot better for you.” This was all murmured hushedly under the guise of guiding you to the door. “Be careful.”

The door clicked, and swung open, and for the first time in nearly a week, you caught  a glimpse of what laid outside your cell. There were guards perched on the perimeter all around the room, each wearing dark clothing, and carrying a small firearm at their side. There was a smattering of intellectuals in white coats, each pouring over facts and figures, though a few glanced up when she entered. Near the center of the room, there was a man with dark hair, wearing similar clothing to the guards, but, most intriguing, sporting a perfect silver colored mechanical arm, adorned with a red star on the bicep. His eyes met yours, and you shriveled. His eyes were unbelievably cold, suspended from any familiarity or warmth. You almost instantly threw your gaze towards the floor, your expression bewildered.

You could feel the doctor’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you towards the frightening man, and you nearly turned heel and shook your head, silently asserting to yourself that no man had any good intentions if he looked like that.

“Recruits!” His voice was far from gentle, and carried a weight that nearly knocked the wind from you. “Gather over here- we need to make some introductions.” He crossed his arms, looking mildly irritated, but saying nothing.

You filed into a small semi-circle with a few other individuals, barely taking a second to glance around the group, before refocusing your eyes on the man in front of you.

“I will be your commanding officer for the duration you are here under our employ, and I will enforce the rules I set here today.” He glanced over to the small cluster of doctors, all watching him with a mixture of fear and contempt. “Firstly, your name means nothing to me. I will refer to you by your surname, or I won’t refer to you at all. You will take all medication given to you by someone wearing one of these badges,” he toted the small identification that lingered on one of his belt-loops. “And I’ve been told that I am to inform you that injuries sustained from the trials are not to affect your participation in my training exercises.” The spiel was broken up by his glancing to a folder on the table beside him. “Rivera?”

A man with dark hair and warm olive skin stepped forward, separating himself from the group. He didn’t offer anything more than a stiff nod of acknowledgment.

“Khan?”

A broad man, who looked nearly as intimidating as your commander, took a begrudging step forward, his expression foul. He looked as though he’d already been in too many scraps to count, a scar running through the center of his eyebrow pale with time, and a fading bruise lingering just above his cheekbone. “I have a question,” he interjected, his eyes darting to the group of doctors lingering a few feet away, “if I don’t eat the food you dosed, are they going to penalize me?”

His jaw was firmly set. “No,” he answered, stepping forward, barely more than a foot from the challenger, “I’ll be the one to put you back in line, if you’re stupid enough to do that. Trust me, I’m not the guy to be fucked with.”

The tall man didn’t step back, but his stony silence was response enough, and the simmering tension seemed to cool off.

The commander returned to his list. “DiSanto?”

A young woman with intensely red hair took a delicate step forward, her lips the slightest shade of red, as though she’d had on lipstick two or three days ago, and had just let it slowly fade away, bit by bit. Following the other’s demonstration, she too said little, offering a quiet greeting as her hands fell to her sides.

“Sutton,” he offered, his eyes lifting from the paper for a second, glancing around the remaining four who had yet to step forward.

Finally, reluctantly, another dark-haired male stepped forward, raising a hand in greeting and sighing under his breath. He looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes a faded purple, as if denoting that he had found it harder to adjust to their new surroundings.

The Winter Soldier said nothing of it, and moved to the next name on the list. “Ramsay?” He inquired, lifting his eyes again, drawing towards you for a second before they slid away to the other woman still standing in your small group.

“That would be me,” she answered, stepping forward, her eyes locked onto the commander without the smallest hint of fear or revelry. “I have a few complaints to lodge, if you’re not too busy calling role.”

His brow lifted the slightest bit, and he had half a mind to ignore her and simply continue with the irritating task, but instead, stared blankly at her to give the woman her stage. “By all means.”

“Whatever those meds are, they don’t work on me. I feel like shit, no one’s answering my questions-” she sighed, placing her hands on her hips, “this is starting to feel more like a prison than a volunteer-position.” She concluded, her dark eyes demanding answers. “What’s the deal?”

He didn’t move from his spot. “This is fucking plush compared to what we could have given you. You want this to really feel like a prison? We can take back a few of our amenities, if you really want to embrace the fantasy.” Not bothering to absorb the indignance on her face, he continued. “Romero.”

The last man, a stunning and lanky blonde, the only one still standing beside you, stepped forward, and flashed a brilliant smile. “I, for one, am excited to begin. We’re testing a mood-altering drug, right?” He looked to the doctors for an answer, and when he found them unreceptive, glanced back to the frightening commander.

“Yeah.” He answered, unconvincingly, looking in your direction now. “Which makes you Y/L/N, our newest recruit.”

You could feel the others’ eyes on you, and fought the urge to squirm in place.

He stepped back now, motioning for you to follow him into the next room, in which, there was a thick black mat, cushioning your feet from the concrete of the floor. “Come here, Y/L/N.”

You were stuck in place, trying to fight the sinking feeling of fear in your chest.

“That was an order, Y/L/N. Here, now.” His voice grew more terse for just a second, before he glanced back to the group. “Khan, you too, up on the mat. The rest of you, watch and learn.” He stepped off the edge of the mat, folding his arms and examining the pair he’d created.

You stared up at the behemoth of a man before you, wearing a slim-fitting white tank-top. He was at least a few inches taller than you, and looked like he could squish you with his shoe.

He lifted his hands, beginning to crack his knuckles, his eyes focused on yours, his narrowed just slightly. “What do you want us to do?”

He lifted a brow. “I thought it was obvious. Fight, win, pin your opponent to the mat, and then you can stop.”

You paled noticeably.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Never scrapped before?” He taunted, one foot sliding back to prepare a fighting stance, raising his arms in a guard to protect his chest, slowly beginning to inch to your left.

“I can’t-” you began, looking to the commanding officer, looking for an ounce of pity. “I’ve never fought before and he’s so-”

“I don’t think I gave you a choice,” he interrupted. “If you don’t want to get hit, duck.”

Khan was grinning like a madman. “Ready?”

[kiruuuuu]

I’m very much okay with that, @beforedarkexpeditions! Thank you so much 💝 Sledge is one of my absolute favourites :) (Rating T/M, fluff/tiny bit nsfw at the end, ~1.2k words)

Please note that requests are closed!

.

Doc is busy re-stocking the infirmary when heavy footfalls announce a visitor. Glancing to the door, he sees Sledge giving him a friendly nod, seemingly amused about something. “Seamus. How can I help?”

“Your assistance is required on the training grounds, I’m afraid”, the Scotsman replies and eyes the various boxes and packages strewn around curiously.

“Is it an emergency?”

“Oh, not at all. Take your time.”

“I’ll be quicker if you help me”, Doc informs him and earns raised eyebrows. Not like he can blame Sledge – he’s notorious for snapping at anyone who even looks at his supplies wrong, let alone dares touching them. With almost all of their colleagues, he’d order them to wait until he’s finished, but he trusts Sledge not to mess anything up seeing as the Brit is usually just as well-organised as Doc himself is. Not only that, he spends copious amounts of time helping out in the medical office since he claims not to mind filing documents and besides, people around him always manage to get themselves injured somehow. He’s the only one of the SAS who doesn’t.

They work mostly in silence for a while, Sledge quickly figuring out Doc’s system and, as expected, upholding it meticulously. Whenever he’s not sure where something goes, Doc simply points or sorts it himself though he only has to resort to that twice. “What do you need me for, then?”, he asks conversationally right before they’re done.

“A recruit managed to step into one of Frost’s training mats.”

Doc pauses. “Don’t they still have considerable bite?” His reply is a nod and a grin. “Seamus – you can’t do that. Let’s go.” Rolling his eyes, Doc drops whatever he’s holding and heads out, followed by a chuckling Sledge. “This is the third time this week, for God’s sake, Mike must be livid. And why didn’t you just bring him to me?”

“First of all, he did it on purpose to show his two friends who’d accidentally ran into one what babies they are and that it doesn’t hurt at all.” Doc slows down upon hearing this. “And then I asked the five of them what the correct course of action is and they said to leave him as is and to get you. So I generously volunteered.”

By now, they’re moving at a decidedly more leisurely pace and Doc is massaging his temples. “I see. Were you this stupid back in the day?”

“I can safely say that I’ve never been that stupid, though I still agree on doing bets with James, so what do I know?” Doc just snorts at that.

When they arrive on site, the poor recruit is actually crying, though it probably has a lot to do with his four friends trying to ‘help’ by attempting to take the trap off without actually knowing how. “Everyone who still can, scatter”, Doc barks at them and, like a murder of crows, they all swarm out into different directions. “Shane, I swear you have the mental faculty of a blade of grass. Seamus, would you?”

Thus prompted, the large Scotsman removes the mat and smiles at the relieved moan he gets in return. Doc pushes the trouser leg up, inspects the damage, proclaims it as minor and suggests they take him to his office nonetheless. Again, he only needs to say Sledge’s name and his colleague obliges immediately, picking the shaken man up and carrying him.

He continues to be a valuable asset when Doc patches up the only slightly mangled leg by anticipating what he needs and handing it to Doc before he gets past the first syllable of his name, and even reaches up to the top shelf when Doc sarcastically suggests soothing the recruit’s frayed nerves with a lollipop. It’s been years since Doc last had to give one out so he put them where he can only reach with a chair or small ladder, though he has to admit simply having Sledge do it simplifies things immensely.

Once the whimpering recruit is sent on his way, Sledge hovers in the doorway, oddly reluctant to go. He’s an eager helper, and so Doc calls him back under the guise of needing assistance with paperwork, then decides he could catch up on some of the more in-depth forms he’s not required to submit until next week but since Sledge is here already, he might as well make himself useful.

“Are you sure you have the time?”, Doc inquires regardless, not wanting to hold Sledge back in case he’s needed elsewhere.

“Of course. Mike doesn’t need me for the bollocking the five will get.”

.

Doc only notices the change in the week Sledge is away for some consultation or other. The first indication is his missing coffee in the morning, provided by someone who prefers tea but stops by a coffee shop each morning regardless. His office feels empty all of a sudden, almost lonely but before he pursues that thought, he quickly returns to his duties, forbidding himself to even think about Sledge at all. He’s become worryingly reliant on the Scotsman which he failed to identify as a problem purely because Sledge is incredibly dependable and reliable. His ability to foresee whatever it is Doc will need next is highly appreciated, not to mention the fact that his easy-going yet sensible attitude makes him pleasant company.

It takes him three instances of accidentally calling someone else ‘Seamus’ when asking them for a favour before he accepts defeat and admits to himself that he misses him. It’s relatively easy to take him for granted since he doesn’t do any grand gestures, instead he’s like a third arm.

When he’s finally back, Doc rushes to greet him and notes how tired he looks from travelling, so he’s about to turn on his heel but halts when Sledge asks him whether he needs any help. “You know what”, says Doc, “there is something you can do for me.”

And despite his protests, Sledge does end up sleeping in Doc’s luxurious office chair, looking peaceful and making the Frenchman’s lips curl into a smile whenever he glances at him.

Even weeks later, Sledge keeps impressing him with his ability to read his mind. A thought floats around Doc’s head, not fully formed, vague and blurry, yet just before it hatches fully, Sledge guesses it and acts pre-emptively, spares Doc the trouble of requesting it.

Once again, while their mouths are pressed together tentatively, a tongue touching his lips and being granted entry gladly, Doc wonders how this man just knows.

And only a few days afterwards, it happens again, this time there are teeth in the nape of Doc’s neck and fingers digging into his hipbones as he muffles his noises in the sheets, but he wants something – and as always, just as he’s about to ask for it, one of the hands on his hips reaches between his legs and fulfils his wish. And while it does, Doc thinks: this man will give me everything I need.

[casandpuppies]

October Destiel AU Challenge: Day 10 - Sharing is Caring

31 Days of Destiel Drabbles: Day 10 - Homeless

It takes Dean less than a day to realize that he’s not very good at this whole “homeless” thing. Not that he’s aiming to be a pro, or anything, but it’d be really great to make it through this without dying on the streets.

Most people would probably say he’s a colossal idiot, and he’ll be the first to admit he’s made a lot of stupid decisions in his life. This one, he can’t bring himself to regret. And it’s not like he planned for things to end up just like this.

Tuition prices are going through the roof, and Sam needs to finish college. Sam also needs to focus on his studies and not have to worry about holding down a part-time job to pay for school. Why wouldn’t he prioritize Sam’s tuition payment over his rent? He can make it on the streets for a little bit if he has to, he told himself. He’s tough. As an added bonus, that extra five-hundred bucks could go right to Sam, in the guise of Dean picking up more hours or getting a raise or something, and his little brother would be none-the-wiser.

Unfortunately, he never factored in the possibility of getting fired once he was evicted. Who knew that not having a place of residence was grounds for firing someone? Kind of puts a kink in the whole “do this for a couple months as a worst-case scenario, just to get ahead on tuition payments” plan. Well, as long as Sam never finds out, or he’ll never hear the end of it.

So, here he is, siting pitifully on a bench in Lawrence’s city park, hoping a cop doesn’t come around to chase him off. In the approximately one week since he’s had to slum it on the streets, he’s been chased off benches and out of alleyways so many times he’s lost count. If he had a dollar for every time it happened, he could buy a damn mansion.

At least he’s still got the Impala—hell, she’s about the only thing he’s got left. She’s parked several blocks away, in a public parking lot. It’s only October, so it’s not freezing cold yet, but it’s getting a little chilly during the nights, and if he doesn’t do something, then it will definitely be a problem later on. If all else fails, he can sleep in her, although her tank’s almost empty, despite his attempts to ration it. Even a car without any heat will be better than nothing.

Food’s also a problem, too. He expected it to be, of course. But it seems like he’s particularly bad at obtaining it. There’s never anything even remotely edible in any trash can he comes across (it’s probably already been picked over by the time he gets to it), and he’s been turned away from the soup kitchen more times than he’s been given food. Kind of defeats the purpose of a soup kitchen, he thinks with a scowl.

Tonight is one of those particular nights. Apparently, his luck was bad enough that he showed up after they ran out of soup. Which is a load of horse shit, if you ask Dean, because it’s not like he showed up five hours after they first started serving food.

With a heavy, put-upon sigh, he shifts on the park bench until he’s lying down. It’s just gotten dark outside, and the temperature is dropping a little. Good thing his leather jacket’s fairly efficient at keeping the cold off. For now, that is.

He doesn’t realize he’s closed his eyes until the sound of footsteps approaches, followed by someone clearing their throat. Cracking one eye open, he sees a scruffy, dark-haired man standing at his side, wearing a ratty old coat. Homeless, probably. If there’s one thing he’s gotten out of this week, it’s the ability to instantly recognize another homeless person. Maybe some kind of solidarity bullshit.

“Hello,” the man says, in a deep, gravelly voice.

“Hey,” Dean replies, hoping the man will understand the unspoken question and will explain what he’s doing here.

The man stays silent, staring at him so intently it becomes unsettling and makes Dean’s skin crawl. “Can I help you?” he adds, pulling himself back into a sitting position.

“I saw you get turned away from the soup kitchen, today.”

Dean shrugs. “Yeah, well, what can you do? Just unlucky, I guess?”

The man stares at him for a few seconds more, then holds out a thermos that Dean only now realized he was holding. “You can have this, if you’d like.”

“What is it?” He blinks warily at the dented, metal container.

“It’s soup,” the man explains patiently. “I usually try to save my serving for later. I try to ration it out, you see? But you look like you could use it.”

“Oh,” Dean says, and feels like he could kick himself. The guy offers him what could have been his only meal of the day, and all Dean can say is ‘oh?’ He shakes his head. “That’s, um…you don’t have to. I don’t want to take your food, man.”

Trench coat-dude mirrors Dean’s shrug, though the motion is kind of awkward, like he’s not totally sure what he’s doing. “May I sit?” He gestures to the unoccupied section of the bench.

“Knock yourself out, dude.” Not like it’s his bench.

“I’m Castiel,” the guy says, out of the blue.

“Dean.”

Castiel smiles. “I can tell you haven’t been out here long. On the streets, I mean. I would have seen you, otherwise.”

Dean casts him a curious look. Talking to this stranger beats sitting and staring at nothing. “You been living on the streets a long time, Cas?”

“Several months. There are many things I don’t understand yet. But…” He trails off, and looks down at his lap.

“But?” Dean prompts.

“But I’ve learned that the kindness of strangers is truly incredible. Especially among those who have very little to give. It’s very heartening. If not for random acts of kindness, I likely wouldn’t have survived out here. It’s amazing, the things you learn from homeless people. I would like to help you, if you’ll allow me.” Once again, he tries to hand Dean the thermos.

What the hell? Dean thinks, and slowly plucks it out of Castiel’s hands. “Thanks,” he says, twisting the cap off and taking a gulp. It’s canned soup, nothing fancy, but it’s about the best thing Dean’s had in days.

Castiel’s smile brightens. Then, he’s suddenly on his feet. “I’ll see you around, Dean. Good luck.” In the blink of an eye, he’s gone, and Dean’s left staring at the empty spot he’d been sitting in all of five seconds ago. His eyes trail down to the battered thermos in his hands, then back to the vacant seat on the bench.

Weird little dude.

Despite the oddness factor, Dean hopes Castiel is right. He hopes to see him around. Maybe it’ll make this situation a little more bearable.

(To be continued?)

[lovehaswonangelnumbers]

New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/getting-real-jupiter-enters-capricorn/

Getting Real: Jupiter Enters Capricorn

Getting Real: Jupiter Enters Capricorn

By Astrology by Lauren

Try not to become a man of success, but rather to become a man of value. ~ Albert Einstein

The big news for this coming week is Jupiter entering the sign of Capricorn on December 2nd. No more rose-colored glasses, false narratives, propaganda, and risky ventures. No more foolishness. We’ve been led down that garden path one too many times, and in order to avoid an inevitable catastrophe, we need to get serious. It’s time to get real when Jupiter enters Capricorn. We’ve got our reputations on the line, and we want to be respected. There is a sense of gravity to the sign of Capricorn, which leads us all to think in terms of wanting to be taken much more seriously. Jupiter will remain in Capricorn through December 18, 2020. Jupiter in his guise as wise and trusted teacher, is here to the rescue. 

Jupiter, the planet of luck and expansion spends a full year in each sign. As a result, the things (and people) of the particular sign he is traveling in stand to benefit from his presence here. This could come as something of a welcome relief after having both Pluto and Saturn plough through this now beleaguered but stoic sign. Capricorn has domain over the infrastructures of our lives: Leaders, Authorities, Governments, Landmarks, Boundaries, Elders, Mountains, Traditions, Laws, Rules and things that are time-tested ancient and long-lived.

The old laws and structures have been breaking down under the strain of the recent Saturn/Pluto conjunction which becomes exact in January. Jupiter now aims to restore these time-honored institutions and structures of our lives and within our society. It’s time to come clean, make responsible adult decisions and do the right thing. This includes getting back to our own core values and beliefs, and recognizing where we need to draw the line. Laws and rules exist for a reason, and Jupiter is going to show us how and why. 

Capricorn is also an Earth sign. And one of the first transits that Jupiter makes as it first enters the sign of Capricorn is a square to Chiron, the wounded healer. We are being compelled to pay attention to what we need to do to heal ourselves, our society and our planet. This transit along with an innovative trine to Uranus, culminate with the Solar Eclipse on December 26th. Jupiter/Chiron makes us a little uncomfortable at first. But that discomfort is a signal that something needs fixing. The aim here is for greater healing and wholeness, without judgment, and without rejection. This is about resolving our differences, crossing divides, and paying attention to the real crises in society and how they impact our planet Earth. 

We are already seeing the culmination and results of choices and decisions made in the past. With Jupiter entering Capricorn this month we need to ask ourselves: what is working, and how can we improve on those things that are? What is not working, and needs to be remodeled or rebuilt? What are those things that you would like to improve in your life? And are you willing to put in the hard work to bring your life and your goals up to your own expectations? The clearer your goals, the more likely they are to be achieved. 

There is a certain humility that is learned when Jupiter is in Capricorn. Jupiter is traditionally said to be in its “fall” in Capricorn. But success is had in these years when we come to realize that fulfillment is to be found in honoring small achievable successes. But thanks to the transits to Pluto in 2020, within these simple and humble achievements are found an incredible potential for power and accomplishment. 

Wherever Capricorn is in our natal and solar charts is where we prefer to maintain the status quo. Capricorn clings to its traditions, and the way things should be. But for the past few years, both Saturn and Pluto have been putting a considerable amount of strain in this area. With Jupiter now entering Capricorn, it’s going to change the general tenor of that area of our lives. It’s the same as if someone else just moved in with you and your horrible roommates. Jupiter may help to ease the tension, or make things even worse than they already are. I’m banking on the former. This week’s horoscopes are going to be focusing on what that shift may look like in either your Solar or (whole sign house) Natal charts. 

My mother drew a distinction between achievement and success. She said that ‘achievement is the knowledge that you have studied and worked hard and done the best that is in you. Success is being praised by others, and that’s nice too, but not as important or as satisfying. Always aim for achievement and forget about success.’ ~ Helen Hayes

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[hellyeahheroes]

Janet Van Dyne’s cameo in the Unstoppable Wasp #3

You know, recently I’ve been informed about an article claiming this book isn’t a feminist tile but is outright insulting to women. I won’t link this article, because it’s trash that masquerades as feminist piece in order to sneak whining about “SJWs” under the radar (if you want to look for it, it’s on Heat Street, a site that appears to be mostly trying to spread messages about “evils of feminism and the left” under the guise of progressive articles). And does a very bad job at it. But it managed to get me angry (”furious like a wasp” they’d fittingly say in my country) so I’m going to use this review to talk about some of the bullshit that is being thrown against this book.

One of the arguments raised by this “article” is that Nadia’s decision to use her skills to help other brilliant young women make a break is wrong and she should be fighting villains instead. Because apparently the author of the article somehow missed few decades of comics where Superheroes try to deal with real-life problems. And sure, sometimes the efforts are not good, like infamous Superman: Grounded by Joe Michael Straczynski, where Superman offers superficial and ignorant solutions to problems like drug dealers, and sometimes outright makes things worse. But Unstoppable Wasp is one of few books that approaches real life problem in a way that can actually be helpful.

Nadia is aware how lucky she is to be in the position she found herself after coming to America – she is not only a supergenius, but has means to freely work on whatever she wants and utilize her potential to the fullest. And she is aware not all genius girls can say the same.  In this issue, she meets two of such women. Lashaya Smith is dealing with her parents living in financial-necessary separation and being bullied at school and possibly also depression. Priya is dealing with awfully strict parents and is torn between her love for science and common assumption that being smart will not make you happy and a girl is better off being vapid and shallow, because then everyone like her (you know, awful crap that is put into kids heads at very young age thanks to careless shows like Teen Titans Go!). Nadia is respectful and if someone doesn’t want to join (like Lunella Lafayette, who is too preoccupied with her own book’s problems AND Inhumans problems) she won’t press the issue.

But here is the thing. This is an actual real problem that there are many talented women who, for various reasons, never have the opportunity to make it big. And the truth is that the best chance they have is if women who got luckier use position they’re on to reach their hand to them. I’m saying it as a male, most of the men will look first for other men and those who are willing to use their position to help women, while worth applause, are an exception, not the rule. In this field the best hope real women like Lashaya or Priya have is for women who are already there to help them. The Unstoppable Wasp will not solve the problem of the glass ceiling or how economic circumstances or social pressure stand in a way of young women accomplishing their dreams. But if at least one girl who reads this book makes it big, not only just in science but whatever her passion is, like art or performance or politics, and then reaches to help other women climb up, it will be a success.

Now, that awful article tries to criticize the book for “coming up” with the all-male List of world’s smartest people for Nadia to challenge. Like if that wasn’t a thing for over a decade. Like if the first mention of it cannot be traced to the creation of Amadeus Cho. The moment he was proclaimed 7th Smartest Man on Earth, Marvel jumped to put all their most  famous supergeniuses in the first six positions, creating Top 7 Smartest Men on Earth List (by the way, notice it ended with Cho on lowest position - because the point never was to create more appropriate Top 10, but to ensure all “classic” characters are better than the new guy). The article argues for the List to be a thing only in comic, despite being officially approved by Marvel, while “real” fans will always remember to mention Valeria Richards as one of the smartest people on Earth. Funny thing that when one of the comics (Dan Slott’s Mighty Avengers) showed Valeria punking Amadeus, Marvel not only didn’t acknowledge her place in the Top 7 – but removed Amadeus from it in Fall of Hulks, where members of Top 7 are kidnapped and Amadeus is spared by being retconned to be a lower number.

The list has a history of being incredibly sexist, and refusal to acknowledge Valeria’s position on it In-Universe is only one of the problems. You don’t need to look further than Jonathan Hickman’s atrocious New Avengers book. Starring an all-male team composed of members of the list and few extras (that were slowly faded out) it was infamous for an outright spiteful killing of women in the position of power (including Shuri, Queen of Wakanda, and Roma and Saturyne, leaders of Captain Britain Corps). It also spent it’s run throwing around numerous suggestions Valeria will in future grow into Black Swan, scantily-clad femme-fatale who has no interest in science. Instead, Black Swan is a terrorist, religiously devoted to writer’s favorite character and one of Top 7 guys, Doctor Doom.

Moon Girl & Devil Dinosaur and Unstoppable Wasp are first books actually challenging sexism that is at this point inseparable from the whole concept of the List. The article argues it is wrong for them to do so when Valeria exists, but if all she amounts to is a token to show “hey, girls can be smart too” in an all-boys adventure, especially one as sexist as Hickman’s New Avengers, then this argument is rubbish. Combined with the argument Nadia should use her knowledge to fight supervillains, not help other girls, it reeks of elitism. Of the incredibly selfish idea of feminism, where every woman is on their own and does nothing to help those in a worse position than her.

The use of Valeria as go-to “proof” Nadia and her group aren’t needed seems incredibly fitting. I mean, there was a reason why, when Warren Ellis’ 2007 series Planetary introduced villains that were stealing and destroying all that extraordinary in the world, they were based on Fantastic Four. This kind of elitism is very popular in superhero genre. It’s the bad way to write superheroes – show them as superior and looking down to those less lucky and gifted. “We’re adventures, my crewmates and I. On the human adventure. And you can’t all come along.” – Says Human Torch’s evil counterpart in Planetary, William Leather. This is the same kind of elitism that reeks from this article. I don’t know what motivates the author. Maybe she genuinely thinks herself a feminist. But it looks to me like she is one of the “alt-feminists” being currently pushed by far-right groups in an attempt to co-opt feminism for their cause. Or those feminists who made it big and only cared for themselves. And now when they see a mere suggestion they could have done more for other women, especially women of color, they have a very recognizable reaction:

This book is great. Buy it, even if it’s not your kind of thing. If only to spite those alt-“feminists” who cannot stand the idea of women actually helping each other and working together.

[cathrynstreich]

The Bear Case for Industry Search & IDX

[Editor’s note: We’re trying something new–collaborative thought pieces written by the Geek Estate Mastermind community. The goal is to make the absolute best argument possible, derived from the collective expertise of members. The first two articles are bull and bear arguments for industry search and IDX, a topic initiated by Greg Fischer over a year ago.

Bull: The industry must not cede search to the portals. Meeting Buyer Expectations and Owned, Perpetual Lead Generation Are Table Stakes to Agency.

Bear: The portals have already won the minds of buyers. Search is an undifferentiated lost cause. If you can’t “win,” why play at all?

Without further ado, here we go with the bear argument…]

Bear: Lack of Differentiation and Core Competency Has Led to an Insurmountable Traffic Disadvantage

There’s simply no way for the real estate industry to compete in search against Zillow and other established portals with years of brand and SEO headstarts, particularly with the growing cost of providing a killer search experience across mobile and tablets. Even if the industry invested the needed capital to build a portal, the cost to reach buyers is too expensive.

Let’s define real estate industry search as any agent or brokerage website, MLS, or tech initiative majority funded by those parties. It’s worth noting that while Redfin is a brokerage that who has cracked the top three, that’s a unique situation that started at the beginning of “online real estate portals” and has unfolded over 15 years.

To change, buyers need motivation/incentive: Why in the world would a home buyer visit a brokerage’s sub-par IDX site to search for homes, when a better search experience on Zillow or Redfin is one click away? Agent and brokerage websites are all cut from the same mold; very few use their virtual real estate to differentiate on client experience and service opportunities.

The industry’s core competence is not consumer technology. Never has been, never will be.

The agent’s value proposition is about more than helping clients find a property. It’s about overseeing the entire transaction and making it a seamless experience from end to end. Helping buyers find a home with their own technology is not required to maintain relevancy.

HOW THE PLAYERS ARE FARING

A list of the top 20 real estate websites in September 2019 shows largely the same incumbents as those that graced top 20 lists a decade ago when I was at Zillow. From a 2013 top 10 list, Yahoo! Real Estate, FrontDoor, MSN are no longer. No new entrant has meaningfully broken through the ranks.

According to SimilarWeb, here’s the landscape with October 2019 data:

You can see the full rankings for the real estate category here.

Cliff Notes

Zillow Group: We can keep this short and sweet. Complete domination.

Redfin: I am beyond impressed with their slow, steady march up the rankings–now, firmly cemented as a top three search portal. They are the only brokerage anywhere in the list that benefited from an early start and deep tech/engineering roots.

Realtor.com: They keep coming out with ad campaigns and have grown their traffic, but I haven’t seen much product innovation for several years. 

Yahoo! Real Estate: A top three site for over a decade that is no longer. Somehow, I didn’t notice when Yahoo! shut it down in 2016 (along with other major verticals). It’s absurd they didn’t even take advantage of the massively powerful domain they had. Why not at least keep the landing page up, and funnel organic SEO traffic to a partner for a fee? That’s what AOL did. I guess I’ll never know.

Compass: Everything I’ve heard and read says they are focused on creating leverage with unique supply, aka coming soon and exclusives. That strategy seems at serious risk with the recent Bright MLS decision.

Broker Public Portal / HomeSnap: Gaining traffic by getting agents to email listings to their entire sphere? Cool. Anything differentiated or strategically defensible? Nope. I understand the broker’s perspective, I just don’t buy it.

Consumer MLS Websites: I didn’t understand the consumer MLS portal strategy nearly a decade ago. I understand it even less today. I’m scratching my head as to why the flawed strategy is being tried again. There is still no way a buyer would switch to a website like this when the alternative is Zillow or Redfin. Remove HAR.com from the equation, and the entire category is a colossal failure. 

ABANDON THE GHOST TOWN

I spoke with agents 10 years ago without IDX sites who still found a way to sell millions in real estate. Greg Fischer launched FWLocal.com in 2013 without one. If you think it’s a requirement to serve clients, you’re sorely mistaken. Even those who pay for and advertise IDX solutions know consumer usage rates are abysmal. Most IDX websites are, in fact, ghost towns sitting idle in their tiny speck of cyberspace.

Beyond that, IDX perpetuates the long-standing confusion surrounding online real estate search: buyers don’t understand who the agent showing up on the listing detail page is (it’s not the listing agent). It reinforces the status quo under the guise of innovation and stymies competition by encouraging parity in a crowded market. The mass-implementation of IDX has diluted the value prop of the end user experience, further driving home browsers to the major platforms. 

Clients are already using Zillow, Trulia, Redfin, or Realtor.com to search for properties. It’s possible to pay for My Agent, getting all the branding that you get with IDX solutions without the hurdle of figuring out how to drive traffic and compete on user experience. That’s likely why Zillow got out of the game–they sold Diverse Solutions. If they were bullish on IDX, why would they sell their IDX company?

Traditional lead funnels are a waste of time. Why not wait until the buyer is ready to talk to you. Wouldn’t you rather speak to buyers when they are actually ready to speak to an agent, not six, nine, or even 18 months prior to that.

Disassembling IDX in its current form would provide increased transparency around buyer and seller agency, as well as the stage in the process a consumer should seek agency, and from whom. Only then can the industry rid itself of its decades-old obsession to clone the portals and focus on places where it is proving real value with differentiated offerings–alternative/innovative financing, trade ins, and packaged ancillary services (discounts with moving vendors, utility/service transfers, school searches, community/lifestyle amenities).

OPPORTUNITY IN THE MIDST

Agents and brokers can’t compete in search against the established order of portals: The audience lead is simply too big, the capital investment requirement too great, and customer acquisition too challenging. The money, incentive, and patience to battle Zillow for a decade is simply not in the cards. Not to mention, a core competence in consumer tech is lacking entirely.

Search is not dead. Opportunity exists in curation (green homes, modern, etc), fixer-uppers, and teardowns when structures become irrelevant.

Breaking through in search is incredibly unlikely for anyone–but not impossible. Successful execution is far more likely to come from an outside entrant. But a search solution by the industry is even more far-fetched, having the added nightmare of 1099 contractors at every turn, years between consumer use cases, and being built from the perspective of “helping the agent.”

By abandoning a hopeless fight, the industry saves itself from throwing away capital better spent cultivating relationships and, more importantly, the mental bandwidth that is better spent serving clients. Don’t cede the fight? Regardless of who the perceived opponent is, that war is over and has been over since Zillow acquired Trulia. Checkmate, real estate industry search–and IDX.

Wrap-Up

Thanks to the contributors to the thinking behind this bear argument:

Greg Fischer from West + Main Homes

Tyler Hixson from Opendoor

Christian Sterner from WellcomeMat

The bull argument (spearheaded by Ted Adler from Union Street Media), which has already been published for members, will be republished publicly here in the next week or two.

If you’re interested in learning more about membership in the Geek Estate Mastermind, which I usually describe as a think-tank for real estate tech, have a read here.

The post The Bear Case for Industry Search & IDX appeared first on GeekEstate Blog.

The Bear Case for Industry Search & IDX published first on https://thegardenresidences.tumblr.com/

[clarencevancleave]

The Bear Case for Industry Search & IDX

[Editor’s note: We’re trying something new–collaborative thought pieces written by the Geek Estate Mastermind community. The goal is to make the absolute best argument possible, derived from the collective expertise of members. The first two articles are bull and bear arguments for industry search and IDX, a topic initiated by Greg Fischer over a year ago.

Bull: The industry must not cede search to the portals. Meeting Buyer Expectations and Owned, Perpetual Lead Generation Are Table Stakes to Agency.

Bear: The portals have already won the minds of buyers. Search is an undifferentiated lost cause. If you can’t “win,” why play at all?

Without further ado, here we go with the bear argument…]

Bear: Lack of Differentiation and Core Competency Has Led to an Insurmountable Traffic Disadvantage

There’s simply no way for the real estate industry to compete in search against Zillow and other established portals with years of brand and SEO headstarts, particularly with the growing cost of providing a killer search experience across mobile and tablets. Even if the industry invested the needed capital to build a portal, the cost to reach buyers is too expensive.

Let’s define real estate industry search as any agent or brokerage website, MLS, or tech initiative majority funded by those parties. It’s worth noting that while Redfin is a brokerage that who has cracked the top three, that’s a unique situation that started at the beginning of “online real estate portals” and has unfolded over 15 years.

To change, buyers need motivation/incentive: Why in the world would a home buyer visit a brokerage’s sub-par IDX site to search for homes, when a better search experience on Zillow or Redfin is one click away? Agent and brokerage websites are all cut from the same mold; very few use their virtual real estate to differentiate on client experience and service opportunities.

The industry’s core competence is not consumer technology. Never has been, never will be.

The agent’s value proposition is about more than helping clients find a property. It’s about overseeing the entire transaction and making it a seamless experience from end to end. Helping buyers find a home with their own technology is not required to maintain relevancy.

HOW THE PLAYERS ARE FARING

A list of the top 20 real estate websites in September 2019 shows largely the same incumbents as those that graced top 20 lists a decade ago when I was at Zillow. From a 2013 top 10 list, Yahoo! Real Estate, FrontDoor, MSN are no longer. No new entrant has meaningfully broken through the ranks.

According to SimilarWeb, here’s the landscape with October 2019 data:

You can see the full rankings for the real estate category here.

Cliff Notes

Zillow Group: We can keep this short and sweet. Complete domination.

Redfin: I am beyond impressed with their slow, steady march up the rankings–now, firmly cemented as a top three search portal. They are the only brokerage anywhere in the list that benefited from an early start and deep tech/engineering roots.

Realtor.com: They keep coming out with ad campaigns and have grown their traffic, but I haven’t seen much product innovation for several years. 

Yahoo! Real Estate: A top three site for over a decade that is no longer. Somehow, I didn’t notice when Yahoo! shut it down in 2016 (along with other major verticals). It’s absurd they didn’t even take advantage of the massively powerful domain they had. Why not at least keep the landing page up, and funnel organic SEO traffic to a partner for a fee? That’s what AOL did. I guess I’ll never know.

Compass: Everything I’ve heard and read says they are focused on creating leverage with unique supply, aka coming soon and exclusives. That strategy seems at serious risk with the recent Bright MLS decision.

Broker Public Portal / HomeSnap: Gaining traffic by getting agents to email listings to their entire sphere? Cool. Anything differentiated or strategically defensible? Nope. I understand the broker’s perspective, I just don’t buy it.

Consumer MLS Websites: I didn’t understand the consumer MLS portal strategy nearly a decade ago. I understand it even less today. I’m scratching my head as to why the flawed strategy is being tried again. There is still no way a buyer would switch to a website like this when the alternative is Zillow or Redfin. Remove HAR.com from the equation, and the entire category is a colossal failure. 

ABANDON THE GHOST TOWN

I spoke with agents 10 years ago without IDX sites who still found a way to sell millions in real estate. Greg Fischer launched FWLocal.com in 2013 without one. If you think it’s a requirement to serve clients, you’re sorely mistaken. Even those who pay for and advertise IDX solutions know consumer usage rates are abysmal. Most IDX websites are, in fact, ghost towns sitting idle in their tiny speck of cyberspace.

Beyond that, IDX perpetuates the long-standing confusion surrounding online real estate search: buyers don’t understand who the agent showing up on the listing detail page is (it’s not the listing agent). It reinforces the status quo under the guise of innovation and stymies competition by encouraging parity in a crowded market. The mass-implementation of IDX has diluted the value prop of the end user experience, further driving home browsers to the major platforms. 

Clients are already using Zillow, Trulia, Redfin, or Realtor.com to search for properties. It’s possible to pay for My Agent, getting all the branding that you get with IDX solutions without the hurdle of figuring out how to drive traffic and compete on user experience. That’s likely why Zillow got out of the game–they sold Diverse Solutions. If they were bullish on IDX, why would they sell their IDX company?

Traditional lead funnels are a waste of time. Why not wait until the buyer is ready to talk to you. Wouldn’t you rather speak to buyers when they are actually ready to speak to an agent, not six, nine, or even 18 months prior to that.

Disassembling IDX in its current form would provide increased transparency around buyer and seller agency, as well as the stage in the process a consumer should seek agency, and from whom. Only then can the industry rid itself of its decades-old obsession to clone the portals and focus on places where it is proving real value with differentiated offerings–alternative/innovative financing, trade ins, and packaged ancillary services (discounts with moving vendors, utility/service transfers, school searches, community/lifestyle amenities).

OPPORTUNITY IN THE MIDST

Agents and brokers can’t compete in search against the established order of portals: The audience lead is simply too big, the capital investment requirement too great, and customer acquisition too challenging. The money, incentive, and patience to battle Zillow for a decade is simply not in the cards. Not to mention, a core competence in consumer tech is lacking entirely.

Search is not dead. Opportunity exists in curation (green homes, modern, etc), fixer-uppers, and teardowns when structures become irrelevant.

Breaking through in search is incredibly unlikely for anyone–but not impossible. Successful execution is far more likely to come from an outside entrant. But a search solution by the industry is even more far-fetched, having the added nightmare of 1099 contractors at every turn, years between consumer use cases, and being built from the perspective of “helping the agent.”

By abandoning a hopeless fight, the industry saves itself from throwing away capital better spent cultivating relationships and, more importantly, the mental bandwidth that is better spent serving clients. Don’t cede the fight? Regardless of who the perceived opponent is, that war is over and has been over since Zillow acquired Trulia. Checkmate, real estate industry search–and IDX.

Wrap-Up

Thanks to the contributors to the thinking behind this bear argument:

Greg Fischer from West + Main Homes

Tyler Hixson from Opendoor

Christian Sterner from WellcomeMat

The bull argument (spearheaded by Ted Adler from Union Street Media), which has already been published for members, will be republished publicly here in the next week or two.

If you’re interested in learning more about membership in the Geek Estate Mastermind, which I usually describe as a think-tank for real estate tech, have a read here.

The post The Bear Case for Industry Search & IDX appeared first on GeekEstate Blog.

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