#into god gave rock and roll to you when he does it live

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

I met a girl from China She became a friend When I learned to understand her There was much to comprehend I'd sympathise with her stories She laughed at my jokes So many things about that time Her memory evokes

I said Just like me you get angry, like me you get mad Just like me you're happy, then you're a little sad We can blow smoke rings from the same cigarette We can write a song, maybe a little duet

She said Eyes that are shut, they will never see If you want the fruit, you gotta shake the tree Everyone in the world's playing blind man's buff You're just like me You're just looking for love

Then I met a man from Africa, Dakar, Senegal Apart from the colour of his skin He was like a man I knew from Montreal

I said Do you get scared? So do I Think there's nothing there? So do I

And then he said Have you ever faked love? Me too Give not enough? I do Do you state your case, well so do I, then close your mind to the reply? Have you said there's no God, then prayed at night? I have, I do and again I might Do you wanna cry when you feel afraid And kept your tears inside and there they stayed?

Do you get so angry you can't understand? You do, I do, so does every other man In France or Spain or Timbuctoo What's inside of him is inside of you And inside of me is in every other Whoever you are, you're my mother My father, my sister and my brother

Just like me you get angry, like me you get mad Just like me you're happy, then you're a little sad We can blow smoke rings from the same cigarette We can write a love song, maybe a little duet

Eyes that are shut, they will never see If you want the fruit, you gotta shake the tree Everyone in the world's playing blind man's buff You're just like me You're just looking for love

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

i love this because russ ballard would agree. when he wrote it, he actually originally wanted it to be more like what kiss did with it, but he never got a say in how his songs would sound when he was in argent. he'd write a song and then they'd decide what to do with it, which was one of the reasons he wasn't happy being there because he wanted more input in his own songs. they slowed it down more and everything and he was more or less like "but. but. my song"

the lyrics, he talked a lot about theirs being perfect too, for what they're all about and just like the "put your faith in a loud guitar" kind of thing and he said they made it more universal, that more people could get into it or however he worded that

whereas the lyrics he wrote were purely about him coming out of depression and the way he felt at the time because his lyrics are usually always very personal to himself. he calls it the hippie version

but anyway, he has nothing but praise for what kiss did with it.

I’m listening to the Argent version of God Gave Rock N Roll To You and its a completely different song to the KISS one. KISS changed a big cunck of the lyrics, and for the better in my opinion.

[ereardon]

Homecoming [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: Returning home to California after six years abroad in England, you found everything has changed. Jake Seresin, your father's former college roommate and lifelong best friend, is now a widower and has purchased a new vineyard in Montecito, only a few miles from your childhood home. Your parents’ marriage is on the rocks, your brother is struggling with what to do with his life, and you’ve grown up and are starting your own counseling practice. So what happens when you find yourself falling for the man your father calls his best friend? And worse, what happens when your parents find out he’s falling for you, too? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: Age gap, eventual smut, cursing, alcohol

Word count: 2.1K

Author's note: This fic references a significant age gap, as reader is the child of Jake's best friend. However, she's in her mid-twenties, and he's been only a small part of her life to this point as he spent the majority of his time traveling with his late wife. This fic does not depict grooming, but if you are concerned with any of the themes please read at your own risk.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. 

A part of you had forgotten what it smelled like, to breathe fresh ocean air instead of stuffy city smog. Six years in London had warped your senses. It had worn its way into your everyday life, from the coffee you drank (flat whites) to the way you asked for random items (bits and bobs) to the foods you now craved (sausage rolls and chips with mayonnaise). 

You looked down at your ratty pajama bottoms and sighed. Even though you had spent the better part of a decade abroad, living a sparkling social life in one of the world’s greatest cities, you were still the simple girl next door from Montecito. You still lived with your parents, a fact that you were very well aware of as you stood at the french doors of your childhood bedroom, staring out across the backyard. 

Below, you could smell the charcoal grill and your mother’s famous peach cobbler. 

“Y/N!” Your father’s voice was nearly crushed by the sound of a car zipping up the circular driveway. You leaned out further against the Juliette balcony, trying to spy the car, the green back end of a shiny Jaguar coming into view. “Come downstairs for cocktails!” 

“Five minutes!” you called back. 

Ten minutes later, who was counting, you stepped barefoot down the spiral staircase, landing silently on the marble foyer floor. Voices carried across the expansive hallway through to the back of the house where the large iron doors leading out to the patio were propped open, a light early fall breeze wafting in. 

Before you could make it halfway across the room, a ball of fur caught your eye and you were almost toppled by a shaggy golden retriever as he jumped on your legs. 

“Hugo!” You bent down, rubbing your hands along the dog’s spine, over his head, ruffling his ears. “You’ve gotten old, buddy.” 

“He’s aged like fine wine, just like his dad.” 

You looked up. Jake Seresin was headed straight for you, a grin practically splitting his face, his favorite cowboy hat resting on his head. You gave Hugo one last pat on the head before standing up, flinging your arms open wide, letting Jake pull you tightly into a hug. He smelled familiar, like dirt and ripe stone fruit, and as you pulled away you noted that his left hand, typically adorned with a gold wedding band, was bare. 

“Good to have you back, Sparky,” he said, stepping toward the back of the house, Hugo following on his footsteps. 

“God, been ages since someone’s called me that,” you replied. “In London they just called me that California girl.” 

He laughed. Jake’s laugh was always something you had admired. Deep, and whole. It practically had its own seat at the long wooden table that your mother had piled high with bowls of colorful salads and plates of dip. 

“Y/N, can you pour the wine Jake brought?” 

“Sure.” You grabbed the bottle. It didn’t have a label, just a simple green bottle with a red wax drip over the cork. You sliced it off carefully, sinking a corkscrew into the soft cork with ease. Jake watched with hawk eyes as you yanked the handle up seamlessly, pulling out the cork and sniffing it. A warm pinot noir. You poured yourself a fingertip in a glass and took a sip. “Damn that’s good.” 

Your mother frowned. “Manners, missy.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Mother, I’m twenty five.” 

“You’re never too old to be reminded that it’s nice to have manners.” 

“She’s not wrong, Marla,” Jake said, his fingertips folding over yours as he took the wine bottle, filling everyone’s glass. “It is damn good.” 

“You’re biased,” your father said, leaning back against his wooden chair. “It’s the best vintage you’ve had since you bought the place.” 

“Good rain last year,” Jake replied, sliding the glass back over toward you. “And no fires.” 

“Thank God,” your father replied.

“Where’s Colin?” You turned left and right, your older brother nowhere to be seen. 

An uncomfortable silence settled over the outdoor table. You frowned. Colin had always been the wild card of the family, but you had complete faith in him. The two of you were Irish twins, born only a year apart, and he was the one you spoke to almost daily while you lived abroad. Colin was the one who called you when cousin Jackie ditched her fiancé two days before the wedding, and Colin was the one who tapped on your door late at night to sneak out and go swimming on balmy summer nights. It was Colin who you could depend on, even when no one else could depend on him. 

“He’s out,” your father said finally, folding his hands on the table. “Shall we get started?” 

“Yes, please, I’m starving,” you replied, leaning forward and taking a heaping serving of your mother’s famous quinoa salad. 

“So Sparky, how’s it going, being back?” Jake leaned forward in his iron chair, picking at a piece of garlic bread. 

“Well, the food isn’t all brown,” you replied, biting into a ripe tomato, letting the flavor burst along your tongue, “so that’s a plus.” 

“I quite liked those potato triangle things they had in Scotland,” your dad replied. 

You rolled your eyes. “Potato tatties dad. And yes, those are good. But so are vegetables.” You paused. “I have to say, the wine here is way too expensive though.” 

“Ouch.” Jake smirked. “Speaking of wine, your mom said you’re looking for a job for a few months, while you get everything for your clinic organized?” You nodded. You had signed the lease for the clinic over Zoom while still packing up your flat in London, excitement worming its way through your limbs. It was becoming real. Six years of school and finally you were opening your own counseling practice in California. “Contractor said we’re about four months from finishing.” 

“Come work for me.” You looked up, surprised. Jake had his hand dangling over the side of his chair, petting Hugo’s fluffy head. “I need a new manager. Someone with people skills and a head for numbers. You can work whatever hours you need, if you need to start late or end early to check in on the clinic.” 

“That’s a really nice offer.” 

“I sense a but coming.” 

You nodded. “But I don’t know anything about business.” 

Jake waved a hand in the air. There was a nonchalance about him. There always had been. He was the polar opposite of your father – a hard exterior corporate lawyer. No nonsense. Jake and your father had been friends for as long as you could remember. But he and his late wife Jenny were the complete opposite of your parents. They traveled the world. They hiked in Peru and ate at tiny sidewalk cafes in Vietnam. For the majority of your life, they had lived in the Bay area, and you would see them a few times a year, the two of them dropping by on the tail end of a trip or at the start of another. 

It wasn’t until Jenny passed away that Jake decided to put down roots. He packed up the Marin house, settled into a beautiful ranch-style home on the edge of the new vineyard he purchased. 

“Neither did I,” he said. “You’ll make it work. You’re a smart girl. Besides, there’s free wine in the deal.” 

You raised your glass. “Well, who could say no to that?” 

***

You slid your sunglasses to the top of your head, locking the car door and staring out at the vineyards stretched in front of you. 

Jake had bought the vineyard, Carrboro Estates, three years before, right after Jenny died. In that time, you had only been home once, and even that was just a quick four days during Christmas break. This was the first time you were seeing the vineyard in person. 

It was a Monday, the vineyard was closed to the public. As you walked down the stone path toward the Tuscan-style doors, you couldn’t help but see the resemblance between your parents' cliff-side house and the structure in front of you. 

“Hello?” The entry was large, with swirled marble slabs on the floor, a two-storey tall wall of wine bottles to your left, a round table in the center of the entry area with a few sample bottles of wine. You stepped closer. A picture of Jake sat in the very center of the table, grinning and holding up a glass of wine, the sun setting behind him over the grapes. 

He looked handsome. It wasn’t the first time you had recognized your father’s friend was attractive. But it was the first time as an adult you realized just how much of a commodity Jake must be, now that he was single. 

“Sparky? I’m down here, staircase on your right.” 

You followed Jake’s voice, down a hallway that opened up into a large staircase. Quietly, sneakers slapping against the broad steps, you made your way to the lower level, which opened up to an entire wall of glass doors, a patio sitting right outside. 

“Pretty nice view, right?” You swiveled around. Jake was holding a glass in one hand, cleaning it with a white cloth. 

You grinned. “Nice is an understatement.” 

“Welcome to Carrboro Estates.” 

“Fancy.” 

Jake chuckled. “Come on, let’s do the tour and then have a drink.” 

Jake walked you through the lower level, which held the outdoor patio as well as the kitchen. Upstairs, there was a private events and tasting room, as well as a bar. One half of the building had floor to ceiling windows with views over the vineyard, which cascaded down the hillside. 

“I can’t believe you built this all.” 

“Most of it was done by the time I bought the property,” Jake said as the two of you settled into a table at the edge of the patio. He uncorked a bottle seamlessly, tipping it into a wide mouthed glass, the red liquid dripping down the side leaving thin streaks. “I just made some changes, and then added on the house.” 

“Where is it?” You looked around. 

“About half a mile that way,” Jake replied, stretching one finger to your right. “Just below that hill.” 

“Bet it’s lovely.” 

“I’ll have you over some time for dinner. Hugo would like it.” You grinned. Jake set his wine glass down. “So the job. I’m looking for someone to be here when I’m not, essentially. You’d be front of house and back of house, which means helping with tastings, ordering supplies for the food menu, overseeing staff and helping me with some of the books. A little bit of everything.” 

“I’ve never had a real job,” you confessed. “I mean, I was a TA at Uni, and a lifeguard that one summer before senior year, but that’s about it.” 

“I’m looking for someone smart, that people like and want to listen to. You’re perfect for the job.” 

You cocked your head to one side. “That’s it? That’s the interview?” 

“I trust you,” Jake said and you looked up, surprised. His eyes were locked on yours. “What I don’t get is why you think you can’t do this.” 

His words cut, but not because they were harsh. You found yourself shocked that Jake Seresin of all people could read you like an open book. 

“What if I fail?” you asked quietly.

“At what, pouring wine?” Jake shrugged. “Open a new bottle. I don’t care if you break a hundred, fuck, a thousand bottles. Doesn’t matter to me, Sparky.” 

“Not the wine,” you whispered. “My clinic.” 

Jake nodded. “So that’s what you’re afraid of.” 

“Terrified,” you admitted. “Excited. Every feeling in the book.” 

“I was so worried the night before we opened that I accidentally got rip roaring drunk in the kitchen,” Jake said and you laughed. “Woke up the next morning at five a.m. on the floor in just my jeans and boots, no shirt. And had to open and welcome all the employees.” 

“Does it get better?” 

“Starting your own business is terrifying,” Jake said. “And it’s the best thing I’ve ever done. You’re going to be great.” 

You smiled. “I’ll take the job.” 

Jake tipped more wine into your glass. “Honey, your name’s already on the books. You’re working your first shift on Wednesday.” You blinked and Jake shrugged. “I said I needed help, didn’t I? Besides, this place needs some warmth in it. I think you’re exactly what we’ve been missing.” 

Tag list:

@lyn-js @seresinhangmanjake @bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @clancycucumber230 @dempy @allbark-no-bite @teacupsandtopgun @na-ta-sh-aa @katiedid-3 @bradshawburner @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @rosiahills22 @emo @horseshoegirl @eminyourjeans

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Oh Sister Let's Go Down -Oneshot

Word count: 3335 "атаковать"= attack *sister!reader

Everyone who wasn’t living under a rock knew the story of James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, the ex-Winter Soldier and Howling Commando.  Very few had heard of his sister, Y/N Barnes.  Those who had heard her name in history were under the impression she had died while serving as a field nurse during WWII.  But the real story was much more interesting.

Bucky was drafted to serve in the war, and Y/N quickly followed him as a nurse, the only way a woman could serve during those days.  She quickly built a reputation for herself in the field as the Nightingale, the nurse that would sing to the soldiers as they neared death as a way to help relax them and bring them peace in their final moments.  It was a stroke of luck that she and Bucky had been placed in the 107th at the same time.  When Steve had rescued Bucky she had been the one to help him heal, and when Steve was creating the Howling Commandos, she joined them as one of the founding members, but was never officially recognized.  She was almost as good a sniper as Bucky, and learned how to fight well from him and Steve.  

On that fateful day on the train during a mission, as Bucky held onto the train car as best as he could with Steve reaching out, Y/N watched on in horror as the bar gave way and Bucky fell with a scream.  Without thinking Y/N had jumped after him, Steve screaming for both of them as they hurtled through the air.  She had no plan.  She knew that they would most likely die, but she wasn’t about to live in a world without her brother.

Y/N’s body picked up speed enough to catch him in the air, hugging him tight.  Bucky held her as tight as he could, both of them squeezing their eyes shut.  When they hit the tops of the trees they both screamed in pain, a ghastly ripping noise coming from their side, then tumbled down through the branches, eventually being separated until both of their bodies hit the snow covered ground with unearthly sounding thuds.  Y/N woke up moments later, snow falling in her face as the ringing in her ears and the pounding in her head made her dizzy.  She felt a throbbing pain in her right shoulder, and as she turned her head she saw blood seeping into the snow from where her arm should be.  Should be…

She realized that her arm had been ripped off through the trees and started screaming, the pain suddenly hitting her full force as her adrenaline wore off.  She looked to her side for Bucky, and found him lying in the snow about twenty feet away from her.  Y/N pulled herself up and crawled toward him, losing her balance multiple times, before finally kneeling next to him.

“Bucky,” she panted, reaching out and nudging his right arm.  “Buck, please, wake up.”  He didn’t move, and she feared the worst.  “Please, come on, bruiser, get up!”  She hit his chest with her fist and he suddenly sucked in a deep breath, his eyes opening.  “Thank god,” she sighed before looking him over.  She gasped when she saw blood next to his left side, then realized he’d lost his arm as well in the trees.  Y/N cried as she saw the pain in his face, his head trying to turn to look where the pain was coming from.  “No no, look at me,” she said, her hand gripping his jaw and forcing him to look at her.  

“Sweets?  Why does it hurt so bad?” he whispered, his own tears starting to fall.

“We’re both pretty hurt, but it’s gonna be okay,” Y/N said, trying to smile at him.  “Just breathe for a second.  Does anywhere else hurt?”

“My…my back, and my head,” Bucky said, his eyes wide and flitting around anxiously.  

“Okay, can you move?” she asked.

Bucky started rolling his ankles and bending his knees, slightly squirming around.  Y/N sighed in relief that he wasn’t paralyzed.  “I-I can’t feel my arm,” Bucky said quietly.  He looked her over and gasped.  “Your arm!”

“I know, I know,” Y/N said, gritting her teeth at the throbbing pain.  “Listen, we can’t stay here, we have to move–”

Footsteps trodding through the packed snow caught her attention, and she turned swiftly to see men walking towards them, dressed in European uniforms.  She reached for her gun but it was gone.  Y/N crawled over Bucky, laying herself across him in a defensive stance as the men walked up to them.  She glared at them as they approached and looked at her amusedly.

“Hello Sergeant Barnes,” one of the men said to Bucky in a thick German accent.  “Good to see you again.  Quite a fall you both just survived.”

“Fuck off!” Y/N barked at them as they circled her and Bucky.

“Ah, and who is this feisty fraulein?” the man asked, squatting down to look at her.  “The resemblance is uncanny I must say.  A Miss Barnes, I presume?”

“Don’t…don’t touch her,” Bucky slurred, his eyes fluttering as he tried not to slip back into unconsciousness.  “Just take me… just me.”

“No, I think we’ll take you both,” the man continued, the other men closing in around them.  “You have great spirit, fraulein.  You might just make a great asset to Hydra.”

Before she could reply she was hit in the back of the head with something hard, hearing Bucky’s pained cry as she passed out on top of him.

***

Anything after that day was all just flashes of memories that she could never quite put together.  Surgeries, torture, pain, training, faces…so many faces, but never the one she wanted.  And whenever she did see his face, it woke her up every time.

She was standing in a room full of Black Widows, training with them and learning some new techniques.  As she kicked, punched, twisted, squeezed, her metal arm whirring as it whipped threw the air in expert precision, she was paired with someone new.  A man, taller and bigger than her, with his own metal arm.  The lower half of his face was covered by a muzzle, his eyes covered by masked, dark glasses.  “Siren, атаковать,” her handler said loudly.

She walked toward him slowly, analyzing him, strategizing the next ten steps of the attack in her head.  He stood stock still for a minute, watching her.  She finally charged him, and he easily blocked her.  They met each other hit for hit, and for the first time in a long time, she felt herself break a sweat as the fighting continued for much longer than normal.  He was enhanced, like she was, with a metal arm, like she had.  Something in the back of her mind was egging at her subconscious.  This was familiar.  He was familiar.  Why?

After some skillful moves she was able to climb up to his neck and squeeze with her thighs, her fisted hands hitting his head as hard as she could.  He grunted as he struggled to pull her off, her fingers gripping his hair then his glasses and the muzzle as he threw her off to the floor.  The glasses and muzzle fell between them as she quickly stood back up in a defensive stance.  She looked at him then froze.  Those eyes.  That face.  Wait…

He charged her, and she dodged his attacks, getting distracted by his face.  I know him.  I know him.  How do I know him?  Their metal arms were locked together in a crushing embrace as he raised his flesh hand in a fist to hit her.  Her eyes widened as a million memories suddenly rushed back in a split second and she gasped.

“Bruiser?” she whispered.

The man froze, a deep frown on his face as he stared at her.  The room was silent and tense as they both panted and stared at each other.  He blinked repeatedly, his head slightly twitching as if he was trying to flick off an annoying fly.  His eyes flickered across her face for another moment before they widened and his hand relaxed.  He slowly reached that hand out, his fingers shaking as he lightly touched her cheek.

“Sweets?” he whispered.

Y/N gasped lightly, remembering him.  “Bucky,” she whimpered.

“Soldat!” 

“Siren!”

The entire room erupted into chaos.  Handlers and soldiers flooded the fighting area, ripping them away from each other and yelling orders.  Y/N squirmed and fought, taking out as many soldiers around her as she could as she tried to scramble back to Bucky.  He was doing the same, grunting and yelling as they dragged him away as best as they could.

“Y/N!” he screamed, reaching for her.  “I’ll find you!  I’ll find you!”

Y/N reached for him then felt a stab in her neck from a needle.  Her vision started to blur, her limbs going limp as she tried her best to keep looking at him, to remember him.

***

It wasn’t until 67 years later that she would see him again.  Y/N slowly woke up, her body trembling as she came out of cryo containment.  After that day Hydra had been unable to reprogram her, her mind clinging desperately to the memory of her brother.  She felt hands help her down from the seat she was sitting in, helping her lay on top of a mattress, covering her with warm blankets and rubbing her all over to get her blood flowing.  

“She’s been in there too long.”

“We don’t know what her state of mind will be–”

“Y/N?”

Her eyes snapped open at that voice.  She blinked rapidly as she turned her head to see the face in front of hers.  Long, dark brown hair framing a strong brow over bright blue eyes, a straight nose and a hesitant side smile.  She stared at him, not believing it was real.  “Bucky?” she croaked, her voice cracking from disuse.

His smile widened and his hands came up to cup her face.  “Yeah, yeah it’s me,” he said, his voice shaking with emotion.  “You remember me?”

“Yes…you found me,” she nodded, her hands reaching up to grip his wrists.  She heard the clink of the metal and glanced at the two metal hands.  She started to cry as she remembered what had happened.  “What did they do to us, Bruiser?”

Bucky started to cry with her, sniffing quickly as he shook his head.  “Don’t worry about that right now.  Let’s just get you out of here.”

***

That was eight years ago.  Now it was coming up on Bucky’s 107th birthday, and she was out shopping for a present for him.  After she had been rescued, Bucky had taken her home to the Avengers Tower.  Y/N was tested for a million things, thrown into therapy, and took the time to heal and get acquainted with the new world she found herself in.  She was invited to join the Avengers, but after everything she had been through, wasn’t interested in fighting anymore.  She reveled in the everyday.  What others considered boring, she considered peace.  The normalcy was what helped quiet her mind.

Of course, some people wouldn’t let her be normal.  As she walked through the aisles of a store, thumbing over some things, she heard the whispers and the gasps of those who recognized her.  The long lost Barnes sister that seemingly came back to life with her own evil, brainwashed past.  She had been pardoned, just like Bucky, but still got the errant rude or disrespectful comment from passersby.

“Commie slut,” a man spat at her as he passed her in the aisle.

Y/N turned to him, glaring at him as he tried to ignore her stare.  “You wanna say that to my face, asshole?” she asked him loudly.  The man gawked at her.  “Go ahead.  Say it loud enough for everybody to hear.”  He glared back at her then quickly turned and walked away.  “Coward,” she spat back at him, then kept looking at the merchandise.  She could feel the stares of a small crowd down the opposite end of the aisle, and decided this wasn’t the best place to find a gift.  She quickly left, deciding that Bucky’s present would need to be handmade this year.

***

Y/N shut off her phone.  Even after turning off her notifications for every app, she felt like somehow it wouldn’t stop beeping or buzzing at her.  She had been warned by Bucky and the Avengers that since she was coming back to everyday life that people would talk about her, rumors would be spread, both nice and awful things being said about her online.  She just wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of messages she would receive, coupled with the in person verbal attacks.

She holed herself up in her room, trying to stave off a panic attack.  This was so stupid.  She didn’t choose this life.  Neither had Bucky.  They were forced to do terrible, awful things for years against their wills.  Nobody would choose this.  Why did people have to be so cruel?

***

“It’s been four days.  She won’t come out,” Bucky groaned, pacing back and forth in the common room.

“Just let her process, Buck,” Steve sighed, scrolling through his phone.

“Process what?  If she needs help then I should be helping her.  Unless…is this a girl thing?  Should I text Wanda?”

“It’s not a girl thing,” Wanda said, walking into the room.  “It’s a bullying thing.”

“Bullying?” Bucky frowned.

“Look,” Steve said, holding up his phone to Bucky.

Bucky took his phone from him and peered at the screen.  It was Y/N’s Instagram page, and as he scrolled through the comments under a picture she had taken of the both of them on his birthday, his frown turned to a full scowl.  “What the fuck is this?” he murmured.

“Cyber bullying,” Steve answered.  “You get it pretty rough on your pages, but for some reason she’s getting a lot of hate online.”

“Not just online, in person, too,” Wanda said.  Bucky’s head whipped up to look at her.  “People make off-handed comments to her when she’s out by herself.  Insults, threats, just general rude, mean things.  Of course she never does anything about it.  If any of those people had to back up what they said they know she could kill them, but that doesn’t stop them from saying it,” she said, sounding more angry by the second.

“What?” Bucky asked incredulously.  “That’s ridiculous.  We both went through all of that.  Why would they be coming at her more than me?  She was kept on ice far longer than I was.  I was the one who did more, killed more than she ever had to.”

“Even the strongest women need to be put in their place, Bucky,” Wanda shook her head tiredly.  “You’re considered strong, a survivor.  Sure some people still say and do stupid things towards you, but they fear you more.  They don’t see the same thing in her.  They don’t fear her.  They never will.  She will always be a damaged girl first.”

Bucky huffed, giving Steve’s phone back to him.  He sat in thought for a moment before a smile spread on his face.  “I’ve got an idea.”

***

“Buck, I don’t want to train right now,” Y/N groaned, reluctantly being pulled along by the hand by him towards the gym.

“Oh come on, Sweets.  You don’t want a chance to try and beat my ass?” He smirked back at her, setting his things down and leading her onto the mats.

Y/N snorted.  “Try?  I’ve beat your ass plenty of times.”

“Says you and what witness?” Bucky asked, stretching before getting into a defensive stance.  Y/N gave him an unimpressed look while folding her arms.  Bucky’s smirked only widened as he moved around her lithely.  He pushed her, making her gasp indignantly and swing at him before he jumped out of her way.  He laughed, then crooked two of his metal fingers at her in a ‘come hither’ motion.  “Come get me, Siren.”

Y/N rolled her eyes.  “Don’t call me that,” she said, stretching quickly before circling around him.

“Or what?” Bucky said, watching her.  

Y/N smirked as she stepped closer, analyzing him.  “You know why they called me the Siren?” she asked, her tone teasing but low.  Bucky shook his head, bouncing on the balls of his feet.  “Because they never knew where my voice was coming from.  But when they heard it, they knew it was their time to die.”

“Ooh, very spooky,” Bucky said teasingly.  “So you’re gonna what…sing me a song?”

Y/N had been carefully getting closer and closer to him.  She smiled at him, her mouth opening minutely.  A high pitched whistle tone came from behind Bucky, and he slightly turned his head to see what it was.  Y/N utilized the distraction and sprang toward him, wrapping herself around his body in a deadly grip and wrenching him off his feet, making them both fall with a thud to the ground.  Bucky grunted as he tried to fight her off, but she maneuvered them in a way so that she was sitting on his chest, his flesh arm beneath her knee and her metal hand holding his metal arm by the wrist against the ground, unable to move.  Her flesh hand raised in a fist above his head, but she paused and smiled at him again.  She relaxed her hand and booped his nose with her finger.  “Now you're dead,” she said in a sing-song voice.

Bucky stared up at her in shock, then started laughing as she got up off of him.  “Okay, okay, I get the hype now,” he said as she helped him up.  “Jesus, you didn’t have to sit on my arm so hard,” he groaned, rubbing his flesh bicep where her knee had held him down.

Y/N smacked his chest and turned away to walk out of the gym.  “Yeah yeah, whatever,” she said nonchalantly.  

“I love you!” Bucky called out.

“I love you, too, ya little shit!” she called back, walking out and down the hallway.

Bucky waited until she was out of sight then walked over to his phone strategically set up by the wall.  He picked it up and looked at the camera.  “Let it be known to all of you out there who think it’s funny or cute to hate on my sister:  She’s a bigger badass than I am.  If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be alive today.  She doesn’t need me to save her, and you should just be thanking your lucky stars that she hasn’t retaliated in any way back to you haters.  But hey, you wanna poke the bear?  It’s your funeral.”  He winked at the camera.  “Beware the Siren’s song.”

***

“Bucky what the hell is this?” Y/N came stomping into his room, holding her phone in his face.

Bucky smiled at seeing his video playing on her screen.  “Our training session this morning,” he said simply.

“Why did you record it?  And that whole ‘Beware the Siren’s song’?  What are you trying to do?” Y/N scoffed.

“Read the comments, Sweets,” Bucky said, tapping on her screen.  

Y/N did as he said, then frowned as she read through them.  “‘This is so sweet but badass.  #supersoldiersiblings.’”  She kept reading, slightly starting to smile.  “‘Literal girl power.’”  She giggled.  

“Just gotta remind them every once in a while that we may not be who we were forced to be anymore, but that doesn’t mean we can’t stand up for ourselves,” Buck said, smiling at her.  

Y/N sighed but smiled appreciatively at him.  “Thanks, Bruiser,” she said, her metal hand punching his metal arm.

Bucky punched her metal arm with his metal hand back.  “Anytime, Sweets.”

[thenerdyindividual]

Want stories featuring queer characters in fantasy, science fiction, or horror settings, where being queer is central to the character but not the only thing they have going on? Let me introduce you to my list of podcasts!

To start we have Welcome to Night Vale. You’ve likely heard of it thanks to the tumblr sexy man poll, or if you’re old school tumblr like I am. It’s a classic for a reason, it kicked off the fiction podcast renaissance and was queer from the jump.

Welcome to Night Vale is an episodic podcast taking the form of radio broadcasts from a strange desert town called Night Vale that appears to be in a parallel universe to ours. It follows the bizarre occurrences within the town and the oppressive government’s clumsy attempts to cover them up.

How is it queer? The show also follows the personal life of radio show host Cecil Palmer who met new-to-town scientist Carlos, and “fell in love instantly”. Not only are they now married, they’ve adopted a child together.

Alice Isn’t Dead

From the creators of Welcome to Night Vale, Alice Isn’t Dead is a horror fiction podcast that follows Keisha, a woman who became a long haul truck driver to go in search of the wife (Alice) she thought was dead, but discovered was alive. In the process she uncovers monsters lurking among us and a massive government conspiracy trying to hide the truth.

How is it queer? As stated, the inciting incident is that Keisha discovers that her wife is secretly alive.

Dimension 20: Fantasy High

A dungeons and dragons actual play show. This season is set in a 1980s John Hughes-esque fantasy high school called the Arthur Aguefort Adventuring Academy. It follows six high schoolers starting their first day of freshman year as they form their adventuring party and try to uncover the mystery of why girls at their school keep going missing.

How is it queer? Kristen Applebees is the cleric of the party, and most of her arc in the first season is based in the struggle between honoring her religious upbringing and the god that gave her her magic, and realizing she’s a lesbian. Fig Faeth (the bard of the group) does not have a romance arc in this season, however in season 2 she does end up in a romantic relationship with another woman, and much of her arc in that relationship is based around the insecurities hidden behind her rock and roll persona. Riz Gukgak (the rogue of the group) does not use the term asexual on screen, however it is clear in a conversation in season 2 where he discusses feeling awkward about not being horny when all his other friends are. He was later confirmed as asexual by dungeon master Brennan Lee Mulligan.

Dimension 20: The Unsleeping City

Another story with the same players as Fantasy High. This story takes place in a fantastical New York City where the waking world intersects with the world of dream and magic. The story follows six adventurers as they struggle to keep the two worlds in balance with each other, and prevent the big bad from ruining the world of dreams forever. It’s Brennan’s love letter to New York.

How is it queer? Pete Conlan (the sorcerer of the group) is a bit of a dirt bag drug dealer who is struggling to learn to take on the responsibility of being the voice for the dreams. He is also a trans man. His awakening into the magical New York occurs because his dad attempts to deadname him, and he uses his magic powers to fill his dad’s mouth with bubbles and blast him away.

Not Another D&D Podcast Campaign 1

This is another dungeons and dragons actual play set in a more traditional D&D world. It follows the story of three adventurers living in the shadows of the saviors of Bahumia that came before them. Only to realize one of those saviors might not have retired, and is up to no good. They will have to save Bahumia from one of its saviors.

How is it queer? Beverly Toegold The Fifth (Paladin of the group) is the fantasy equivalent of a Boy Scout and ends up in a romantic relationship with another boy from his troop. (They’re both meant to be 16 by the end of the campaign I believe.) Moonshine Cybin (the Druid of the group) is just generally horny for everyone and anyone that impresses her, but she does also spend her last night before the final battle hooking up with Hardwon’s (the third party member) sister in law.

Not Another D&D Podcast Campaign 2

This story is set in the world of Eldermourne which delves heavily into the aesthetic of gothic horror. It follows three adventurers as they go in search of a missing witch that will help them protect Eldermourne from the conflicting factions of gods and religious extremists each trying to take the world and remake it in the way that suits them.

How is it queer? A major thrust of the story is that Fia Boginya (the wizard and cleric multiclass of the group) once saved her dear friend Irina from execution, but they end up needing Irina’s magic to protect the world. The party goes in search of her, and Fia admits to having always been in love with Irina, even when they were just children.

The Adventure Zone: Balance

Another D&D actual play. This one is set in a fantasy world that draws heavily on both fantasy and other aesthetics. The three adventurers encounter an extremely powerful and destructive magical object, and manage to capture it. In doing so they are inducted into the organization called the Bureau of Balance, and are sent on missions to recover the other objects of power that have been scattered across the land. There is more to the characters than even they know.

How is it queer? Taako the Wizard (one of the adventurers) ends up in a romantic relationship with the Grim Reaper who in this world is a man. There is also a romantic relationship between two women who are also members of the Bureau of Balance that hangs out in the background of the story. A trans woman is also prevalent in the story, but explaining anything else about her reveals major spoilers for the campaign, but trust me she is narratively important.

The Adventure Zone: Amnesty

This is another actual play show, but it uses the Monster of the Week system that was created using shows like Scooby Doo, X-Files, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It is set in the fictional town of Kepler, West Virginia and the Monongahela National Forest. Cryptids are real and they all hang out in Kepler. Three friends band together to stop monsters with ill intent from destroying the town, and learn more about the world that parallels theirs. It is Dungeon Master Griffin McElroy’s love letter to the West Virginia town he and his brothers grew up in.

How is it queer? Aubrey Little is the magic user of the group and identifies as bisexual. She ends up in a romantic relationship with a vampire girl in town.

Campaign Skyjacks

It is another role playing game actual play. I’m not entirely clear on what system they are using, as a lot of it is the creation of the game master. It is set in a fantasy world where crossing the oceans has become too treacherous, so pirates, privateers, and sailors alike have all taken to the sky in airships. The story follows four crew members of the ship the Uhuru as they try to make the ship profitable all while trying to hide from the rest of the crew that the captain has long since died and the doctor has been puppet-ing his corpse for weeks now.

How is it queer? I am still in the early stages of the podcast so there may be more queer characters later, but off the bat there is Gable who is the quarter master of the ship. Gable is non-binary.

These are not the only podcasts that fit the bill, but these are the ones I listen to. I’d also like to give a special mention to most other seasons of Dimension 20. There are a ton more, and you’re likely to get at least one queer character per season. However, I wanted to keep it to things you could find for free. Fantasy High and The Unsleeping City are both free on YouTube, but all other Dimension 20 seasons are on the streaming service dropout tv (which I do recommend getting because they do a lot of other good shows too.)

Feel free to add more shows in your reblogs!

[tojikai]

In Another Universe...

Pairing: Toji x Reader

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Implied death (?)

NOTE: I just really like written letters. AND I miss Toji.

"My love for him could cross the harsh waters of the oceans and still arrive undamaged."

Once there was a man sitting by the ocean, his hair moving with the wind. His eyes focused on the vast body of water in front of him. The horizon gave him a loving look as it bade him goodbye. Albeit fading with each second that passes, it let him feel the warmth of her touch like how the smoke dances for the eyes as it dissipates into thin air. 

There was a chime-like sound beside his feet, as the tightly sealed bottle repeatedly tapped on the rocks. Calling out to him, like how a siren melodically serenades her prey before pulling them into the abyss. Like a hand grabbing his, begging to be saved before the cruel waters pulls it and drown it again. 

His eyes were glued to the rolled paper inside—brownish and marked with ink—obviously bearing a message to be found. 

He quickly grabbed the bottle, wiped the moisture with his shirt, and gave his all to open the lid. It was almost like its content was calling out to him. The amount of strength he gave in pulling the bottle's seal was nothing compared to how much air it took out of his lungs as he read the letter of a lover to a former one. 

My dearest,

There has not been a single day where you do not cross my mind. How much time has passed since I last saw you? I hope you're living a better life now. How's your love, my love? I hope she keeps you warm every night and loves you each day. 

Only if you knew, there's nothing I wouldn't give just to be in her place even for a day.

But to be someone you loved, I have experienced it all already. And although it didn't last here with you, it still does in my memory. There's no way I'd forget how I was given the chance to feel all of you—your touch, the beat of your heart, the heat radiating from your soul. 

And even if you didn't feel that same way with mine, I assure you, my love for you has never changed nor faltered. Not even once, not even a bit. 

How I long to be the person who brings out the best in you. Just like how she did and probably how she still does. Surrendering you was the hardest decision I had ever made but I learned from my father that we must learn to submit all things that don't belong to us. I was thinking that maybe even though I had you all those years, you were not meant to be mine. Maybe I wasn't deserving of you, my love, but the Gods are witnesses to how hard I tried. 

When you chose her over me, I already knew that I had to surrender. When you rejected my embrace, I suffered my first death.

And maybe you were hers all along. And I just happened to pick you up when you were drifting in the seas. I just happened to be a ship but you had found the way to your beloved homeland. And dear, my soul ached as I prayed every night that you'd change your mind and decide to sail in these harsh seas with me again. Turns out, I was only meant to deliver you to the place where you want to be.

As days went by, I learned that nothing else matters but your happiness. And as long as you're happy, I'll be okay. Even as I lay here in this cold bed, praying that my wounds get to heal and my scars get to fade before I watch my final sunset, I'll be okay. Because I know that you're spending your every day in love. 

I spent all my days loving you too, please know that. I know that you'd love her greater than you did love me, and that's okay. We're meant to feel more for the people who gave us more. But darling, even if I couldn't give you much, know that I loved you with all that I got, with all that I am. 

I pray that when I reach my point of delirium, my hallucinations would be you bursting through the door, asking me to run away with you. Then, I'd be happy to go. And if not, then that's okay. Leaving this world knowing that you are living your life without heartache is enough. 

So, be happy, okay? Build her the world, take her to space. Make her your universe, honey. And I'll make you my song. I'll close my eyes to you. I'll gladly let my memories of you lull me to eternal sleep.

My heart will yearn for you forever, even as it stops beating and turns to dust. The remaining half of my soul will ache for you even as it wanders these freezing lands. 

When I go, I pray that I end up in another universe where you also exist, and maybe there, you'll let me run into your arms again. 

Let’s meet again someday, my love. 

Eternally yours,

Y/N

There was a moment of silence as the letter came to a close. Only then had the man realize that a familiar voice in his head was reading it for him. It wasn’t just a letter he found. It was a heart, longing for someone who went away. It was a heart, tearing itself apart just so the words could flow out of it—words that will never ever be spoken. 

Letting the tears stream down his face, the man turned the paper to check the backside. There was a note, for him—the reader who got the drifting bottle.

To the person who will get this, please keep the letter safe. Perhaps, you can also let the ocean protect it again if you want. Let it drift in the bottle to its ends but I beg of you not to destroy it or throw it away, for it is the only forever that I can get with the love of my life. 

Was this the woman he refused to give another chance to years ago? 

[lovekz]

dirty laundry

syn -> it’s a sunday, which (apparently) meant the house needed to be deep clean.

warnings : rin has a dirty ass house, yelling and cursing, not proofread

~

rindou personally liked to sleep in on sundays.

he knew he had a day off, and no one would need him until after three o’clock.

ran sees him all hours of the week, so he definitely wouldn’t have to see him or hear his mouth until wednesday.

thank god.

the only thing that would need him on this wonderful sunday is his bed and the sleep he constantly missed out on.

of course, after giving you the key to his apartment on your third anniversary, he should’ve saw this coming.

he jumped up, hearing the loud beat of lovers rock by tv girl begin to blast from the sound system downstairs.

rindou blinked a couple times, before groaning loudly in annoyance.

who the fuck had the bright idea to come into his house with a key he gave them, and blast music in his living room on his off day?!

at seven in the morning?!

rindou got out of bed and stormed his way downstairs, obviously fucking pissed.

his face faltered when he seen you shuffling around the house with a basket in your arms.

okay, maybe he wasn’t as mad as he really was when he first heard the beat of lover’s rock upstairs.

was that.. clothes?

you were humming along to the beat on the tv, swaying your hips as you tossed every article of clothing you could find into the basket.

rindou grabbed up the remote from off his counter and muted the speaker, squinting at you in confusion.

“what are you doing?” rindou asked, watching you spin around to look at him.

and that look was not nice in the slightest.

“fuck does it look like? in here looks like a fucking pigsty!” you shouted, dropping the basket on the floor and glaring at him.

oh you were pissed.

rindou frowned, rubbing his eyes and listening to you carry on like a mad woman.

“i’ll be damned if i sit in this dirty fucking house with you rindou! you know what- go brush your teeth and get the fuck back down here. i’m not doing this alone.” you ordered, glaring at him.

rindou has never moved faster.

~

by now, ten songs have played and now stuntman by tyler the creator was playing.

“i don’t fight hoes! i don’t buss down, i don’t like those!” you yelled along to the song, tossing out the old food from in the fridge.

rindou was on the couch, still exhausted and folding some of his clean clothes to put right back into his dresser.

you had already shampooed the couch once you got everything off it, and even brought him new throw pillows to match the new rug you brought.

“rindou why the fuck do you have the empty mason jar in the fridge?!” you yelled over the music.

rindou looked up from the socks and frowned, squinting to get a good look at the mason jar in your hand.

“i have to make more seasoning, babe.” rindou replied, before looking back at the socks.

“yeah well wash it at least! it’s not hard!” you complained.

rindou nodded, muttering a small apology though he was sure you didn’t even hear him over the music.

you slid the mason jar across the counter, before digging back into the fridge to pull out the spoiled garlic.

rindou heard the dryer go off, making him sigh before grabbing his white clothes out of the machine.

he tossed them into the clear basket and started to shake the wet clothes out like you instructed, before tossing them into the dryer.

when he was finished, he walked back over to the living room and began folding the white clothes.

“look at you, didn’t even have to tell you this time.” you cooed, closing the fridge and beginning to wash the dishes.

rindou rolled his eyes and smiled, quickly finishing up to aid you in washing the dishes.

~

the two of you finished cleaning and restocking the house by 5:30, making the house smell nice once more.

“you gotta start taking better care of yourself, rin.” you muttered, laying on the couch with him.

rindou nodded, rubbing your hip in slow circles. the two of you had just finished vacuuming and mopping the house.

now you were waiting for the floor to dry.

“i mean it. that wasn’t okay.” you said, sitting up and looking rindou in his eyes.

“i know baby. i’m sorry. i’ve just been busy.” rindou said, stifling a yawn while he was talking to you.

you nodded and laid your head back down onto his chest, humming quietly along to the song that just started playing on tv.

snooze by sza. 

“i’ll touch that fire for you.” you began, immediately making a smile grace rindou’s face.

“i’ll do that three more times again, i testify for you.” rindou sang along, squeezing your thigh playfully.

you lifted yourself off of his body, grabbing the broom and holding it as a microphone.

rindou laughed immediately grabbing his phone to record you.

“i told that lie, i’d kill that bitch!  I do what all of them around you scared to do, I'm not.” you sang, gripping the broom.

rindou held his phone, grinning at you as you give him a little show.

it was better to see you happy then complain about his living situation.

but he had to admit, this house was a fucking pigsty before you came in to save the day.

[infinitystoner]

🐊 headcanons...

If Loki was somehow forced to buy birthday presents for Thor, Tony, and Nebula on their birthdays...what would he get them?

God of Gifts

Masterlist

Word count: >900 Author’s note: I don’t think I’ve ever written anything so quickly, but I couldn’t stop imagining Loki giving gifts to everyone! Here’s a sweet lil’ gen fic/drabble featuring some of my favorite Marvel characters.

This was ridiculous. Nevertheless, Loki followed his brother into Stark’s cabin. 

“Happy birthday to us!” Thor bellowed, flinging his arms open and nearly knocking Loki back out the door in the process. 

It was not Thor’s birthday, nor Loki’s. It was, however, the birthday of the Iron Man himself, Anthony Stark.

“We don’t know when our birthdays are,” Thor had bemoaned as Pepper handed out party invitations earlier in the week. 

“Oh, how heartbreaking!” 

“I know when my birthday is,” said Loki, rolling his eyes at her sympathetic look.

Thor was shocked. “What? How?” 

“I asked.” 

Of course, Loki didn’t know his exact birthday, but the day Frigga had claimed him as her own was good enough for him. Loki also knew Thor’s birthday, but that was of little consequence. 

“You are more than welcome to celebrate with Tony, Thor. You too, Loki.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Loki replied as Thor gave Pepper a hug so mighty that her feet left the ground. 

And now, Loki was at said party. Worse still, he’d procured gifts. 

He surveyed the room, giving a cordial nod to Banner and Colonel Rhodes before approaching his first target.

“Many happy returns, Stark.” Loki gave a hesitant smile to the man leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“Glad you could make it, Horns. Can I fix you a drink?” Tony asked before taking a sip of what Loki surmised was scotch. 

“No, thank you. But, speaking of potables…” 

Loki pulled three amber vials from his pocket and placed them on the countertop. 

Tony set down his glass, picking up one of the tinctures instead. “And what exactly is this?”

“A gift.” Loki rocked back on his heels before continuing. “Your wife has you on a special diet, does she not?” 

Tony’s brow furrowed. “Yeah…”

“Well, one drop of these elixirs will make even the blandest of health foods taste like,” he tapped his finger on each jar as he explained. “Cheeseburgers. Fried potatoes. And doughnuts.” 

Without a word, Tony retrieved a piece of broccoli from a veggie tray on the kitchen island and poured a drop of liquid onto the florets. With a flourish, he took a bite. Loki watched in satisfaction as Stark’s eyes widened.

“Schiiit–” he mumbled. “Unbelievable.” 

Loki was caught off guard by the hug.

After explaining the magic behind the concoctions, he headed towards the living room – and his next target.

“Best regards, brother.”

“Ah, thank you for playing along, Loki,” Thor laughed, wrapping an arm around the younger prince’s shoulders as he sat on the couch. “I am glad to celebrate with you.” 

“In honor of this most special occasion,” Loki replied, pulling a small brown parcel from his pocket and handing it to Thor. He picked at his palm as his brother opened the box, revealing four miniature figurines.

“Loki,” whispered Thor, his voice catching in his throat. “I- I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

Blinking back tears, Loki watched as Thor carefully sat the small figures on the coffee table. First was Frigga, resplendent in gold. Next was Loki, with gilded horns and emerald cape. Then Odin, complete with Gungnir. And finally, Thor, strong and mighty with lightning in one hand and his hammer in the other. 

“Is this what you’ve been toiling away at in your workshop all week?” 

“Yes, and I actually quite enjoyed the process,” Loki confessed, leaning forward to observe his own handiwork once more as he donned a mischievous smile. The figurine of himself was a few millimeters taller than Thor’s – practically undetectable, but Loki knew, and that was all that mattered. 

“Just don’t let the Valkyrie see these, or she’ll want me to make enough to sell at the New Asgard gift shop.” 

After promising Thor he’d work on figurines of the Warriors Three next, Loki headed out onto the front porch. There was still one gift left to give. 

Nebula sat alone on the steps, looking up into the night sky. 

“Heading back out there soon?” Loki asked, settling down beside her. 

“That is the plan.”

“Here. For your adventures.” He handed her a tarnished skeleton key. 

“Is this going to make our ship smell like eggs or something?” Nebula turned to him as Loki chuckled. Her skepticism was warranted. He was the trickster prince, after all. 

In truth, the key was a relic from his youth. Long forgotten until yesterday, when he discovered it in his workshop. 

“It is enchanted,” he explained with a grin, “but for use as a tool. That key will successfully pick any lock and open any door in the galaxy.” 

“Liar,” she hissed, but Loki caught the twinkle in her black eyes as she observed the serpent at the key’s bow emit a green glow, twisting into itself.

“I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough,” he said, straightening himself before walking to the front door. “Happy birthday, Nebula.” 

“How did you–” By the time she turned around, Loki had already disappeared. 

***

“Some Migardian traditions aren’t so bad, are they now, brother?” Thor teased as they walked back to the compound later that evening. 

Loki shook his head, but he couldn’t hide the smile spreading across his face. No, maybe life on Earth wasn’t so bad after all. 

tagging @loki-cees-all @sarahscribbles @cleo-fox @tripleyeeet @use-your-telescope @the-lady-amphitrite @liminalpebble @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @joyful-enchantress @superficialdomina @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @tallseaweed @maple-seed @loopsisloops @mischief2sarawr @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fandxmslxt69

[64yrsold]

ACHES 19. festive

18+ (please see masterlist for cw) aches masterlist previous (18)

“I’m celebrating,” I giggled, skipping into the kitchen. He trailed behind me, the circles under his eyes telling me a migraine was looming. 

“Are you?” He gave me a crooked smile, his teeth bright in the dim evening. I opened the cabinet, reaching for the top shelf. He grabbed the bottle he knew I wanted, laughing as I tried to slap his hand away and grab it myself.

“Celebrating you finally coming home,” I grinned, letting him grunt and twist as he opened the bottle. “And staying home.”

“And staying home,” he repeated with a short nod, the cork popping off into his hand. A froth of champagne landed at his feet, and he sighed, setting the bottle on the counter. I poured two glasses for us, dragging him to the couch. I had decorated a fake tree, setting it up in the corner of the living room. I liked the way the lights reflected against his irises. I tucked into him, throwing my legs over his lap and nestling into his shoulder. 

“You like the tree?” I whispered. “Feels quite festive in here, I think.”

“It’s perfect,” he absently scratched my scalp, staring at the tree. “I was wondering, though…”

“Don’t ruin the moment,” I groaned, finishing my glass. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he laughed. “I was just wondering where you were going for the holidays.”

“Oh,” I shrugged. “I usually just stay here.”

“Not to see family?” He twirled a strand of my hair between his fingers. I rocked with each of his inhales.

“No,” I said quietly, hoping to end the conversation there.

“What about your parents?”

I shook my head.

“Come on, don’t they miss you?” He set our glasses on the coffee table.

“No,” I shrugged. He prodded me with an elbow. “They can’t.” The words barely passed through my lips.

“Oh, God,” he brushed a hand down my shoulder. 

I shook my head, “It’s alright. I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“It’s just,” he pressed his fingertips into my wrist, “When we were at the hotel, you talked about your parents as if they were still here.”

“I think I was pretty drunk, wasn’t I?” I laughed, trying to ease the boiling discomfort crawling up my throat.

“Right,” he nodded. He held my hand carefully, turning it over and over. Tracing my knuckles, then circling a finger into my palm. Love You Love You Love You.

“Are you visiting your family?” I asked, my voice splitting through the silence.

“Yeah,” he kissed the back of my hand. “Would you come with me?”

“Fly out there?” I shook my head. “No, that’s okay. You should just spend some time with your family.”

“But I want you there,” he urged. “I want you to meet them all.”

“It’s alright,” I squeezed his hand. “You should relax, enjoy their company.”

He sighed, “I want you there.”

“I can’t,” I said, standing and bringing the glasses to the kitchen. He leaned back into the couch.

“You can’t?”

“I can’t,” I repeated, filling our glasses again. The champagne hissed in front of me. He rubbed at his jaw.

“Are you afraid of flying?” He asked, confusion washing over his face. I shrugged. “Does it have to do with your parents?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” I muttered, and downed my glass. He crossed his legs.

“Alright.”

I left the glasses on the counter, and walked to the bedroom, hiding under the covers as my head swirled. I fell into a rolling sleep, waking up in the middle of the night. I shuffled to the living room, finding him asleep on the couch. I covered him with a blanket, and sat in the armchair in the corner, facing him. I watched the lights from the tree glow against his skin, illuminating him in a holy light. He was perfect, still, and honest, lips parted as he dreamt. 

I fell asleep counting his breaths.

-> next (20)

[roo-bastmoon]

Juxtapositions, and focus

"How can you think Jikook are still real when they just hugged like they haven't seen each other in months??"

Whelp, my adorable little Vulcan, I'll tell you. Human beings have this thing called "humor" and they often tease each other when they feel safe and happy in each other's presence. (This is my gently teasing you, by the way.)

They hugged like they haven't seen each other in months because it was exaggerated, in a joking way, as Jungkook had been abroad for a week. And possibly they just got snockered together the night before, so it's hilarious to them.

Jimin gave Hobi almost the same exaggerated hug even though two days prior they shared a drink together. I still cling to my work wife every week on the days when we're both in the office and it's been three years of us talking almost daily. It's a silly way to convey love.

Just like when Jimin says "Is it you? Is it you or is it me? The smell of alcohol." He asks this ridiculous question while also cradling a stinky JK to him, and JK is smiling so hard his eyes crinkle while he wraps his arms around Jimin's waist and presses him close with his hands. And then they proceed to stand next to each other, arms touching, like magnets for a good long while. You know, just the usual.

Just like on JK's lives where his eyes lit up and he kept calling for Jimin to come to him... after using extremely formal language to say hello and bow to Jimin? It's not actually conveying that there's distance between them--because in the next breath he's dropping all honorifics and using just the most possessive, entitled, teasing tone. You know, also just as usual.

It's about the juxtaposition of extremes.

Or when JK responded to Jimin's "I miss you" on WeVerse with extremely aegyo "Me too." Jungkook is a 25-year-old millionaire rock star with a motorcycle, a full sleeve of tattoos, several piercings, and 8-pack abs. But he can turn on his big doe eyes and act super cute for Jimin.

Now look, to be fair, I can't tell you Jikook are romantically together as if it were a fact. I don't live in their cupboards and stalk them 24/7. I am pretty sure they are not sharing an address right now that we've seen on camera.

I'm guessing they spend time over each other's houses when they can, when schedules line up, probably sometimes over night (they are night owls). And on nights when that's not possible, it seems to me that Jimin spends hours watching all of JK's lives and JK spends 90 minutes ignoring the live chat to watch Jimin on YouTube.

I'm pretty sure they keep in contact using technology when they are apart on projects because when Jungkook doesn't answer Jimin's texts, it drives him crazy.

I'm absolutely convinced they love each other and they sure do act like they are IN LOVE with each other.

My god, the tones they use exclusively for each other is enough... And also, I don't see anyone else in Bangtan lifting each other up, trying to touch each other's skin under clothing, squeezing each other's butts, rolling around in soap, calling each other baby, giving each other bite marks, making videos about each other sharing a room or a trip, or including each other on super secret hidden love songs that will never be for sales or streams. But honestly it's the way everyone around them from their members to family to brands to tattoo artists to boxing coaches all still treat them like a couple--that's the clincher for me.

Totally fine if you don't see it. I've tried, I've really truly tried to see other pairings in BTS, watched tons of content around it, and there's plenty of silly flirting and deep respect and tons of skinship, but I genuinely do not see the same exclusive intimacy and heated chemistry among anyone else, and that's saying something because Jimin has chemistry with everyone. (Jimin can make a broken lamppost light up with love.)

But just because *I* don't see it, doesn't mean I look down on others who do see genuine romantic feelings among other pairings. I don't have the monopoly on truth. I'm just making my best educated guesses.

The day I feel the need to wander over to someone else's space and tell them they are wrong and I am right and pop off on some diatribe about why they are so wrong and I am so right is the day I truly have lost the plot, and no longer actually believe in my own assertions.

It's completely normal to have doubts, to question yourself, to ask others for their takes on things. I was a hella insecure Jikooker my first few months as baby ARMY. And I admit, even now, sometimes I doom spiral and ask myself if maybe Jimin and Jungkook are just really good friends who have absolutely no sense of boundaries when it comes to each other and I'm projecting a love story onto them. But naw. Then they act like they did in that Bangtan Bomb from today and I'm pretty sure I'm not full-tilt delulu for thinking if it's not them it's not anyone.

And I do not need to convince anyone. I do not need to convert anyone. I don't even really need to answer this question put to me, but if you're hoping to be convinced...

Why do I think Jikook are still together?

Because while all of BTS really love each other... even if Jikook are apart for a while, the moment they are back together...

...everyone and everything else sort of fades away for them.

Even ARMY.

[previousloversandmuses]

FREQUENCY: Episode 5 - A Soldier Boy Story

FREQUENCY:  A Soldier Boy Story

EPISODE 5: “Tough Guy”

WORD COUNT: 4438

PAIRING: Soldier Boy X Reader 

WARNINGS: (NSFW) Foul language. Offensive slurs. Violence, depression, and mentions of suicide. ANGST...f-feelings!?

A/N: This story is dark, and covers mature themes. The main character, as well as other major characters, are offensive in nature, and may offend some people. Please peruse with caution, and remember that this is fiction. Reader discretion is advised. Please message me for any questions, comments, or concerns. 

Masterlist | Taglist 

Ben was significantly older than Countess when they first met. A fresh young vixen, she was a delicious new addition to Payback. With her cherry red hair and seductive looks, the ever impulsive Soldier Boy could not resist. She had always reminded him of Rita Hayworth, a fuck he would never get out of his mind for years to come. A fuck that was stuck with him until Russia, at least. 

It seems like a lot of things stuck with him until Russia, including his love for Countess. He did love her then, he really did, although he had difficult ways of showing it. He was never faithful, and she knew that, but accepted it due to the fame that came with her position on the team. She would never let anyone jeopardize that. See, in comparison to Ben, Countess never loved him. She hated him, to say the least. Thinking back on it, all the shit he put that woman through, he really couldn’t blame her. 

The best day of that woman's life was him being sent away. Her and the rest of the team celebrated for weeks. Although, that was obviously short lived. Payback was nothing without Soldier Boy, and Vought already had the second coming incubated in a lab somewhere on the East Coast. 

All this being said, his hatred for everyone in his pre-Russia life was elevated tenfold. He fantasized about the demise of these people for years. It's the only thing that had gotten him through the countless eternity of torture. By the time he was freed, and able to get back at everyone who did him wrong, their violent fates gave him an excruciating hard on. He hadn’t been happy since.

When the nut job freed him a second time, any hope he had for his future had been thrown out the window. With Vought, the CIA, Homelander, and the limey fuck to worry about, he was sure this would be another short lived emancipation. But she was thoughtful, and organized, and had made him a damn good deal. A family? For him? That’s all he’d ever wanted. Back in the day he had been blinded by sex, drugs, and rock and roll, but thirty years of enslavement gives you a lot of time to think. A good woman to settle down with, a few kids, a sprawling plot of land? Now that was a dream. But he knew it would only ever be a fantasy, and that the powers that be had it out for him. Maybe this was his punishment from God, or the Universe, or whoever the fuck. He deserved it for all the bad he's done. He just hopes he can make it up to whatever blood he has left in the world. 

He keeps her up all night for a week. He must have nightmares, because all he ever does is whimper, and moan, and toss and turn. She has ear plugs, but those are no use because she can’t fall asleep to the sound of her own heart beating, it freaks her out. 

The two of them had been working around the res the past week, and hadn’t seen much of each other. He told her not to worry about him giving away his identity. Said that he’d keep his mouth shut, and he didn’t have much to talk about these days anyway. He was too exhausted to begin to try and make friends. He was getting a few winks between nightmares, then having to go work out in the hot sun all day. This was the first time in his life he was ever expected to do manual labor. His body could handle it, sure. But his mind was fleeting, and he could barely recall what day it was. 

She’d run errands with the ladies as he worked out in the yards. One day they took the kids to a Best Buy an hour away in the closest city. She spent some money on herself and splurged on a pair of headphones. All the stress of him made her forget her immense love for music. She also wouldn't mind being able to drown him out as she tried to sleep. 

She loves music, probably more than anything else. Yes, it was better hearing it live, especially a classical orchestra or opera. With the way her ears worked, she was able to hear every strand of string on a violin as it vibrated into the floor, only then to feel the sensation wrap around her nerve endings like a warm hug.

John used to fly her on top of Lincoln Center and sit with her as she laid on the roof and listened to the symphony below. She would have a soft smile on her face, putting her hands up in the air, and moving them around to the music. She's sad she’ll never get to experience that again. She wouldn’t be surprised if the whole building got burnt to the ground after he realizes she's gone.  

Before she leaves the store, she makes sure to grab a speaker as well. Thinking of Ben, she's sure he’d find comfort in the songs he used to listen to back in his prime. 

After this week, their schedules would be less compact. With all their training complete, they’d begin to see more of each other again. They hadn’t had a normal conversation in days until she finally wakes up after sleeping in. Her first day off in a while. Her headphones worked their magic. Not a peep out of him all night. 

He stands in the kitchen, fiddling with the burners. He has a carton of eggs out on the counter with some butter and an old skillet. He turns to her as she emerges from her room. 

“You slept late.” He states.

She smiles at him, walking right next to him and fixing the dial on the stove. The gas ignites and a little flame appears. He watches her as she reaches behind him and grabs the pan, placing it over the heat. 

“And you’re up early for your first day off.” 

He steps back, resting himself against the counter in the kitchen. He lets her take control of the cooking. She steps in and begins to make him breakfast. 

“How do you like your eggs?” She asks. 

He chuckles, “fertilized.”

She rolls her eyes at that, disregarding the statement. She cracks a few into the pan, pulling out a spatula, and mixes them up. 

“You’ve been having nightmares.” She states, testing the waters with him. 

He stiffens at that, scoffing. 

“I don’t have nightmares.” He counters. 

“I hear you at night.”

He falls silent at that. Fuck. He thinks. He forgot about that. 

“Well, you’re probably hearing things.”

“Oh I’m hearing things alright. Whimpers and screams and moans and groans-“

“Enough.” He says. “I don’t have shell shock, fuck you.”

She reaches into the cupboard pulling out a plate, and scraping the now cooked eggs onto it. She hands it to him, as well as a fork. He looks down at them. Perfectly made. 

“Nice to see you can do something right.”

“I can cheat,” she smiles. “I always know the internal temperature.”

“Whatever the fuck that means.” He sits down on the couch and begins to chow down on his breakfast. 

She moves near him, going to turn on the TV. An old rerun of “Solid Gold” begins to air on screen. Funnily enough, this was the episode with him in it. 

“…and very special guest, Soldier Boy!” Exclaims the announcer. 

Then comes a monotone, unenthusiastic rendition of the already awful rap from Blondie's “Rapture.” Freak begins to laugh. All the while, he looks at it with pride, continuing to enjoy his breakfast. 

“Out of every song you could’ve picked, you chose this one?” She giggles, moving to sit opposite him on the couch. 

He scoffs at her, gesturing his hand up to the TV in frustration. 

“People told me I did that song some justice. Obviously something good came out of it, otherwise why the hell would they be airing it thirty years later?” He argues. “And what do you know? All the music I’ve heard from this day in age is all horse shit.”

“Yikes, someones angry. That bruise your ego tough guy?”

The music video changes, now showing Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance”. 

“Look at this shit,” He says. “Morals just flew out the window the moment I got sent away, huh?”

“What do you know about morals?” She jokes. “Plus, this is one of the greatest songs ever made. You just missed out on the progression of music that got us to this point.” 

“She looks like a fucked out mental case. Wearing strings to cover her jugs and pretending to rub her pussy.”

She grimaces at him. 

“God, do you ever hear yourself talk? You’re repulsive.”

He nods to the screen. “Yeah, well, so is that get up.”

She looks over to him now, narrowing her eyes. 

“And you know what?”

“What, nut job?”

“I actually have incredible taste in music, thank you very much. And speaking of, I went out of my way to buy you a gift. Make your time here a little easier on yourself.”

She runs over to her room, grabbing the Best Buy bag and bestowing it to him. 

“What the hell is this?” He asks. 

“Open it, idiot.”

He digs in the bag and pulls out the speaker, or what he thinks is the speaker? He can hardly tell. 

“Blueteeth wireless speaker?” He reads slowly, like he’s mentally challenged or something, she thinks. 

“Bluetooth, you big idiot.”

He nods his head at her with recognition. Smiling. 

“Ah I remember the scrawny one talking about this. I thought he was pulling my leg!”

She grabs it from him, pulling out her phone from her pocket, and pairing it. She places the speaker onto the coffee table in front of them and pulls up a music app. 

“Any decade in particular tickle your fancy?” She asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“What are my options?”

“Everything.” She states. 

“What does that mean?”

“It means everything. I have access to all the music ever on here.”

“What, on that thing?” He reaches his hand out to inspect her phone. 

She hands it to him reluctantly. 

“Technology has come a long way since walkmans.”

He looks it over, flipping it around in his hands. He presses the side button which turns on the screen. 

“How do I use it?” He asks, furrowing his brows. 

She smiles softly, moving to sit closer to him. Unlike his old self, he stiffens up in her presence. Her cold arm rubbing gently against his. 

“I don’t bite,” She says. “Here, let me see it.”

He hands her the phone and she leans in further as she shows him how to unlock it with a passcode of numbers. 6969. 

“Real mature.” He says, holding back a laugh.

She opens the phone up and pulls up Spotify. 

“Any requests?” She asks. 

“How about… Neil Young.” He decides. 

She sighs. 

“Okay, so it has everything but Neil young.”

“What the fuck!” He yells. “Why?”

“An issue with Joe Rogan. You wouldn’t know him. He does a podcast.”

“A who cast?”

“Ugh, nothing. Story for another day.”

“Alright in that case… what about Sinatra?”

“Nice choice.” she smiles, typing his name in. 

“You like him?” He asks innocently. 

“Very much so. His voice is the best on the ears.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

“Any song you like?”

“You pick,” he says. “Been too long.”

She thinks for a minute, then selects “The Way You Look Tonight.”

She stands up as it begins to play, setting her phone down on the coffee table, and going into her room. He watches her from the couch, a gleam of recognition in his eyes as he recalls the song lyrics. She leaves the door cracked. He can see her bare back as she changes shirts. He looks away quickly, not wanting to pry. Strange for him again. It’s like he’s become a different person. He’s acting like a boy, yet to be deflowered. He's angsty, and moody. Worst of all, he thinks he may have missed her company while he was working. All that crazy can leave an empty hole if gone for too long. 

She struts out of her room, slipping on a pair of turquoise earrings. He looks up at her. Her jeans are loose, and worn. Her belly peeks at him through her cut off tube top. She didn’t do herself up too much, maybe swiping on a coat of mascara and spraying on some perfume. 

“​​Some day, when I'm awfully low

When the world is cold

I will feel a glow just thinking of you

And the way you look tonight”

“Where are you goin’?” His mouth is dry. 

Why does he hope she invites him?

“We’re going,” She corrects. Thank God, he thinks. “Go fix yourself up.”

And so that afternoon, the two of them venture off with the rest of the res’ young couples. There had been a big farmers market in the nearest town full of cute stands, and things to waste money on. Of course, the moment they get there, she leaves him in the dust, running off with the rest of the girls. 

He and the guys, completely uninterested in whatever the fuck any of the stands had to offer, walk over to a craft beer food truck, and sit outside of it at the picnic tables. He wants to kill himself now, he thinks. Another eon of listening to what these guys had to offer. Good thing they never had anything to ask him.

“Hey Ben,” Fuck him gently with a god damn nuclear warhead. “Where’d you say you were from again?”

He shifts uncomfortably at the table, pulling his beer up to his lips.

“Philly.” He says, reaching into his pocket to grab a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

Thirty years ago he would have been entertaining this whole group. If Compound V helped him do one thing, it was being able to schmooze like nothing else. But he has to stay cautious. He doesn’t know what the fuck there even is to talk about, so he usually doesn’t talk at all. And even if he did know what to talk about, apparently everything he says is offensive. Including the name of the group of people he was hanging out with, the Indians. Thank Christ Asher was there, at least he didn't have to stick out like a sore thumb.

“And how old are you again?” 

One-hundred-and-three.

“Forty.”

“How’d you meet Freak? You a supe?”

He looks around for her, beginning to sweat. His chest is hot. This is bad. This is really bad. She’s halfway across the market, not paying attention obviously, or else she would already be booking it over here playing damage control. 

“We, uh, have some mutual friends,” Not really a lie. “And no, I’m not. What about you guys?”

Please God, anything to get this conversation off of him. 

They all start laughing. SB pulls a cigarette out of the pack with his teeth, grabbing his lighter, and inhaling. 

“No, none of us, we fuckin’ hate Vought. We hate all supes. Worst thing to ever happen to America.”

“You think so?” He exhales, not bearing to look any of them in the eyes.

“We know so, see the Elders may like them, cause they were brought up worshiping American heroes like that cock-sucker Soldier Boy--”

Ben chokes on the smoke, gasping for air, spiraling into an impressive coughing fit. Really? He could breathe in mustard gas like fresh air, but not this? Plus, major bruise to his ego. Thank God he wasn’t in the mood to put anyone in their place or else he’s sure he would've broken someone's neck by now. One of their hands comes up behind him and starts patting him in the back, anything to get him to stop coughing. Kill me now, he thinks. He can get through this on his own, he's no pansy. He doesn’t need help, especially at the hands of a man wearing black nail polish. 

“Freak is an exception, she hates Vought more than we do.”

The group nods to that, one of them adds; “They fucked us over a long time ago. A whole tribe got killed because of their carelessness. Those cowards had to send Soldier Boy to do their dirty work…”

His ears begin to ring. Fuck, he thinks. I did do that. He hardly remembers. Unfortunately, that period of time in his life was a giant blur-- a giant fuck up. He had thirty years to marinate on all of his awful mistakes, terrible choices…He thinks, if he could take it all back, he would. But he can’t-- He is the monster under the bed-- or was. Although at this point he's more like a ticking time bomb. Instead of a thought out attack, or a planned assassination, all someone has to do is play the wrong radio station, and he could blow the whole city to the ground. 

In contrast, Freak and the other res ladies look mindlessly around all the stalls, gossiping, chatting, being girls. She has already gathered a hefty bag of things she doesn’t need, but wants desperately. Goat milk soap, opal rings, Turkish towels, fresh strawberries, (free of pesticides, which she can always taste.) The rest of the ladies begin to walk over to a lemonade stand, leaving herself and Ama to admire the gorgeous tribal prints made by a local native. 

“Maybe I should get one for the trailer, it’ll give it some life.”

Ama hums, looking down at the print.

“I didn’t know Ben liked tribal art.” She states.

Freak begins to feel uneasy, looking over her shoulder to Ama with squinted eyes. Didn’t know Ben liked tribal art? Why wouldn't he?

“Who doesn’t?” She counters, putting the print back down on the table and beginning to walk away from the stall. Ama trails behind, looking around mindlessly. Like she's trying to hide something. In fact, she knows she is, her blood pressure is 130 over 80. 

“Well, last time I checked, Soldier Boy wasn’t the biggest fan of indigenous people.”

Freak whips her head around, grasping onto Ama’s arm, and pulling her into a corner.

“Will you keep your voice down?”

“Why?” She asks, getting louder. “Don’t want people noticing you’re housing a fucking murderer on the reservation?”

She holds a finger up to her lips, trying to clamp her hand over her mouth. The both of them disappear behind the nearest building. 

“How did you know about this?”

Ama shakes her head, scoffing. 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t? It’s not like the two of them look exactly alike!”

Freak looks down, taking her hands and rubbing them on her face.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Freak?” She grills. “I mean, he's fucking evil for Christs sake! He’s everything we all hate about Vought! He killed our people. He's a monster.”

Ama searches for her eyes, but Freak can’t bare to look at her.

“Are you two even together? Is he here to kill us? Were you both sent by Vought because of Wahkan?”

“No, no, and no!” She argues, raising her voice. “I would never do that to you.”

Freak looks around again, checking to see if anyone followed them into the alley.

“Look, you have to promise me you aren’t going to say anything.”

Ama laughs at her, beginning to storm off.

“You have a lot of nerve saying that to me after you brought him here. You’re all the same. Like a disease. You all only care about yourselves.”

Freak rushes behind her, grabbing onto her wrist, yanking her back over and pushing her up against the wall, pinning her there. 

“Ouch, you’re hurting me!” Ama whines.

Freak rolls her eyes, “You’re fine, stop being dramatic.”

She checks over her shoulder one more time.

“I need you to listen to me, and you cannot be blinded by bias, okay?”

Ama tries to pry herself from her grip, but Freak tightens up.

“Promise me! It’ll just be a minute, then you can take what I said and do whatever the fuck you want with it.”

Ama stops resisting, and stares at her, waiting for her to start. Freak sighs.

“This summer there is going to be this huge celebration for a new chemical that Vought created. Everyone will be there. All the top executives, all the investors, all the scientists, politicians, supes, you name it. They are all gonna be there, in the middle of nowhere, at this giant mansion that used to belong to Vogelbaum. Look, I tried everyone. I asked John to help, I asked Butcher, and Starlight-- they all said no. And trust me, I was persistent. The only thing I had left to try was Ben, and I didn't even know if that was going to work. But, his past aside, he is eager, and willing to end this once and for all. To get back at all these monsters that fucked us over. I mean, they ruined him more than anyone else. He was the first supe! They sent him off to the Russians, who literally tortured him for thirty years! If there is one person ready and itching to get these assholes off of his back, it's him. He is the only way. I can’t do it alone. I’d never be able to get a bomb in there without anyone noticing. It's him, it’s always been him. Please, trust me. I would never put any of you in danger.”

“You put us in danger the moment you brought him here!”

“I have everything under control. I can hear John fly around New York from here for Christ's sake!” 

Freak lets her go. Ama begins to pace around, holding her hand up to her mouth, she starts talking to herself. Working out the whole situation in her head.

“He's an a-hundred-year-old ticking time bomb, for starters…Although, it is safer with them here for the time being, if someone were to come attack…Ugh but he's also probably ridiculously closed minded…but we could work on that…we could work on a lot…He hasn’t done anything yet…he’s helping…and being respectful…”

Freak nibbles on her nails as she watches her think. Suddenly, Ama stops, turning to her.

“Okay, first things first; if you ever pull some shit like this again you have to tell me beforehand.”

Freak nods, “noted.”

“Secondly, me and the rest of the res are ready to help you end these mother fuckers once and for all.”

She shakes her head, “No, Ama, I appreciate the offer but I can’t let you do that.”

“You can and you will, that is my only exception. You let us help you do this, so there are absolutely no mistakes, and so I’ll never have to worry about this kind of shit ever again.”

Freak sighs, “Deal.”

The two of them walk back into the market with eased tension.

“So you aren’t dating him?”

She scoffs, “No, Ama. You said it yourself. He’s not the greatest person in the world.”

Ama smiles, “I’m sure you’d argue he’s no worse than you are.”

She shrugs, taking that into consideration. Despite the constant lack of regard for modern social norms, he really isn’t that hard to be around, or that hard to look at. Plus, he understood her suffering like John did, and even that was a quasi-relationship at some point. And he did agree to help her, but that was after she lied to him about the reward involved. She wonders if he’d ever do something like that to her. Lie to get what he wanted, that is. 

May she never know. 

“I’m sure you wouldn’t be too happy knowing I was screwing an enemy, don’t you think?”

“Well, it seems like we’re all on the same side here. Plus, he is stronger than us. If he wanted to fuck everyone over he would’ve already. He must have some sense of remorse.”

As she finishes her sentence they both walk up to see a huge crowd had formed around the craft beer truck since they’d been gone. Fuck, she thinks, this cant be good. She begins to listen in, not able to get a good focus on him. There are a bunch of guys shouting, or rooting for each other? Placing bets maybe? She doesn’t know. Her and Ama squeeze themselves through the crowd to get a better look.

Ben and Tough Guy, the resident giant bodybuilding himbo, grasp hands in what seems to be a very intense arm wrestling match.

“Cmon, Tough Guy!” Someone shouts, then: “Ben, there is no way your arm isn’t going to snap in two!”

Freak watches in horror as she runs up behind SB, putting her hands on the sides of her head.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” She screams.

He doesn’t stop though, just continues to pretend to strain his muscles. Tough Guys arm should've been ripped clean off already. She feels like she's going to be sick. She can’t bear to look.

Suddenly an arm hits the table, and the crowd begins to cheer. Peeling her hand from over her eyes, she sees Tough Guy being paraded around as champion. SB smiles at him, sitting down at the table in fabricated defeat. Surely any guy that strong, with that big of an ego, willing to let someone else win, had to have some morals, right? Well, she sure hopes so as she gazes down at him with a smile soft as silk. She feels warm, content, like waking from a nap in the sun. Looking over his shoulder with heavy, fluttering eyelashes, he has a boyish gleam in his eye, and a smile bright enough to land a plane.Yup, she thinks, I’m in trouble. 

"Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm

And your cheeks so soft

There is nothing for me but to love you

And the way you look tonight"

Masterlist | Taglist | Episode 6

Taglist: @Sl33pylilbunny @Lanassmarty @Sydneyyyya @1-800shootmeplease @muhahaha303 @nancymcl @speedyrebelfan @ghh05ttt @agentorange9595 @let-me-luve-you @peachytits @darkdahl @deans-spinster-witch @soggybasementfries @ladysparkles78 @madamthemoo @lyarr24 @sadlittlecountess @mickaelly007 @mrscountryclub @vtheoneandonly @decadentanchorwerewolf @wonderland2022 @buckybarnes-1917 @rebeccathefangirl @daisy-the-quake @tiredbibi @greyish-wallpaper @previousloversandmuses

[wisteria-cherry]

forty days and forty nights (day twenty-four!)

“how does your hair stay up?” you asked for what was probably the billionth time since you’d met him.

“for fuck’s sake.” bakugo grumbled, sipping at his coffee annoyedly. “it just does, got it?”

“but— physics.” you protest. “and your hair’s got nothing to do with your quirk.” you study it closely. it looked soft.

“do you gel it?” you prod.

“no.”

“hairspray?”

“no.”

“mousse??”

“hell no.”

“you’re a wonder, bakugo.” you sigh, defeated once more.

“yeah, yeah.” the person in question rolled his eyes. “weirdo.”

“but kirishima gels his, doesn’t he?”

“yeah. been doin’ that since high school.” bakugo grunted.

“does he dye it, too, or is it naturally that color?”

“dyes it.”

“what’s his natural color?”

“black.”

“does anyone else dye theirs?”

“nah.”

“have you seen them recently?” you lean against the counter, seemingly done drilling him (for now). bakugo shrugged.

“couple times.” he answered, glancing up at you.

“you should bring them around the shop if you can.” you smile. “i really liked it when kirishima came by.”

“tch. what’s so good about shitty hair?” bakugo grumbled.

“i think he’s sweet.” you shrug, slightly taken aback by the question. what wasn’t good about kirishima? he was incredibly kind.

“whatever.” bakugo was silent for a moment before begrudgingly agreeing. “…i’ll see when he’s free next.”

“thank you!” you break into a grin as bakugo pulled out his phone, texting kirishima (you think).

“monday.”

“so the day after tomorrow, sounds good!” you hum, pausing to glance at the bakery display to make sure it’s in stock. it was, thankfully. you weren’t in the mood to get more bagels anyway, simple as the task was. “i haven’t seen kirishima since the party. is he doing well?”

“he’s fine.” bakugo grumbled.

“do you ever do joint patrols? like, patrols with another person?” you ask curiously.

“i know what a joint patrol is, dumbass.” bakugo rolled his eyes. “and yeah, sometimes i’ll go with some other idiot.”

“like a sidekick? or a pro hero?”

“depends.”

“on what?”

“why it’s a joint patrol.”

“okay, then what are some reasons you’d have a joint patrol?”

“y’know, you’re almost as bad as that damn paparazzi.” bakugo glared at you.

“guilty.” you grin, setting your elbow on the counter and resting your chin on your hand. “i’m just curious is all.” bakugo sighed (rather dramatically, you thought) and sipped his coffee before answering.

“sometimes it’s t’ train some sidekick.” he grunted. “other times it’s ‘cuz the damn patrol route is too dangerous.”

“but i thought you had the same route every day?”

“i do.” bakugo huffed. “villains don’t.”

“oh, i see.” you hum thoughtfully. “hey, how are your sidekicks anyway?”

“they’re fine.” bakugo answered shortly.

“what about the one— that one sidekick—“

“yeah, very specific, i know exactly which sidekick you mean.” bakugo raised an eyebrow, amused.

“oh, shut up.” you huff. “the quirkless one.”

“what about ‘im?”

“did you ever figure out his name?” you grin.

“hiro.”

“well, yeah, but his name.”

“his damn name is hiro.”

“oh!” you blink. that went right over your head. embarrassing. “what’s his hero name?”

“hiro.”

“his hero name?”

“yeah. apparently that dumbfuck takes after that damn icyhot.” bakugo scowled.

“icy— icyhot?” you repeat. “like the muscle cream?”

“no, icyhot, the damn hero!” bakugo groaned. “god, i forgot you live under a fucking rock.”

“who’s icyhot then??” you ask desperately.

“…his name’s todoroki or some shit. his hero name’s shoto.” bakugo grumbled finally.

“todoroki? you mean like endeavor?” you tilt your head.

“yeah, that’s his old man.” bakugo answered, sipping his coffee aggressively (again, a wonder).

“i didn’t even know he had kids, wow.” you blink. bakugo gave you a scornful look.

“damn, you are fucking clueless.”

“yes, yes, i’m clueless, moving on.” you roll your eyes playfully as you get yourself a cup of water, having felt slightly thirsty for quite a bit. “hiro. how’s he?”

“doin’ just fine.” bakugo replied, swirling his coffee around in the mug, causing the last little remnants of the coffee grounds in the bottom of the mug to move around within the liquid.

“i’m so glad to hear that.” you sigh. “how old is he?”

“18. fresh outta school.” he said.

“really? and he’s already a sidekick in your agency?” you glance at him, surprised as you sip at your water. bakugo shrugged.

“yeah, well, he earned it.”

“tch. what’s so good about shitty hair?”

(maybe he earned it but maybe it’s also compensating for his behavior against quirkless people when he was younger)

(feel free to comment + leave ur thoughts! :)

@k0z3me @cherryblossomclarity @stevenknightmarc @failingstudents-blog @jazzafaye5294

[princesscolumbia]

I was out running with the coach that now permanently lives in my head and was inspired to write this. Yes, Christy (a.k.a. Ranma) is blushing at this while I'm crying just writing it:

How to Love Yourself

You were told never to meet your heroes…

And that turned out to be accurate.

You found people you thought were worthy and could guide you when you were so lost you didn’t even know who or what you were,

But they all fell short.

They were hateful

They were mean

They were unsympathetic

They assumed you were something you’re not

And it hurt so much that you couldn’t find a hero in your life

In your world

In your timeline

Nothing in “real life” ever matched up to the hero you needed.

And you deserved a hero.

Everyone does

Even your heroes.

(You know this intellectually, even if you can’t imagine your heroes ever needing rescuing)

So you picked a sixteen year old kid whose life was a mess and grades were abysmal and couldn’t People™ to save their damn life…

…but they were strong and powerful (two things that aren’t synonyms, no matter what those Goku worshipers think) and…

Most importantly…

…could be the gender you dreamed of being in your deepest heart of hearts. Just a splash of water, even just tap water, and they got for free from the universe what you’d been denied.

So you looked up everything you could, absolutely EVERYTHING available…

Fan art,

Pirated scans,

Pirated episodes,

AMVs,

And, of course, fanfiction.

And they were still a teenage fuckup (except when they were an adult fuckup), and they still had chronic foot-in-mouth, and they still couldn’t pick among their love interests,

But you knew they could,

You knew they would,

Because, as sure as the sun rises and gravity attracts and the immutable laws of the universe are immutable,

Ranma Saotome don’t lose!

But even then you were older than your hero.

And you couldn’t tell people that a 16-year-old fuckup was your hero.

(But, let’s be honest, they knew, you wouldn’t shut UP about them!)

And you were never going to be a martial artist…

And you were never going to face down a horde of enemies and you were never going to have rivals who could turn out to be friends.

And, unlike your hero, you were very, very good at losing.

You lost your jobs (over and over)

You lost your friends

You lost your wife

You lost your home.

You very nearly lost your daughter, and you only managed to hang onto that by a thread

Just like you very nearly lost your life, because you were so good at losing that the rock just kept on rolling and trying to crush you under it.

And you started to put your life back together, mostly by being stubborn.

Stubborn and angry and with the single goal of getting to the point where you could make God suffer as much as he made you suffer.

And you got a home

And you got a girlfriend

And you got a boifriend (and good for you!)

You got your cat back and gave her the burial she deserved when she crossed the rainbow bridge

You got a kitten, who finally made you smile again

And you got your daughter back, not as much as you wanted but better than you expected.

But now it was all on you. You’d already failed so hard you shook Death’s hand,

Now you’re finally getting to be the gender you want, but it’s slow and so late and so far gone that you’ll never really look like a woman.

You’re at a job you excel at, but you don’t know how you got it and probably only got where you are because of the pandemic, and it scares you spitless that you’ll lose this job and have to claw and scrape your way into another.

(They still don’t have a real job title for you)

(Assholes)

And you do the finances and you cook and you clean and you pick up your daughter and you help your ex run errands and you take your girlfriend to her doctor’s appointments and you keep in touch with your boifriend, who’s overseas and the time zone difference is a nightmare but you do it anyway because

You CAN’T

LOSE

AGAIN!

And you gave up on your dreams of

looking pretty

being strong

being powerful

…because you’re not.

…because you’re scared.

…because you know you’re not worthy of anything good.

And you know,

For a fact,

That Ranma Saotome, 16-year-old screwup who still could achieve everything they ever wanted because they don’t lose,

Would look at you and laugh.

(Or cry, which might be worse.)

But you keep going, and you keep going, and you keep going. It doesn’t matter how tired you are, it doesn’t matter how badly you want to stop and rest, it doesn’t matter how pointless it all seems, it doesn’t matter that you’re getting older and time is running out and you’re going to die with so much left undone and not even your hopes and dreams just the tasks and needs of everyday life and if you died now you’d leave a girlfriend who would be lost without you and a daughter who has nobody else and a boifriend who fled their family and could probably make it out okay (you know they’re WAY more capable than you at the end of the day) and everything that should be in place to take care of them for the rest of their lives isn’t and, at this rate, never will be.

And it’s all…

…your…

…fault.

And you just want to rest and there’s too many directions you need to go and if there was someone…anyone who cared enough about what you care about, who loves the people you love like you do, even if you had to squeeze in just one more person in your life, even if you had to trade off time and space because you’re so big in such a small space in life that there’s no room for anyone or anything else…

…and she’s there.

And you can rest.

And she takes a little bit of time to get used to the situation,

(after all, a fictive in a system is going to be disoriented and have conflicting life memories and hell, that’s a struggle all it’s own…

…but that’s okay, you know she’ll land on her feet and make it through that challenge and look like a badass while doing it, because of one simple truth…

…Ranma Saotome don’t lose!)

But when you need her,

When you need someone to step in and take over because you fucked up again in a life that can’t afford fucking up…

…she’s there.

(“Hi, I’m Ranma Saotome…sorry ‘bout this!”)

At first you’re worried, you don’t want this to be Ranma.

You’d be completely okay with a fictive that looked like Ranma and sounded like Ranma but knew she wasn’t Ranma because then you’d have your hero trapped in your head with you.

And she’d know.

But the longer time goes on…

…the more you and she get used to the new arrangement…

…and the more you embrace the identity you thought you’d lost, she embraces the identity of an older, wiser Ranma, one who learned how to People™ the same way she learns The Art. A Ranma who is more mature about her feelings and has the benefit of 47 additional years of life’s memories (…minus some gaps due to abuse, and hadn’t your stepmother better be glad that Ranma can’t kill her twice for what she did to you…) and understands what ‘love’ means and what a polycule is and just kinda shakes her head and chuckles at her dumbass 16-year-old self who didn’t realize her own feelings on her own gender let alone all that other crap.

And you can both look at her life and smile and enjoy the good, the bad, and the ugly about it and (yeah, some of it’s embarrassing to her) you both enjoy it.

And you don’t want her to look at your life.

But she doesn’t have to.

Because she remembers it all.

Every victory (however fleeting)

Every failure (more than you want to ever count)

Every person you ever loved and hated and every time you quit when you should have pushed through and every time you dropped the ball and every time you curled up in a ball and cried because it hurt so bad that you couldn’t keep going and nobody cared and…

…you always were such a coward.

Not like her, not like your hero.

And she sees all of it, and she doesn’t laugh.

And she remembers all of it and she doesn’t pity you.

She perceives you and loves you.

And you remind her of how much you’ve screwed up,

And she reminds you of how much of a fuckup she is.

And you remind her of how much time you’ve lost,

And she reminds you that you’re still alive, so you’re not done yet!

And you remind her of how much of a loser you are,

And she reminds you that was before, now you’ve got Ranma Saotome stuck in your head and she, unlike so many other people in your life, is Ride or Die.

And she tells you to shut up and deal with it, because you’re hers and she’s yours and that’s that. Wake up, cowboy, we’ve got a world to take on.

But…maybe you could help her with the Adulting, ‘cause she never did learn how to do that.

[landofzero-archive]

Battle on the Sugoroku Board - God Won’t Roll The Dice 3

(Location: Cage)

(A few minutes before— The “Battle on the Sugoroku Board” set’s cage)

Rinne: —And that’s when I found out that Kohaku-chan’s scared of ghosts.

Oh! You won’t tell him, right? He seems to be pretty conscious of it♪

Madara: Oh. I’ve heard good things about that♪

I want to take Kohaku-san to a haunted house next time and see his reaction. I’m serious about it.

Rinne: No, completely ignore it.

Well, it’s not something to hide and I don’t care what you say.

More importantly, I’m curious about whether you guys’ll continue with Double Face. He’s got his schedule set aside for Crazy:B, doesn’t he?

Madara: Haha. What’re you talking about, Rinne-san? Isn’t that Kohaku’s main job?

I’m a two-timer with MaM too. It’s nice to be able to use it for convenience, like a relative’s house that you go to sometimes.

Rinne: I don’t mind either way. I’m sure Kohaku-chan wants to do it too.

Madara: More importantly, it looks like other idols are listening in, aren’t they?

I don’t know how it looks from the outside, but ES isn’t rock solid either. How about I talk to you like someone who knows inside info?

You’re good at getting the audience excited in your lives, right?

Rinne: Lives and chats are two different things. I’m not really a gossip, y’kno~w?

Madara: Despite what you’re saying, you look like you can’t help but want to chat♪

Rinne: Gyahaha, that’s true!

I’ve also been forced to suffer a lot. I feel sorry for all the cute kids that couldn’t fit into the industry!

If you have something to say, say it♪ We’re in a cage anyway, no one will hear you.

Idol: There’s nothing to talk about with a blessed ES idol……

Rinne: Oi oi. You’re too naive. It’s true that we’re in a pretty lofty position, but up until recently I was on the verge of being fired, y’know.

But lucky for me, I won the bet. I risked my life on a big gamble and just barely hit the mark.

If I say that, people might get angry because it means the future’s uncertain. “Don’t lecture me” and “You don’t have to tell me” and all that.

Rinne: But I can tell you this. The goddess of fate won’t smile on those who curse their own fate♪

I’m an idol, just like all of you. So don’t be so cold.

Let me hear your stories.

Idol: ………

…… The reason we appeared on “Battle on the Sugoroku Board” was because it’s what the agency wanted.

Since I’m in a small agency, I had no choice but to obey.

The program’s intentionally trying to make the ES idols lose.

It looks like they gave support items to some idols in advance, and it can turn any situation upside-down.

Rinne: Haah? Does that mean this program’s rigged?

Madara: An interesting story. In other words, you guys are assassins who showed up to outwit us.

However, you’re a pretty “cute” assassin. I guess you have no intention of taking my life.

What’s your purpose, then?

Even if you beat us, since it’s not a pure performance-based contest, there won’t be much benefit to it, right?

Rinne: No, I don’t know about that.

ES is a big deal to these guys.

They want to win, even if just once, and to get rid of their frustrations— those are also motivating factors.

Madara: So what’s really going on? The sooner you talk, the easier it’ll be.

The circumstances of adults aren’t that satisfactory anyways.

Idol: We don’t know why the agency came up with a plan like that……

All I heard from the agency was “We want you to appear on a NETV program in order to eliminate the disparities in the entertainment industry.”

I even wonder sometimes what the point of doing something like this is. But the director, who didn’t like the way ES was running things, was also on board with it……

Honestly, we didn’t expect ES idols to be so friendly.

Sorry for acting the way I did.

Madara: Hmm. So you guys are at the bottom and don’t understand what the agency or director are thinking.

Then, it seems we have no choice but to ask the production director.

Rinne: Wait. That kind of thing—

How about we flip that scenario on its head?

Madara: Yeah…… Personally, I’d like to understand the other party’s plans and destroy them. I honestly don’t care whether we win or lose the program.

…… But it’s annoying to fall into our opponent’s trap, isn’t it?

Alright. Well, I’ll be happy to help ya out♪

CosPro and NewDi are probably similar in that their leaders hate losing.

I think they’d hate it, but how about we form a united front?

I’m sure that’ll make the program more exciting♪

Rinne: Heeh, that’s fine. A united front♪

It’s hard to be trusted easily though. We’re a team with poisonous bees and poisonous snakes. You never know when we’re going to poison you, right?

Madara: Hahaha, I can’t speak for others, but I’m used to not being trusted.

Even as we proclaim our own justice, we transcend barriers and fight together for the same purpose— that’s also heroic, and I like it♪

Previous | Directory | Next

[wowbright]

Fic: Plain to See

Klaine Valentine’s Challenge 2023: “You're the Inspiration” by Chicago (Day 2 prompt)

Words: ~975 words

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: Blaine arranges a dinner with an older lesbian couple.

I’m back with more vignettes from my Mormon!Klaine universe for Klaine Valentines 2023! This vignette takes place between Love at Home and Doubt Your Doubts. They are in love with each other but think it’s unrequited. Idiots.

My Mormon!Klaine Masterpost.

Notes: Jana and Liesl are Jan the jeweler and Liz her partner from 4.22 “All or Nothing.”

--------

They had just finished unpacking their groceries when Blaine checked his phone. He smiled at something on the screen and kicked his feet together like he was about to start dancing.

It was so unfair for a straight boy to be that freaking adorable.

“Good news?” Kurt asked.

“The best news! We don’t have to go dooring tonight! Someone’s invited us over for dinner. Remember Liesl from the jewelry store? Who undented your ring?” Blaine twirled while pointing to his own ring finger, as if the turning of his body was necessary to fully evoke the circular concept of a ring.

“She has your phone number?” Kurt asked.

“Of course she does. I gave it to her. I'm a missionary.” Blaine pointed to himself for emphasis. “That's what we do.”

Kurt couldn't help but laugh.

“What?" Blaine said with a little hop. "What's so funny?”

“You look like you're about to break into a full song-and-dance routine.”

Blaine tilted his head to the side in exaggerated contemplation. “Maybe I should.” Without further thought, he jumped onto one of the kitchen chairs and began wiggling his hips side-to-side like a chaste Elvis. “God is great! God is good! And we thank him for this food!” he belted out to the tune of “Rock Around the Clock.” “We’re gonna thank him morning, noon, and night. We're going to thank him ’cause he's outta sight. We’re gonna …” He leapt back to the floor, grabbed Kurt’s hand, and twirled him around the kitchen in 1950s sock-hop style until Kurt was laughing so hard he couldn't dance anymore.

“You’re such a dork, Elder Anderson.” Kurt sank into the closest chair, reluctantly letting go of his companion’s hand because if they weren’t dancing anymore, he didn’t really have an excuse.

“God made me that way for a reason.” Blaine beamed. His eyes glimmered with innocent mischief.

Kurt might've mistaken it for flirtation if he didn't know any better.

“You must've charmed the socks off of her in the jewelry store," Kurt said.

“I don't think so. We just ... hit it off, I guess.”

“She's not single, is she? We’ll have to send the sisters over if she's single.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Kurt. She’s my grandmother’s age.”

“I wasn't implying that. A rule is a rule. That's all.”

Blaine opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it. His eyes moved from Kurt’s face to the kitchen floor. He opened his mouth again. “Anyway, she's married. So we can accept the invitation.”

*

“So glad you could come!” Liesl said as she answered the door. The house was in a suburban part of Ingolstadt, a contemporary building with a pleasantly square shape and a swath of ceiling-to-floor windows on the second floor. Through them, Blaine could see a study with a mid-century modern desk and chair set against a backdrop of wall-to-wall books. The garden in front was exquisitely designed, with a multihued choir of tulips lining the path to the front door. As they stepped through the threshold, Blaine could see more modern furniture, colorful paintings on the walls, and a vase with a fuchsia-and-white double tulip set in the center of a long table.

It all came together like a work of art. Blaine was not surprised to find a jewelry maker living in a house like this.

“Thanks for having us,” Kurt said, shaking Liesl’s hand. "Nice to meet you again.”

“Well, I've enjoyed chatting with Elder Anderson so much, and from what he’s said of you, I think we all have some things in common.” Liesl patted Blaine’s shoulder, and it felt so … nice. Easy and intimate, the way it should be between a nephew and his favorite aunt. He barely knew her, but he already wished he could adopt her, the way Joseph Smith and the early saints were constantly adopting their friends as spiritual sons and brothers. “Anyway, wait a moment while I get Jana. Her hearing’s not what it used to be.” Liesl disappeared up the stairs.

“Who is Jana?" Kurt asked.

Blaine’s stomach knotted. It occurred to him, suddenly, that maybe this had not been the best idea—springing a pair of elderly lesbians on Kurt without so much as a prelude. But if Blaine had said something ahead of time, Kurt wouldn't have come here. He would have said it was against the rules, two elders in a room alone with a pair of nonmember women. He would have said they had no business proselytizing to a pair of for-all-intents-and-purposes-married lesbians yes.

And Kurt needed to be here. He needed to see that the church’s idea of what made a family wasn’t the only one. He had to understand that God wanted Kurt’s happiness as much as he wanted the happiness of his straight children—the happiness that came with loving God and loving others, and with being willing to receive love in return.

“Jana is a family member,” Blaine said. It wasn’t the full truth, but it was true, and safer to say than wife. Kurt would find out soon. But every second Blaine delayed that revelation, he delayed the possibility of Kurt canceling dinner before it began.

If the news came from Liesl—an investigator, someone that Kurt wanted to leave a good impression on—and not from Blaine, it would be harder to run.

So Kurt wouldn't run. He’d bristle, but he wouldn't run. And over dinner, he would soften. They would enjoy food, and tell stories, and laugh together. And the truth would be plain to see—that Liesl and Jana, Kurt and Blaine, were normal, everyday people, living their lives as best as anyone could. That there was nothing wrong with committing yourself to live with and support another person through good and bad. There was nothing sinful about falling in love.

[here2bbtstrash]

ALRIGHT. i got my brainrot list of 50+ songs down to.... still too many, probably 😂 but i'm decently satisfied with these finalists 🥰

tiny disclaimer that these are just MY favorites! this is in no way meant to be all-encompassing so don't come yell at me about forgetting something. there are some obvious songs that aren't on here bc i had to pare the list down, and frankly i live in the back half & japanese albums of bangtan's discography so that's gonna be where most of my favorites are!!! you can MAKE YOUR OWN LIST if you disagree with me 👹

with that out of the way, i present to you, my hobi hoes: ~my favorite hoseok vocal moments~ - join me under the cut, won't you? 🌹

jamais vu: starting here bc this is the one that gave me the brainrot 😵‍💫 his super low melody on his verses at 0:23 and 1:46 (sounds even better in this live version omg) and then the backing vocals on the final chorus???? slut me all the way out. i'm obsessed with this subunit frankly

for youth: A PERSONAL FAVE I JUST WHEIUGHRKRJGDFG he's so smooooooth with it !!! and giving srs milf energy in this performance lmao (i'm also obsessed with his dance moves in this one !!!)

i like it: clears my skin every time 😩 just such a fun little bop of a verse, and he fucking eats it live!!!

tomorrow: listen, if there's one thing hobi's gonna do it's have insane breath control. bc tell me how my man went from rolling around on the floor doing choreo for his life to hitting notes at the BOTTOM of his register like 30 seconds later? do you know how much fucking air that takes???? ok i'm done being a voice nerd i'm just never not impressed at his vocal stamina. that shit is HARDDDDDD!!!!

spine breaker: this is just one of my favorite bangtan songs i won't even lie lmao 🙈 i live for them nasty low notes ty goodbye (and tae and jin sound SO GOOD here too wweeeeoooowww)

equal sign: i mean come on, i can’t not mention it. i’ll never forget hearing the chorus and those sweet high notes for the first time - i fell out of my damn chair lmaooooo. love that he traverses nearly the whole range of his voice in this one - and the technique on his mixing up there makes me so happy like that shit has some weight to it!!!!

lights: the japanese singles will always do what needs to be done i swear!!!! i fucking love this verse i want to eat it for breakfast lunch and dinner. so effortless, so bouncy and pretty 🥺 (i also feel this way about stay gold and for you but i was trying to have self-control and not put every japanese single on here BUT THERE U GO)

save me: these lines always put a smile on my face but like SPECIFICALLY this tiny desk version - that live hopekook harmony just lights up every fucking atom in my body 😩 they sound incredible

rain: IT'S ONLY LIKE TWO SUNG LINES BUT I PROMISE THAT SHIT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE

born singer: i fucking can't get enough of the tone of his voice in this one and i die over how emotional he looks when he does it live??? and ~we go, we go, we go~ is hobi all over, so catchy and fun

you never walk alone: there’s a lot of stuff showcasing the ends of hobi’s range on this list but i looooove me some MID-RANGE HOBI and my god. he belts this so open and free with so little tension wheuihegkdjg. if he ever wanted to take his solo albums in a more pop or even rock direction i’d eat it the fuck up, he absolutely has the voice for it!!! (for further evidence, see this part of outro: wings)

24/7=heaven: HONESTLY i blush when this song comes on my headphones and i’m in public lmaoooo. he’s so smooth, so playfully teasing, the “daaaaarling”????? would scream like a fangirl if i heard this live, bark bark bark

airplane pt.2: ahhhh yes. this will forever be the verse that makes me a whore. it’s a pavlovian response at this point. i hear gureum wireul maeil and my tongue is out, it is what it is. (also further evidence for hobi's insane vocal stamina bc he literally does NOT STOP MOVING lmfao)

path: it is literally HOMOPHOBIC that this song isn't on spotify 😩 but wooooof his entire verse is just insane, the flip from gorgeous low notes to growly rap to lovely open chest voice in the span of like 4 lines????? HOW HOBI! HOW!

mama: TAKE ME TO CHURCH!!! i am gonna be so real, i cannot watch this video without crying omg. talk about heartfelt and singing with your everything. plus the ad libs he throws in like it's nothing???? ALL ROUNDER SHIT!

blood sweat & tears: I MEAN this chorus is just iconic and then he came back and killed the verse too?!?! HELLO!!!!! i couldn’t not include this song, BST was like THEEEEE jihope era imo

epilogue: young forever: SPEAKING OF SONGS THAT MAKE ME CRY LOL - it makes me so happy that they gave hobi the emotional BUILDUP of this song because man he fucking sells it. this song makes me sob like a baby and his verse is entirely to blame 😭

OKAY I AM FORCING MYSELF to stop here 🙈 what do you think??? what's on YOUR list???? let me know~ 💌