#many are just trying to make enough money to get by

[thisisntmyrightera]

Together - CHO HYUN-JU x Fem Reader

Summary: Reader is scammed and abandoned by her boyfriend, leaving her alone in South Korea to her fate, so in desperate search of a solution to return to her home country she decides to join the squid games to get money, within the game she meets a couple of people who become her friends and could possibly be something more.

Warning: In this episode none!

In futures episodes: Violence, Strong language, female main character is considered heterosexual but she have feelings for a female (Cho Hyun-ju) and it is reciprocated, abuse for male characters.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

You were stupid, very stupid and naive, that was what you repeated to yourself every day since your ex-boyfriend scammed you and abandoned you in a country where you didn't know anyone, you couldn't even understand the language well and now you were locked up in a place full of strangers in a green uniform and with a headache you could barely bear.

Why were you doing such stupid things? You should have said no when that man approached you and offered you money, it was all for the damn money, otherwise how would you find another way to get home?

Barely a day had passed, you understood little of the first game where you saw one person after another die around you, what you had gotten yourself into, this wasn't a game, it was a massacre, as you sat cross-legged on the cold bed that had been assigned to you you could feel your hands shaking and you felt warm tears rolling down your cheeks.

Hey - a kind voice rumbled slowly but enough to wake you from your trance to look up and see a boy with long, slicked-back hair holding a small metal tray - I noticed you didn't come over for your food, I brought you some

His equally shaky hand moved a little closer to you, leaving the tray on the bed, staring at you, afraid you'd react

It's okay if you don't want to eat it, it's just that if we're going to keep playing you need strength for tomorrow - his kind but shy smile and his clear disinterest in leaving made you wipe your tears with the sleeves of your sweater, nodding taking a deep breath - Thanks - you told him, trying not to sound upset, because you really weren't and if you were it was only with yourself

My name is Dae-Ho, yours is… 144 - he looked at you curiously taking a bite of his food

Y/N… my name is Y/N - you sighed, hugging your legs uncomfortably and nervous

Hey, leave her alone - a loud and somewhat curious voice sounded behind Dae-Ho making the two look towards the sound - don't you see that you're making her uncomfortable? go away

I… I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, it's just that… - Dae-Ho looked at you embarrassed, walking away just a few steps

You don't have to give explanations, go away - the girl, a little taller than Dae-Ho, looked at him firmly, almost annoyed, following the man with her gaze as he walked away quickly and embarrassed, joining a group of men on the other shelf of beds

you can eat in peace - the girl looked at you kindly while you only responded with a slight nod and she walked away returning to her place two beds down on the shelf next to you

It was difficult for you not to go unnoticed and it was obvious that everyone wanted to get away from you, you weren't like them, you didn't share their nationality, their traditions, or their topics of conversation, you didn't even understand many of them what they were talking about, they all looked at you like a weirdo, like why a foreigner could come and want to steal their prize, it was unfair.

That's how you spent the first night, alone, trembling from the cold and fear, looking into the darkness while you cried silently and the gunshots echoed in your ears, it was a nightmare and that's how you were until sleep overcame you

The second day wasn't any better, you could barely carry yourself, you were tired, hungry and much more scared than yesterday, surrounded by hundreds of people in a courtyard with drawings of children and rainbows on the floor.

''Now, it's time to form teams of 5, you have 10 minutes'' the voice of the speaker sounded repeatedly before an alarm sounded and you saw how everyone ran looking for members for their team, but everyone seemed to avoid you like a plague.

They ran and pushed you but no one looked at you to join and if they looked at you it was to laugh and murmur

There she was again, standing in front of you with a sad look that barely met your eyes she looked at the floor and walked by your side.

Hey… - you murmured barely, only to her with fear and shame - if you still don't have a team… I can join you if you don't mind - she looked at you over her shoulder giving a sigh of relief nodding offering you her hand so she could walk by your side and not get lost in the crowd

Between your fingers you could notice the difference in size between your small and fragile hand and hers, it was big with a different strength and somewhat rough but still made you feel protected and confident

So you both walked almost in circles finding the fragile old woman and her son and then the little girl with bangs forming a team of 5

Again the games were confusing for you, you could identify some that resembled what you had once played in your country but fear consumed you making your hands tremble again

Calm down - her voice again fragile but somewhat thick made you look at her holding the air - everything will be fine, don't push yourself too much okay? Do you think you can take charge of throwing the rocks? It's just a matter of taking a rock, throwing it and making the second one fall, that's all you have to do - her voice was like a murmur trying not to interrupt the game of the first two teams that were participating

Should I just throw it? - you looked at her nervously, looking at her dark eyes behind her bangs

You just have to throw it, it's easy - she smiled at you giving you hope making you smile barely as you looked at the floor again nervously trying not to think about everything that was tormenting your head, in the background you could hear the screams and cheers that the other players made while the teams participated until a round of gunshots made you jump scared covering your ears and closing your eyes tightly - calm down, calm down nothing is happening - her arms surrounded you quickly, adjusting you against her chest, you could feel the strands of her hair on your face and a slight aroma of herbs coming from it - it's over, don't open your eyes until I tell you okay?

Your head barely nodded as you took a deep breath, the aroma of her hair made you remember the gardens where you walked when you first arrived in South Korea and her arms for some reason made you feel protected, nothing could happen to you

A couple of minutes (that seemed like an eternity) passed slowly, people were talking, some were crying and in the background you could hear the sound of the sirens of the forklifts that had come to pick up the bodies, one second after another it was a damn nightmare.

''Next team, you can take your position'' the voice from the speaker again

It's our turn - the old woman sighed getting up while you opened your eyes and stood up slowly with fear

The guards tied your ankles and after a shot the game for you began.

You walked counting the steps, being constant and fast in your tasks, first Ddjaki, the little girl with the bangs did well, then the flying rock, your trembling hands held it strong and letting out a deep sigh you threw it against the rock in the distance failing in the attempt

Girl concentrate, what's wrong with you! - the old woman shouted making your friend look at her annoyed and after her firm indication and walking as a team to pick it up the 5 of them returned to their position - don't fail, please girl!

We trust you… calm down, take a breath and throw it, you'll do well - Your new best friend looked at you smiling lightly giving you courage.

A sigh again, a fixed look at the rock and after throwing it it fell with a blow.

Everyone screamed, applauded and so on again until reaching the final task ''Team 2, you have completed your tasks'' you had never been so happy to hear that spooky voice on the speaker and once the guards untied your ankles they all ran screaming and laughing to the fence that separated you from the rest of the players, you could finally return to the dormitory and finally had survived another day.

Everyone was happy, so much so that all of you were jumping and screaming with excitement, your friend, the tall girl ran to you without wasting a second surrounding you with her strong arms making you spin in the air while both of you laughed

We did it, I told you, we did it right - she laughed jumping with you still in her arms making you scream when you felt the air on your face and your legs hanging in the air

Now, stop it, you're going to make her dizzy - the old woman laughed patting her back as a sign that it was enough until you heard gunshots in the distance again making the team erase their smile and remember the horrible place where they were

Come on let's sit down - her hand slowly and carefully took yours walking towards the bed shelves climbing up and sitting on the steps - are you okay?

Yes… I'm pretty well, thanks for helping me - you smiled rubbing your hands on your legs nervously

By the way, my name is Cho Hyun-Ju… are you? - she looked at you curiously

Y/N… my name is Y/N - you smiled shyly at her

You have a very pretty name - she smiled back shyly with her cheeks slightly tinted - thanks for letting me join you in the game you were the only person who approached me

You don't have to thank me, I think we are both rejected for certain reasons and that makes us unique in the crowd right? it's better to be united and be stronger than alone - your cheeks felt hot, the sign that they were red like cherries

You're right..

Part 2 ✨

------------------------------------

Thanks for reading, this is the first episode I've written about Squid Game and it was short since I have little time to update but I didn't want to go to sleep without writing the beginning of the story, I have ideas but I'd like to hear yours and write them down, just to reinforce the theme of this story the reader and Cho Hyun-ju will possibly have a romance so if these themes aren't to you please don't read it, I know you'll find something that suits your tastes. 🫶🏻

Again, Thanks for reading, I'll be back soon!

BTW: Happy New Year everyone 🥂✨

[alpaca-clouds]

Okay, see, here is the thing: Rich people loathe psychologists. They really, really do loathe them. Which is why most of them do not go to therapists and will now allow for evaluations. But among psychologists there is a theory by now that say, that once you have more than 1 or 2 million, something in you literally breaks. Again, we have a big issue, because humans need to consent to be evaluated and most of those rich people do not want to.

However, we have a few case studies of folks who have described exactly the same as the dude above, before having this moment of: "Wait a moment, something is wrong with me, isn't it?" And they went to therapists - and due to them we have those studies. And from them we know, that they got better when they stopped making money. In fact, they got even better when they gave some of the money away.

It is midnight over here, and I do not have the mind to look up the two papers on it again. I might try tomorrow unless my ADHD brain forgets. But yes, if you get too much money, something in you somehow gets busted. It is presumably fixable by getting rid of that money again. But because we do not have enough data points, we cannot fully say what it is.

But there are psychologists who are proposing the entire "tax everything above those 2mil anyone makes at 100% and give them a 'you won capitalism' trophy. Trust us, they will be better because of it", not just because many of them are also for UBI, but also because they do have some evidence that it would make the millionaires and billionaires a lot better, mentally speaking.

Despite every moment of life being indescribably precious and a wondrous mystery, I will spend it caring about dividends and how many rental properties I have.

[bruhstories]

Bet I

p.2?

summary: in-ho got a cat, and he needs a cat sitter while he is away on his business trip. who knew that meeting you would turn into a bet, a philosophy of what is moral and what is not? pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader's background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, few mentions of Y/N (again, for plot purposes) w/c: 2.2k

a/n: i have no idea how many chapters this will have, but i'm trying to write each chapter for each day of the games. it'll all make sense at the end lol. i tried to do as much research about seoul and south korea in general, so please be gentle! i'm just an eastern european gal

tagging: @full-sunnies @xodilfluvr

In-ho got a cat — a green-eyed, silver-tipped Korat he named Eunjoo. He thought about getting a dog, but dogs were high-maintenance, loyal and loving, and his job didn't allow him a loving pet. It didn't allow him to get attached to humans or animals. But Eunjoo was aloof and independent, and only rubbed against his leg when she wanted food. She refused to be handled and rarely played with the toys In-ho got her, but the cat was a necessary soul in his empty penthouse. It still wasn't enough to fill the hole in his blackened heart, but it was better than coming home to nothing and no one.

Trouble came when In-ho had to leave for eight days for the 32nd Squid Game. He quite obviously couldn't bring Eunjoo with him, and he couldn't let her starve, either. Not only that, but her litter boxes had to be cleaned regularly, and she needed fresh water daily, which left him with only one option — getting a cat sitter, as stupid as that sounded. In-ho felt ridiculous typing the post on a website for dog-walkers and pet sitters, but he did it nonetheless.

Businessman going on an eight day trip. In need of an experienced person to do home visits twice a day for my Eunjoo. 30,000 won per day. Based in Gangnam-gu, Seoul. 

He attached a picture of the cat along with his email, and waited. There was enough time to select a sitter before he left, and he browsed several profiles of pet sitters. Most of them had fantastic reviews, but asked for more money. Typical, In-ho thought. How typical for people to ask for more than necessary. It wasn't as though he wasn't willing to pay more — he had enough money, and would gladly spend it on Eunjoo — but it was the greed that disgusted him. The audacity to ask for 70,000 won a day to feed a cat and change her water was insane.

In-ho closed his laptop and left it on his coffee table in the living room, then walked into the kitchen to feed Eunjoo. She came from her hideout at the sound of a can opening, cautious of her surroundings, then rubbed her head against In-ho's leg, patiently waiting for her food. The cat didn't immediately eat. Instead, Eunjoo waited for her owner to sit down and have his dinner, and the corners of his mouth turned into a half-smile. Better than most people, In-ho thought. She wasn't greedy, she was understanding in ways some humans couldn't be. And so, he reheated yesterday's bulgogi and sat down with a side of freshly cooked rice. Only then did Eunjoo eat her dinner, checking on him from time to time to make sure he was also eating.

Ding!

His phone lit up with a notification. In-ho unlocked it and opened the email he had just received from a pet sitter.

Good evening, sir! My name is Y/L/N Y/N and I would like to meet Eunjoo. I live in Guryong Village and can take the bus to Gangnam-gu whenever you need me to, as I am quite flexible with my schedule, but I need to be completely transparent with you. I've only taken care of my cousin's cat over summer, so I am not the experienced sitter you are looking for, but I am asking you to please give me a chance. Have a good evening!

In-ho scoffed at the words on his screen. He was specifically looking for someone with experience, but he appreciated the honesty. It was a rare trait nowadays, and he was a fair man who gave everyone equal chances. It was the root of his job, after all.

Tomorrow morning, 9 o'clock, Bongeunsa-ro 103-gil, across the street from Shinhan Bank. I'll pick you up from downstairs. Don't be late.

The clack of your heels irked you as you hurried down the street from the bus stop to the address provided by the cat owner. It was a sound you weren't used to, but you needed to make a good impression when lacking experience. People all around you were dressed in expensive suits and dresses, clothes you could only dream of wearing, and the cars that swerved across your path, nearly running you over, looked like they cost as much as your house. It wasn't the first time you walked around Gangnam-gu, but it was the first time you spent more than five minutes surrounded by people who lived lavishly while you survived on Samyang Hot Chicken Ramen Stew.

And yet, you wouldn't trade your instant noodles for samgyeopsal or bossam if it meant selling your soul. Because that was the price to pay for riches and luxury, wasn't it? No, you would make ends meet somehow and live an honest life without becoming a coldhearted monster, just like your father taught you.

You checked that the address in the email matched your location, and waited for someone to talk to you, unsure how they would even recognise you. Although, on second thought, the thin, flimsy cotton of your dress and loose threads around the hem were a dead giveaway that you didn't belong in Gangnam-gu. You didn’t belong amongst the rich.

"Excuse me, Miss Y/L/N?"

Turning on your heels, you were met by the darkest eyes you had ever seen, eyes that looked as though they had both witnessed and committed unspeakable atrocities. And yet, there was a strange remorse in them. The man looked around 45 years old but not a single gray hair on his head, which was ironic, because you probably had more white strands hidden in your locks. Your gaze darted down at his extended hand, and you shook it while bowing down as a sign of respect. 

"You must be Mr. Hwang. I can't thank you enough for agreeing to meet with me. I promise I won't let you down if you give me a chance!"

Oh, you were a talker. In-ho had met your kind before, aimlessly sleepwalking through life, serving no greater purpose except for entertaining those who rid the world of gamblers, addicts, beggars and thieves. Not that you were in any of those categories — In-ho didn't know you that well yet — but the way you presented yourself made him think you would have made a suitable player in the game.It was too late to recruit you now. Perhaps next year, if you made it that far.

You followed Mr. Hwang into the elevator, surprised that it wasn't stopping until reaching the last floor of the building, and when the doors opened, they revealed a small hallway with just one apartment. He had no neighbours above or around him, and you couldn’t begin to imagine how lonely it must've been. Surely his wife or girlfriend kept him company, or perhaps he had children — In-ho did look old enough to be your father.

He unlocked the multiple locks on his door — he must have been really rich — and invited you in. For a moment, a split second, you wondered if you had made a mistake coming there. The man could be a serial killer for all you knew, and with almost no neighbours, who would even hear you scream? You heard stories about wealthy people who took pleasure in hurting others. The lack of pictures of a wife or children only strengthened that doubt, but the intrusive thought soon dissipated when, from the corner of your eye, you spotted a silver tail hanging from a dining chair. 

Paying no mind to the tall double fridge, or the black U shaped velvet sofa that could fit your entire extended family, or even the view from his floor-to-ceiling windows, you kicked off the uncomfortable heels and got down on all fours, crawling closer to Eunjoo before sitting on the tiled floor with your legs crossed. It caught In-ho completely off guard — unpredictability was something that bothered him. Usually when he brought girls over they would bombard him with a million questions about his job, his car, his clothes, his bank account. You didn't, and it both infuriated and intrigued him. But then again, he brought you there with a different purpose.

"What are you doing exactly?" In-ho circled around you like a hawk, watching you intently. 

"I've read that it's better to allow cats to familiarise themselves with people instead of forcing affection onto them." You sat still, chin tilted upwards to look at him with innocence in your eyes. "I may not be experienced, sir, but I did my research."

He wasn't particularly impressed by your research skills, not even when Eunjoo jumped from the chair and walked around you, curious yet apprehensive. One paw hovered above the floor in mid-air, and her tail was lowered, almost touching the ground, as the cat slowly and cautiously approached you, sniffing the hand you extended. 

"So, what do you do for a living?" You broke the spell, not on Eunjoo but on In-ho, who was watching you try to befriend his cat. He hadn't realised he had been staring for longer than he should have until you spoke with disinterest in your voice. You didn't really care what his job was.

"Business." He simply said and you chuckled at his response. "Something funny?"

"I'm sorry, I just thought it would be nice to make small talk while we wait for Eunjoo to get comfortable." You shrugged. "But it's fine if you don't want to talk about that, sir."

Sir. It sounded so different coming from you and not one of his subordinates at the facility. In-ho quietly pulled a chair from under the table and sat down, but Eunjoo had finished inspecting you. She lifted her tail, the tip curled — a sign of playfulness — and you scratched her chin.

"Good girl, Eunjoo! I'm sorry, I don't have any treats." You sat up after the cat lost interest in you and hid behind the sofa.

"So you're inexperienced and unprepared." His voice was cold and judgemental and you lowered your head in shame.

"I'm really sorry, sir. I don't have a great financial situation, that's why I need this job. I can water plants and clean the house, I can even do your laundry and iron your shirts, and I don't want any extra money, just the payment for cat sitting." You sounded so desperate it was pathetic. "Please."

The last bit of your sentence was what caught In-ho's attention. No extra money? Who in their right minds wouldn’t charge more for additional services? Were you planning on stealing from him while he was away? Not that it mattered — he'd find you and kill you upon his return from the island if you did. However, he found it to be an interesting game, a bet of sorts. You would win if you were honest for all eight days. He would win if you stole from him and abused his kindness.

"You're hired." In-ho nodded, the look of surprise mixed with gratitude on your face making him feel like some sort of god.

"I swear you won't be disappointed in me, sir. I'll leave the house spotless every day, and I will take good care of Eunjoo!" You nodded eagerly, beaming at him.

"I know you will. She takes breakfast at 7 and dinner at 9, and there is an automatic feeder set at 2 pm for lunch." He explained and you took your phone out to quickly take notes. "Make sure you change her water in the morning and at night, and scoop her litter boxes every time you're here."

"...scoop the poop twice a day. Got it." You mumbled while typing. "Do I give her wet food in the mornings and evenings?"

"Yes, and please check that the automatic feeder is stocked. You will find all her cans and kibble in this cupboard." In-ho walked into the kitchen and showed you where Eunjoo's food was. There was more cat food in that cupboard than you had in your house.

"Perfect. Where is the bin room located?"

"Underground. The code is 456654."

"Thank you, Mr. Hwang! I won't let you down. Oh, I should give you my phone number, right?" You asked, feeling a bit awkward for being so straightforward. 

"Whatever would I need your number for?" He almost laughed. 

"How else would you see Eunjoo?"

"Right. Forgot about that." In-ho scratched the back of his head. He couldn't exactly tell you that there were cameras everywhere in his house.

"Two more questions. Am I allowed to play music or movies on your TV and could I take a shower after cleaning? I'm bringing spare clothes and my own towel and soap."

"Yes, of course you can. Please help yourself to anything you need. I trust you'll figure out how the coffee machine or dishwasher work." He nodded. 

"Yeah, I'll figure it out." You lied. You had never used a dishwasher before.

"Great. I leave in three days. Please be here the day after my departure. Here's the spare key."

"Thank you, sir!" You bowed and walked to the door to put your shoes back on. "Good luck on your trip!"

"Thank you, miss. Good luck to you, too." 

The bet was placed, the game was on.

[housecow]

Wait can you still get actually cute stuff at torrid? I feel like they changed into Old Lady Clothes Mart mode a couple of years ago. Plus their clothes don't last anymore and wear out almost immediately 😭

i’ve heard this opinion SO many times and i just don’t understand it??? i’ve admittedly only started shopping there for around a year now though, i used to exclusively thrift my clothes or hit up clearance in straight size stores i knew had XL/XXL lol.

however, no clothing store nowadays is going to cater exclusively to a single style (even if it’s just what’s considered fashionable) unless they have a niche market, want to go out of business, or have incredibly unsustainable fast fashion type clothes. i’ve seen so many ppl talk about how torrid just doesn’t have the “edgy” stuff they used to, which makes me laugh so hard bc be real. their older clothes were ugly as fuck and there’s a reason they’re moving onto other things

and like. i guess torrid has a lot of “old lady clothes” but so does every other place available to plus size women, lol. but you can find cute stuff literally anywhere if you try hard enough. torrid is fantastic for the basics—statement pieces may not be easy to find there if you don’t use their online site, but if you’re willing to spend good money on some quality pieces from (usually) independent clothing stores, that’s not an issue.

as for quality, wtf are you on??? have you bought ANYTHING “plus size” from shein, amazon, or old navy recently?? that’s the stuff that falls apart—you get that shit and threads are already loose. I have several dresses and pants from torrid that’ve held up BEAUTIFULLY since buying them last year, and the sweaters i recently ordered are so much better quality than i expected!!

when people say this, i assume they don’t pay attention to what fabrics they’re buying lol. sorry not everything can just be thrown into the wash and dryer without regard for materials 🤷‍♀️ maybe try to take care of your clothes?

[heartandbow]

Midnight Blue

BUCKY BARNES X FEM!READER SMUT

summary: Bucky hated you in many different ways, and tonight was no exception. tw; smut, choking, dom!bucky.

Despite Bucky's reputation of being big, bad, and dangerous, there is yet to be a time he ever scared you. Even now, where he was in the very building somewhere to kill you, you knew his only weakness — he couldn't sneak around.

It's not surprising when you think about it. With his death stare and metallic arms, anybody would spot him coming from a mile away. You just have to make sure you're faster than him, which happened to be your specialty. Being a thief for the last few years taught you everything there is to know about blending in with the shadows.

Which was a shame, you thought, because I look nice today.

You did look nice. You were currently in a gala for some valiant cause or other, hosted by some rich businessman you hadn't bothered to catch the name of. You had on your midnight blue gown, embedded with pearls that reflected off the champagne glasses and Rolex watches.

"Excuse me," one of the attendees said, tapping your shoulder. "Are you Miss Malley?"

"No," you smiled broadly, knowing the guy was about to hit on you any second.

"Oh, my mistake." He had a sheepish grin. "I'm Shane. Can I buy you a drink?"

"The drinks are free," you said, grinning right back.

"I know."

"Aren't you busy trying to find Miss Malley?"

"Who?" The smile hadn't worn off.

This particularly uninteresting conversation was cut short by sudden silence at the gala. The foolish sack of a man had diverted your attention just enough that you saw a metallic death stare at the end of the gala — a stare that seemed just for your particular demise.

Don't panic, you thought, staring right back. He wouldn't dare hurt you with this many people present. Even then, he was making his way towards you. You moved away, silent as a ghost.

With each turn of crowd, you realized you might quite possibly be stuck. Bucky had brought in reinforcement ranging from Natasha Romanoff to Captain America, all of them in regal formal attire and in different corners. No one except Bucky had spotted you, possibly because he was the only person who actually had a personal vendetta against you.

Get out, your brain said clearly. Get out before they bring you to Stark. You had enough beef with that man to last for a lifetime.

You grimaced, then looked for the exit. Not the one that the attendees use, no, that would be too easy. You headed for the staff exit, the one behind the kitchen.

---------------

Half an hour later, you were walking through the dark alley, your heels clinking against the pavement. You were exhausted from all the walk, but you were used to this dance by now. Move until the target is off your back. That's how it's always been.

You wondered if you'd ever get tired of the steps.

Someone whistled. You turned to see a man around his late 40s, clearly drunk out of his mind.

"How much for the night, sweetie?"

You squinted. He looked harmless enough. You kept on walking, ignoring his continuous calls behind your back.

"Don't be like that! What, I'm not young enough for you? I thought your kind took money from anyone with a dick!"

You had half a mind to punch him in the face with the hidden knife.

No, walk on. Last thing you need is a corpse on the street.

A second passed, then two. The man's immediate silence ticked off your senses. You turned around to see him on the floor, unconscious. Somehow, it did not look like it was the alcohol that took him out.

You were almost impressed when a knife appeared at your throat from behind.

"You're getting better at sneaking around," you said proudly. "You didn't have to knock him out though. Chap was not laying a hand on me."

"Shut the fuck up." Bucky's raspy voice sent a jolt of adrenaline down your spine. His anger was controlled, but you still could hear it.

"Your wish." You stepped on his shoes. He let out a pang of hurt, not expecting your heels to feel that sharp.

One moment of distraction, that's what cost him. You whipped your gun and faced him, smile on your face.

"How did you find me?" you asked, genuinely curious.

"That hardly matters." He put his hand out, grabbing the gun, or trying to anyways. You stepped out of the way just in time and he grunted.

"You need to loosen up. Like the night we did the Catherbury mission, remember?"

That only seemed to rile him up more. You didn't think he even cared that much about the fact that you were in Avengers a good deal of time before you sneaked into Stark's office, got his card, stole a great deal of gadgets and sold them off the black market. You didn't think he even cared you were the biggest thief in the city, one that fooled even the avengers.

His vendatta against you was personal, because he considered you his friend. The cold, cruel Bucky was duped for the world to see.

"I really think we should sit down and talk," you said, the gun still held high. "Everything I did was business Bucky, stop taking it so personally."

Bucky's face showed just a tinge of hurt, but then he hurled — no weapons, no hesitation. Just full-on pounced on you, and your back hit the wall.

"If everything wasn't so fucking personal, shoot me," he practically spat out those words.

You realized you hadn't even thought of using the gun that lay hanging lifeless from your hands. You tried to grip it, but Bucky pushed his hand on top of it, bending the metal seamlessly in a way it was upside down. You let it go and tried to move.

Bucky clapped his hands on the wall on either side of your head. His eyes were smeared with charcoal and he smelt like musky cologne.

"Where's your disappearing act now?" he whispered, making you feel all sorts of things.

"Let me go," you said, gritting your teeth. God, he was standing too close.

He bent his head down and brought his lips near your ears.

"You've no clue how long I wanted to have you like this," he said, making your heart skip a beat. "Unescapable, vulnerable, scared."

"I'm not scared."

"You should be." He put his hand — the non-metallic one — over your throat. His touch was gentle, but the message was clear; he could kill you in a touch.

Though it didn't help that you liked it a little too much.

"How did you find me?" you asked again, calmly.

"Shane is my friend. He put a GPS tracker on you. I knew you'd run so all I had to do was wait."

You were impressed yet again.

"How did Shane find me? I was blending in the crowd well."

Bucky's eyes shone brighter. "You weren't going to blend in with a dress that beautiful," he stopped, removing his hand. It was as if he just realized how close he actually was to you. His eyes slid down to your lips just a second. His hands started lowering from the wall to your waist.

Then his lips were on yours, and you could have sworn he put all his anger into it. One kiss and he was prying your lips open, making out with you in that dark alley with a knocked out man five feet away.

"James," you whined between kisses, pulling him closer. The moans did things to his brain. He slid his hands through the slit of your dress, grabbing your thigh with a force that had you unnerved.

"Can I—"

"Yes."

He closed your mouth with his other hand. "No, listen to me first. I want you to mean it. Completely. Because I don't know the things I'll do to you when you say yes."

In response, you took his hand from your thighs and slid them higher, right into your panties. You pressed your body against his and you could feel him being hard.

"I hate you," he said curtly, then picked you up with effortless strength. Two minutes and you were in a secluded part of the alley, and he was setting you down on an old bench. He bent down, keeping eye contact with you all the while.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispered, placing a kiss on your neck. You moaned, but didn't move. He dragged your lips from your collarbones to the edge of your neckline, and pulled the dress down.

Without waiting a beat, he took off your bra and kissed your nipples.

"Bucky," you whined, and all he did was bite down harder. He let his hand drag down and pushed two fingers right into your pussy. The pain was immediate and pleasurable. His pace was slow and you started grinding on his fingers for more friction.

"Shush," he said, taking off his fingers and setting you up straight. "Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?"

"Yes," you said, moving in for a kiss. He turned his head away.

"Beg."

"Fuck me Bucky, please." You moved your hand to his pants, and he looked like he might lose all control. A few seconds of unbuckling and he took you in his arms, pressing you down to the bench and spread your legs wide.

You were wet already, and the sight of his big, hard cock hadn't helped. You were dripping down your panties.

"Beg," he said again, taking off your panties and throwing them away.

"Please fuck me, James, fuck—" you gasped when he thrust his dick in you. A moment of holding onto his hand and he was fucking you like you were his. He leaned over and bit down on your neck. A kiss and a few sucking and you knew that was going to leave a mark.

You didn't care. You were being dicked out of your soul and you were taking every second of it.

Then it stopped. He pulled away from you, his dick still hard. You were confused to see that big smile on his face, even more so when he started zipping his pants.

"You left me three months ago," he said, straightening his hair. He leaned down to kiss your forehead. "Next time you think of me, I want you to think of me fucking you like you're my bitch. How having my hands on your throat was enough to make you wet."

Revenge. That's what it was?

"You wanted to fuck me to make me regret lying to you?" you asked breathlessly, feeling ashamed that it already worked.

Bucky smiled. "I wanted to fuck you for a whole lot reasons Y/N, but I also want you to knock on my door and apologize, preferably on your knees and begging. On all fours. I'd sacrifice the rest of the night to see that."

He pulled you up and put the dress on tidily. "Goodbye. And, you really do look beautiful."

Motherfucker, you thought to yourself as he left.

----------------------------------------

commissions info

kofi

----------------------------------------

[a-rebellious-waffle]

if you just say Warframe plot points extremely literally its incomprehensible enough to not be a spoiler.

for instance when we rode a spaceship into the sun to help mom prevent our dad from creating a portal across the galaxy.

anyway for newcomers: a quick start up guide.

1) mods aren't that complicated. allow me to demonstrate.

your mod affects a Stat. it tells you what Stat it affects when you hover over it.

when modding your weapon, the relevant Stats will be displayed on the left side.

you can fuse a Special Money (called Endo) and Normal Money (Credits) into mods to make them more powerful while inside your ship. you can do this by going to the machine on the bottom left of the arsenal room: if you're confused just go to all the machines and you'll find it eventually.

2) once you rank a weapon up to Rank 30 you can no longer gain XP or Mastery Points from it. Mastery Points affect your Mastery Rank (MR).

this sounds complicated. it isnt. imagine it like this.

your Mastery Rank affects what weapons you can use. the higher your Mastery Rank, the cooler the weapons you can use.

in order to raise your Mastery Rank you need to master Stuff. what is Stuff? warframes, companions, weapons, mostly. (there's some other stuff but it isnt relevant right now.)

mastering Stuff gets you Mastery Points. more mastery points = higher Mastery Rank = more, and cooler, Stuff to master. (and so the cycle repeats.)

once you get enough mastery points you take a test to attain your new Mastery Rank. you can do practice runs of these but can only officially try them once per day.

^ this has been changed, you can attempt it as many times as you like!

if you fail a mastery rank-up, don't worry. you can still gain mastery points. they'll carry over between ranks.

2.1) you do not need to hit MR 58538574737 to get Cool Stuff. you can have perfectly cool stuff at MR 5.

3) if you have questions genuinely just ask. we older tenno are down to help.

4) if this guide helps you at all the only payment i ask for is that you pay it forwards when you can. help out your fellow tenno

seeing a new influx of players coming to warframe because of the addition of Hot People You Can Kiss only for the only way to get to them to be like a bajillion different quests and mission types and systems you gotta figure out is kinda funny tbh. not for the fact they're here because of that (godspeed to those baby tenno!) but because we're basically giving dating sim players guns and sending them out to save the solar system like twenty times over before they can even think about that.

like yeah, you gotta learn about the horrors of war n' exploitation and the struggles that come with discovering one's own identity but also the power of love, understanding, and community first. also you gotta figure out what a mod is and shoot this guy's weakpoint a kajillion times if you want a chance at that last frame part you're missing. sorry.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Reader is female • Y/N is Billie in this story; Josef uses the alias John • Christian/Catholic imagery mentioned, as well as cancer/death • dry humping, breast worship, coming in clothes, some aggression/biting, squirting, Josef lying/manipulating but he’s hella cute doing it… 😊 🥳 happy new year 2025!

You never did anything like this. It was fucking insane. Risky at the very least, and at the worst, potentially deadly. Yes you were strapped for cash, but responding to an anonymous Craigslist ad to record a man in private-with god knows what in mind-was an incredibly bold move, even for you. Thankfully, you were meeting at a hotel, instead of his private residence, a fact that made you feel slightly less worried. If the guy did turn out to be a serial killer or something, you at least had the guarantee of people close by who could hear you scream for help. That is, of course, if you were able to scream at all. You considered that the ‘audience,’ you were hoping for in the form of hotel guests may turn out to be witnesses instead.

The thought chilled you, and you tried to put it out of your mind. This was a responsible act, you told yourself, not the reverse. It would be irresponsible to miss rent again, to potentially lose your home. Times were tough; the debt you’d acquired from college wasn’t going anywhere soon. It was time to put the creative arts degree you’d worked for to use. Filming some guy in a hotel room for a few hours, for well over a thousand dollars, balanced things out in your mind. He was probably just some weirdo making an avant-garde film, you assured yourself. And if by chance the guy ended up having genuine talent himself, combined with your editing skills, the film might actually be an important addition to your resume.

Finding the hotel was easy enough. You’d driven past it on the highway probably hundreds of times in your life, so the name was familiar to you. But you’d never been a guest at the hotel, nor had you really seen it up close. In perspective, it wasn’t quite as clean-cut as your brief glimpses from the highway had suggested. The word that came to mind for describing the place was ‘seedy,’ like you were walking onto the location of Dan Bell’s Another Dirty Room series. Your instincts told you this was a bad sign, both figuratively and literally, as you took in the sun-bleached name of the hotel emblazoned above the lobby entrance. You reminded yourself of the money you needed, the money that was promised for you on the other side of Room 222’s door. The outside condition of the hotel didn’t really matter, you reasoned. Maybe the man who hired you was strapped for cash himself? Perhaps he didn’t have many options in terms of location, and simply chose the hotel that suited his budget? Maybe I shouldn’t be such a stuck-up bitch, you wondered, feeling a little ashamed. You’d been trying to work on slowing your initial responses to people and places, not wanting to judge a book by its cover, so to speak. It was a new year, and a new start for you towards being a more open-minded individual. This experience was testing your commitment to improving yourself, because your intuition was practically screaming at you to get the hell out of there.

Taking a deep, mindful breath, you entered the elevator. Its interior was just as dingy as the rest of the hotel, and when the doors opened on the second floor, you were hit immediately with the smell of stale cigarettes and booze. Another sigh, this one a little less mindful, left your lungs heavily. You adjusted the strap of your camera bag on your shoulder, and proceeded to room 22…

When you’d reached the stranger’s door, you took a second to settle your nerves before knocking twice. “John?’ you called, forcing your voice steady. “It’s Billie.” Only silence responded from behind the door at first, followed by the sound of footsteps quickly approaching. The door pulled open, just a crack, but enough for you to see the face of the man who’d hired your services for the next few hours. The first thing you noticed were his eyes. They were kind eyes, you assessed, a warm hazel with flecks of copper that revealed themselves when the light caught them just right.

“You’re Billie?” Josef asked. He was obviously surprised, and you quickly realized why. “I was expecting someone…someone-.” Josef paused.

“Male?” you offered. “I get that a lot.” Josef chuckled good-naturedly, his friendly smile easing your nerves. “Well with a name like Billie,” he said, pulling back the door for you. “I can imagine it happens a lot. Please-.” He waved his hand past himself to the room. “-Come in.”

The more you saw of Josef, the more you liked him. He was taller than you, but not so tall that it was off-putting. He was just right, the kind of height you wouldn’t even have to lift on your tiptoes to kiss. The mental image flickered through your mind, and you cleared your throat, remembering why you were there in the first place. Yes he was a good looking guy, who for some reason put you at ease in a way you’d never felt when meeting someone new before. But you were there for the sole purpose of capturing his artistic vision on film, and for that purpose alone.

“So what did you have in mind, John?” you asked, setting your bag down on one of the two queen beds. Josef cocked his head, his curious expression returning. The door clicked shut behind him. You watched to make sure he didn’t turn the lock. Even though you really liked this guy, he was still a stranger. And you were still standing here with him in a sleazy hotel room, with his body currently between you and the door.

“I appreciate your question, Billie,” he said, emphasizing your name. “Billie. Billie the Kid. Anyone ever call you that, Billie?”

You felt your cheeks flush a little, because for some reason, his question felt like a compliment, even though it wasn’t. “I-um,” you distractedly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “My dad used to call me that. When I was little.”

Josef nodded, snapping his fingers for emphasis. “Smart man. He had vision. As do I-.” He ducked suddenly around a corner and returned with what looked to be a veil, like the kind you’d seen the Virgin Mary depicted wearing in art. Josef draped the lace fabric over his shoulders and approached you, his face and tone solemn with importance: “…And with your creative direction, Billie, my vision will be brought to life…It was fate herself that willed our paths should cross…” Josef took another step closer, close enough that you began to worry he could hear your heart racing. “You could have been any other Billy…even a Bill, even a William for that matter but no, my dear sweet Billie-.” Here, Josef’s hands moved to cup your face in his palms, your eyes going wide in surprise. “…This is destiny,” he continued, almost in a whisper. “We’re partners now.” He went slowly to his knees before you, his palms together as if in reverence. “Blood of my blood…flesh of my flesh…” You recognized the paraphrased scripture as you gazed down on the strange man knelt at your feet. Josef took your hands in his, rising to a standing position, his eyes never leaving yours. “Oh my god, Billie…Oh my god,” he said through a warm smile, eyes lit with excitement. “This is gonna be a good night...”

Over the course of the following hour, you watched and recorded, offering input as requested from your client: a little change in lighting here, a play with background props there. From what you could tell, the vision Josef had in mind was a sort of religious horror short. His ‘character,’ was meant to be a man possessed by unholy forces. The Devil has a deadline, a certain amount of time he’ll allow the man before the demons take over completely. The man knows his time is up, that he’s in his final hours. He hires someone to document on film his last night on earth, before he’s unwillingly summoned to his unavoidable fate in Hell.

As a concept, it all sounded really cool. Bringing that concept to life however, with no budget and a lead who couldn’t act, was not cool by any stretch of the imagination.

Regardless of the details and Josef’s lackluster performance, nothing could have prepared you for what happened next. Whereas his character was standing strong in the trenches of spiritual warfare, it appeared that Josef himself was breaking down. You knew something was wrong, that he was no longer acting when he deviated sharply from the script and began to shed real tears, not the miserably-unconvincing ones he’d faked for a scene.

“Hey…it’s okay, John,” you assured him. He knelt at the bedside on which you were seated, resting his head in your lap. Your pulse lurched, heart thudding inside your chest. You weren’t sure what to do, so you did the only thing that seemed right: you gently stroked Josef’s cheek in an awkward attempt at comfort. The tears had slowed, but they picked right up again when Josef revealed his left hand, which bore a wedding ring. Your heart sank at seeing it. “My wife,” Josef began solemnly. “This whole project was her idea…She wrote the script, created this character, his whole history…”

You nodded as you listened, your hands dropping to your sides. There’s no way you were going to be touching a married man like that. “…She wanted me to play him, to bring her creation to life,” Josef continued. “It was her greatest wish…and sadly, her last wish…” You hated yourself for feeling it, but a sense of relief washed over you. He wasn’t married after all. At least, not anymore.

“…The cancer took her three years ago,” Josef tearfully revealed. “Three years and I still haven’t made her dream come true…I’m still letting her down, to this day…” His lament was cut short by a sob, words fading into your lap as he wept there. You reflexively began to stroke Josef’s cheek again, because you’d only seen someone this upset a few times in your life. You couldn’t not offer him some kind of comfort; he was obviously hurting, deeply. “I think what we’ve made so far is great, John,” you told him. “From the looks of the script, it seems like you’re following it exactly as your wife wrote it.”

He tilted his head to look up at you, eyes wide and hopeful. “Do you mean it?” Josef asked. With a nod of confirmation, you replied “yeah, I do. I think you’re doing a great job.” His eyes narrowed slightly, a darker look overtaking them. Josef rose abruptly to his feet, and began to pace back and forth around the room. “I don’t believe you,” he declared flatly, in a voice so low you had to ask him to repeat himself. “I don’t BELIEVE you,” Josef insisted, adding “You’re probably sitting there thinking this guy can’t act worth a goddamn…you know I can’t do her dream justice, you’re just refusing to say it! You probably think I’m a failure, don’t you Billie?” He almost sneered your name at you, and normally, you wouldn’t have taken this kind of verbal abuse from anyone. But you knew this wasn’t a normal kind of hurt that Josef was feeling. This man was grieving, haunted by a level of grief you hoped never to experience. Remembering your commitment to judging others less, you knew that right now, Josef wasn’t behaving rationally. He was acting in his grief, and you wouldn’t let yourself take his sharp change in attitude personally. Instead, you calmly came to Josef’s side. You turned his face to yours, letting your fingertips linger along his jawline. The muscles in his throat tensed against your palm, veins pulsing with the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Josef’s eyes were wet and wide, like a puppy who’d been scolded. “I don’t think you’re a failure, John,” you told him confidently, a warm smile on your lips as your thumb brushed Josef’s. “I think your wife was lucky to have a husband who loved her so much. I think you’re a very special man.” He swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing under your fingertips. “Do that again,” Josef told you, his voice as much a prayer as a command.

“Do what?” you asked. Every indication of sadness had faded from Josef’s face, the tension in his body evaporating. “Tell me I’m special,” he replied. Josef’s hands went to your shoulders, gripping softly. “You’re special, John,” you said. “So, so special…” You brushed your mouth lightly against his, breath hitching as Josef’s tongue slipped between your lips unexpectedly. He was aggressive, impatient in a way that told you he hadn’t been touched in a long time. Josef’s hands were everywhere at once, finding your ass and clutching it in one hand while clumsily groping for your tits with the other. You let him lay you back against one of the beds, his hand pawing between your legs and massaging you through your jeans. You arched upward, keening into Josef’s thrusts, his bulge grinding into your thigh as he clumsily humped against it. Your hips trembled as his fingertips found your clit. The front seam in your jeans was positioned between your labia; Josef’s fingertips rubbed rough circles into the denim, kneading your cunt through the fabric. He buried his head against your shoulder, his mouth a wet mess of tongue and teeth, consuming the feel of your skin, its texture, its taste.

You curled your fingers in the hair at the back of Josef’s head, clutching him into you. His lips traveled down your neck and along your collarbone, tongue gliding between your breasts. Opening his jaw wide, Josef drew as much of your breast inside his mouth as he could. Your nipple hardened to meet his tongue, a warm, wet pressure flicking against it. Your grip in Josef’s hair tightened as you arched, pressing your tit against his face, offering as much of your breast as his mouth could hold. Josef sucked at your breast in a rhythmic tug, massaging your aerola between the muscles in his cheeks. He whimpered softly, a sign you interpreted as an expression of pure need. Josef needed to be held, to be cherished. He needed to be desired by a woman again.

You tugged back Josef’s hair to lift his head from your breast. He groaned at the pull to his scalp. A dark smile briefly touched his lips as he indulged himself to enjoy the sting. Josef’s mouth crashed against yours, his tongue forcing past your lips in a kiss that was somehow more greedy than the ones before it. His hands were on your hips, keeping them spread. Your clit throbbed against the bulky outline of Josef’s erection. He ground his hips forward, rutting his cock into the now-saturated crotch of your jeans. He whimpered again, returning his mouth to your breast. Josef clutched your other breast tightly, kneading the soft mound in his hand. Your nipple was swollen and sensitive against Josef’s rough palm as he groped you, his mouth busy at work suckling your other breast while his cock strained at the seams separating your skin. You came hard, rocking beneath the weight of Josef’s body pressing down on you. Your orgasm completely soaked through your jeans and wet the bed under you. Every punch of Josef’s hips produced a slick, saturated sound as he rutted your ass inside a puddle of your own juices. He growled into your breast, like something animalistic. The vibration of his chest against yours was like the low purr of a lion, rattling your lungs as if Josef was inside you, replacing the very air you breathed with himself. His thrusts grew sharper, his fingernails digging into your skin. You winced as Josef’s teeth suddenly nipped at your breast, his bite grazing your nipple as you pulled back in pain. Josef’s hands went quickly to your shoulders, pinning you down, his mouth immediately returning to your breast. Josef tugged and licked and sucked your breast till he was gushing cum into the crotch of his pants, a feral growl rolling from his chest as he claimed you…

In retrospect, you wish you hadn’t fallen asleep. You wish you could have checked in to make sure Josef was okay, to make sure he knew the brief time you spent together meant all that it meant to you. And even if none of that had been said, you would at least have liked the chance to say goodbye.

When you woke, Josef was already gone. He’d left your money on the bedside table, along with a note. The text read: Billie: Thanks for a special night. Beneath the text was what appeared to be a doodle of a wolf’s face. You knew it was unlikely you’d ever see Josef again. But just in case, you keep the note he left you, hoping that somehow, someday, you’ll have the chance to ask him what the little wolf doodle means… 🐺

[hollowed-theory-hall]

I'd love to know your thoughts on the Gaunts in Hogwarts Legacy. I loved Ominis as a character, and the story of his family was interesting, but I'd really love an in-universe explanation for how they get to the state they are at when Tom is born in less than what... 40ish years? At most? How exactly do they go from multiple family members functional enough to attend Hogwarts to barely able to speak English (or seemingly use magic) that quickly?

So, the reason I didn't put Ominis and the Gaunts in my big canon contradictions in the HL post, is becouse I can in fact headcanon my way into Ominis' existence making sense (kinda). We only need one big factor that would allow for a very fast decline and we have one — inbreeding.

I mentioned this already here, but Marvolo speaks like he remembers the influence his family once had. Not only that, but he's different from his kids. He acts more like a person who can be somewhat reasoned with than both his barely more than squib children who don't seem capable of much intellectually.

How this might've happened is, say, one Gaunt got obsessed with blood purity and around the 1780s married his cousin.

His children turn out okay since it's just one generation of cousin marriages, but then his son also marries a cousin in the 1810s.

Their children would still seem reasonably fine and marry cousins again. And they have children in the 1840s.

By this point, most of them would be losing prestige and money and many other purebloods would want nothing to do with the Gaunts. This pushes them to keep marrying just a bit too close and shrink down the family to only the main line and maybe another one.

So, these children born in the 1840s would have their own kids with their cousins around the 1870s.

Now, these kids are Marvolo and Ominis, another brother (since Ominis mentions having older brothers), and at least one sister (for the sake of this theory to work). By this point, inbreeding would start to be a problem after 4 generations of first/second-cousin marriages in a row, which would work with Ominis being born blind, for example (which is a possible result of inbreeding).

Now, while both Ominis in the game and Marvolo in the 1920s talk a big game about their family influence, by the 1890s, it's a lie. I think they started falling from grace earlier throughout the century (as I mentioned), losing money and prestige and holding onto their position in the wizarding world by the skin of their teeth. Ominis' posturing about his father knowing the headmaster in HL always came off to me as just that — posturing. His father may have met Phineas Nigellus Black, but they weren't close by any means. Ominis is just threatening you the way he knows and can — which is some of the connections still left for his family since the money ran dry years ago.

The fact we don't see other kids in Slytherin trying to win Ominis' good graces for the sake of his family's influence (blindness or not) again suggests a lot of said influence is posturing more than the real deal. I mean, he's only friends with Sebastian and Anne, two students who are definitely outsiders within Slytherin (even if there's no way they live in Feldcroft, since there's no way that hamlet doesn't exist in the books).

Also, Ominis mentions his brothers and father tortured muggles. There's a non-zero chance that in 1890 most of his family is in Azkaban and he really is just lying and he has nothing he can do against anyone with his connections. Basically, it's a bluff.

I think seeing them like this adds an interesting reason as to why Noctua (Ominis' aunt) would want to look for Slytherin's Scripturium (though I don't think the Scripturium exists in the books, so let's say she looked for the Chamber of Secrets and was eaten by the basilisk since she wasn't the heir it was meant to obey in the 1880s). Becouse she's trying to bring the family back to its place of influence as descendants of Salazar Slytherin in a different way from her brother.

By the 1890s, Noctua is dead, there are no Gaunt cousins, just the main line with Marvolo, Ominis, unnamed brother, and unnamed sister.

Ominis is likely disowned at some point, and it fits his character to decide not to have kids and not pass on Parseltongue, which he sees as dark. I can see his character making that decision. But for this theory to work, he has to die before Tom is born, so he doesn't live a long life unless he left Britain and is living happily in the US or Australia or something.

The unnamed brother might be in Azkaban for crucio-ing a muggle, getting him out of the picture in an in-character way and making sure he has no kids.

Marvolo is where it gets interesting becouse with the state we see with his kids, and the nosedive off a cliff the family took in his time, my theory is that he had his kids with the aforementioned named sister. It would explain why Morfin and Mereope are like that. It would explain why they were completely shunned from wizarding society. How they lost even the measly amount of influence they had so quickly. It would fit with Marvolo's view of blood purity and the Gaunts' blood in particular, being purer than the rest.

So, this is my answer as to how I can headcanon my way into the Gaunt family's fast decline making sense. That being said, do I think Ominis is canon for the books' universe? Probably not, but I can make up shit to make it work, as I illustrated here.

[foundnthestars]

For the things we lost au, has there ever been times where Stan tells stories to Dipper to calm him down after a traumatic experience or just before bed or just in general?

I know currently Dipper’s and Stan’s relationship hasn’t gotten to that point yet but I’m curious!

Also what other tricks besides teaching Dipper how to use a gun and stealing does Stan ingrain in Dipper? Does he teach him all the tricks he knew from his days of the street?

And since Dipper’s still growing does Stan teach Dipper how to conserve their money, how to shave, how to barter with people/ being okay with talking with crowds or how to do certain math problems (because Stan has worked on the portal for a long time you can’t tell me that he didn’t pick up some things even if begrudgingly)

Does Stan teach Dipper all of his best Uncle Jokes/funny stories, and despite saying he (Dipper) hates all of them does Dipper secretly appreciate them ever once in a while?

Does Dipper help Stan with stuff too? Like does Dipper learn to read different Alien languages just so he can help Stan read stuff or does he steal a little bit of extra food because he knows if Stan doesn’t get enough for the both of them, all that food will be put towards him sl Dipper gets more to help Stan?

I know that Dipper had helped Stan with his hearing aids but what other things does he do for Stan?

DO DIPPER AND STANLEY EVENTUALLY GET A PIRATE ADVENTURE?! Please say they get a space pirate adventure!!!

Also do both Stan and Dipper pick on some alien languages because with Stanley picking up Spanish and Dipper’s interest in learning new languages I don’t think it would be too much of a stretch for them to learn

wow, HELLO! :) you literally made my entire morning when i had to peel myself out of bed at 5am to make it to my shift, and i've been thinking about these asks like all day. thank you anon!!! thank you for giving me an opportunity to rant about this wonderful, beautiful, tragic au. i'm so glad you're enjoying it!!

first off, yes, 100%. there's actually quite a bit of that in the next chapter. as dipper's walls begin to come down and his anger toward stan slowly but surely ebbs away, so too will stan's walls. in canon, stan doesn't share really any of his childhood (at least from what we see) with the kids until atots. in ttwl, it's implied that stan tells dipper more or less the same story we got in that episode (just minus ford's perspective/part of the story), but he will be sharing a lot more of his backstory, life advice, and stories with dipper as the fic progresses. this will help dipper understand stan's motives and will help move the healing process along for them. a lot, if not most, of dipper's anger toward stan is just resentment for being left in the dark (dipper famously hates not knowing stuff). and stan wants so badly to regain dipper's trust. he also wants to protect him from the things he feels he's failed him on this summer already (read: bill). 100% we will see stan rambling about this or that or this to a traumatized and or terrified dipper just to keep him out of his own head and to reinforce in the kid's head that he has someone beside him that he can trust.

side note: stan (and ford's) struggle will be in trying to maintain the kids' childhood and trying not too force them to grow up too fast. but they aren't perfect people and the circumstances are obviously awful and not conducive to helping maintain the kids' innocence. they'll fail and fuck up and they'll get some things right, too. but i can definitely see stan trying to lighten the mood/share stories as i can see ford taking mabel on light-hearted, low stakes adventures when things with the portal become too intense and her mental health begins to fall by the wayside.

SECOND, there's so many things stan will teach dipper! but, i'm willing to bet that stan didn't exactly take the best care of himself during those years he spent on the road. so there will be a lot of things he will have to learn himself! like, where stan spent weeks and weeks skipping meals because he had to, he can't stand seeing dipper do the same. he won't allow it. he'll have to push himself even harder to make ends meet than he did during those years. he wants better for dipper.

as for the things he teaches dip, i'll just list some of them out. you'll definitely see these things play out in ttwl but this question is fun and it's a fun sneak-peak:

stealing (pickpocketing and petty theft both)

how to put on a half-way decent con (in journal 3, ford mentions having to talk his way into food and shelter, and stan and dipper will 100% have to do the same. i imagine he'll actually catch on pretty quick but he'll absolutely hate doing it.)

how to read a face (i.e. is this person full of shit. everyone knows a good con man can spot a con right back)

how to drive (later)

how to shave DEFINITELY. dipper will start growing a little stache or goatee and stan will practically shove a razor in his direction the second it starts coming in.

how to be a ladies man (they'd have their roadside attraction arc and dip would learn basically that confidence is in himself and not in stan's fake womanizing "skills")

things dipper should be learning in school. stan clearly wasn't at the top of his class but you're right in saying that he learned a lot of things when he was building the portal. and dipper's a curious kid, they'll both seek out ways to help him keep on his education in some shape or form.

life experience/advice/etc. stan has 58 some years of life under his belt and he'll share whatever wisdom he has. can't promise all of it will be good lol

there's definitely more that's slipping my mind at the moment, but yes to all of these. and yes to the horrible uncle jokes. none of that stops. and once dipper starts being able to bear him a bit more, he'll secretly love hearing them. he'll love them for the normalcy they help him feel and because if stan is able to laugh and make jokes then maybe everything will be okay. maybe it's okay for him to laugh too, even if everything is so shitty.

as for reading alien languages, there's actually some plot explanations regarding translators that will be explored next chapter. as a resident guardians of the galaxy fic writer, i know all about writing about sci-fi translators and the like. i'm keeping the same explanation for how translators work in this fic too. meaning, dipper and stan will be able to read most alien languages really soon. though, because i like the idea of stan and dipper being able to speak some of the languages they learned during their time across the portal when they get home, they'll probably still try learning some alien languages without the need for translators. i imagine they'll get home and just start speaking, i don't know, like Galactic Standard with each other and ford will pop in and chime into the conversation without missing a beat and mabel will just be standing there wide-eyed and entirely lost for words.

AND YEAH. dipper will do lots of things for stan! besides the unintentional things that dipper does that he doesn't know about — like giving stan a reason to get up in the morning and filling him with happiness and purpose — he'll do his best to reciprocate favors! like, 100% if dipper noticed stan was skipping meals so he could eat more he'd steal something on the side for stan or lie and say he isn't hungry. they'd also both do little things for each other like steal or buy little trinkets or items the other person might like. stan'll buy dipper a notebook to chronicle their adventures and dipper will steal these chocolates he knows stan likes or a funny little doodad or whatever. maybe a gun or a knife if he's feeling crazy.

dipper will also sacrifice his own sleep a lot in order to take watch. the kid's an insomniac already, and stan is older and needs more sleep to recover from brawls with giant alien creatures or running from the law, so dip will do a lot of selfless things like that for stan. both of these guys tend not to think of themselves much so they'll probably both try to sacrifice stuff equally as much. of course, stan wont really let dipper most of the time.

and, i'm not opposed to a space pirate adventure. inquiring minds want to know more.

[natsmagi]

what are your opinions abt people using ych as bases? don't want to start anything but my friends said its theft but it's just a pose? as long as u don't make it your own or smth

ohh very interesting!! i think maybe its being viewed a bit incorrectly here? because arent ych's usually art commissions? theyre little poses an artist has drawn out for you to commission for ur character to be in. this is a good way of doing comms if u dont really have a lot of time for elaborate and fully unique pieces but are still in need of a couple bucks

so honestly, i dont think they should be used as bases...... you can definitely use them as inspo! but dont draw over them like one would a base..... it feels disrespectful to the artist and kind of takes work and income away from them. so, if you see a ych you like, its better to just commission the artist! or, if comms arent open, draw ur own variant from scratch! its ok to use other peoples work as inspiration, just dont draw over it if theyve not given expressed permission to do so

no one can own a pose, this much is true, but they do own the ych drawing. so, when it comes to the ych drawing itself, what the artist says goes

[luck-of-the-drawings]

when i was in highschool one o my biggest coping mechanisms was drawing all the kids i hated getting killed and eaten and killed. and well. time is a slowly ascending spiral. you will find patterns.(i work as a blackjack dealer. gamblers are FASCINATING

[dramarants]

Wanting more homoeroticism in the tension between the show’s leads as the narrative introduces greater intimacy and higher stakes between them, especially in a landscape that lacks queer representation who isn’t a villain or dies within one or two episodes, but also recognizing that core values/motivation for these characters lie in their relationships with one of two major female characters in an on screen sausage fest where the only other woman is a morally reprehensible femme fatale and erasing and/or vilifying female leads in favor of conventionally attractive males is a common practice observed in fandoms that’s rooted in misogyny and justified under the guise of rejecting heteronormativity, thinly veiled double standards, or claiming the woman is simply not interesting enough and not wanting to bolster that mindset

[hey-heigo]

theyre doing an interest poll for the thh characters on plushwonderland and i am. unfortunately. tempted....

[whatudottu]

I have a question what were Annie's og parents like(i mean she was willing to run away with five aliens to be her fathers instead so I don't think they might have been the best😬) or maybe they're dead and were good people idk

A lot of the lore is actually written by @sweetpeaches666, who may be tagged under sugarbutterfly432, thanks to Annie technically being a 3 way OC lmao. There has been nothing solidly concrete about Annie's OG parents beyond the fact that she doesn't know her ancestry and she's had many foster homes AND orphanages to live in (plus it'd also be easier legal wise for the Andromeda 5 to adopt her if she isn't officially someone else's kid at the time)

It's actually why she does ballet, one of her foster mothers wanted to recreate her failed dream, turns out it breeds resentment and a lot of running away :P

What can be said is that Annie's been many different homes and in a constant state of transitioning between them, a prime example of being a refunded kid and all that, something something No Roots by Alice Merton yada yada 'oh no that's relatable'. Her birth parents one way or another have never been in her life, though regardless of what actually happened Annie will always believe that they left her behind like like everyone else did :P

[leslieseveride]

How do you think Tamara came to live with Lucy after Jackson's death? Do you think Tim or Lucy was the one to suggest it?

oh, this is a really good question! hmm... ya know i'm not too sure myself. 😅 this small little detail has actually always confused me tbh cause giving the economy we live in rn it doesn't make much sense to me how tamara can keep up with her share of the rent at her age considering how nice of an apartment they live in. but then again, her and lucy probably came up with their own arrangements living together.

[omarfor-orchestra]

I do think people who work in the field should roast the show because it was supposed to bring attention to some kind of realities that get ignored more often than everything else and it became a soap opera instead but consider. I like it.