#none of that other stuff cancels out the whiteness

[blackfilmmakers]

So communities of color just don’t have gay people, teachers, and artists now I guess

Anyways, pick your poison

[mshroom1e]

Sleep Struggles | Leona x GN! Reader

Messy headcanons of how I imagine Husband! Leona would act during bedtime with his spouse. Fluffy drabbles and ideas with no plot. Some of it may be a little ooc but oh well. Tbh I'm liking this black and white style for headcanon stuff.

type: headcanons

467 words

Warning(s): none

Your options were either to silence your motorbike of a newly-wed husband through the art of Pillow-no-Jutsu or revise your sleeping arrangements. The first option was looking the most tantalising.

He definitely snores like "SNOOORK hooooo SNOOORK hoooo SNOORK hooooo

It can be heard from 3 floors up or down

You wonder how the kids in his high school dorm managed to sleep soundly at night, or maybe everyone around him till this point snored like monsters

You have to try getting into a deep sleep before he does or his snoring is all you're going to hear.

You wake up with red eyes and eyebags almost every morning while the snoring criminal sleeps like a princess

Had to use separate rooms once it became unbearable

He grumbled when he found out you weren't sleeping together anymore since he thinks his snoring isn't even that bad

Sometimes you give up and just clog your ears with earphones to mute out his sounds like he was grinding gravel

They didn't work so you had to invest in noise-cancelling headphones

You could still hear him from your separate room

You voice to record his snoring and play it for him when he says "It's not that bad, herbivore"

"Herbivore" (affectionate)

🍀

Other times, you end up finding him sleeping on top of you like a blanket. His head is either in the crook of your neck or on your chest and his arms and legs are either wrapped around your body or tangled with his while his tail flickers in his sleep.

He's heavy. Very heavy.

Either sleeps normally with his head resting on his arms and his legs together or sprawls out like a starfish.

Is always making some sort of contact with you when you're both asleep. It's either he has his leg on top of yours or is sprawled while you hold hands.

🍀

Despite the woes of sharing your slumber time with Leona, there are some cute moments too.

He makes sure you aren't uncomfortable when sleeping, aside from his motor engine snoring and irregular sleeping poses.

He wakes up at odd times at night to see you not covered by your shared blanket and always makes an effort to pull it over your body even if it means he has to sleep without it.

Wraps you like a burrito in the blanket and holds onto you like a koala on a tree (Idk I just imagine he does)

Wakes up after you do when he feels you moving around, trying to get up.

Usually pulls you back down next to him while saying, "We were up all day yesterday. Let's sleep s'more," in a sleepy voice.

Gets a little grumpy when you do get up and he can't feel your body heat next to him anymore.

◁--《

[thewritergx]

The White Wolf Part 1: Bucky Barnes x Stark F!Reader

Summary: Rian is Tony Stark's daughter. Bucky is his greatest enemy. Things get complicated when the two acknowledge lingering tensions.

Part 2

Warnings: Slow burn, slight smut containing kissing, fingering. Anxiety attack, scared Bucky.

Word Count: 5K+

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if you’d like more stories from me

Flashbacks in italics 

The bright ivory walls blinded me. Why my dad had to paint everything white perpetually irritated me. My head was pounding from the documents in front of me. Why did I take this job? The room was big and minimally decorated. A couch set in the center of the room, a small coffee table stained with rings from the group's endless cups of coffee. At least the windows were big enough to light the room without any ceiling lights. In the quietest corner of the room, I sat at a small two-person table, staring at the endless schedules in front of me. I had a particular task at the tower.

Manage all individuals' schedules, enough PR to make them likable but not enough to fill too much of their time. They did still have to ‘save the world’. Most of my daily tasks included scheduling interviews after any big fights, getting private drivers, scheduling jet take-offs, or making sure gyms are empty so the group can have one on one time to train. More antagonizing tasks included accounting for their personal lives. Natasha never did interviews before 7:00 AM or after 5:00 PM, Steve refused to do anything on Sundays, Bruce did absolutely zero interviews (too scared he would hulk out at an annoying question), and Thor was late to everything. I always had to tell him an hour before he was actually supposed to be there. I rolled my eyes thinking about the day I had ahead of me. I have been working here for about a year now. I finally decided to listen to my father, Tony Stark, and move back to the tower. I branched out for a stretch of time, attending college for a master's in Business and Human Resources. It was in my blood, I presume. When I was first hired, the group was nice but obviously underestimated me. They had mixed reactions, wanting to give me a chance but recognizing the nepotism that got me here. At the end of the day, they all respect me now. Natasha and I quickly became great friends. We hung out a lot after missions, especially if she was burnt out and just needed light-hearted conversation. I rubbed my temples, trying to figure out how the hell I was going to get the entire Avengers to go to one meeting. Natasha would have to cancel an entire day of training, Steve would have to get over his fear of flying, and Thor would just be…well Thor.  

Without warning, the heavy metal door gradually creaked up. I looked up from my papers, watching a disgruntled James Barnes walk into the room. He held a laptop computer and a tall Starbucks coffee. It was somewhat humorous watching the ex-assassin in such a casual setting. His metal arm stood out from the brown sweater he wore, his sleeves rolled up around the muscles of his shoulders. His face was unreadable (as it often was). His steps were loud, echoing across the empty room. His jaw was clenched tight, and his arms flexed as he set his stuff on another small table in the room. He huffed pulling out the chair, creating a whining hiss across the hardwood. It was evident that he was frustrated and deep in thought.

“What’s got you all worked up?” I implored.

Bucky startled at the sound of my voice, his shoulders tensing more. He turned some, facing my general direction but not making eye contact. “None of your business,” he huffed. His voice was rough and distant. He sat down silently, dropping his body lethargically in the chair. He must have had a long morning. Truth be told, I was in no talking mood either. Bucky had joined the Avengers a few months before I did. My father, of course, hates his very being. I, on the other hand, understood his circumstances were not so black and white. It wasn't so easy to judge from my perspective. I've never been kidnapped, brainwashed, or had metal integrated into my flesh.

I remember when we first met. It was sometime after I had already met the rest of the group. My dad tried to keep Bucky as far away from me as he possibly could. He even did all of Bucky’s scheduling himself. I rolled my eyes at the thought. I was a grown woman. I didn't meet Bucky until probably a month after working in the tower. He was quiet and kept to himself for the most part. The entire group and I had a huge meeting about Loki. Of course, all of that was solved now, but when it was happening it seemed the worst villain my dad had ever faced. I was in the meeting room way earlier than I needed to be, too afraid to be late. I thought I would catch up on some paperwork when I sat at the round time, but to my surprise, Bucky had the same idea. I'm guessing he wanted to avoid my father in the hall and keep their interactions as short and professional as possible. I sat down in the seat across from him, offering a light smile as he silently watched me walk from the door to the table. 

“Hi, I’m Rian.” I gave him a genuine smile, holding my hand out to him. He silently returned, lightly grabbing my hand and shaking it.

“James,” he finally spoke. I remember his voice taking me by surprise. It had much more bass than I would have imagined. It vibrated through the quiet room, lingering in the air between us. His eyes locked with mine briefly, dark blue like the untouched deepest part of the ocean. 

“Fine, keep your dark secrets mystery man” I mumbled mostly to myself but loud enough for him to hear. I shook the thought away, going back to the paperwork at hand. 

Bucky signed again, thinking how his short response probably came off. He tried his hardest not to be rude, but this was morning from hell.  It was obvious he wanted to avoid interactions with me, probably at the expense of my dad’s words. At the same time, he slightly enjoyed the company. “It's not a huge deal. Had a shit mornin'”, Bucky turned all the way this time, facing backward in his chair to look at me. 

“Well, can't be much worse than mine,” I smiled, motioning to the high stack of papers calling my name. Bucky's eyes met the desk, scanning a few papers. 

“Yeah that looks like…fun,” he joked sarcastically. A bit of a playful tone I only heard when Steve showed him video games for the first time. Of course, Call of Duty had become a staple in the tower. Sometimes I joined in but only to play zombies and multiplayer. “Hope they're not workin’ ya too hard. Then I'd really have to fight your daddy.”

I laughed, my mouth going dry from his words. I took a drink out of the pink water bottle I had sat on the floor and went back to looking at my paperwork. It was silent for a while until Bucky spoke again. 

“Do you think you could maybe show me how to do this?” Bucky walked over, his steps a bit lighter than earlier. He sat in the chair in front of me, placing his laptop down and showing me an Excel file. “Stupid thing ain't workin’,” he mumbled frustrated. 

“Are you trying to create a spreadsheet?” I laughed. 

“Listen, little girl, I didn't have this growin’ up.” He smiled. The pet name made my heart skip a beat, but I brushed it off. I focused on the computer, trying to figure out the best way to show him how to do it. I moved my chair to the side, getting close enough that we could both see the small screen. Bucky watched as I started clicking and typing on the computer, explaining the steps he needed to take. He listened as intently as he could though he was partially thrown off by our close proximity to each other. “Thanks, I need to get this done before the party or whatever you call it tonight.” Bucky stared hard at the screen.

Shit. I completely forgot. “Bucky, you are a lifesaver.” Every year my dad hosts a gala for our sponsors. It’s a bunch of rich white people gathered to gaw at my dad’s inventions. It really did help though. A little science and introduction to the Avengers usually had the wallets opening in a flash. I had not been since I left for college five years ago. I honestly was a bit excited to see everyone all dressed up. I can't believe I almost forgot about it. 

“It’s James, but sure. Glad I helped with..whatever I helped with” Bucky uttered. 

I quickly sprung up, grabbing all my papers.

“See you later”, I yelled to Bucky as I rushed out the door.

I headed directly to my room, slamming the papers on my desk. My room stood out from the rest of the tower. A large bed covered in plush pillows and thick blankets sat in the middle, an armchair in the corner and a big vanity I use every morning to apply my skincare and makeup. It was a big pro to the job. No rent or long communion to work. I walked to my bathroom, turned on the shower, and stripped my clothes in a hamper. The water cascaded down for the showerhead, warm and soothing as it fell down my back. I grabbed the bottle of shampoo, lathering it thinly in my hair. It smelled like honey and vanilla, perfect for tonight. I applied a body scrub, removing any dead skin and making me baby smooth. Like velvet on my fingertips. I shaved from head to toe, not sure how revealing the dress I chose would be. I spent a good hour in the shower, making my body perfect. Once I got out, I blow-dried and curled my hair. It framed my face perfectly, loose curls bouncing down my back. I decided to go with a subtle makeup look, not much different than my everyday look but still adding some flare. I made my eyelashes bigger and went with a darker lip. I did a brown smokey eye. It looked mysterious and would go great with my dress. At this point, it was about forty-five minutes before the party started. I suspected that some people had already arrived. Early birds tried to get one-on-one time with anyone in the tower they could.  I grabbed the dress out of my closet. It had a square neck, showing off my collarbones and a tasteful amount of cleavage. It was long-sleeved and lacey, ending just at my mid-thigh. Long enough to cover everything but short enough to leave the eyes wondering. I accessorized with gold jewelry, hoop earrings, and a locket with a picture of me and my dad when I was a baby. It was one of my favorite pieces. At this point, I was feeling very good about tonight. I did a few more small finishing touches, grabbed a purse with any items I may need to refresh, and walked out to the elevator. 

I pressed number one on the key, sending me to the floor level. As I suspected, a large group of people had already gathered talking and mingling, red wine in their glasses. Soft piano music played in the background. I scanned the room to find anyone I knew, finally locking my eyes on a few people. I walked up a short stairwell to the balcony, approaching Nathasha, Steve, and Bucky who were sitting at a table chatting. I noticed Bucky quickly, he was dressed in a dark fitted suit, outlining his toned arms. The fabric looked expensive and brand new. The top button of his shirt was left undone, revealing his chest and adding a bit of casualness to the outfit. I’d never seen him dressed anything like this before, but I could definitely get used to it. Bucky brought his glass to his lips, taking an effortless drink. Around the same time he looked over, making eye contact with me. He swallowed fast, causing him to choke on his drink. He tried to hide the sounds of his couch, bringing his arm over his mouth and turning away from the rest of the table. 

“James, you okay?” I asked, taking an empty seat next to Natasha. "I'm all good”, he breathed out, still slightly coughing. He met my gaze for a moment, before taking another drink. “Rian, you look so good!” Natasha threw her arms around my neck, wrapping me in a tight hug.  “Would you like a drink, ma'am?” A woman dressed in a black and white outfit asked.  “Yes, I’d love a jack and coke. On the rocks, please. Thank you so much”, I ordered a drink and some nachos to share for the table.  “Are you even old enough to drink?” Steve laughs, watching as the waitress walks to the bar section downstairs.  “I am twenty-five Steve”, I shoot back, creasing my eyelids at him.  “Oh so sorry, you’re sooo old”, Steve jokes sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Not all of us can be one hundred.” I cracked. The waitress is back after a few minutes, placing the nachos on the table and handing me my drink. I feel Bucky’s gaze on me as I bring it to my lips, taking a small sip. The liquid stays on my lips, and I quickly lick it away. He watches as I move my lips, jaw clenching a smidge. I shoot him a smile, confusion in my eyes. Bucky quickly removed his gaze, listening to Natasha and Steve talk about the events for tonight.  We stayed at the table talking and laughing for a while. The music started to grow louder and some people danced. It was clear we needed to start mingling as well. All these people were here to meet us, after all. Steve stood first, dragging Natasha with him. He mumbled about not talking to these spoiled-ass people by himself. I could tell Bucky was reluctant to leave the safety of the table. This many people was probably a challenge to him.  “James? You gonna be okay? With all these people around, I mean?” I gave him a gentle look. These parties made me nervous and I had been doing them my whole life.  Bucky signed, taking another drink and running his fingers back through his hair. “Yeah. Yeah sure. Just don't like crowds.” He forced a smile, nodding his head.  “I understand. You don't have to talk to anyone, but if you want you can stay by my side as I meet people. That way you’ll have somebody.” I offered an understanding look.  I could tell Bucky was considering my offer. He gave me a small nod “Yeah, okay. I’d rather stick with ya’ anyway,” Bucky smirked. Bucky furrowed his brow deep in thought. In moments like this, I wish I could read his mind. “If your dad asks, this never happened, no need to cause a scene in front of everyone,” his voice was thick with annoyance now.  I rolled my eyes, giving a light chuckle in return. “I can take care of my father, James.” I stood from the table, pulling my dress down from where it had ridden up around my thighs. I held out my hand, waiting for Bucky to grab it. He looked for a moment, weighing his options. Finally, he put his hand in mine, the silver metal cold to the touch. His grip was loose but sturdy. Bucky’s fingers were so much bigger than mine, swallowing mine in between his. 

“Lead the way”, he groaned unhappily. I led Bucky and me down the stairs, our fingers still intertwined. He followed close behind silently. As we got closer to the crowd, I felt his grip involuntary tightening. We reach the bottom of the stairs and the music vibrates my feet underneath us. Bucky scans the room, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the number of people swirling around us. His eyes darted around the room, searching for something I couldn't quite figure out. He pulled me a bit closer to him as his breathing picked up. 

A man in a nice tan suit approaches. I notice Bucky stiffen immediately, his muscles tensing. He looked ready to fight. I placed my free hand on his metal arm, hoping it would calm him a bit. I think it worked as I saw him let out a deep breath and force a smile. 

“Miss Stark, it is great to see you again. We have  missed you these last few years.” The man spoke, offering a generous smile. “Who is your date?”

Bucky frowned. “Oh this is Bucky,” I replied in an upbeat tone. Hopefully, he wouldn't notice Buck’s unfriendly tone. 

The man turned his attention to Bucky, looking him up and down. Bucky straightened his shoulders, standing taller. “Well, you've gotten a haircut since I’ve last seen you on TV.” The man chuckled. 

The man's words sent chills down Bucky’s spine. He knew he was referring to his time as the Winter Soldier. A time he never wanted to speak about. Especially not to some rich guy who knew nothing about struggling. “Oh, yeah. Thought it was time for a change” Bucky spoke with a grin but his words came out like oil in a hot pan. 

“It was so nice to speak to you again” I intervened, dragging us away before the conversation got any more uncomfortable for Bucky. 

Bucky was quick to follow my direction, relief obviously washing over him as the interaction ended. “Who was that guy?” Bucky glanced at me.

“I honestly have no clue. They all blur together”, I chuckled. 

We walk deeper into the crowd, almost reaching the middle of the room. Suddenly two women ran to us. Their eyes were wide and grins spread across their faces. “Oh my god. You are bucky! When are you going to start doing interviews? I’d love to get you in some. Do you have any plans now that you've joined the Avengers? What do you enjoy most about living here?” The women were loud, their voices piercing louder enough that even my ears hurt as they bombarded Bucky with question after question. 

“Oh my god, can I please get a picture?” One of the women squealed. Before Bucky could even answer, she was placing her arm around his shoulder. The other woman stood in front of us, flashing bright white light with every picture she took. I could see Bucky’s chest rising and falling quickly, his smile forced but jaw clenched tight and fists in balls. 

He finally spoke up. “Nice to meet you two, but if you'll excuse me, I’ve got to go grab somethin’.” Bucky walked off quickly, he strides long as he shoved his hands in his pockets. I followed quickly behind, my heels clacking against the hardwood floor. He pushed open the door to the auditorium, walking into a nearly empty hallway, and opening the door to the first empty room he found. 

The room was dimly lit and Bucky threw himself against the wall, taking quick deep breaths. I opened the door slowly, taking a gentle step inside. The room must have been some kind of janitor's closet. It was about the size of a walk-in closet and held cleaning products and mops. He turned his head towards me as I entered, obvious guilt and stress written across his face.  “James, you okay?” I questioned softly, my voice just an octave over inaudible. Bucky's chest fell, a shaky sign leaving him. “Yeah”, he muttered in the dark “Just had to get away from all that noise”. He slumped his shoulders, running a hand through his hair.  “Is it better if I stay, or would you rather be alone?” There was a hint of concern in my voice. I wondered if I should get Steve. I’m sure he'd be better at calming him down than me. We hardly knew each other.  Bucky hesitated for a moment, the room still spinning around him. I could see on his face he was torn between wanting to be alone but also needing someone, anyone in here with him. “I’d rather not be left alone. Distract me.”  I nod, silently. I walked a bit closer, standing close but just out of reach. I watched as Bucky tilted his head back against the wall. His eyes were closed tight and his breathing was just as quick as before. “You have panic attacks a lot?” I asked, trying to get a hint of what I could do to help.  Bucky held up his arms, locking his hands together and placing them on top of his head. He paced around the room, trying to catch a hint of fresh air he couldn't find. “Since I got out of Hydra. Somethin’ cracked. I don't get ‘em on missions, though. For some reason, I can turn my brain off when I fight. But in these types of situations…I just can’t.” Buckys’ tone was vulnerable. I think this was the only time I’d ever seen him scared. “Feel like I'm back there, not in charge of my body.” I tried to think of anything to say, but my brain disconnected from my body, keeping my words from flowing out. I decided to stay quiet. Let him say whatever it was he needed to. Whatever happened in this closet, would stay here until I died.  Bucky’s jaw clenched as he kept taking fast back-and-forth steps. Bucky swallowed harshly, trying to push down any hint of anxiety he could. “Sorry, I’m dragging you into this.”  I did not know what to say. I did not want Bucky to think he was weak, any less of a man than he was before. Steve had warned the group that the transition would be harder for Bucky, but I think I underestimated how powerful his flashbacks were. His eyes were filled with anxiety. I tried to think of ways I calm myself down when I felt like this.  “Bucky, how about we just sit? Walking around is probably making it worse.” I grabbed Bucky's hand, walking back towards the doors. Bucky flopped down to the ground, leaving his legs sprawled out as we sat with our backs against the wall. His grip was tight on my hand, almost painful crushing. 

We sat in silence for a long time, until Bucky began to calm down. His breathing was slowly falling back to a normal pace, his jaw relaxed, and his grip was slightly looser. I laid my head against his shoulder, offering a form of physical comfort that I always found relaxing. I think it worked some as I felt his shoulders softening under the weight of my head. I heard echoes of the party through the door, soft music, and loud conversation leaking through.  Bucky turned his head silently, meeting my eyes in the dim light. He studied my face, trying to detail every feature to his memory. I felt my cheeks grow hot. It was strange being so close to a mostly stranger I was warned to stay away from. From my point of view, he didn't seem so bad at all. I knew this was the point where I was supposed to leave but I stayed put, drawing out the moment for as long as I could.  Bucky brought his hand to my face, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. His touch was warm, gentle even. His finger grazed slightly against my skin. It sent small shivers to my stomach and through my legs. His expression was conflicted, relaxed but also guilty. I stayed silent, searching for a hint of emotion behind his eyes. I hate that he was so hard for me to read. It was like torture not knowing what he was thinking.  I leaned in closer, unable to resist the urge I felt for him in the moment. My heart pounded against my chest as I saw him leaning in with me. His gaze flashed to my lips before they quickly darted back to my eyes. I was all too aware of the reasons I should stop this, not let get any further. At this point, it would be easy for me to get up and walk out, with no lasting effects to travel with me. There were also reasons I threw those thoughts out of the window without a second of regret. Bucky’s hand traveled to cup my cheek, his fingers calloused and possessive as we closed any remaining distance between us.  I closed my eyes, relaxing in his touch. He let out a low breath as our lips met in a soft slow kiss. Bucky’s lips were chapped but soft enough that I craved more. As I deepened the kiss, I tasted a hint of mint and whiskey. There was something so distinct about the way he tasted. Something so fresh, so just…Bucky. It was intoxicating.  I attempted my hardest to keep our kiss like this, slow and pure. But the taste of him drove my mind crazy. His tongue swept across my bottom lip, asking for more. It was clear Bucky felt the same need I did. I parted my lips, moaning softly into his mouth as his tongue searched for mine. The kiss turned more passionate, and needy.  Bucky used his other hand to pull me against him, a need to feel me even closer. His metal fingers dug into my hips, holding me like I would disappear at any second. He kissed me hungrily, starving for anything I’d allow him. 

I let him pull me even closer so my thighs were on either side of his legs, straddling him like a ride I never wanted to get off of. His chest rose and fell, almost at the same rate as earlier. He let out a groan, feeling the pressure of my weight on top of him. Bucky tightened the grip he held around my waist, the position needy but intimate. It filled a fire under him. He gently ended the kiss, pulling his lips away from mine. I thought for sure this was where he would tell me what we were doing was wrong, we needed to stop. Instead, his lips traveled down to my neck, lightly sucking to discover every sweet spot. I shuddered as his large hands roamed all over my body, exploring every inch of me. He moved one hand to the small of my back, pulling me closer and adding a slight arch to my back. He slid his other hand down my body, placing it gently on my thigh, caressing the soft skin just under the hem of my dress. His thumb traced small circles, sending goosebumps through me.  Bucky lifted his head from my neck, staring into my eyes as his hand traveled further up my dress. His touch was like a soft blanket, warm and delicate. I stayed silent, nerves shutting off every thought except for him. Bucky’s blue eyes brew dark, almost black in the dim light. His hand continued to travel, leaving a hot trail with each centimeter he progressed. He watched the way I reacted to him, every little caress making my breathing hitch and a small gasp escape my lips.  Bucky’s fingers froze when he reached the edge of my underwear. I felt his heart pounding against me. Suddenly, this felt very real. Maybe we should not cross this line. He growled, his Adam’s apple slightly bobbing. His gaze was still locked into mine, searching for any hint of resistance, any reason telling him to stop. Bucky stayed silent, his eyes full of desire. He swiftly repositioned my legs for a moment. The action was hungry as he gently tugged at the thin material of my panties. He pulled them down my ankles, the material falling down my heels. Bucky inspects them for a moment. They matched my dress, thin black lace only really covering the deepest part of my core. I watch as he plays with the material delicately, placing them in the pocket of his pants.  Bucky positions my legs around him again, resuming his search of my thighs. He's quicker this time, his fingers lingering against my core. I moaned as he gently approached my heat, rubbing his palm against my clit. 

I try to conceal my moan, throwing my lips against his to drown out any noise. He swallowed my moans, rubbing circles on my clit with three fingers. The contact is like a drug, filling my veins and sending me into euphoria. He brought up his other hand, searching for the zipper on my dress. His fingers played around for a moment before finding it. He takes the zipper between his fingers and starts to pull it down when a bang in the door startles us. He recoils his touch instantly, placing his hands down his sides. Bucky’s eyes were full of instant regret.  We were so drunk off each other, that we totally forgot there was a party outside. I try to stay still. Like if I don't move, nothing else will happen. I hear laughter outside the door as it quickly swings open. I threw my head into Bucky’s neck, trying my hardest to conceal my face from whoever was intruding.  A tall blonde with long hair and a very pretty woman stop when they see us. Fucking Thor. “Ha, someone has already taken our hiding place.” He slams the door shut, laughing as I hear his footsteps descending.  Bucky was stoic, still as death under me. He stayed impossibly quiet. Bucky maneuvered me gently off his lap, hands lingering a bit too long as he fixed my dress. His jaw clenched tight as he fixed his hair. He approached the door without a word, gave me a silent nod, and walked out.  

[angelasscribbles]

All That She Wants Chapter 8: Conversations

Series: All That She Wants

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings for this chapter: Riley x Drake, Riley x Liam

Word Count: 1,026

Rating: M

Warnings for this chapter: none

My other stuff: Master List.

Riley x Drake

Riley lay on her back, chest heaving, sweat glistening on her skin. Drake flopped down on the mattress next to her, equally satiated.

When she caught her breath, she broached the subject that had kept her up last night. “Why did you get a vasectomy in the first place?”

He rolled up on his side so he could watch her face as he answered. “I didn’t want kids.”

Riley’s eyes stayed locked on the ceiling. “Then why would you agree to have a reversal?”

He reached out to twirl an errant strand of her hair around his finger. “Because you want a baby.”

She finally turned her head to look at him. “But you don’t.”

He froze for a second, then resumed playing with her hair. “I want you to be happy.”

“That’s it?”

He blew out a sigh as he unwound and released the lock that was twisted around his index finger. He dropped his eyes from hers to stare, instead, at the blue and white stripes of the sheets on his bed. “What do you want me to say, Riley? That I’ve waited eight years for you to notice me? That I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep you in my life?”

“But why?”

“Because I love you, okay?” He exploded in exasperation. “I fucking love you and I will do anything I have to do to prove that to you!”

Maybe then she’d take him seriously.

He hated the pity in her voice as she responded. “Drake…. I don’t know what to say. I—”

“You don’t have to say anything.” He interrupted her as he rolled abruptly in the other direction and sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. “If you want a baby, I’ll give you one. I don’t hate the idea, which frankly astounds and terrifies me a little. I will be as involved, or not, as you want me to be. I know you don’t feel the same way about me. All I ask is that you continue to give me the chance to change that.”

“Okay.” She agreed quietly as she watched him stand and quickly redress.

“I have to get back to work.” He made it to the door before turning back to her. With an intensity that scared her a little, he told her, “He doesn’t love you, Riley. Not like I do.”

Riley x Liam

She looked up from the three dresses she was trying to choose between when the bedroom door opened. “Liam! I thought you were in meetings all day today.”

“I canceled them.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

“Because we need to talk.”

She carefully lowered the dress she was holding on the bed, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She straightened up and faced him, twisting her fingers together to disguise the shaking of her hands.

This was it.

“Have you come to a decision?”

“I have.” He crossed the room in several long strides and drew her into his arms. “I want to make our marriage work, Riley. I’ll give you a baby if that’s what you want. I’m sorry for disregarding your feelings. I take full responsibility for the distance between us. Please let me fix this.”

Joy surged through her, followed closely by suspicion. She pushed out of his arms. “Why? I figured you’d already have a ring on Olivia’s finger.”

Pain and anger flashed through his eyes.

“Oh. My. God!” Riley’s fingers flew up to cover her mouth. “She rejected you, didn’t she?”

“I realized what I stood to lose, Riley. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

She shook her head back and forth as laughter, indignation, and pain fought for dominance.

He hadn’t chosen her. She was the default. “I wanted you to love me, Liam. Like you used to. Or was it always a lie?”

“Riley, I want this marriage to work. For our children, for Cordonia—”

“But not because you love me.” It wasn’t a question.

“I do love you!”

“No, you don’t!”

“Riley, I’m offering you everything you said you wanted. Our marriage back. Like it used to be. Remember the first time we left Ellie with Regina and the nannies and took that trip to Ireland?”

She smiled in spite of herself at the memory. He had taken her on a tour of historic Celtic castles. Something she had always wanted to do. He had been nothing less than a perfect, attentive husband, doting on his wife for the entire trip.

He was right. When it was good, it was the most amazing thing in the world. He had made her feel like the only woman in existence.

Of course, he’d been fucking Olivia behind her back the entire time.

Still.

Every time she looked at him, her heart still stuttered in her chest. Every time they appeared together in public, she felt like the luckiest woman alive.

Liam Rys might be selfish, and he might be a cheater, but he was also the smartest man she’d ever met, he had a way of making her laugh no matter how dire the situation, and watching him with their children never failed to melt her heart. As a father, he was attentive, patient, and loving.

He always presented a united front to the public and the media. He never criticized her, he never forgot birthdays or anniversaries, and he never curtailed her access to their now shared resources.

But he was a lying, cheating bastard who had ripped her heart out by not returning all the love she had poured into him.

It was complicated.

“I’m going to need a minute to think about it.”

For the first time, Liam’s confidence faltered. “What?”

“You heard me.” She grabbed the two dresses she had decided against and returned them to the closet. “I gave you time to make your decision. I’m going to need some time to make mine.”

“How much time?”

She gave him a gloating smirk. “Doesn’t feel so great to be on the waiting end of it, does it?”

“No.” He gave his wife a long, contemplating look as he reassessed his life choices.

[fixfoxnox]

Attention - SoapRoach

Description: Roach knows that his boyfriend is a busy man. He's a Captain in the military with so many responsibilities. Still, with another day of plans missed in favor of paperwork, he's craving attention and he intends to have it.

Note: Based on the wonderful art done by the wonderful @miilkybnn (sorry for how much I've been tagging you in stuff lately 😅). Here are the two pieces, please go give them some love, they're incredible. 🧼 🪳

Warnings: Smut, Angst, Hurt and Comfort, tiny bit of fluff, Ghost is there for a second BTW, he's hyping Roach up, Dom/Sub tones

Word Count: 4.4k

Roach tapped his foot impatiently on the ground, nerves tugging at his chest. The longer he stood and the more nervous that he got, he already felt like he was on the verge of tears. The sound of his foot tapping impatiently rang around him, echoing in the dark to mix in with the sounds of crickets and frogs serenading the night. It only drove home the silence that surrounded him.

He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the need for some sort of comfort as he glanced once again at the front door of the building. He was trying his hardest to give Soap the benefit of the doubt. He was hoping beyond hope that the man had simply gotten caught up in his paperwork and was rushing out to meet him now. They had reservations. They had plans. Roach had cleared his entire schedule to make a cute night out with his boyfriend. He'd even gone so far as to stash some...things in their shared room for when Soap would inevitably turn grabby, and they'd return to their room together.

Roach should have known better. At this point, he should have expected it because, well, Soap was Roach's boyfriend, but Captain MacTavish always won out over Soap and, by extension, Roach. Usually, it wasn't a problem. Usually, he loved how hard working and dedicated Soap was to his work and to the team. Usually.

Now, though, with the last four of their dates either canceled or rescheduled or changed because Soap had gotten himself too caught up in work to remember, Roach was frustrated. He'd had his fill of Captain MacTavish. Now he wanted his Soap. Roach wanted to finally have the man's attention to himself. No phone on just in case someone needed to call. No late dates. None of that. He wanted Soap to focus on him, to put him in front of his work at least once.

The door beside him opened, and Roach turned quickly, hope filling him as he did. It was dashed to pieces as he met the eyes of Ghost. Not Soap. He deflated a bit, tucking into himself further as he turned away from his Liutenant.

"Well," Ghost chuckled while taking several steps forward, "don't look too happy to see me." He nudged Roach's side playfully before digging into his pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. Roach watched him pop one into his mouth before flicking open a lighter he'd pulled from who knows where to light the end of it.

"Sorry," he apologized quietly, his voice betraying how upset he was. "I was just expecting -"

"Captain?" Ghost guessed. He glanced at Roach from the corner of his eyes, and Roach avoided his gaze. He turned his attention to the ground, kicking at a rock with his foot as something heavy laid over his chest. "He's in his office. Buried in paperwork like usual."

"Of course he is," Roach grumbled under his breath. He didn't want to be mad. Roach wasn't someone who typically held things against others. In fact, oftentimes, he'd been told by members of the team that he was far too forgiving. He just couldn't shake it, though. He didn't like being angry. Now, though, there was a bubbling of white hot anger that seemed to move through his veins and simmer in his chest. He didn't like being angry, but God, he was so mad.

"I'm guessing," Ghost leaned against the wall next to him, crossing his arms over his chest before reaching up to pull the cigarette from his mouth, "You two had plans?"

"Yeah," Roach brought a hand up to rub over his face, trying not to let too much of his anger show. "Yeah, we did." He pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing the number of the restaurant and hovering his finger over the button to call. He needed to cancel their reservation and let the restaurant know that they could give the table to someone else. He didn't call. Instead, he just stared at it until his screen went dark. "I guess I should go back inside. If he forgot, then there's no point in waiting out here for him."

He tucked his phone back into his pocket and tilted his head up, looking at the dark sky above them for several moments. "You know," Ghost started carefully, "I hope you don't plan to let him off the hook easy for this one."

Roach turned toward him quickly, dread pooling in his chest. "What?"

Ghost took his time in responding, puffing out the smoke from his cigarette for several long moments. "This is, what?" He tilted his head at Roach, "Date number three that he's done this to you?"

"Four," Roach corrected quietly. "It's the fourth time."

"Four times is too many," Ghost shook his head and gave a small tut. A moment of silence hung in the air between them. Roach knew Ghost was right, of course, he knew Ghost was right. He'd been thinking the exact same thing. The only difference is that he knew he'd never have the guts to voice it.

"I know," he agreed. "I don't know what to do."

"Talk to him," Ghost suggested. Roach watched him toss his cigarette but to the ground and stomp his foot over it. "Get mad, Roach. I can see you're upset. Make him realize that you're upset." He pushed himself off of the wall and started back to the door of the building. Suddenly, he paused.

There was a moment that passed before he turned around and marched back over to Roach. "I'm serious, you know?" His voice was careful, and he reached up to pull the sunglasses from his face and lift his mask up enough that Roach could talk to Simon. Not Ghost. Simon.

"I know," Roach answered him quietly.

"You're worth more than what he's giving right now." Simon shook his head at him and made sure to meet his eyes, "You gotta make him realize that. Get mad. Yell. Punish him. Do something and -" he cut himself off with a click of his tongue and a shake of his head, "and don't stop until you've made him grovel. Until he's begging you to forgive him."

The two locked eyes and, for a long moment, they stayed like that. Understanding passed between them. "Thanks, Simon."

Simon hesitated for a long moment before giving Roach a nod. He tugged his mask back down and threw the glasses on top, leaving Roach staring at Ghost once again. Ghost leaned forward to give his shoulder a slight squeeze. "Give him hell, Bug."

With those words, he turned and quickly disappeared inside, once again leaving Roach alone in the dark of the night.

Roach stood outside of Soap's office, his eyes trailing over the neat name plate on the door. Captain John MacTavish. He could hardly stand the sight of the name at the moment. He was mad at Captain MacTavish. He was mad at Soap.

Still, he kept his composure. He didn't like being mad, so he tried not to be as he reached up to give several quick knocks to the door. He knew Ghost wanted him to be mean, wanted him to be mad, but Roach couldn't. He just wasn't like that.

He waited patiently, listening for any call from the other side of the door. Nothing. He knocked again. Another few minutes went by, and there was still no response. He didn't knock again. He knew that if Soap hadn't answered, that meant that the man was too far into his work to pay attention to him. Too far in to actually hear when someone knocked.

He pushed the door open without any further alert of his presence. The door opened silently, but Roach wasn't quiet as he stepped into the room and shut it a little louder than he normally would behind him. His eyes were locked on to Soap the entire time, but he only received a brief glance from Soap before the man focused himself back on the papers on his desk. A flash of anger burst through his chest at the move, but he ignored it.

He stood at the door for several moments. The only sounds in the room were the ticking of the clock on the wall and the scratch of Soap's pen on paper. Roach waited patiently, giving Soap the chance to acknowledge him. To maybe realize what he'd done and apologize before Roach had to spell it out to him. He could never be so lucky.

He took slow steps toward Soap's desk, the sound of his boots hitting the floor echoed around him. He crossed his arms over his chest as he stopped in front of Soap's desk. He waited another moment, but Soap still never looked up at him. Finally, in a voice that was much calmer than he felt, he asked, "Did you forget something?"

Soap glanced up at him from his papers again, but it was clear to see that he still wasn't paying attention. His mind was focused on work and work alone. Something about that made Roach angrier. "I don't think so." He answered back quickly.

"Soap." Roach called his name, his voice betraying how annoyed he felt. Soap didn't look up at him again. "Soap." Roach spoke a little louder. His voice was a little harsher. "Soap!"

Roach gave in to the anger he felt just briefly, just long enough that he didn't even think before rounding the desk and grabbing the paper that Soap was working on to yank it out from under his pen. The move left a streak of ink across the paper, and Soap was quick to stand up, his own face ticked with annoyance. Still, he didn't look at Roach. Instead, he just tried to fix the papers that Roach had displaced.

"Roach, I really don't have time for -"

"Soap," Roach reached out to grab Soap's face, tired of trying to get his attention. He used his grip to turn Soap so that he was forced to look at him. "Look at me!"

There was a pause. Soap blinked at Roach in shock, his entire face betraying his surprise. Roach could see the beginnings of a blush raising across the other man's face, and a part of him felt more then smug about that fact. "Roach," Soap breathed out. Slowly, Roach released his hand on Soap's face.

He took in a deep breath, trying to remember himself. He didn't want to be angry. He didn't like being angry. "Soap," he met his boyfriend's eyes, "did you forget something?"

Soap stared at him, searching his face for a long moment. Roach could see the moment that realization dawned on his boyfriend's face, the moment that he realized that he had indeed forgotten something. "Roach," he breathed out again, "I am so sorry." Roach turned away from him, leaning against his desk for support. "I am so so sorry, I just got caught up and-"

"It's alright," Roach assured him, shaking his head at himself as he did. "I already canceled the reservation."

"Let me make this up to you?" Soap turned back to his desk, "I swear I will make this up to you, okay? Just let me finish this paperwork, and I'll take you out."

Roach's head shot to the side, his eyes wide as he watched Soap sit back down in his desk chair, his attention returning to the papers in front of him. "Are you-"

"I promise I will fix this," Soap pulled some of the papers back in front of him, "I will make this up to you tenfold and we'll go get something to eat and we can reschedule our date night. I'll take the next one off-"

"That's what you said this time," Roach reminded him, still watching with wide eyes and growing anger as Soap returned his attention to the papers, his pen already scratching at the paper again.

"Yes, but I'm serious this time." Soap muttered the words, his attention already gone from Roach. With it went Roach's patience.

"You-" Roach's clenched his jaw, a burning heat of anger flooding through him. He could hear Ghost's words echoing around in his head.

"You gotta make him realize that. Get mad. Yell. Punish him. Do something, and don't stop until you've made him grovel. Until he's begging you to forgive him."

Before Roach could really think over what he was doing, he'd moved his hands to Soap's shoulders and shoved, pushing the man back until his chair was far enough from the desk that he could clamber onto his lap.

"Roach?" Soap's hands flew to Roach's waist, but Roach didn't let them stay there for long. He grabbed at Soap's wrists and with a surprising amount of strength and a lot of help from Soap being caught off guard, he was able to yank Soap's hands away and pin them to the arms of the chair he was in. "Roach?"

"Keep them there," Roach hissed, his face serious, "don't touch."

Soap's eyes widened, and Roach could see that blush from before return. This time, though, it stayed to linger over Soap's cheeks and trail down his neck. "Roach," he breathed out, "what's going on?"

"Do you know how many of our dates you've blown off in a row?" Roach asked him, his voice deceptively calm. His face was still stormy, though, and even as he moved closer to Soap, pressing their hips together temptingly, it didn't fade.

"I," Soap stopped for a moment, his mind fully registering what Roach was asking him. He felt his heart sink into his chest as he realized exactly what this was about. "I don't know."

Roach scoffed and ground his hips down, pulling a gasp from Soap's lips and a small sigh of satisfaction from his own. "Four dates," he glared at the man beneath him, "Four dates that you've blown me off on." He paused for a moment before adding, "I'm beginning to think you're trying to tell me something."

"No!" Soap rushed to speak, but he cut himself off as Roach rolled his hips against him again. "No, ah, uh, no Roach, that's not what's been happening."

"Why then?" Roach asked the words carefully. He carded a hand through Soap's hair, tugging until the other was forced to meet his eyes and hold his gaze as Roach asked, "Is your work more important than me?"

"No," Soap was quick to assure, "of course not Roach thats not- oh fuck!"

Roach cut him off with a hand pressed against his crotch, palming him through his pants. He could feel as the other was growing harder against him. "Really? Then why won't you pay attention to me, hmm?"

"I do pay attention to you," Soap moved his hands from the arms of his chair, once again wrapping the around Roach's waist to tug him closer, "I've just been -"

"Ignoring me," Roach finished, glaring him down, "and blowing me off for paperwork. Is paperwork more interesting than me?" He tilted his head before moving closer, not stopping until his lips were just hovering over Soap's.

"No," Soap shook his head rapidly, "of course not."

"Apparently, it is." Roach reached back to once again grab Soap's hands and press them against the arms of the chair. He gave the man a glare before releasing his grip on Soap's wrists, reminding the man with only a look that he shouldn't move. A hand returned to Soap's hair, giving a slight tug at the strands between his fingers. Soap groaned at the slight pain.

"Since you can't pay attention to me," Roach rolled his hips against Soap's again, a satisfied groan leaving his lips as he felt Soap's hard cock against his own arousal, "You're going to keep your hands off and watch. Understand?"

He tugged at Soap's hair again and, in return, he recieved several rapid nods from the man.

"Good boy," Roach leaned forward to press a short kiss to Soap's lips, only letting the touch linger for a moment before pulling back.

He leaned away from Soap, just enough that he could get a hand between them. He let his fingers brush down Soap's chest, a sick amusement filling him as Soap tried to subtly lean into the touch. He trailed his hand down further and further until he could press his hand against the prominent bulge in his boyfriend's pants.

He took his time, offering a teasing massage of his hand over the other man. Soap's head tilted back, little gasps of pleasure leaving his mouth as Roach touched him. "God," Roach watched as his eyes closed and his mouth fell open. "You're so perfect. It feels so good."

Roach removed his hand at those words, causing Soap to lean back up and look down between them. Roach didn't touch him again, and he hardly paid him any mind. Instead, he let his hands lower to his own pants.

He wasted no time, swiftly undoing his belt, followed by the button and zipper of his trousers. He tucked his hand into his pants, stroking himself over his underwear for a long moment, letting Soap watch the movement of his hand and hear his little pants and moans.

"If only it was you touching me," Roach whispered the words, letting them sit heavily between them as he finally pulled his underwear down, pulling his hard cock out to let it rest between their bodies. The tip of his cock was resting against Soap's stomach and Roach could hear his boyfriend's stuttered breath.

"It could be me touching you," Soap managed to choke out. He and Roach gave a simultaneous groan as Roach wrapped a hand around himself, starting a slow rhythm with his hand. Roach noted the harsh grip that Soap had on the chair, clearly wanting to move and take over control of the situation.

Roach let himself fuck his fist, moving with slow but tight strokes over his cock. He felt unbelievably hot and he had to admit that having Soap underneath him, listening to whatever he said, it was so hot. It was meant to be a punishment and make the other realize what hecwas missing, but Roach found himself enjoying the desperate attention and pleas of the man underneath him.

"No, no," Roach sped his hand up, the feel of his hand on his heated skin was almost too much, "you clearly don't want to touch me." He leaned back, using Soap's desk to keep himself up and push himself that much further from Soap's touch. He tilted his head back as he sped his movements up, fucking his fist quicker with little jerks of his hips. "Fuck," he whined out.

"Roach," Soap gave a groan, "I'm sorry, really I-"

"You're not sorry," Roach cut him off, his voice a mix of harsh desperation. "You just want to touch." He brought his free hand up, slipping it under his shirt to toy with his nipples beneath the fabric. He could hear Soap's breath hitch at the move. "Is this what I have to do to get your attention?"

He flicked a finger over one of his nipples, trying to mimic the way that Soap would always tease him when they were together. It wasn't the exact same, but it was good enough for Roach, who happily groaned at the feeling. Every touch sent a spark down his spine that went straight to his aching cock. Every groan and desperate plea for him that left Soap's mouth followed a similar path, though they burned Roach with both pleasure and anger.

Several moments of silence lingered between the two, filled only with the sounds of Roach's pleasured moans and Soap's answering groans. Roach could feel how hard the man was underneath him, the length of him pressing against his ass. Roach gave himself a moment longer of just stroking over his cock before he finally started to rock his hips, grinding purposefully against the man beneath him.

Soap's own hips jolted up a bit, trying hard to seek some sort of relief to his own arousal. Roach allowed him the movement, knowing that it was next to nothing for the man beneath him. He knew that it would take Soap much more than the rocking pressure that he was offering. The man would only drive himself crazier. The thought made him feel a bit satisfied. Let Soap be the one craving his attention.

Their moans joined together, both of them panting and groaning as the temperature around them grew hotter and hotter. Roach sped up his hand, his legs beginning to shake just a bit as pleasure zipped up his spine and coiled tighter and tighter in his gut.

His skin felt hotter and hotter, and soon, he was jerking forward, burying his face into Soap's neck as it grew to be almost too much for him. He whined into Soap's neck, pressing desperate kisses there as he continued to fuck into his fist, the tip of his cock rutting up against Soap's shirt adding just an extra bit of pleasure.

"I miss you," he managed to choke out between his moans, "I miss you so much. Fuck I want- oh," he gave several open mouthed pants against Soap's shoulder. He could feel as one of Soap's hands moved away from the seat to grab at his hips, helping him continue to rock forward into his fist. He couldn't find it in himself to chide Soap at the moment, not when he felt an odd mix of anger, sadness, and overwhelming pleasure swarming together to create a cocktail of desire.

"I wish you would choose me over work," he managed to choke out after a moment, "I wish you'd pay attention to me."

There was no moment for Soap to respond. Roach was already too far gone, his mind fizzing out around the pleasure of his hand as his words devolved into nothing but chants of Soap's name. It only took him a few move moments before his body went completely tense, his cock jerking in his hand as pleasure washed over him and he came across Soap's stomach.

He collapsed fully against Soap's shoulder, a small whimper escaping his throat as his oversensative cock brushed against the other's now dirtied shirt. Soap helped him settle down fully into his lap. Neither of them said a word, even as Soap remained hard against Roach's thigh. They just sat there for several moments, wrapped up in the other.

Eventually, Roach pulled back and started to climb off of Soap and fix himself up. He tucked himself back into his pants and started to redo his belt

"Um," his voice cracked a bit, and he reached up to wipe at his face, already feeling as though tears were slipping down his face, "I'm gonna go back to the room. I'll see you when you get done?"

"Roach," Soap tugged him closer, reaching out to wrap around his waist and pull him closer. Roach placed his hands on Soap's shoulder and looked down at him, trying hard not to let too much show on his face. Soap met his eyes and held his gaze for a moment. "I am sorry."

"Soap," Roach started trying to tug himself away, but he was quickly pulled back by Soap.

"No," Soap tugged him back, "I really am sorry, okay? I didn't realize what I was doing. I didn't realize I was hurting you." He tucked Roach tight against him, holding him as close as he could. "It's not an excuse. I shouldn't have done it."

"It's fine," Roach muttered quietly. He brought a hand up to Soap's hair, petting through it for several moments as Soap laid a head on his chest. "I know work is important."

"Not as important as you," Soap whispered back. Roach felt himself go warm at the words, a fluttery feeling blossoming in his chest. Hearing those words made him feel good. It made him feel wanted. "I'll make this up to you."

Roach shook his head, a small smile tugging at the side of his mouth, "Soap you don't have to-"

"I'm serious," Soap stood from his seat and pressed Roach back against the desk. "I'll take the entire day off, and I'll make the plans." He leaned forward to press a short kiss to the corner of Roach's mouth, "I won't even bring my phone. It'll be a day about just me and you. I'll give you all the attention that you deserve."

He pressed forward again, capturing Roach's mouth against his own in a slow kiss. Roach couldn't help but relax into the feeling, letting Soap work his magic with his mouth. It was calming to just let Soap press into him like this. "I would like that," Roach muttered against his lips. "I would really like that."

Soap pulls back and grabs Roach's hand in his own. "C'mon, let's go get something to eat. I can finish this stuff up tomorrow."

He starts tugging Roach toward the door, but Roach yanks back on his hand, stopping him. When he turns back to Roach with an eyebrow raised, he's met with a slight grin from the other. "Maybe we should both go change first? And take care of some other things."

Roach motioned down at Soap's body, toward the cum still staining his shirt and the very clear hard on that he still had. There was a moment of silence as Soap looked down at himself before he gave a quiet, "Ah," and looked back up to meet Roach's eyes. He watched for a moment as Roach tried to hide his laughter behind his hands. He could feel amusement pull at him as he took stock of the situation. "This is your fault you know."

Soap took a step toward Roach, a grin on his face. Roach gave another laugh into his hands and took another step back, "It absolutely is not."

"It is," Soap chimed. He started toward Roach with a grin, and Roach gave a nervous squeak before rushing back around the desk with a laugh, "You've got to help me with this, you know?"

"No, no," Roach tried to dodge around Soap, but he was quickly hauled back toward Soap and pressed closer to him again. He gave a laugh, completely uncaring as the cum on Soap's shirt transferred to his own. It already had once before, so he wasn't too worried. Instead, his attention was focused on the hard cock he could feel pressed against him.

"C'mon," Soap nipped at his neck, a grin clear to hear in his voice, "didn't you want my attention? You've got all of it now, Bug."

Roach did always enjoy Soap's attention.

[theother456-stories]

“Banquet of Excess”

The Grand Hill Banquet Hall was a magnificent venue, with high ceilings adorned with sparkling chandeliers that reflected the warm glow of dozens of candles flickering on beautifully set tables. Each table was draped in crisp white linens and adorned with elegant floral centerpieces that added a pop of color to the room. The air was filled with the rich aromas of gourmet cuisine as chefs and staff moved swiftly about the kitchen, their white uniforms contrasting sharply against the colorful assortment of fresh ingredients laid out on stainless steel counters. Every detail had been meticulously planned, and the excitement in the air was palpable as anticipation for the evening’s festivities grew. It was sure to be a night to remember.

But just as the final touches were being made, disaster struck. A phone call from the event organizer stopped Luke, the head chef, in his tracks. The gala had been canceled due to an outbreak of food poisoning traced back to a supplier. Although none of the ingredients used for the event had been linked to the contamination, an abundance of caution forced the cancellation. Luke's heart sank—the culmination of countless hours of meticulous preparation was now going to waste.

Debate broke out as Luke informed the other chefs and staff about the situation.

“We obviously can’t serve it,” Luke muttered, rubbing his temples. “But we can’t just throw it away, either.”

“It would look terrible for the organization hosting the event if we dumped this much food,” Greg, the sous chef, chimed in.

A moment of silence passed as they all pondered how to handle the problem. Then, a quiet voice broke the tension.

Mike, the scrawny dishwasher who had been watching the situation unfold from the back of the room, spoke up. “What if someone just eats it?” he suggested with a timid smile.

Luke looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. “Eat it? There’s enough food here to feed a thousand people.”

“Exactly,” Mike grinned as the rest of the staff began to snicker. “But hey, rules are rules. We can’t just trash it. Someone’s gotta eat it, right? So why not draw straws?”

With a little too much enthusiasm, Mike grabbed a pack of skewers from the counter and broke them into uneven lengths.

“One straw, one unlucky person,” he said, holding the straws out to the group, surreptitiously keeping a firm grip on the shortest one. “Whoever draws the shortest has to eat it all.”

There was no turning back once the idea was out. “This has to be the dumbest idea,” Luke said, shaking his head, “but I don’t see anyone else coming up with a better one.” With eyes closed, they drew the straws one by one.

As Mike had planned, he was left holding the shortest straw. A wave of both horror and excitement washed over him. “Looks like it’s my lucky night,” he said, laughing nervously as the others cheered.

At only 130 pounds, Mike had always dreamed of being bigger, and although his suggestion was meant as a joke, he figured he’d get to stuff himself silly and enjoy the feeling of a full belly for a while—at least until everyone came to their senses and found a real solution. But deep down, even though he knew it was ridiculous, a spark had been lit. He was determined to see this through to the end.

Mike signaled to Luke to start. “Well, I guess appetizers are as good a place as any to begin.” Slowly, the kitchen staff brought out the food. Trays of shrimp cocktail and smoked salmon disappeared within minutes, washed down with glasses of champagne. Mike ate with such gusto that the staff couldn’t help but cheer him on. It felt like a game—stuffing himself with plates of artisanal cheese, pâté, and crab cakes, as if he were a bottomless pit.

After two hours, his normally slender stomach was visibly swollen, pressing against his shirt. Mike could feel the intense fullness, but the food, and the satisfaction of his bulging belly, was too good to stop.

“Oof, I feel like I’ve already gained 100 pounds,” Mike groaned, sweat dripping down his forehead as he tackled a rack of ribs.

“You’ve given it a good try, and the night’s still young,” Luke said, offering him an out. “We’ve got plenty of time to come up with a real solution.”

Yet Mike kept going, driven by his deep-seated desires of gluttony. He ate plate after plate, force-feeding himself steak, roasted vegetables, and pasta dishes drenched in cream sauce. His skin stretched taut over his expanding belly, his limbs grew sluggish and heavy, but still, he pressed on.

By midnight, Mike’s transformation began in earnest.

His body, swollen from hours of indulgence, was expanding far beyond what anyone had thought possible. His gut, which had earlier been bloated and tight, now surged outward at an alarming rate. His face flushed, beads of sweat forming as his clothes stretched to their limits, seams popping apart one by one. His shirt and pants, once loose, tore under the pressure, exposing his ballooning stomach, which pushed him further back into his chair. His arms thickened, soft fat spilling over the edges as if his body couldn’t contain itself any longer.

The kitchen staff, who had earlier been cheering and joking with Mike, had now fallen into a quiet reverence. They watched him with wide eyes—not with horror, but with an almost fascinated concern. It was as if they understood on some level that Mike wasn’t just doing this for a dare; he was pushing himself toward something he had long desired.

“Mike… you’re really going all out, aren’t you?” Greg, the sous chef, asked softly, standing beside him. There was no judgment in his tone, only a kind of quiet admiration.

Mike, breathing heavily, nodded, still reaching for more food. “I’ve… always wanted this,” he admitted between labored breaths. “To be… bigger. To just… see how far I could go.”

Luke, who had been pacing nervously earlier, stopped and looked at him. His face softened, realizing this wasn’t just a ridiculous challenge. “If this is what you want, we’ve got your back,” he said, his voice steady and understanding. “But… we’ll keep an eye on you, okay?”

Mike smiled, though his face was flushed and swollen. “Thanks, Luke. I’m… not ready to stop yet.”

It was clear now to everyone that this wasn’t just a wild stunt. Mike was exploring something deeper within himself, and even though it seemed extreme, the staff began to treat his efforts with a mix of support and respect. Slowly, they continued bringing him food, carefully monitoring him as he ate plate after plate of rich, gourmet dishes. Trays of seafood, pasta, and roasted meats disappeared under his ravenous appetite, his swollen belly pressing against the table, forcing the furniture to slide back.

“You look… amazing,” one of the younger chefs, Jacob, remarked quietly. He was watching him with wide eyes, not out of fear, but with a kind of awe. “I’ve never seen anyone… enjoy food this much.”

“Mike,” Jacob said softly, stepping closer. “You’ve really gone all in, huh?”

Mike, his breathing heavy, nodded in agreement as he reached for more food.

Jacob’s gaze softened. There had always been a connection between them—shared late-night shifts, quiet conversations over the kitchen counter—but tonight, watching Mike’s raw vulnerability unfold, that connection deepened. Jacob had known Mike wanted to push himself, but now he realized this was something Mike had long craved—a release, a chance to fully embrace his desires.

Luke, noticing the unspoken bond between the two, chimed in giving a supportive smile. “Looks like it’s your lucky night in more ways than one.”

Mike smiled, though his face was red and swollen. “Thanks, Luke,” he said, casting a glance toward Jacob, who had stepped even closer, standing beside him now.

Jacob stayed by Mike’s side as the night wore on, his hand occasionally brushing against Mike’s shoulder, his voice calm and encouraging. “You’re doing great,” he whispered, watching as Mike continued to gorge himself, his belly pressing harder against the table, forcing it back inch by inch. “I’ll be here with you until the end.”

By 2 AM, Mike had become enormous. His face had puffed up, cheeks flushed red, his neck disappearing beneath layers of fat. His belly had grown so large that it rested heavily on the floor, sprawling out beneath him like a massive dome. His breathing had grown labored, but he still smiled, his eyes often drifting to Jacob, who remained at his side, offering quiet words of support.

“Mike, you’re incredible,” Jacob murmured, his admiration evident. He pulled up a chair beside him, leaning close as Mike’s body continued to expand. “I’ve never seen anyone so committed to something like this.”

Mike chuckled, though the movement caused his bloated belly to jiggle. “It’s… everything I wanted. To feel this full, this big.”

Luke, ever the practical voice of the group, stepped forward, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “You’ve really gone above and beyond, Mike. Maybe it’s time to stop?”

Mike glanced at Jacob, whose hand lingered on his arm, their eyes locking. There was a quiet understanding between them, a connection that went beyond words. Jacob smiled softly. “It’s your choice,” he said quietly, his hand squeezing Mike’s. “But whatever you decide, I’m here.”

Mike’s heart swelled, not just from the food, but from the warmth of Jacob’s presence. “I’m not done yet,” he said with quiet determination. “I can handle it.”

The staff exchanged glances, their earlier amusement now replaced with a mixture of awe,respect, and maybe just a touch of exaustion. They had all come to understand that this was more than a stunt—this was something deeply personal for Mike. And Jacob, more than anyone, understood that. He remained by Mike’s side, guiding him gently through the feast.

By 3 AM, Mike had become a sight beyond imagination. His body, swollen to an impossible size, weighed over 3,000 pounds. His massive belly dominated the room, spreading out across the floor, pushing furniture aside. His arms and legs had disappeared beneath layers of thick fat, his neck buried in rolls of flesh. Every breath was a labored wheeze, but through it all, Mike smiled, the satisfied gleam in his eyes never fading.

Jacob, sitting close to him, gently touched Mike’s hand, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’ve done it, Mike. You’re a legend.”

Mike, his voice faint beneath the layers of fat, managed a smile. “Couldn’t have done it without you,” he whispered, his words meant only for Jacob. “Thank you… for staying.”

Jacob’s smile deepened, and he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Mike’s swollen cheek. “Always,” he said quietly.

By morning, the banquet hall was still. The once-grand feast had been devoured, leaving only empty trays and exhausted chefs. Mike, now an immovable mass of over 3,000 pounds, dominated the room, but he was at peace. His body, an enormous monument to his gluttonous desires, would be remembered, but it was the bond he had formed with Jacob that would endure even more.

Luke, Greg, and the others stood nearby, their expressions a mix of awe and respect. They had witnessed something extraordinary—Mike’s transformation, yes, but also the deep connection that had grown between him and Jacob.

As the sun rose, Mike glanced over at Jacob, who was still at his side, his hand resting gently on Mike’s. “Well,” Mike muttered with a weak chuckle, “at least we didn’t waste the food.”

Jacob laughed softly, his hand squeezing Mike’s. “You did something incredible, Mike,” he said warmly. “Better than any of us could have imagined.”

As the first rays of sunlight filtered into the banquet hall, Mike knew that his journey had been about more than just food. It had brought him closer to Jacob, cementing a bond that would last far beyond that unforgettable night.

“You’ve done it, Mike,” Greg said shouted with tired excitement, “You’ve really done it.”

Mike, his voice muffled beneath layers of fat, smiled back, managing a weak laugh. “I told you… I could.”

Mike, turning what little he could beneath the layers of fat, managed a smile. “Couldn’t have done it without you,” he whispered, his words meant only for Jacob. “Thank you… for staying.”

Jacob’s smile deepened, and he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Mike’s swollen cheek. “Always,” he said quietly.

By morning, the banquet hall was still. The once-grand feast had been devoured, leaving only empty trays and exhausted chefs. Mike, the now one-and-a-half-ton little dishwasher, dominated the room, but he was at peace. His body was an enormous monument to his gluttonous desires but it was the bond he had formed with Jacob that would endure even more.

Luke and the others stood around him, unsure of what to do next, but one thing was clear. They understood him now, in a way they hadn’t before. They had seen the depths of his desire and had supported him, even as he pushed himself beyond what anyone thought possible.

As the first rays of sunlight filtered into the banquet hall, Mike glanced at Jacob, who rested gently on his swollen belly. “Well,” Mike muttered with a weak chuckle, “at least we didn’t waste the food.”

Jacob laughed softly, squeezing Mike’s hand. “You did something incredible, Mike,” he said warmly. “Better than any of us could have imagined.”

And as the sun rose higher, the aftermath of an unforgettable night it was agreed: Mike had become a living legend, a man who had eaten the impossible.

[momentsbeforemass]

Love and doubt

Every age has its mistakes.

One of the big mistakes of our age? Black and white thinking. The false assumption that something, or someone, has to be either all one thing or all the other. As if there were only two, mutually exclusive options. And nothing else was even possible.

Sometimes it’s easy to spot. Like in toxic workplaces. And toxic families.

Either you’re either on the good list. And can do no wrong. Or you’re on the bad list. And can do no right.

What’s harder to spot is when you and I internalize that false assumption. And assume that we can only be one thing or the other.

One of the common ways this plays out in our thinking? With doubt. The notion that if we have any questions, any doubt at all, then we can’t believe in something. And therefore, must totally reject it.

The idea that we could love something, or someone, and still have doubts?

We don’t know what to do with that. We can say the words. But the idea? It is so foreign to us, that it just doesn’t stick.

Which is why we struggle to understand Mary Magdalene’s actions in today’s Gospel. She sees Jesus, she talks to Jesus, but she doesn’t recognize Jesus. Not at first.

This makes no sense to us. How could someone who loves Jesus not recognize Jesus?

If you’ve ever wanted to see how bizarre speculation about stuff in the Bible can get, today’s Gospel is an absolute goldmine. And it’s all because of our black and white thinking.

If you’re not locked into black and white thinking, the truth of the matter is actually pretty simple. And something that we all do, but don’t admit to ourselves that we do.

Mary Magdalene loved and doubted.

The truth is, Mary is just like us. We might like to pretend that we’re all one thing and not the other. But none of us really are that way. All of us are a mixed bag.

This was common knowledge in the early centuries of the Church. Speaking about Mary Magdalene, Pope Gregory the Great put it this way,

“Because she loved and doubted, she saw Him and did not recognize Him. Her doubt prevented her from knowing Him, and her love revealed Him to her.”

Nowhere does it say that Jesus removed all of Mary Magdalene’s doubts. Or that she had perfect faith. Mary Magdalene loved and doubted.

You want to know why, in the end, Mary Magdalene was able to recognize Jesus?

Because she didn’t let her doubts run away with her. She didn’t fall for the nonsense that one drop of doubt somehow cancels an ocean of love.

Mary Magdalene kept on loving, even though she doubted. And in the end, it was that love, in the face of doubt, that carried her to Jesus.

Mary Magdalene’s lesson for us is something that you and I cannot hear enough in this age of black and white thinking.

You can love and doubt.

God won’t love you any less.

It’s okay to doubt. But don’t let it keep you from loving God.

Today’s Readings

[rebouks]

Previous | Next

Transcript:

Ivan: C’mon Dourpuss, it’s just you n’ me now-… Bruno: I don’t want to talk about it. Ivan: Pfft.. it’s non-negotiable, same as you being a good person.

Bruno: Tch. Ivan: I ain’t lettin’ you beat yourself up about the past forever n’ ever. Bruno: [sighs] There’s so much that I regret though.

Ivan: Listen.. y’care about those closest to ya, y’good with kids n’ animals, y’help people who’re goin’ through what you’ve been through, even though y’not much of a people person-.. y’care about me, more than anyone else ever has. Bruno: None of that cancels out the things I’ve done.

Ivan: I ain’t sayin’ it cancels anythin’ out, shit ain’t as black n’ white as that.. y’know? No singular choice makes someone bad; it’s everythin’ mashed together, right? My Pa was a good example; complete asshole, couldn’t raise a kid for shit-.. but he wasn’t all bad, he just got lost n’ never found his way again. That’s why I still loved him, took care of him n’ stuff.

Ivan: [sighs] Would y’rather turn yourself in, risk goin’ back t’prison? Bruno: No, but it’d be nice to get it all off my chest-.. like you said. Ivan: So, do it…

Bruno: I hate how easy it was. Ivan: Yeah? Bruno: Like in a film? The good guy stands there; hands shaking, agonising over pulling the trigger-.. but I just fucking did it.

Ivan: Why? Bruno: One was an accident, but the other-.. I knew who he was, what he was like; he was an abusive rapis-… Ivan: Okay, so the world’s better off without him.

Bruno: Nothing gives us the right to take away someone’s life like that. Ivan: Leah killed Arturo, was she a bad person? Bruno: [pauses] No.

Ivan: What about war veterans n’ stuff? Bet they’ve killed a bunch o’ folk, some get medals for it an’ all. Bruno: How the hell is that comparable? Ivan: They’re just followin’ orders, right? Who’s t’say I wouldn’t have ended up killin’ someone if I stuck with the Navy?

Bruno: You’re making this difficult on purpose. Ivan: Yeah, ‘cause I’m challengin’ your logic. Bruno: You’re biased, it doesn’t count.

Ivan: Okay, I don’t much care for Wyatt, but I wouldn’t have judged him if he shot Arturo-.. hell, I would’a choked the shit outta him if he’d actually shot you… Maybe we’re more violent than some, but our intentions are good. Bruno: I still feel guilty about Silas…

Ivan: I know. Bruno: I should’ve made sure he got away safely. Ivan: Why didn’t you?

Bruno: [sighs] I was still mad at him; annoyed with myself for letting him walk all over me, again… So, I brushed him off n’ said staying any longer would be dangerous-.. which it was, but I was happier to spend the night with you n’ Oscar. Ivan: It was his decision not t’leave sooner, wasn’t it? I don’t want you blamin’ yourself anymore.

Bruno: [sighs defeatedly] Alright. Ivan: You’re a package deal, B; I love you and your past, okay? Bruno: [nods] I love you too…

[alexjcrowley]

Hey I just want to know something: am I the stupidest person on the planet or the f1 fandom is built differently?

Everytime I go on a social media to look up f1 content I see cute/horny (let's be honest) edits and everybody calling the drivers pookie or making memes. And that's alright, I guess.

I most definitely know that a bunch of (mostly white) men in a very competitive male-dominated sport rooted more than many others in capitalism are probably going to have scandals around them. I am not that dumb. I also know that because probably none of them is scandal-free and people who get crushes/hyperfixation on them just learn to live with them, but I didn't think they just...ignored them? Swept them under the rug? Let me explain.

When I so much as stumble on a TikTok with a song by The 1975 or McCafferty- or hell even Lovejoy recently- I see comments flooding with "bUt DoN't YoU kNoW tHeY'rE pRoBlEmAtIC?". Same happened with content about cinema or books. And on Tumblr happens less but still happens. As soon as you mention something that has ties with sexism, racism, homophobia, etc. people will soon point it out to you. Maybe because they're some of those people with the obsession of only consuming "morally pure" content, maybe they genuinely want to inform you, maybe they fucking hate that song/book/movie and want to give YOU a reason to dislike it.

But can someone tell me if I'm fucking dumb and I managed to stumble in the wrong part of instagram/tumblr/TikTok or NOBODY fucking talks about the shit some drivers have done? Because I am stumbling on a LOT of shit done by drivers I really liked lately even though I have been interested in F1 for a while now. Not too long, but enough that I think I would have heard some stuff.

Like, if I spent like 6 months on the hashtag of Guy Who Drives, why am I now finding out that they said something really discriminatory? I am just confused, I simply thought it would have popped out sooner, but apparently it was buried under 500+ posts about their abs? Like what?

I get that anyway it's not like you can cancel a driver, no matter what shit they say they'll probably still going to be racing the next weekend, but why people don't talk about it? Was my socials' fault for showing me horny posts everytime I simply looked up the name of a guy or do people don't talk about this stuff in the f1 community because "what are you gonna do anyway"?

I am leaning towards the second option because there are a few things that happened while I was already watching f1 (not in order: Lando's comments about, Trump, Hornergate, most drivers saying Hornergate was just noise) and at first people were talking about it but then they just...stopped? Like, I don't know, personally the words of disenterest many drivers expressed about Hornergate made me change my opinion about them at least a little and people seemed so outraged at first but now...it's like it never happened. Everybody back thirsting on main for Ricciardo, Norris, etc.

Genuine question, is the general response of the f1 community to these behaviours "forgive and forget in time of the next gp"? Am I missing something? I don't think they should be crucified but why I have not seen more people talking about this stuff? The "serious sport bunch" seems to be uninterested in "gossip" or whatever happens outsid the tracks, the good old fashioned fandom is writing fanfiction/making edits/funny posts, who keeps tracks of this stuff?

I have never been interested in a sport before. In the artistic world (cinema, literature, etc.) some scandals can get you out of a job and a long lasting hatred from the community. In motorsports, because the success of a driver does not depend from his fans' engagement but can be "objectively proved" by results and victories, do people just...make peace with the fact that some athletes are pieces of shit?

I want to specify it one more time, I am NOT saying LET'S CANCEL ALL THE DRIVERS AND BOO THEM BECAUSE THEY HAVE DONE SOMETHING QRONG AT SOME POINT, I am asking:

how do you deal when an athlete you cheer for does something really fucked up, and you know other athletes in the same field are no saints?

[thisisyourprincipalspeaking]

I think we're giving Chris too much credit when it comes to social justice and being an ally to the point thinking that he wouldn't actually date or marry someone like her is absurd. I think a lot of his social justice was/is performative. Do I think he's a racist, no but he has been tone deaf in the past and he has always been fine with problematic people around him. His stylist is problematic af. Also look at where he's from and who he hangs out with. Boston/MA is one of the most racists places outside of the south. How many POC are in his friends group, friends that he actually sees often? Taking those things into account he's probably heard ignorant or tone deaf shit from his own friends and never spoken up. So would he care about his wife's history? He's surrounded by white upper class people he's never truly understood equality, justice because he hasnt taken time to. The man has privilege written all over him. He has said some problematic stuff himself and has also participated in problematic stuff including his political website. Yeah none of it was outright racist but it was ignorant and tone deaf. There's no room for ignorance in today's world when we can easily research and learn before we start speaking.

Lets not forget how he was going to do a whole project about the middle east for ASP but didn't include any middle eastern person, instead i had white men who are/were responsible for most of problems in the middle east. and then the only reason he cancelled it was because of the backlash. The man would have continued with it had there been no backlash not realizing the ignorance of it all. Instead of apologizing for the lack of middle eastern voices he ignored it. The blame isn't solely on him but the team also but he is a founder so he would have more say in what is presented.

There's plenty more ignorant things he has done and used Dodger to brush it under the rug. The man has never taken accountability for anything. So do I think he really cares about her or her friends racism, fatphobic comments, No I dont think he does. Trump was an outlier for him. How much has he fought since then? There have been political leaders just as bad as Trump and he hasn't said anything. I will not accept him having the website and having to be neutral as the reason why. That's one of the reasons why that website is problematic. This both sides BS is stupid when there are people in elected offices who are outright racist, sexist, homophobic, and classist. He's giving some of these another platform to speak. Plus this website is separate from him as an individual, he should be now more than ever before, more involved in calling out racist politicians and statements they that are not facts. All of the statements present on ASP are factual correct yet they dont call out the leaders nor do they correct later on. There's a reason why the site isn't bigger. At the end of the day he knows most of these issues arent going to affect him so he doesn't have fight as hard against it just like most white men.

I think if this is real, then he is with someone who very closely resembles other people in his life and what he knows. I really dont think she's all that different from what he's used to, which also should make people really think about his actual life and what he knows not what he presents.

i agree with most of your statements, anon. i don't think he makes as many of the regular day-to-day decisions regarding asp at this point. i'm sure he did in the very early days while building the hype and trying to get people interested, excited, and willing to participate. but with as much as it has going on and as busy as he's been, there are others making these decisions. which would again be a situation where he's getting too much credit 😉

[breannastewart]

i’m worried she’ll get cancelled for this like i know she’s a big hp but she can’t do that in 2024…

alright, I’m gonna be 100% real with all of you when I say all of this, and I am saying this as someone who was directly targeted by JK’s comments when they started publicly years ago: this whole notion of cancel culture, is complete bullshit, and does nothing productive for the people you’re supposedly canceling all these people over for. I haven’t touched the books since the first tweet got posted years back, and I would literally curl up under the covers and stay up for hours reading them as a kid when I discovered them (very late compared to others, but still) and when she went out and did all that, it was the first time I felt truly hurt by a famous person. however, I still watch the movies after Dan Rad’s statement. and ultimately decided not her, nor anyone gets to decide how I react or interact with any of it. you have no idea how exhausting it is to face this stuff day in and day out, and knowing there are people in power in the country I live in who would love to strip every right and safety from me and others with the single stroke of a pen. that scares me more than her dumbass twitter fingers right now or whether or not I care if the online warriors “advocating” for us care if I watch the movies at the same time. I have to pick my battles at this point for my own mental healthy and energy. if you want to cancel me for still watching the movies, then by all means. if people want to cancel Stewie for this, then by all means. the people who most likely will, are just teenagers who think that will save people like me, or whatever cause it is we’re canceling people for not being perfect about. it was the same nonsense the new teenagers in the fandom pulled with sue when one tweeted about her being a “raging z*onist” and claimed she signed this or that and blah blah blah, when it took me a couple google searches to debunk that as false. it’s literally that easy to think for yourself. these people are so quick to jump the gun because if they don’t look the most perfect online to oomfies then they might get canceled too. the world is not that black or white.

you can be like oh that’s disappointing, or oh that’s not the “perfect” response to something. but at the end of the day, literally none of us are gonna be perfect. if you wanna view the world this way constantly worrying about will I get canceled or omg my fave might get canceled :( then we all might as well stop engaging with any form of anything because none of it is going to be perfect. and if I’m being perfectly honest? it wouldn’t be a total loss if that demographic decides they can no longer “stan” her because it’s not like they actually care about any of these causes beyond making sure their online persona looks good and they can post a bunch of smut instead. these people drop who they stan for every other day when they find out one did this or that. I really don’t care if they decide she’s canceled. am I gonna personally post anything about the shoes? nah. am I gonna cancel and unstan her over it? nah. those people will just come crawling back to her eventually anyway because like I said, it’s not about caring about the cause, it’s just making sure you look like you care enough until it all blows over.

and I have friends who are also trans who don’t agree with me, and I don’t agree on every point they have either, and we’ve talked about it in depth and detail, literally did it today when stewie posted the shoes. but we don’t love or understand each other any less. I’d encourage people to have those conversations with people like us rather than making sure they scream the loudest that so and so is now canceled. at least that’s actually productive.

[tboyfrnkiero]

spooky-demolition-lover -> faggy-euronymous -> tmascfrnkiero -> tboyfrnkiero

my name n pronouns fluctuate A LOT currently its bishop + judas + dionysus + ethan n it/its + he/him my pronouns.page is @/faggy.tragician (its not letting me link waahhhh) if u want a more exhaustive/general name + pronouns list (also ill probably update that 1st when it changes)

im a femme genderqueer fagdyke n a white northern/western european secular jew w a (kinda??) mixed religious upbringing (my dads christian n my moms jewish) ^-^

tag stuff: i only tw for image/video-based stuff, n i format it like "___ warning" (ex: flashing warning) (i have shit memory so unless theres an image/video there to remind me that "hey theres smth triggering here" i wont remember it, sorry). my yapping tag is #the bat speaks. if you have the money, check out my #palestine fundraiser tag or #sudan fundraiser tag and donate some money to some1 there! vampire tag: #🦇, music tag: #📼, cannibalism/body parts/skeletons/stuff in that vein (pun intended :3) tag: #🫀 (ed im sorry for stealing these), art tag: #🎨, vent tag (will include vent posts both by me n other ppl): #🥀

i have 1 other blog: @tboyfrnkiero-music-listening (blog where ill post what im listening to when i feel like it)

this blog is for everything. also plz send asks i <3 asks!!

if u wanna cancel some random mentally ill queer teenager here u go ^-^ (sry this is so long it turns out im a very opinionated faggot):

🖤 transmisandry is real n important to talk abt (n so is transmisogyny, exorsexism, intersexism, n transmultiphobia)

🖤 all mentally ill ppl deserve help if we want it. yes this includes the "scary" ones. ppl w pds, addicts, psychotic ppl. this includes psycho/sociopaths. ALL mentally ill ppl. n if a mentally ill person doesnt want help we still deserve basic respect

🖤 all radfems should fuck off n die. even the trans "inclusive" (lmao) ones

🖤 mainstream feminism sucks n doesnt pay attention to poc, trans ppl, intersex ppl, n disabled ppl enough. yall gotta stop focusing on white perisex cis abled women

🖤 live and let live, cringe culture fucking sucks

🖤 "leftists" being like "mental health matters!" but not being able to handle ppl w anything except for seasonal depression n mild anxiety is a genuine problem

🖤 having homicide fantasies doesnt make u a bad person. even if theyre not intrusive thoughts n u wanna have them

🖤 no kink/fetish is morally bad (none of them. not even that rly fucked up 1 u js thought of). no kink/fetish "belongs" to a group of ppl. making ur own ver of a kink/fetish isnt "copying"

🖤 "contradicting" labels r amazing n very fun to have (ex: afab transfem, amab transmasc, lesboy, gaygirl, lesgay)

🖤 it/its arent inherently dehumanizing n refusing to call some1 who uses it/its it is transphobic

🖤 neopronouns n xenogenders r amazing n very fun to have

🖤 fakeclaimers should die

🖤 liking a piece of media doesnt mean you agree w the creator(s) abt everything

🖤 a (cis) man liking feminine things doesnt mean theyre a (trans) woman n a (cis) woman liking masculine things doesnt mean theyre a (trans) man. thats js gender stereotypes w trans colors painted onto it

🖤 intersex ppl talking abt their issues arent transphobic or terfs oh my fucking god

🖤 proship but the actual meaning n not what antis think it means. i dont believe ppl should b harassed for ships (esp considering a lot of comshippers r traumatized teens. they need mental help not online harassment campaigns)

🖤 free palestine 🇵🇸 free sudan 🇸🇩 free congo 🇨🇩 free haiti 🇭🇹

🖤 antisemitism sucks n theres unfortunately a lot of it in the white goyishe pro-palestine movement (im not saying the movement is inherently antisemitic, its not, js that a lot of white goyishe ppl in the movement R antisemitic (which i personally believe can be fixed!))

🖤 callout culture is 👎

🖤 purity culture is 👎

🖤 if u saw some1 shoplift no u didnt (unless theyre a cop)

🖤 every1 belongs at pride (except for cops)

i have an airbuds the @ is @batraybat the display name is 🦇 ray 🦇 n the pfp is the pic of gee under here add me on there if u wanna stalk my music listening my spotify has the same pfp n the name is also 🦇 ray 🦇 also heres my discord talk to me plz

bands/artists i have a spotify playlist dedicated to: leathermøuth, pencey prep

goodbye heres the picture of gerard way :3

[leviathanlazarus]

Reaching for Stardust - Part III

Read Looking for Space here / RFS on wattpad / Playlist

Word Count: ~3000

Warnings: none

Domestic bliss with Josh is all I want <3

---

I had enough of a hangover the next day to almost cancel on my sister. Painting walls seemed like a really awful way to nurse my brain and body, but Josh was actually so insistent we still help out that I bucked up with some extra coffee and a Gatorade from the gas station and we were off, on the road again with Josh behind the wheel again. A couple stubborn pieces of glitter were stuck to his cheekbone and catching the sunlight as we drove, then my memory of the previous night was jogged even more at the sight of the violet-colored hickey on his neck.

“Shit,” I said upon noticing it, reaching over to touch as if I could make it disappear. “Sorry.”

Josh swatted my hand away. “Don’t be sorry, darling. You know how much I love it when you do that.”

I took his hand and held it as long as I could, until he needed both to make a sharp turn. “I love that you let me do it.”

“I love you.”

I smiled, leaning back against the seat and turning my head to look at him again. “I love you, too,” I said, and truer words really had never been spoken. 

Kirsti had already started by the time we got to her house, dressed in paint-smeared jeans and an old Detroit Tigers t-shirt and barefoot, holding a paint roller in her hand when she opened the door. “I won’t hug you,” she said, stepping back to let us in. “For obvious reasons. But I’m really glad you’re here. I could do it all myself but, wow, it’s taking a lot of time in between layers, y’know? At least now we can get more base coats done together.”

I was still a little groggy, unprepared for her bustling energy, but my eyes came to full alertness as I stepped completely inside the mudroom and could peer into the adjoining dining room and the living room on either side. “Wow,” I remarked, taken aback by how much progress she’d made making this place look like a real home. Like her home. I drifted into the living room, the chat between her and Josh disappearing into the background as I approached the big, black leather chair that had once been in our grandfather’s study. I knew she had it. I hadn’t been able to take it myself–there wasn’t enough room in mine and Josh’s apartment. But seeing it there still shook something inside me up and I couldn’t help but make a remark on it that came out with more envy than I’d intended. 

Kirsti was behind me then, and she ran the thankfully dry paint roller over my back. “Hey. You know a bunch of their other stuff is in storage, right? I won’t fight you for any of it. Except that painting grandma has. You know the one, with the birch trees.”

“Fine,” I resigned, cheeks hot. “I just wish we had the space for it all now.”

“You will.”

Josh appeared at my side then, holding a can of paint. “Are we doing one room each?”

“I gotta finish the kitchen today,” Kirsti said. “I spared you guys that. I’d really like to get the two bedrooms done, too.”

“Fancy living,” Josh said, stepping around, peeking at everything, and I found myself questioning again why he didn’t want to buy a house as badly as I did.

Regardless, Josh and I went upstairs to paint the bedrooms. Kirsti wanted the east-facing one painted a lavender so soft it was almost white and the other one that had windows to the west a subdued ochre. Josh took that one after he set up the spare portable speaker Kirsti had loaned us in the hallway, situated right in the middle, and I started on the east side. The bedrooms weren’t that much bigger than our own at home in our apartment, but big enough to notice. Beyond that, it was just the freedom of space and space to OWN that got me. But while I’d been browsing houses, Josh had apparently been browsing wedding rings and whatever else, which seemed like the most ridiculous contradiction ever. 

Through each rolling motion, looking over the smooth tracks of pale lavender, I kept imagining what my–our–dream house would look like. I’d seen many and none had ever stuck out as being the dream home, one that I couldn’t live without. But then again, how could any of them if Josh wasn’t completely on board with finding one? I could picture us in a shady bungalow surrounded by tons of greenery and flowers, tucked back on some cul-de-sac loop; I could also see more of a fixer-upper situation, like a rustic cabin on a couple of wooded acres that we could tend and build together; even something simpler, like a quaint ranch in the suburbs. I could see us anywhere, really, because whatever we got would be our own and we could make it exactly as we wanted. 

“I really don’t think this needs more than one layer,” Josh called out over the music, so I set my roller down into the tray and crossed through the hall to his side. Just like in the bedroom I was working on–Kirsti’s bedroom–the furniture was pushed to the center of the room and Josh was stepping back against the dresser, inspecting the walls.

“I don’t think so either,” I agreed. The warm ochre color was opaque already and catching the light coming through the open windows, the sun and breeze rolling through the screens. “She’ll check it out though, I’m sure.” I leaned back against the dresser too, next to Josh, and sighed. 

“Tired of painting already?” he asked, jostling my shoulder with his hand.

“Just thinking about how after this, we’re gonna go back to our boring white walls.”

“Oh, come on. Not for long,” Josh said, slinging his arm around me. “Let’s set a date.”

“For what? A house or marriage?”

“Both. Preferably marriage first.” 

“We’re not even engaged.”

Josh whirled around, positioning himself in front of me. “Want me to propose right now?”

I laughed, pushing him away. “No! That’d be so lame,” I said, and he grabbed my wrists and brought himself in close again, pressing his lips to mine for a brief moment. In the darkness behind my closed eyes, I saw the starry skies we’d both gazed upon together night after night. 

“Don’t worry, love,” Josh said, dark eyes like the umber earth beneath those skies. “I know exactly where I’m going to do it. It’s just a matter of time.” 

I looped my arms around his neck. “I’m sure. But I’m sure I’ll still be surprised.” I reached up to touch his hair, the long curls that still remained past the shaved sides. “So since you picked out the ring, can I pick out the house?” 

“Absolutely,” Josh told me, but something in his face changed just slightly, almost imperceptible, and I couldn’t read him clearly anymore. “We just have to figure out where that’ll be.”

“Here, obviously,” I said, punctuated with a helpless, nervous chuckle. “Where else?” 

Josh kissed my forehead then turned back to the walls, grabbing the paint roller. “Well, the world is our oyster, you know. We should keep our options open.”

I was tempted to pry into that thought. I opened my mouth again to do just that, but Kirsti’s footsteps ascended on the stairs and she popped in, hands on her hips as she looked over Josh’s work. 

“Looks good,” she said. “Yeah, I think this room only needs one layer. What about the other one?”

I felt cheated, even somewhat slighted, by Josh’s lack of transparency. But the moment was gone and that told me this wasn’t the time or place, so my sister and I drifted into her little world of pale lavender and faded sunlight instead.

—

For days I let it go. Work was always a distraction to a certain extent but more and more I found myself getting not lost in the research of other places because it was all a fantasy, but because it was a worry. Did Josh really want to maybe move somewhere else entirely? The only place that seemed reasonable to me was Detroit but, really, even with the boys being there, I didn’t think I truly wanted to live there. And anyway, if that was a place Josh was thinking of, I knew he’d come right out and say it. 

In an effort not to fixate on it any longer, I poured myself into birthday plans for Josh and Jake, at least until I learned that Jake, Sam and Danny would be out of town, playing another show, that whole weekend. That defeated me and I sat, deflated at my desk in front of my open laptop, all the potential plans seemingly moot now. It was the first birthday since I’d joined the clan that we’d all be apart. 

“Nothing wrong with just the two of us,” Josh said, coming up behind me. It was the next Friday and his day of teaching had ended at a reasonable hour, leaving both of us with a wide open evening and night, but I didn’t feel like doing our usual. Nothing seemed appetizing and I couldn’t wrap my head around a movie. 

I was stuck on too many things and yet nothing all at once. It really didn't matter that we’d all be apart for Josh and Jake’s birthday, but it felt like it mattered. It bothered me that Josh seemed to be unfazed, actually–why should I be the only one bummed about it? I shut my laptop and swiveled around in my chair, looking up at him: “I know. But it’s not gonna be the same.”

“The only thing I’m not looking forward to is Jake not being there for dinner with our parents,” Josh told me, taking a seat in the green faux-suede chair I’d sourced from Facebook marketplace across from me. It wasn’t nearly as well-built or as cool as my grandfather’s old chair. “I think they’re struggling with him being away from home so often more than we are. Sam too, of course.” With a little laugh, he added, “They might even miss Sam more than Jake.” 

“He’s easy to miss when you get so used to chaos.” 

Josh sighed, tilting his head back. “Maybe we should just become their roadies. I mean, what the hell–why not? We could be nomads.”

Even though it was silly, not totally serious talk, I could still see it. “Maybe. But then that would mean you got that master’s degree for nothing.” 

“Not necessarily. I could shoot their music videos.”

“That would be something,” I mused, looking over Josh’s toned down attire he wore to teach his classes. His longer academic journey hadn’t been easy–in fact, I’d never seen him so stressed out and there were times when I thought it might have been better for him just to drop it. I’d never imagined him working so behind the scenes, teaching people in such an ordinary way–working with film, yes, following his dream, of course. But he loved it, apparently. Loved the constant interaction with eager students, loved working with and learning newer and better equipment, loved seeing other people’s work and still having the time to do his own. His eccentricities followed him wherever he went. That was for sure. 

Josh was quiet when he turned his head, looking out the window at another blessed sky we had–cloudless, it was nothing but clear blue beyond the trees. Without turning back to look at me, he said, “Actually, I kind of anticipated this.”

“Anticipated what?”

“Jake–all of them–being gone. So I have a surprise,” Josh told me, looking at me again but without the glee and unraveling joy most people had to struggle to contain when they were revealing a surprise. “I got us plane tickets.”

I felt my brows furrow, face tightening. “Plane tickets to where?” 

“Savannah. Georgia,” Josh said, face brightening, cheeks turning pink. “I thought it’d be fun–a new place, new sights, new everything. I really could use a change of scenery and I know you could, too.” 

“Oh,” was all I managed to say at first, looking past Josh, taken aback by this abrupt reveal and how much planning must have gone into it and how none of it had involved me. When I realized that, I looked right at him, my words coming out in a way that sounded more suspicious than I wanted to let on: “I thought surprises were FOR whoever was having the birthday.”

“Traditionally, maybe. Have I ever been a man of tradition?”

“Not especially.”

“Exactly, darling.” Josh got up and approached me then, sitting down on the floor in front of me, his hands on my knees. “You’ve got all that PTO to use. I figured getting two days off, since it’ll be a Friday through Monday trip, wouldn’t be hard. I already got the Airbnb. Everything’s all set. Everything to make it the best birthday trip ever.”

“If you’d told me where you wanted to go, I could’ve planned it,” I said, not angry, not upset, just a little bewildered still. “I feel bad you had to do everything.” 

Josh waved that statement away. “Don’t feel bad. You’ve been frustrated with work lately and I know you’ve just been wishing to get away. So why don’t we? A little spontaneity never hurt anyone.”

“That’s so not true,” I replied, though I felt a smile making its way over my lips. Secretive or not, the more this idea sank into my mind, the more I was on board with it. Instead of wistfully pouring over pictures and articles on different places, Josh and I could really BE in one again. “But point taken. I’ll email my supervisor right now.” When I swiveled back around, I felt Josh standing behind me, his chin resting on top of my head and then his arms wrapped around me.

“Spectacular,” he commented, his soft graveled voice drifting into my ears. “The only thing that’s not spectacular about this is how early our flight leaves.”

I paused my typing. “How early?”

“5:40. Morning time.” 

I groaned. “Oh, god. Who’s gonna drive us?”

“My dad already volunteered.”

“Oh, so you told your parents about this trip first?” I shook my head, chuckling. “So rude, Josh.”

“Hey!” Josh chirped, bringing his face down to my shoulder, speaking against my neck. “I needed to secure a ride. And now we have one. Victory, darling.”

I giggled when his curls tickled my skin. “Victory indeed.” 

Whatever trepidation and suspicion I had initially felt was mostly gone after that conversation. I actually felt some admiration for Josh’s own determination–he knew where he wanted to go and that I’d want to go there too, seeing as how I’d pretty much go anywhere at this point, and took care of all the logistics to get it done to spare me some stress. I figured, as he did too, it would help to be somewhere else for his birthday anyway. It’d get our minds off being away from the boys again. Or rather, the boys being away from us. The only thing I couldn’t quite figure out completely was the place itself. As happy as I was to go to Savannah for the first time, it seemed so random. Josh had never really expressed much interest in going down south apart from maybe Nashville. So why wouldn’t we go there? Savannah, as far as I could tell from the internet, wasn’t even much of a sizable city. It was historic and beautiful looking, but didn’t appear to have the pizazz and glamor Josh often sought out. Nor was it wilderness, it wasn’t one of the state and national parks we both had on our lists. It felt obscure even with all of its appeal.

I woke up abruptly in the middle of the night, the twilight dark and gleaming outside. Josh was opposed to blackout curtains, always wanting the stars and moon to be able to shine light into our bedroom–the slight silver sheen from beyond the wispy blue curtains, the white blinds that came with the apartment and the windows laid slick over his skin when I looked at him. He was still sound asleep, face smushed into his pillow, lips parted. I could even see a spot of drool on the pillowcase. For such a vibrant extrovert in waking life, Josh was an exceptionally quiet and still sleeper–he didn’t snore, didn’t talk in his sleep, didn’t even really move much. 

I was able to easily slip out of bed and find my way in the dark hallway, through the small spaces beyond and out onto the balcony. A chill rippled through me from the brisk air and I stood there, hands on the banister, looking up at the waning moon. A layer of clouds masked the stars momentarily then passed, bringing them to light, and I felt anxiety pass through my chest in turn, which felt like a betrayal. Normally the night sky soothed any woes I had. The rapid turn of my heartbeat and tightness in my chest propelled me into full alertness. Too much alertness–I knew I wouldn’t be getting back to sleep anytime soon, but I didn’t want to stay awake in that state. I didn’t want to pontificate over that secrecy again or WHY Josh had chosen Savannah of all places. I didn’t want to think any longer about his aversion to creating a real home together. I didn’t want to bother myself with his endless desire to bring our names together before anything else. 

Unfortunately, no answer came from the moon or the stars. I let the thoughts roll through my brain one after the other and tried not to cling to any of them, instead staying focused on the night sky, inhaling cool air, finally bringing myself to sit down and bask in it more so than struggle through it. 

---

Tagging no one because RIP the 2018-2021 fandom LOL please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in this series or any other of my fics!

[hellsbellschime]

Hello, here to give you some context about the people attacking you: Lina is a person who is obsessed with Rhaegar x Lyanna, has been around the fandom for many years and is known to always start fights with every corner of the fandom, especially with people who don't think Rhaegar is a saint who did nothing wrong ever. Went as far to call Rhaegar a ephebophile instead of a p*dophile, as if that somehow makes it okay. Regarding her IRL opinions, she's very weird about Putin and issues regarding POC, which is often expressed through her opinions about fictional characters/races/families and has even expressed transphobic opinions. I've encountered her on twitter countless times; I'm neither pro-team Green or pro-team Black, yet she has been so awful and hateful that she's been called out numerous of times and most people know they should avoid her, both on twitter and tumblr. Brideoffires previously known as yendany has also been cancelled on tumblr before, I remember them from my old political tumblr days, they were called out as being anti black, racist, fetishiser of gay men and a weirdo overall. These people, along with the rest of "targnation" have been around the fandom for a long time, they will attack anyone they disagree with, including fellow Dany and Targaryen fans who don't "stan" Daenerys hard enough to their liking. If they don't like you, it means you're doing something right. I've always liked Daenerys, as a POC myself I've had issues with how racist her storyline is written, which has nothing to do with Daenerys, but the writer himself - and I got attacked for it and accused of being a "white bitch" which just puts me off the character and fandom and is extremely toxic and deranged. "Targnation" is known for being awful, attacking actors, being extremely racist and sexist and borderline transphobic, considering their treatment of Emma D'arcy when the HOTD casting was announced. This attack on you isn't because those people care about social justice, they've just branded you as a "Dany anti" and because they can't give a proper response to your metas and videos, they'd rather attack your personality and accuse of you things that aren't true, as they often do. All of this goes beyond fiction; war, racism, xenophobia, antisemitism is so much more important than "stan wars". It's not something you get to use as a "gotcha moment" because you disagree over fiction. It's absolutely disgusting. This fandom disappoints me every day. Anyway, keep being you, keep sharing your opinions, keep learning and growing. You're a gem in this fandom of awfulness, you're so well-spoken and smart and I hope you don't let these people get to you with their harassment and bullying because they've chased away a huge part of the fandom already. Sending love <3

Oh boy, well hello my fellow white bitch! And yeah, I don't know who this is nor do I really want to find out given what's been going on, but none of this is particularly shocking to hear. Obviously there are unhinged stans in every fandom, but it sucks when they make everything suck for everyone else. And thanks for the support but no one needs to worry about me, I survived the fucking Klaroline fandom so some kooks I've never heard of going nuclear on me is fairly old hat. It generally takes a lot for me to internalize this kind of fuckery and the only thing that actually bothers me is being misrepresented, and I feel like I made myself clear so at least people can form their opinions of me based on reality rather than the unhinged rantings of people who don't know me and who I don't know. Ultimately however people act is on me and not them, and stuff like this really is analogous to someone screaming "bitch" out of their car window as they drive by so it is not something I take personally, it is just weird because, due to the nature of social media, doing that can actually lead to some other people being like "wait what maybe they're right?"

[tillman]

how does zato feel to play across all the GG titles? like what are the differences you think between strive/xrd/xx in his gameplan?

sorry this ask is like a month old now but i kept pushing it off cus i dont play enough strive to have the most solid grasp. and for the record im not like amazing at fighting games this could all be against how hes actually meant to played but in my experience its sooomething like this. long post. i love thinking about this stuff.

+r specifically is my absolute favorite rendition of the character. i think venom overall is still my favorite character in all of fighting games but plussy eddie comes real fucking close.

xrd and +r eddie/zato feel really similar, how specifically they want to run their gambit is slightly different (+r eddie has a lot more mix potential with numerous unblockables and really fun combos that can last for ages if youre dexterous enough while xrd zato wants to focus more on the bnb, keeping the corner on lock, and working around how kinda weird they made little eddies moves). it helps vice summon in +r is basically exactly summon in xrd, so having the overlap of specific things you can do is really helpful for looping them together. i also really like the unique things each one has! great white isnt GOOD persay but its one of xrds most fun moves. and puddle is just. man . i love puddle. <- average eddie player sentence. find an eddie player who isnt hopelessly obsessed with puddle. you cant.

strive zato is the blacksheep and its taken me a while to figure out why i feel so differently about him than xrd. they feel pretty similar (only one set of summon moves, same kinda corner pressure you want to be running, etc etc etc) but i think specifically because of how different little eddies moves feel it mixes up the entire character. zato also looses a lot of his air movement and tools which kinda brings him down to playing mostly a grounded game with only a few times where you actually want to be in the air, theres no good way to hit UP with his jumping buttons like you could before which is like... strange? when +r and xrd eddie rely a lot on stalling in the air and using his INSANELY good air moves to your advantage. (i miss shadow gallery and nobiru too much in these situations)

i dunno how much of it is just strive being a less complex game (not a bad thing! i just play zato one!) that strive zato feels a lot more gorilla to me. in the brainlessly hitting buttons and clapping along when the opponent cant do shit way. there was a lot more dancing around in the other games while strive zato can very easily just push you into the corner with a single well timed oppose. while feeling less fleshed out and like you have less options, he definitely feels WAY more powerful and like. totally fine on his own in a way +r and xrd would crumble in a second without eddie summoned in the same situations. none of this is bad its just different. zato is hands down the most fun character in strive to me.

also not to say hes like. brainless! i think the fun of strive zato is playing the "how can i keep you in the corner game." trying to predict exactly how the other person is going to try and escape my pressure and reacting just in time to catch them and force them back into the eddie+invite+c.S pressure is just TOO fun. like literally THE MOST fun. while +r has the insane corner gambits you can run with damned fang and chaining eddie ]p[ and drunkard and puddle and the weird shadow gallery loops and doing insane unblockables, wall slump and carefully avoiding resetting to neutral is another kind of insane high. i really love it.

i think they did a really good job with strive zato also in making little eddie feel like he genuinely compliments zatos movement incredibly well with how he does move. in the old games having nobiru and mawaru just means you can dominate the entire screen with very little effort, throw in fly/the fly k cancel in +r/the different invite summon in xrd/etc and you can force the other person into some real fucked situations that feels insanely good. strive zato doesnt have the SAME movement, but damn if 6H and a well timed Oppose not have the exact same absolutely evil joy of a big eddie drill -> jump p unblockable in xrd. you know?

anyways. same character, same general feel for the most part, i think the just more close quarters and fast gameplay of strive compared to the other games makes a unique experience i enjoy just as much as the more slow methodical fucked up shit of the old games. big fun.

all of this to ignore forever zoner zato from TML. that shits evil. even if he does have a DP in that game . even if its... punishable......... on hit.......

[pardonmystardust]

9, 24, 38 💖

9- Favorite Tyler Joseph tattoo

Well first off I really love the little pact and standing offer he has with all of us, where he's agreed to explain the personal meaning of his tattoos with anyone who asks him in person and agrees to keep it private and off the internet. That level of trust alone is remarkable. Without having had the opportunity to take him up on that offer tho, I'm kinda shooting in the dark. The stripes/rings down his left arm I think *look* the coolest to me, but conceptually the one right above those on his shoulder is really thought provoking- the four black panels that create the a cross only in the white space. (Full disclosure I'm speaking as an ex christian still trying to pick up the pieces of what's left of faith for me) And so that image of like, the cross being depicted only by it's absence, defined by what it is not, but still irrevocably centered in the piece? Idk that really hits a chord with me and reverberates as a dull ache.

24- A song that's painful to listen to

Goner still guts me and it's simultaneously one of my favorite songs but also probably the song I skip the most. It was kinda "our" song with someone in my life who passed away just a couple of days before I was going to travel to see them for the ERS. I almost cancelled the trip, but Goner was on the setlist as the first song of the encore, right before Trees. I decided to go and let that be my moment of catharsis, a good cry, and my goodbye. I got to the show and the power went out in the arena while they were offstage before the encore. It took them like 15 or 20 minutes to get back on stage and by then they only had time for Trees. I just remember screaming the first lines of Goner in the arena seats hoping the crowd could at least get it going without them and obviously it never took root. Unrelated but then the car broke down at like 1am on the way back home and almost made me late for/miss the funeral. So overall just a shit weekend lol.

38- A song you'd like to ask them about

Bandito! As many explanations as I've heard about what Sahlo Folina means (it's Somali? Enable Fluorine and it ties into Chlorine? Enable creativity?) None of them really feel like they make sense when you work backwards, as a path he would have reasonably taken to arrive at those words, and they don't really line up with what's been confirmed as it being something Banditos cry out to each other when in need. As kinda a ling nerd I wanna break it apart and see what each morpheme is doing and the etymology of it and stuff and I don't feel like I've ever gotten an answer that feels like it ties everything up nicely.

Sorry this went a little long 😅