#op understood the assignment

[angstandhappiness]

NICE

pov catwoman

[kingofanemptyworld]

I gotta hand it to Go! Go! Loser Ranger because it’s rare that I sit through both the opening and the ending every time I watch an episode

[cptsvensen]

OH MY GOD I'M SCREAMING

[sodomit]

TRANSUNITY

Transunity is a political theory that was actively talked about on Tumblr a couple of years ago, but has since fallen out of the public spotlight. And this is unfortunate, because it could have really improved a lot of the discourse around gender.

There exists a blog under that name ( @transunity ), but it has been inactive for a year. I am not affiliated with that blog anyhow, I never had any personal contacts with its mods, but I want to get their general ideas to circulate again, so I'm trying to bring this back up in a semi organized fashion. My take on transunity is just my take, if you're one of the original coiners, and you disagree, I encourage you to talk about it, because we still have much more in common with each other than different.

GENERAL VIEWS

I believe that one of the fundamental ideas more trans people need to understand is that we're all more or less in the same place in the eyes of the society (when other factors, such as ethnicity or disability, are considered). To be trans is to fail the gender role system, from the point of view of cis people we can no longer be proper men or women. All kinds of trans people regardless of identity are affected by misogyny and misandry (not a type of marginalization by itself, but turns into a vector of oppression when overlapping with a different marginalization), which forms the foundation of transmisogyny, transandrophobia, and exorsexism*. These types of bigotry are not exclusive and unique to specific gender identities either and may be applied to any trans person for as long as it's convenient to the oppressor.

Trans people do not have gendered power over each other, and intra community bigotry is better conceptualized as a form of lateral aggression.

Gender assignment and sex are never strictly binary (especially with inclusion of intersex people, who belong in gender conversations even if they don't identify as trans) and need to be understood as much more fluid and not strictly correlating with one's actual position in life.

WHAT WE NEED TO REDUCE

The following things should be discussed more critically:

- "Powerjacketing" - implying someone has gendered privilege as a means of delegitimizing their words, while in reality they do not have this privilege;

- Malgendering - forcing trans people to choose between being gendered correctly and speaking up about their mistreatment (e.g. questioning trans women's womanhood on the basis of them aggressively defending themselves or trans men's manhood on the basis of them asking for help) or implying there's something wrong with them in a way that reinforces gender stereotypes;

- Assuming that some trans people are exempt from some forms of oppression on the basis of gender assignment/sex (e.g. by calling all trans people who were assigned female "tme"** or claiming trans people who were assigned male are inherently incapable of understanding fear of sexual assault);

- Assuming that oppression of trans people is rooted in gender assignment/sex (such as, calling reproductive oppression "sex based oppression"***);

- Gatekeeping certain identities, such as "transmasc", "transbian", "femboy" as exclusive to any gender assignment/sex;

- Creating a duality out of "transsexual" and "cissexual", where not medically transitioning trans people are assumed to have some kind of a gendered privilege, or to not be trans in any meaningful material way. Various transmed ideas about dysphoria and transition go there too;

- Accusing trans people who take inspiration from each other of appropriation (trans headcanons, kinks, drag culture, etc).

SYMBOL

The following image is the official transunity symbol developed by the original transunity bloggers. Sorry about the glitch effect, I wasn't able to find one without it.

* Transmisogyny, transandrophobia, and exorsexism are not exclusive to specific identities, although they do primarily target traits associated with these identities. They can be conceptualized as bigotry and oppression towards people who are recognized as incorrectly entering respectively womanhood, manhood, and a status beyond gender binary (for the latter no normative form exists****). However, it's not wrong to use them to mean "oppression of trans women" and so forth, for as long as you're not claiming it's exclusive.

** Labels like "tma" and "tme" still may be used, but solely in a self assigned manner. I believe that an individual trans person is capable of evaluating whether they're affected by transmisogyny and in what way, and they should be trusted on this. However, no gender assignment and no current gender identity makes anyone inherently tme.

*** "Sex based oppression" instead of "reproductive oppression" reinforces the idea that people who share a specific body part (e.g. an uterus in context of conversations about abortion) are inherently of the same sex. This type of essentialism is desperately needed by terfs in this discussion, as they're trying to sell the ideas of "sex based oppression" and "sex based privilege" to people they want to recruit in their ideology. Invoking the idea of "sex" as something trans men and some nonbinary people are oppressed through is not the correct way to respond to people who say we don't experience any gendered violence besides "just transphobia", it has shitty implications and helps shitty people.

**** Lack of existence of normative nonbinary gender does not mean that these genders are not recognized by the society as a deviant, marginalized identity, and that binary people cannot be pushed into this zone.

[maehemthemisfit]

AHHHH FVNKDDC I SWEAR I CAN HEAR HIM BREATHE HIS LAST BREATH YOU WROTE THIS PERFECTLY FGSDBKJ

Not the "None" in bold words, just adding salt to the wounds 💔

Y'all know how angst gets me. I'm in shambles now, thanks 😭

My dead venti au goes brr

- 🥞

my dear venti simps.. i deliver to you: angst

Pairing: Husband!Venti x Married!God!Reader

Genre: urlocalhothuman delivering angst?! 😱

Cw: major character death, slight mentions of blood

There he laid, his expression remained asleep on your arms. Lifeless, hands caressing his cheek as he tried to open his eyes to see your face one last time.

“[Name].. it’s cold.. can we please cuddle..?” Venti looked at you with sorrow, seeing the tears on your eyes made his heart ache. Was it something he did? Was it him? He didn’t know.

Seeing his sad face as you held him close, you sobbed on his shoulder, hugging him tightly, not caring about his blood seeping to your shirt.

Venti tried to hug you back but couldn’t, he was so weak that the only thing he could do was place his head on your shoulder.

“Don’t cry my warrior, you’ve worked so hard..” as he said that your sobs became aggressive and ugly.

This was your fault, if you would’ve went with him this never would've happened so you blame no one but yourself.

With his last remaining strength he lifted his arm to caress your cheek, giving you his last final kiss.

“[Name].. I want to sleep.. may I sleep on your comfy arms? ♡” his request was so innocent, you looked at him with tears on your eyes knowing that this will the last time you’ll see him.

“O-of course.. here.” you cradled him like a baby as he laid his head on your chest, his hands held together like a prayer for the both of you.

“This is nice..” he smiled as he ended his sentence with a heavy breath, closing his eyes.

“I hope we get to stay like this for a long time dearest..” you looked at what’s in front of you. Mondstadt and it’s peaceful atmosphere, you silently sulked as you begged in your mind that he could atleast give one more response.

None.

No words escaped from his mouth as you cried, seeing his hands on his sides as he no longer had the strength to make his prayer for the both of you.

Tears kept coming down, struggling to breathe as you held him tightly on your arms.

The people of Mondstadt hearing your sobs through the wind as everyone stopped what they were doing, giving a peace prayer to Lord Barbatos.

You then screamed and cursed to basically no one, you’re now alone and there’s nothing you could about it. Your body shook slightly as you tried to breathe in but it was difficult.

You felt like you were drowning with no way back up, not even the air bubbles helping you. You were tired, you preferred to drown in your sobs than living in a world without Venti in it.

The ring on his finger held no more purpose as you shakily took it off and wore it on your other finger, where your ring wasn’t present.

After some time, you took one last exhale as you finally accepted the truth in front of you.

Venti was dead.

And it was all your doing.

notes: part 2 with context and reincarnation? Also yes anon i decided to turn your dead venti au into my beautiful ugly writing 🫶

[whatudowhennooneseesyou]

im not op but here’s what they were talking about

https://x.com/tyusou/status/1861445048988000485?s=46&t=fZ9P-cUipVIavA5AqCWqvg

okay so everyone knows I'm not the best at responding to my ask box in an immediate manner but when I saw this pic- I had to b/c this is a masterpiece.

Which marketing person do I thank and give a kiss too for convincing them to pose like this for pc's?

Let's talk about this

This is the pic that the link sent me

And I got to say for me personally- I think the two that understood the assignment and served 'pin you against the wall' has to be Jongho and Yunho.

They both seem to understand the concept of the 'female gaze' the best with knowing what will get atiny's hot under the collar, considering it looks like these are all selfies.

Jongho for sure can't be bitchless with his pose because he gave us the proper pov position of what it would be like to be pinned BY him against a wall- he for sure has done this before.

That or he reads the comments atiny's say about his strength and is like fuck it, pin you against the wall no you ARE the wall in this picture.

Yunho for sure has also pinned ppl against a wall before, he's got the stance, the slight head cocked to the side and he filmed it near a shelf so you can imagine where about your head and shoulders would be as he pins you against the wall.

Shout out to Yeosang for capturing his hand against the wall, it may seem like it was probably on accident but he unintentionally made the pic more sexy with the hand placement.

Mingi looks like he's the one being pinned against the wall from behind (probably by Yunho) like the bottom bitch he is.

The rest just are all posing and looking like they're leaning against the wall rather than pinning you against it.

Although San does have that fuckboi pose and gaze where it looks like your back is against the wall and he's deliberately leaning over you and just staring you down whilst saying 'this party is getting kinda boring, you reckon we should get outta here? I know a nice spot just perfect for you and me'.

(But I'm biased b/c I know San isn't a fuckboi (not a huge one at least) but gawd dayum he constantly looks and acts like one).

Seonghwa didn't get it all- the wig is serving too much cunt and he's too busy on serving face (which I understand respectfully).

Who do you think served and succeeded in the 'pin you against a wall' concept?

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Headcanon : Ghost has always understood Spanish.

Based on a convo I had recently with @simonriley1994

In the Las Almas arrival cutscene, Alejandro asked Ghost and Soap "You know Spanish?", to which only Soap answered that he did not. Meanwhile, Ghost just stayed silent. That got me thinking.

According to his biography, Ghost has spent years and years in the stealth business and covert assignments, even earning his callsign for his efficiency and lethality right? Plus, the bio said that he "seeks solitude" and "thrives" in ops with little to no support. Bro likes being alone.

That makes me wonder, if he does stuff alone around the world, it would be stupid of him to not learn another language or two beside English. My theory is, he actually understands Spanish and probably Russian and other languages. However, if you're learning a language, it usually starts with understanding what people speaks before you can actually speak them.

Ghost is at that stage for all the foreign languages he knows, and when he speaks Spanish, it's the BRITISHEST Spanish ever.

Now here's the funny part: When Ghost and Soap entered the car, Rudy said to Alejandro, "Tengo miedo de los fantasmas" ("I'm scared of ghosts"). What if Ghost understands what he said???

And when Rudy decided to push his luck by saying "With that mask, you'll fit in well here Ghost.", Ghost looked at him UNIMPRESSED. But what if he was half that, but also half messing with Rudy? Like he knows Rudy's kinda scared of him, and then he decided to mess around with Rudy all the while telling him not to 'fuck-around-and-find-out' with him.

Like he's aware that Rudy's scared of him, but when he saw that Rudy still had the balls of steel to joke around with him, I'd like to think that Ghost's is half "...bitch..." but also half amused.

[love-lilly02]

The Challenge pt. 5

Authors Note: this one is gonna make yall mad, i already know it. Also i think i'm gonna have to create a schedule of posting on weekends as apperently all my ideas for this story hit on fridays.

Chapter warnings:

minor character death, mentions of suicide

“You can’t do that!!”

“I can and I will.” Laswell said, closing the file. “She’s on a solo Op and that’s final.”

The boys all rolled their eyes, sighing heavily. 

“Let one of us go, Las. We can’t just let her walk into the lions den-“

“Price, that’s enough. She has her assignment, you have yours.” 

“But we don’t have an assignment.” Price stressed. 

“Exactly.” 

Another round of complaints. 

You had left the room long ago, departing as soon as you had received your mission. A solo op, just an intel gathering. Get in, get the information, get out. 

Get out of one of the most heavily guarded buildings in all of Russia. 

What could go wrong?

“Okay, I’ll be the one to say it.” Kyle stepped up, leaning forward in his chair. “I don’t trust that she’ll be able to get out of this place. Even with her level of skill, that’s something no one’s been able to pull off without dying.”

“If you’re worried about her, you can say that you know.” Laswell said simply, raising an eyebrow. 

The whole room went quiet. 

“Alright, look. I don’t know what’s going on between you four and her, but get it under control. I had enough of it when you lot-“ she points to Ghost and Price-“ wanted those two-“ She points at soap and Gaz- “to join your… whatever this is. I’m not dealing with four children mooning over my best asset.”

“We are not moonin’-“ Ghost protested at the same time Price said “I thought I was your best asset?”

Laswell just rolled her eyes. 

“I’ll put you boys on cam duty. How’s that?”

“It’s enough.” All the boys agreed.

You could feel their eyes on you as you adjusted your weapons for the fiftieth time. The suit they had you in was very different from the gear you normally wore, instead of cargo pants and a vest you had on a completely black bodysuit with a matching hood and shoes. Various knives and fewer guns than you would like were hidden among your body, and you kept anxiously touching them to be sure they were actually there. 

You looked like the Black Widow from the Avengers. As far as you could tell, the boys thought so too, with the way they kept sizing you up. 

You weren’t entirely sure if you liked that fact or not. 

You knew exactly why they had chosen you instead of Ghost or Kyle for this mission- you were a lot quieter. They could think quickly and kill faster, but at the end of the day you moved around quieter, left much less noticeable tracks than they did. 

This stupid challenge supported that idea. 

“Keep touching ‘em and they’re gonna rust, lass.” Soap called over the comms, and you shot him a glare. For the sake of the mission- and your life- you had decided to temporarily cast aside your feelings for their last behavior, allowing them to talk to you again. Some people, like Gaz and Price, understood you would need space after what happened. Ghost and Soap, however, did not get the memo. 

“She’s allowed to touch ‘em, Johnny. They’re her knives. ‘Sides, I don’t suppose knives can rust by just touching ‘em anywho.” 

“Awh yea they can! I’ve seen it ‘appen me self.” 

“Drop it,” Price warned.

Both boys responded with a simple, “Sorry captain,” and the helicopter was silent again. 

“Okay. One more time, what are you doing?” Price couldn’t help but be nervous as your drop zone crept closer and closer. 

“I get dropped off and enter through a side window, go through some rooms and get to the main center to put the information on the computer with a red chip into a flash drive. 

Price nodded and ran his hand along his beard, a nervous habit you noticed he developed. 

“Okay, good. The boys and I will tell you where to go and when it’s safe over comms, and-“

“Price. I’ve heard the debrief over fifteen times now. I got it.” You said, doing one more quick pat down to make sure all your knives were in order. “I trust you. Now you need to trust me.”

“Drop zone approaching!” The pilot called, and they all watched as the plane opened to reveal the darkness of the night. 

“Wish me luck,” You said, pulling the hood over your head. 

“Luck,” they all chorused back weakly. 

And you jumped out of the plane. 

Anxiety coursed through Ghosts veins as he watched you jump. A while after, thirty seconds as planned, you deployed a parachute, barely visible in the night. It was dangerous to have a black parachute in the dark but it was a risk they needed to take. 

There was complete radio silence the entire time you landed. That was another rule, unless you were receiving directions or telling them something important you were to be radio silent at all times. To “make sure no one hears or picks up anything,” as Laswell said. 

Ghost thought it was a load of bullshit. 

Simon agreed. 

Truth be told, he worried for you. Both of him did. This was something he wouldn’t be able to pull off, not even with years of training for it. And they were sending you in with less than a few hours notice?

A suicide mission. 

He hadn’t asked, if this was what you wanted to do. He didn’t ask if you were okay with risking your life, possibly dying, for the “greater good.” He honestly wanted you to disagree, he wanted you to protest, say they were stupid for sending you on this mission.

But you had just listened quietly and took the file. 

“At the drop zone, headed to the entrance.” Your messages were short and to the point, and he could see the others relax at your words. 

“Right, stay on standby,” Ghost said, loading up the cameras. 

“Copy.” Then silence. 

Once he got the feed loaded he quickly scanned the cameras for you, his eyes flicking back and fourth. 

“There,” Kyle said, pointing to one screen. You were kneeling behind a bunch of crates, watching the entrance carefully. 

“Okay. Move left, there’s a side entrance, you might have to pick a lock or two.” 

“Copy,” and you moved towards the door. They watched as you crawled, seemingly gliding across the concrete floor. Once you reached the door, it took a total of three seconds for you to slip inside. 

“Door’s are locked. What’s the next move?”

“Shit, that was locked?” Soap asked, even though his comms were off. 

“Suppose so. Two desks down to your right.” 

And so it continued. They gave you directions and watched as you absolutely flew though the levels of the building. Till finally, you were where you needed to be. 

“Okay, transferring the information.” It shouldn’t take that long, Ghost told himself. He watched as you stayed crouched behind a wall, nervously tapping on your thigh as the transfer commenced. 

“Done!” They could all head the relief in your voice, even if you tried to hide it. You put the computer back where it belonged, tucking the flash drive in your pocket. 

“Good job, now head out the way you came, it’s-“  Ghost stopped short when he saw two men walk into the room. They were soldiers for the enemy team, the Russian flags in the middle of their vests displaying that. To your credit, you heard the voices and stayed pointedly in place.  

The two of them spoke in gruff Russian to each other, monitoring the room carefully. They were going a bit too slow, getting a bit too close for Ghost’s liking. And, based on the way Kyle was gripping his shoulder, for him too. 

They kept snooping, till finally one of them jumped out into your hiding spot. 

It was absolute chaos after that. 

You stabbed the one who found you, using his body as a shield when the other started shooting. You fired your own shots and landed one with rough time to drop the guy you were holding and run out of the room. 

By this point, multiple alarms had been tripped, and you abandoned all sense of decorum, flying down steps quickly. 

“Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yelled over comms. 

Apparently that didn’t warrant a response. 

The cameras he was using to track you were being taken over, and he was quickly loosing visuals. 

“Mirage, do you copy?” 

“Mirage, what is your position.”

“Damnit Y/N, answer me!”

But he was met with silence. 

And for the first time since Las Almas, Ghost felt truly afraid.

For what it was worth, you had heard Ghost yelling over comms. And you had wanted to respond to him, but the current circumstances made that harder than you would have liked. 

There were soldiers shooting at you almost constantly, and maybe about two or three snipers on other buildings. And you had about five more stories to get down, not to mention an entire parking lot- which was swarming with soldiers, you checked- and somehow get back on the evac vehicle alive. 

One step at a time. 

Having cleared two floors already, you burst through a nearby office, breathing out a small sigh of relief when no one occupies it. Over the comms you hear a voice saying something, but it’s Price now instead of Ghost. 

“Mirage, there’s a supply drop headed your way, what’s your location?” He doesn’t sound as worried, and you can’t help but wonder where Ghost went. 

“I’m hidden in an office, sir. If there was a drop there would be no way for me to reach it without being ambushed.” 

You’re met with silence for a moment, before Price comes back into your ear. 

“Copy that, just get to the parking lot in one piece. We’ll take it from there.”

You just roll your eyes. As if that wasn’t your plan to begin with. 

The stairs seem endless as you run, down flight after flight after flight. You seriously considered taking the elevator but decided against it- they were Russian, not stupid. Once you make it to the room you entered the building through you’re throughly disappointed to find it’s occupied by a few armed guards. Nothing you couldn’t handle, so long as you went out quietly. 

Carefully, you made your way behind the first one, pulling one of the longer knives out of your thigh holster. In your other hand, you slip a throwing knife, crouching silently. 

It takes a good few minutes before you’re able to make a move, throwing the knife in the eye of the guard at the door before you stab the one in front of you in the neck. The other two load their guns, but you’re faster, flinging two more throwing knives across the room into their heads. You allow yourself the time to collect your knives and slip out of the door, just in time to hear more gaurds enter behind you. 

Close calls that just keep getting closer. 

You’re able to see the parking lot now. And as you expected, it’s absolutely swamped with enemies. There were small cracks in the defenses, however, just small enough for you to slip through if you were careful. 

You stuck to the shadow of the trees, figuring darkness was your best cover. Carefully, you picked your way through the ranks of men receiving instruction, having to duck to hide behind cars multiple times. Finally, you were close enough to make a break for it and just test your luck. 

And that dammed supply drop just had to show up. 

Immediately, it set off widespread panic, and in the chaos one of the soldiers stumbled over to your hiding spot. Before you understood what was going on you were being hoisted up by multiple soldiers and brought into the center of a light, surrounded by angry Russians who were yelling at you in one of the few languages you couldn’t understand. 

Finally, one man walked up to you and said simply, “Where is the band of coonies you work for?” He looked kind of familiar, with almost a dad bod and dark eyes to match.

“Don’t respond, that’s our target.” Price insisted, and as if he could hear him, the target looked up to your ear. 

“American.” He spat out the word like a curse, and looked at you with an even nastier scowl. “A shame, you are very pretty.” He said something in Russian, and the men all raised their guns and pointed them at you. 

“Wait!” You shouted, and to your surprise, the target stopped. He turned to you slowly, and raised an eyebrow, signaling for you to continue. Carefully, you moved your hand to where the flash drive hid, pulling it out. It glinted red in the bright spotlights, and the target stopped dead in his tracks. 

“What is that?” He asked, stalking closer to you. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You teased further. God you had a bad habit of teasing men. Maybe it’s what got you into these situations. 

“Give it to me,” He said, practically running at you. 

“Mirage, whatever you’re about to do, don’t. Do it.” Price was yelling, and you could hear the chaos of the helicopter behind you. 

“Listen to me, American girl. I will give you one chance to give me that flash drive. And maybe we will let you out alive.” The target stopped a good distance away from you, holding out his hand. You just smiled. 

With a flick of your wrist, the flash drive was replaced with a pin. “Over my dead body.”

And a grenade went off- right where you were standing.

Authors Note: this is completely random but i've decided to open my inbox for requests, not just COD but across all fandoms, and i'm doing a bit of blog reorganizing so i'll get to them fairly quickly (tonight that is)

also don't hate me lol the next chapter will be out next week if all goes well

My Masterlist

[mymitochondriaforpresident]

@verarin-i-love-i-love-i You get me.

Simon Eriksson in all his glory 💜 - Episode 1

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

The Fuck Up Chapter 1

Summary:  Bucky fucked up.  A few times.  Will his best friend ever be able to forgive him?

Warnings: language, smut, mentions of war, injury, pregnancy

Next chapter

Y/N and Bucky had been best friends since they were teenagers. They met on the first day of high school in English, both groaning over the fact that the assigned reading was The Grapes of Wrath, considered an American classic but an incredibly boring read. They were paired up in a project together and became inseparable ever since. Y/N had no family, having been passed from foster home to foster home until finally being placed with the family she was with now who were willing to keep her. She had a hard time trusting people, and Bucky liked a challenge. They quickly became the most important people in each other’s lives. They were teased about dating each other, and as much as they each had moments of having more romantic feelings towards the other, nothing had ever come to full fruition. Bucky’s family took Y/N in and treated her like their own. Even with her new adopted family, she had never felt so loved in her life.

After high school they had planned to go to college together, but the housing market crashed and Bucky’s parents, Winifred and George, had to use his and his sister Becca’s college funds to keep their house, and no companies were giving out scholarships as they all tried to protect their assets. Y/N had been able to use a grant system to get into college. Bucky came from a military family, and although he had had no plans of ever joining, it seemed he had run out of options. He enlisted in the Marines. Y/N was upset, not wanting him to risk his life, but understood. She supported him as he went through boot camp and then the rigorous special operations training, but the military was hard on him. Bucky had always been an emotional person, and Y/N hated watching him have to deal with the PTSD and the group mindset that the military instilled in him, changing him from the happy-go-lucky kid she’d known to an anxious, trauma-ridden mess. She finished college and got a digital marketing degree, working for a major online company while doing some photography as a side hustle.

Twelve years later they were both in their thirties, barely getting to see each other but keeping in touch. Bucky had had a few close calls while on special ops the last few years and his family was pushing him to not re-enlist.

“Please, Buck, no more,” Winifred begged him. “You’ve served your country well. You’ve almost died three times over the last few years. Please stay,” she cried as he looked at the re-enlistment papers.

“I know, Ma, I know,” Bucky sighed, setting them down. “I…I just feel like I got one more tour left in me. I need to do this.”

“Hey everybody!” Y/N called as she entered the house.

Winifred spun around. “Y/N! Come here please!”

Y/N followed her voice to the kitchen. “Hey Winnie…wait,” she looked between them. “What’s wrong?”

“Bucky is thinking of re-enlisting,” Winifred said, sniffling sadly.

The look on Y/N’s face when her head snapped towards him made him flinch. “You…” she stuttered, her eyes wide and her brow furrowed. “You just got back.”

“I know, honey,” Bucky walked up to her and grabbed her arms. “I just need to do this. One more tour.”

“No,” she replied, pulling away from him. “You said you were done. We wrote to each other about it. You promised me,” Y/N’s eyes started to fill with tears.

“Please don’t cry, Y/N,” Bucky begged. “I can’t handle it when you cry.”

“Well that’s TOO DAMN BAD!” Y/N screamed at him. Bucky stepped back, surprised by her reaction. Winifred gasped, also shocked by her outburst. Y/N was not one to normally get emotional or react out loud to things. Y/N shook her head and closed her eyes, trying to breathe normally as her hands clenched at her sides. “You promised me,” she whispered.

Bucky sighed and bit his bottom lip. “Y/N, please understand—”

“No, you need to understand something,” she interrupted him, her eyes opening and glaring at him. “I don’t know where this weird obsession came from with you wanting to run into danger. You joined the military so you could get help with college. But then you re-enlisted, and re-enlisted. And now you have this codependent relationship with an organization, in a government, in a country, that doesn’t care about you!” She walked closer to him until she was toe to toe with him. “You are just another body to them. If and when you die, they’ll easily replace you. We can’t replace you!” She gestured to Winifred and herself. “I need you,” she cried, the tears finally falling down her cheeks. “You are wanted, appreciated, and loved here, at home. Why is that not enough?”

“It is enough,” Bucky said, blinking rapidly to stop any of his own tears falling.

“Obviously not,” Y/N whimpered, her chin wobbling as she tried to keep her emotions at bay. “I can’t…I can’t do this,” she whirled around and left the way she came.

“Y/N, hey wait,” Bucky called after her, following her to the front door. “Come on, honey, please don’t leave, let’s talk about this!” Y/N didn’t answer him, continuing to walk through the front door and out to her car. “Y/N…honey please!” She didn’t even spare him a glance as she got in her car. He tried opening her door, but she had already locked it. She quickly backed up and left his parents’ house, her tires screeching as she peeled down the street. “Fuck,” Bucky grumbled, running his hands through his hair.

He knew she was right, that it was stupid of him to re-enlist and put himself in harm's way. He had made a lifelong friendship in the military, and through some misguided idea of brotherhood had promised his friend he’d come back for another tour and join him for more special ops. But he had also promised his girl he’d be done after this last time. His girl?

**picture found on Pinterest...can we all agree that A.I. is dangerous just for this picture alone? #buckywiththelonghair

[kenposting]

Baseline

Summary: You're a Blade Runner paired to work with Officer K. You both sense a bizarre shift lately. Something is wrong.

WC: 3.6k

AN: I literally have Ryan Gosling brainrot right now and I've loved this movie for years.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀✩⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

If there was one thing the two of you could agree on, its that something was wrong. Different. Broken. Whatever it was, something was wrong. 

He felt like a deterrent when you first met him. Someone assigned him alongside you a few months back. Being a Blade Runner at your stature had proven to be more difficult than anyone higher up had expected, and instead of retiring all the smaller, female models, they decided to just force you into this bizarre co-op with the other older Nexus-9s. 

And that’s what happened. You were assigned a partner, and therefore, a roommate as well. You found him to be a nuisance at first. You were perfectly fine doing your job on your own. This safety precaution was unnecessary, and you believed that wholeheartedly, until you saw the case photos of your model. 

It was brutal. Fueled by hatred. You had never ran into any real trouble, but these were your colleagues, retired before they had a chance to call for assistance. 

You began to be grateful he was around. The two of you argued constantly, but you did feel a lot safer. He was larger than you by a lot, and much broader in stature, but he didn’t scare you. Nothing did. 

Until now. You only barely understood what was going on when you compared it to human data. It seemed to be closest to fear, or perhaps anxiety. You never had a feeling before. Neither had he. 

Something was wrong. You just couldn’t shake it. Even thinking that way was bizarre, as it had nothing to do with programming or  logistics. The thought was pointless – unless it began to effect your work. And it had. 

“Do you know why the two of you are in here today?” 

Lieutenant Joshi was the superior to the both of you, a higher ranking member of the Retirement Division of the LAPD. You had never really minded her, but you knew something negative was present in the way she spoke. She was human, and you were built to analyze and understand the humanness within her. She was scared and confused. 

“No, Madam.” 

He answered for the both of you, something he often does. That was part of his job since the placement. He’s there to make sure you’re protected, even if it's something small. 

She looked at you. You shook your head. She sucked on her teeth, visibly upset. 

“Neither of you are even close to baseline.” 

Another bizarre sensation crept over your shoulders and sank into your abdomen. A feeling. You didn’t like it – which was another feeling, in and of itself. 

“What the fuck is going on?” 

She was upset now. You tried your best to comprehend it but you couldn’t. 

“Ever since we put the two of you together your retiring alone takes longer than usual, you aren’t preforming how you’re supposed to, you respond in inadequate ways, I mean, what is the problem?” She paused, collecting herself. “You only perform how you’re meant to when you’re together.” 

She looked at Officer K. She was speaking mostly to him. After all, he was the only one doing his job alone anymore. You were only allowed to work when he was around, and you performed fine. It was when you weren’t working… That’s where the problems were. You actually preferred his company to your own. You didn’t understand this. 

“I’m going to give you both an option.” She looked sternly between the two of you. “I’m going to retest you, right now. One of you will naturally preform better than the other. Whoever is closest to baseline will retire the other.” 

“You can take me, Madam.” 

His voice sounded different now. Still very monotone, but laced with urgency, like the thought of retiring you impeded on his natural task of protecting you. 

She scoffed. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, what is wrong with you?” She sighed, shaking it off and leaving the meeting room. You followed K into the testing area. Familiar. Uncomfortable. Something loomed over you. 

There were two white chairs. You and Officer K shifted to face one another. He looked into you. You looked back. 

“Officer K D 6 dash 3 dot 7,” A voice read off his name, followed by yours. “Let’s begin. Ready?” 

“Yes, sir.”

Again, he answered for the both of you. 

“Recite your baseline.” 

The two of you spoke immediately, like a second nature, programmed into the basic essence of your coding. You didn’t have to think or process. You knew what to do, so you did it. 

“And blood-black nothingness began to spin, a system of cells interlinked within cells interlinked within cells interlinked within one stem, and dreadfully distinct against the dark, tall white fountain played–” 

“Cells.” 

“Cells.”

The two of you responded back, your voices synced to one another. Your eyes darted all around his face, searching for a sign that he was performing well. You hoped he was. Another foreign feeling, hope. Why did you hope for his success? 

“Have you ever been in an institution? Cells.” 

“Cells.” 

His eyes never averted from your gaze. There was something foreign to you there. Something you presumed would be described as comforting. 

“Do they keep you in a cell? Cells.” 

“Cells.” 

“When you’re not performing your duties do they keep you in a little box? Cells.” 

“Cells.” 

“Interlinked.” 

“Interlinked.” 

“What’s it like to hold the hand of someone you love? Interlinked.” 

K’s face flashed before your mind at this question. You wished you also knew what was going on, but you didn’t. Something was wrong. You remembered his hand accidentally brushing against yours a few weeks prior. That’s when all of this began. You were going to be retired. You could feel it. 

“Interlinked.” 

Officer K looked over your face, a mechanical whirring at the speed of his shifting eyes. Truthfully, he felt the same way. He was going to be retired. He could feel it. 

“Did they teach you how to feel finger to finger? Interlinked.” 

“Interlinked.” 

“Do you long for having your heart interlinked? Interlinked.” 

You could’ve sworn you detected movement in K’s lips. A slight smile. Something you had never seen before in a Replicant. Something you had never done before. His eyes softened.

“Interlinked.” 

“Do you dream about being interlinked? Interlinked.” 

“Interlinked.” 

“What’s it like to hold your child in your arms? Interlinked.” 

“Interlinked.” 

“Do you feel that there’s a part of you that’s missing? Interlinked.” 

“Interlinked.” 

Sometimes you did think things like that, but they didn’t make any sense. It was like a buffering within you.

“Within cells interlinked.” 

“Within cells interlinked.” 

“Why don’t you say that three times, within cells interlinked.” 

“Within cells interlinked. Within cells interlinked. Within cells interlinked.” 

A silence fell over the white room, and again, fear crept in, or what you could only assume was fear. His eyes still hadn’t left yours. 

“Officers, do you have anything more to say?” 

The voice nearly startled you, further showing you that something was very wrong. You aren’t in any imminent danger, so why were you responding like you were? 

“No, sir.” 

You wondered if you’d ever have to answer for yourself again. 

He stood, his movement encouraging you to stand as well. You often followed his every move. His height never ceased to amaze you. You wondered why they built him so tall, yet programmed him so meekly. He didn’t naturally intimidate you. He didn't naturally intimidate anyone. He just did his job and went on his way. 

You followed him into the room you had both been in previously. Lieutenant Joshi was sat back at the table holding a sheet of data. She analyzed it much slower than either of you could. 

Officer K pulled out a chair and waited for you to have a seat. Part of his task. He sat beside you. 

Her eyes looked up, shifting between the two of you with a clicking motion. She was searching for something, but she wasn’t going to find it. There's nothing there to find.

“Do either of you have any comments, Officers?” 

You looked at K. 

“I hope I did worse than her.” 

She rolled her eyes, frustrated at his malfunctioning. She couldn’t gather a response, so she resorted to sliding the paper in front of the both of you. 

100% accuracy. A perfect score. The highest either of you had ever gotten to baseline. 

You looked up at her. She remained searching, beginning to say something before sighing, abandoning the thought all together. 

Officer K’s jaw tightened beside you. 

“Do either of you have anything to say for yourselves?” 

You looked at him, then her. You didn’t have any previous data on any of this. It was rare for you to have an uninspired thought, but your software had been updated to the highest functioning and you figured only one explanation would make sense. 

“We’re interlinked, Madam.” 

She was quiet for a moment, blinking. 

“It appears so.” 

Silence fell over the room for several minutes. K sat much taller than you. He felt much more powerful than you in this moment. Even now, you were glad to have him around. 

“We should really just retire both of you, but we’ve never seen this kind of score. I need to speak to some colleagues and I’ll have you report back here in the following days. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Madam.” 

The two of you spoke in sync. Interlinked. 

The drive home was quiet, but pleasant. Both of you thought you’d be retired before sundown, so the bleak landscape appeared a bit more welcoming than usual. You didn’t particularly enjoy the world, but you did enjoy being around K. 

The walk to your building was always the worst. The people outside felt like one large organism, moving and speaking all at once, an amalgamation of bodies, neon lights reflecting against the rain droplets hitting the ground. It was hard to take in so many small happenings at the same time. He knew this about you, picking up on the shifts in your face when you stepped out into the night. He placed a gloved hand on the small of your back, leading you. Afterall, part of his task was to enure your safety, and he wanted you to know he was looking out for you. He liked doing a good job for you. He feels something when you thank him for it.

“Hey, A boy!” 

Moans and expletives swam through your ears. This scene was ever present. Every single night on your way home, you passed this part of town. Before Officer K was assigned to you it was much scarier. People would grab at you and pull you towards different dark buildings and corners of street. Replicant and human alike, both took advantage of your size. 

You always ignored it, programmed to move forward, but something felt different this time. 

The girls touched him, eyeing him up and down, walking alongside the both of you, looking at you. 

“Wanna come see what a real girl feels like?”  

He didn't react. He never did, actually. One of the girls showed a change in her expression, cautioning the others, mentioning his job. The words she spoke relieved you. You didn’t mind the insult, you just didn’t want him to leave you. It was scary out here. Everyone towered over you, even the girls. 

The girls dismissed her warning, giggling, grabbing onto him further. Your pace quickened. So did his. You reached the stairs outside of your building and he stepped aside, letting you go ahead of him. 

“We’re always here!” 

They were always there. They had been built for pleasure. Sexual consumerism. It confused you, really. You didn’t understand the appeal, but it seemed like everyone else did. K didn't get it either.

He followed closely behind you up the steps. The flights went on for ages. People lingered there, littering the tight area, continuing to yell at the two of you. K kept a close watch for anyone grabbing for you, though. He wouldn’t let it happed again. 

He opened the door to your apartment, holding it wide for you to walk in. Someone spat in your direction. He closed his eyes. It was like he was convincing himself not to react. He never had to do that before. The droning lull of the people made you feel anxious again, like you really were in danger. He shut the door behind you, the thick lock clunking shut. 

Your apartment was safe, like a homebase. No one could attack you here. You watched as K hanged his coat on the back of the door, heavy and weighed down. He looked different. Relieved. Softer. Pleased to see you. 

“Are you hungry?” 

You thought for a moment, considering when the last time you ate was. There was am artificial aching in your abdomen. 

“Yes.” 

He nodded, stepping a foot into the kitchen. This place was so small. After all, Blade Runners don’t really deserve comfort. They didn’t need it. They couldn’t feel it. But you did. You had to accept it, it was only logical. You felt the place was small, and that meant you could feel. 

K made the same thing you both ate every night. Noodles. You hated them – another feeling – but you liked spending time with him. It was sweet, the ways he chose to serve you.

He looked down into his bowl. He wasn’t eating. Something was different about him. 

“K? Is everything alright?” 

He looked up at you, meeting your gaze. He searched you, but found no answers. 

“I don’t know. I know that I’m supposed to know. But I don’t. And that means something is wrong.” 

You nodded. You felt immense comfort at his answer. He felt the same. At realizing this, a secondary thought entered your mind: he must need to be comforted as well. You thought back to your Joi, sat somewhere in a drawer for weeks now, collecting dust. You found it odd to use it around him, and he thought the same, but you remembered what went on when you did use it. You retraced all the humans you had came across in your mind, all films you had seen. You knew how they all comforted one another. You wanted to try for him. This was perhaps the most bizarre feeling of all. 

Neither of you were real, just programmed to be as human-like as technology currently allowed. So really, what’s the harm in this? You couldn’t have feelings for something real, but he wasn’t real either, so no harm no foul. 

“I feel the same way. I feel, I mean. I don’t like it either.” 

You tried your best to put it into words.

He nodded, shifting, like he had turned something off inside of him. You had frightened him. He thought he was just malfunctioning, and the only other option is that the two of you were both feeling something very real and new and unlikely. That was frightening. Something was wrong. 

His jaw tightened as he stood from the table, grabbing his bowl and stepping toward the kitchen. 

You sat there alone at the table for a long time. You felt something different now, something new. You didn’t recognize it; it hadn’t been taught to you. Loneliness, perhaps. Or regret. A feeling that you had said something you wished you hadn’t. 

A heavy hand rested on your shoulder, awakening you from your trance. You didn’t know how long you’d been sitting there, but the orange glow of the city had drifted into a deep aqua color. Night had fallen. 

“I don’t know what’s going on.” 

His voice was different. Softer than before, like every moment he became gentler and… more... human. 

You hummed in agreement. You didn’t know either. He reached his hand out and you took it, following him a few feet to your small bathroom. A soft glow came from behind the doorframe. 

His steps were heavy as he lead you forward. Your eyes shifted, taking in the scene. 

He had ran you a bath, something you didn’t even realize you possessed in this small space. There were candles lit alongside the edge of the porcelain. You were sure you didn’t own any candles. 

“I saw this in a film once…” His voice trailed off, like he didn’t know what else to say. He was almost shy about it. 

You stepped forward. A new smell filled the room. Something fresh. 

“Its lavender. I took some from the last Nexus-8 I retired. I know that’s not very romantic.” 

Romantic? Was he trying to be romantic? Why was he trying to be romantic? 

“And the candles?” 

His constant blank stare shifted into a sheepish, subtle, barely-noticeable smile. But you noticed. It was just a change in data, after all. 

“I bought them yesterday. I saw them downtown and I thought of you. I’m not sure why.” 

Whatever you had been feeling before was miniscule compared to what you feel now. An ache in your chest and browline, sharp and sudden. A tear fell from your right eye. Something was definitely wrong. 

This world was just… so sad. Fallen. Broken. Corrupted. Evil. Lost. So many things. And especially for you. You felt selfish for feeling this way at all; you weren’t a human that had everything ripped away from you, you weren’t even real. But your memories were real to you, and this was real to you too. No one had ever gone out of their way to think of you before. Everything before your assignment with Officer K was rigid and impersonal, but he wasn’t like that, and neither of you knew why. 

You stepped forward, keeping his hand in yours, leading him into the small space with you. It would be snug, but both of you could fit. 

You followed your normal routine, removing each article of clothing as to not get them wet. His torso was laced with cuts and bruising. Again, the sight of it made you feel something. 

He sank into the water first, still holding your hand, blankly looking forward at the tile on the wall. You followed after him, laying against his chest. This was nice, but also very weird. What were you meant to do now? You were grateful for the gesture. The warm water was a stark contrast to the cold world you both lived in. The last few weeks you realized you hated being a Blade Runner, and in hindsight, he must've felt the same. Underappreciated. Unimportant. Cold. False. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. Thank you for inviting me in.” 

You both sat there for a long time. His hand held onto you gently, like you were in danger. Part of his task. You liked this, but in every film you’ve seen, its followed by much more interesting activities. A curiosity crept inside you. There’s so much you’ve began to be able to feel and think and see. You couldn’t help but feel like this was only the beginning. “This was very kind of you, K. I hope you know that.” 

You felt him nod behind you, dismissive. 

“I appreciate you letting me work alongside you. I know you didn’t like it at first, but you’ve always been very nice to me. Thank you for that.” 

You felt like crying again. This world really did blow for the two of you, didn’t it? 

“I’d like to lay down now.” 

He nodded again, waiting for you to stand before standing himself. He got you a towel. He didn’t have to do that. It had nothing to do with your safety. That wasn’t an assigned task, that was a choice. 

“Thank you.” 

He nodded, careful not to look you over too much. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. 

As you dried yourself, he left the small bathroom. You quickly got dressed, searching around for him. He was sat on the couch staring blankly ahead. 

You made your way over to him, sitting beside him. You placed a hand on his arm and sat up to gently kiss his cheek, something you’d done with Joi before and something you’d seen in many movies. Even humans would do this downtown, you’d seen it before. 

He looked at you. 

“You kissed me. I don’t understand.” 

“I don’t either. I felt like doing it. I think it’s supposed to make people feel better and you look like you don’t feel well.” 

He looked at you. Nothing had ever made him react this way. He no longer wanted to just be a consumer of pleasure. Joi and the like didn’t interest him anymore. He wanted to show you something. He didn’t understand it yet, but he was made in the likeness of a human, and perhaps this was part of that. It would be different if he felt something for a human – unfair almost. He couldn’t provide them with the things they would need. He just didn’t have it in him. But you? You were like him. Just like him. The same. Cells, interlinked. 

He watched as you placed your hand atop his. It was so tiny in comparison. He didn’t recognize this sensation, but he felt an urge to take care of you, to give you anything you asked for. More than his assigned task. He wanted to, even if he didn’t have to. He took pleasure in it, actually. 

You were real to him; as real as he was. He wanted to take care of you. He also hated being a Blade Runner, and he knew you must have it so much harder. The board even assigned you a partner out of sheer fear you’d be brutally beaten into retirement just for existing, not to mention the humans and replicants that used your model for pleasure. He didn’t like that, and he didn’t want that. He wanted something different and it didn’t make sense to him. 

The act seemed almost the same. The same positions, the same words being said, the same sequence of events. People kissing, then laying down together, all of that. But sometimes something was different. He thought of the ads around town, how they appeared to him. He compared it to the books he had to read on the human condition. Something was different. One was about lust, and one was about love. He thought the latter more closely related to what he felt for you. 

“I’m okay, just thinking.” 

You looked up at his scarred face, bruised from the last job. There was something heavy on his mind. You wanted to help him with that. You didn’t know how, but you wanted to try for him. Afterall, the two of you performed great at work when you were together. Maybe you’d perform great at home too. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀✩⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

[buckets-and-trees]

The Pool Party Op

Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!Reader, Sharon Carter Word Count: 1.2k  Summary: Post TFATWS. The Power Broker hasn't made any major plays, but finding out who they are is still a priority. Bucky has been working on and off with Sharon to track them down as there are potential leads. This mission has them attending a luxury pool party in The Maldives.

Content Warnings: sexual situations (kissing, vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration), strong language

Logistical Notes: Filling my twelfth square for Bucky Barnes Bingo @buckybarnesbingo - Y5 "Pool Party" - and Hot Bucky Summer Week 8 - "How did you meet?" undercover mission, high stakes op.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“You’re sure that–“

“Yes, I’m sure, Bucky,” Sharon cut him off over the comms. “I’ve told you a hundred times. Everyone here lives in the grey area and after everything you were technically responsible for leading with the Thunderbolts team, the status of you as the reformed and squeaky-clean good boy is not a widely held belief anymore.”

“I know you managed to get me on the Power Broker’s guest list, but I still think this is too easy,” Bucky murmured loud enough for Sharon to hear.

“Tell me when you haven’t been able to trust me.”

He sighed. “I know.”

“And if things go sideways and you have to go full Winter Soldier mode on someone, all the better for convincing them you’re back in the Big Bad Business.”

“It just feels weird to know I’ll be strutting around with the arm on full display.”

“So that’s the real problem. It’s a pool party. People will look at your arm, but then your abs are going to steal the show.”

Bucky could feel the immediate flush of heat rushing up his neck, over his ears, and cheeks.

“I’ll get you in. The plan will work. Just be ready to improvise – I only told you half the plan because I knew you would argue with me over the rest of it. I’m going radio silent now so you can’t bitch at me and because that was already part of the plan anyway. Make good choices, Buck. I’ll check in with you in twenty and see you at the extraction point in forty-five.”

Bucky closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a few deep breaths. This was, in fact, not the first time Sharon had gone rogue on a mission, but he did trust the track record they had together. He would never tell her a part of him reveled in the challenge that went with working blind or having to improvise. She didn’t need that kind of encouragement.

And he trusted her, which was more than he could say for most of the people he got assigned to work with or who assigned him to missions these days.

Bucky was always wary of putting operatives who were basically civilians into the field during missions, but he understood that sometimes the objective required it to ensure they achieved their objective.

Sharon had told him that much – that he would be working with a desk agent and providing cover for the mission in addition to actual security and extraction if it came to it. She said she would be talking to his assignment when he arrived, they would make eye contact, and then Sharon would move out so Bucky could move in.

They still didn’t have credible leads on the identity of the Power Broker, but merely being at the party, Sharon was going to mingle and grab facial scans for as many people as she could with the photo-contacts she’d been issued while Bucky assisted with the other key objective.

The Power Broker’s communications were behind an impenetrable wall that the team at the CIA had been unable to hack for over a year, so when they got a tip the Power Broker was hosting a glamorous end of season pool party at their luxury vacation home – or in this case, summer fortress. The play was to bring one of the CIA’s top hackers to a party Sharon was tapping into some of her old Madripoor experience to get them on the list for, and access and bleed whatever information they could from inside the system.

That hacker was you.

He sighed when he saw it was going to be a standard meet-cute play, sneak into the house to find someplace more private, and clearly that place would be the home office. He excused himself from the present company he’d been an idle party to conversation with and moved to the steps out of the pool, grabbed a towel from the rack, and wrapped it around his waist, then grabbed two drinks off a tray one of the servers was circulating around the crowd and approached you.

The plan was good. He didn’t like it at first, but he was sold on it now.

His lips on your neck, his right hand cupping your mound and his left hand palming the delightful weight of your breast in his left hand, grinding his hips against your ass, this plan was perfect.

The soft, broken whimpers escaping your mouth were satisfying, indulging a hunger he didn’t know he’d been suppressing until it was finally unleashed in this moment. Now he didn’t want to stop.

It seemed like you didn’t want him to stop either. 

The person who had come to check on the room and “caught” them was long gone, wouldn’t be coming back any time soon, and if they did they seemed too mortified to do more than check for noises and maybe knock on the door, but Bucky could tell they wouldn’t open the door again, so… he could stop, but there seemed no reason not to carry on.

He pressed hot kisses along the column of your throat from the base up to just below your ear, then paused to ask, “This okay?”

“Yes, yes,” you managed.

“You want–“

“More,” you moaned, putting your left hand over his to encourage him to continue his ministrations there, and clutched at his bicep with the other.

He didn’t need more encouragement than that. Bucky sunk two fingers into your slick cunt, and you rocked up against him. He smiled and licked the shell of your ear.

“Bucky…”

Your tone seemed almost hesitant, so he slowed for a moment. “What is it?”

“I mean more, Bucky,” you said.

“Fuck,” he groaned as you pushed back roughly against his hard cock. “You can have it, doll.”

Your hands reached back to tug his swim trunks down. He took over, pushing them down his thighs, and you hooked your own fingers into your swim bottoms to drag them down, and you leaned forward, resting your forearms against the desk, presenting your pretty pussy for him.

Fuck.

Okay.

He lined up the head of his cock with your slit, then pushed in and gripped your hips. The first full thrust he took slowly, sinking in balls deep. You were such a shy thing, and half of the fun once he’d discovered that had been flustering you, standing too close – because he needed to in order to keep the cover intact, the intentional but not strictly necessary touches, and now to have you decidedly not shy any longer as he pumped in and out of you.

He could do more missions like this.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[nevershootamockingbird]

[ begin id: a screenshot of a tag that reads "#my hungry ass could never be a midwife" / end id ]

Can't decide whether it's funnier to say "my hungry ass could never work at a" and then say something that implies you're eating something truly grotesque or something that just, makes no sense

[theflyindutchwoman]

Sometimes I still can't wrap my head around the fact that we are truly witnessing Tim in his full horny era. Like him having a thing for Lucy's thighs or hair is no longer just something you read in fanfictions... It's absolutely canon! We really got to see him having his brain broken numerous time. Like when Lucy unleashed the power of her imagination on him… And again when she went for the kill by kissing him in her apartment and in the plane… And again when he caught a mere glimpse of her bare back… He went from blurting "naked times" like a dork on their first date to having the presence of mind to wear a shirt with snap buttons for their first time… Because the man understood the assignment and came prepared! We went from innuendos like "you're gonna need that fuel for later" to them giving their doppelgängers a run for their money with shower sex or laundry room hookup (in the middle of an op, might I add)… The man who was so against PDAs - even when it might have been the end of the world - now can't keep his hands to himself and is just living out his (and Lucy's) fantasies… And we actually get to see it!

[kindathewholepoint]

Quite possibly the fastest JPEGs ever from Austin.

Squishes for the birthday boy.

Lil Bro, Jared's screen used car, is clearly the star here.

Jensen gave me such a strong double thunk on the back after this op that I think he knocked all sensible thoughts out of my head for a good hour afterward.

I let him pick the pose for this one and the totally botched the instructions but not at all mad about the results.

Couldn't pass up the first opportunity for an op with Misha and Baby.

Just your typical family photo op. (I assume... I don't actually have siblings.)

This one is just super cute.

Misha understood the assignment here almost too well.

"Do you have bigger cups?" This op was conceived of over a year before Austin ever took place. Moose got it instantly and complimented the good callback.

Had to get these up quick before Indy. More to come soon... and I'll maybe try to throw out some mediocre phone shots from Radio Company in the meantime.

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

the new op is totally katsuki to izuku. its over, we are done for. WHAT DID HORIKOSHI SAY TO THEM??

The process for how music is selected or created for anime isn't very clear to me. I have no idea how much, if any, direction musicians are given. But one thing that is clear is that a number of the opening and ending song musicians have professed themselves to be fans and talked about particular themes or characters inspiring their work.

The official lyrics of this opening song, like many of the songs found in MHA, are fundamentally about hope and selflessness; a desire to ease the suffering of others and the drive to better oneself to reach that goal, no matter the cost. To reinvent yourself into someone who can the leave the world better than it was when you came into it. It's about looking outside yourself and seeing something worth protecting.

This is heroism. This is the through line of the series. It is found in Kirishima's story, Ochako's story, Mirio's story, hell, even Mineta's story. It's All Might's story, Izuku's story, and of course, Katsuki's story.

The visuals of the animations always remind us of how interconnected this story is--how interconnected the world of MHA itself is, because that's the point. Every piece belongs, every piece completes it. A broken piece cannot be abandoned, for it leaves us incomplete. It must be mended and made anew.

It's beautiful and good. Izuku and Katsuki are our two thematic halves, completing each other and themselves to reach this pinnacle, so of course they come to mind.

--And, frankly I'd be fuckin' hard-pressed to believe when TK wrote the line "I resurrect time after time — for whose sake?" he wasn't thinking of Katsuki, because what the fuck. But even if he wasn't, BONES sure as fuck understood the assignment when they had Katsuki look directly into the camera over these lines. What the fuck!!!!

I very much doubt TK is privy to the ending, but you don't need to be to write a slammin' song that incorporates the core themes from the perspective of the character who encapsulates yearning and redemption. He rose again, motherfucker, and he's going beyond.

I can't wait. >:D