#or 18 just in case if you live in europe

[chemicalgirlmechanicalboy]

As u wish Vicky :)

*5 minutez later*

*Insert vomiting noisez coming from a toilet*

[gigizetz]

do you live in Europe? (Don’t mean to pry I’m just kinda confused bc you’re 19-20 and can drink) that’s illegal where I live lol

I'm from Brazil, here the legal drinking age is 18

Not sure if that should be the case but who am I to complain

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 9

warnings: SMUT! 18+!, dirty talk, p in v sex, oral sex, fingering, praise.

Part 9

"What did I miss?" Liana asked as she sat down, seeing the boys exchange looks. Sometimes they spoke without words. She always envied that connection. She didn’t have anyone who could understand her with just a nod or a blink or, in this case, a stare.

"Hello, Earth to Art and Patrick?" she tried to join in, but something about the current situation didn’t feel right. "It's my turn to go inside. I need to drink some water. You two catch up, it's been a while since you’ve seen each other," Art said without looking at her, causing Liana to frown as he walked away. "That was weird, right?" she asked Patrick, who responded with a half-smile. "When is Art not weird?" he said. "How are you?" he asked, turning his gaze back to her and seeing her give the widest smile she could offer anyone. "Do you forgive me?" she asked, moving to sit next to him, placing her head on his shoulder. "What do I have to forgive you for, Amanda?" he chuckled, tracing shapes on her shoulder while taking another sip of champagne. "I was terrible. The exams made me crazy," she tried to justify her behavior over the past month. "Do you know if you're leaving yet?" he asked. "I’ll know when we get back from vacation. I’m terrified," she murmured. On one hand, Liana desperately wanted that year in Oxford. She wanted to see Europe. The architecture. The atmosphere. The culture. She wanted to see something other than the American suburb she had lived in her whole life, with the same people and the same opinions and the same tennis. On the other hand, she didn’t want to break her parents’ hearts. Her parents who had always talked about Stanford and how she’d join the family business after she finished school, and her parents who were the best people she knew but whose dreams for her flew past them as if they were never there. And now there was Art too. Art, who in the past two days had made her feel things she had never felt before. Art, who in the months at Stanford had become an inseparable part of her life. Art, who made her stomach ache at the thought of not seeing him for a year. Art, who still didn’t know she was considering leaving. "You’ll pass that test, we both know you will," Patrick said calmly. "And then you'll conquer Europe, building by building." He chuckled, but his voice faded with each word. "And we'll stay here, missing you," he said, and she straightened up, looking at him. "I’m not going to die, you know," Liana rolled her eyes, trying to lighten the conversation. "No, you're just going to meet people much better than us, and I'm enough of a bastard to be worried about that," he said honestly. "I don’t think there are many people in the world better than you, Patrick," she concluded. The next day Art left. He texted her that a spot opened up in some tennis group he could join, and he didn’t want to miss the opportunity. That he’d see her at Stanford. When Liana tried to call, he didn’t answer. So they kept missing each other throughout the vacation, she trying to call just as he was going into practice or the shower or falling asleep, and him sending messages that he was okay, just busy. On the last day of the vacation, she received a message that her exam results had come in. She had been accepted. Liana cried. Which wasn’t anything special because objectively Liana cried a lot, but this time she cried out of excitement. All the effort she put in had paid off, and now she could prepare for the student exchange. She could make her dream come true, start being a real person in the world. The conversation with her parents was horrible. There were shouts and accusations, and her mother said they wouldn’t pay for this, which Liana had suspected might happen. Her father seemed more conciliatory but didn’t say much. "Do you think Mom will be mad at me for long?" she asked him on the way to the airport. If there was one thing Liana hated, it was that it was always obvious she had been crying. Her pale face would turn red, and her eyes would swell, sometimes for days. This was one of those cases. It could be said with confidence that Liana looked like she had been run over by a bus yesterday.

"I know it doesn’t look like it, but we’re proud of you. Mom will come around, don’t worry," her father hugged her as they got out of the car. "I want this so much, Dad," she sighed.

"I know, honey," he said, kissing the top of her head. He hated seeing the emotional turmoil his daughter was in. His daughter, who above all feared disappointing people. "I’ll come back to Stanford after that," she mumbled, feeling the lump in her throat take over again. "I don’t want her to hate me," she looked at him with teary eyes.

"She doesn’t hate you. Li, look at me." Her father tried to wipe her tears. "Your mother is a stubborn woman, and you’ll see that a month after you’re there, she’ll come visit you." He smiled, and she nodded, not sure she believed what he said. "Besides, you have another semester at Stanford. Make the most of it, maybe you’ll love the place as much as we did." He shrugged, seeing her take a deep breath, trying to calm down. "I love you, Dad," she hugged him again and started to walk away, hoping everything would calm down and her mother would eventually look at her like she did before she told her she was planning to leave. Art opened the door after five knocks, looking at her with a puzzled expression. "Did we have plans?" he asked. "Hey Arthur, I missed you too," she rolled her eyes and gave him a small kiss on the lips, seeing him close his eyes and deepen the kiss within seconds as he closed the door. "Hey," he smiled at her and moved her hair out of her face. "Have you been crying?" he asked after examining her. Art couldn’t stop himself from asking. It was like an instinct; seeing what he could do to make her feel better. But he was so mad at her that he didn’t really want to talk to her or know how she felt right now; after all, she didn’t care how he felt. He did want to fuck her. He wanted to feel like she was his. He was afraid he was a little addicted to the feeling of looking at her and feeling like she was entirely his. He was afraid that if she left, he wouldn’t feel that way again. He was afraid of losing.

"Did you know?" his mother asked on the phone. Her voice worried. "What?" he returned the question, panting after practice. "That Liana is planning to leave for Oxford? Did you know that?" she demanded the truth. And the truth was that he knew she was leaving. But he didn’t know where or when and he didn’t know it was official. His heart pounded faster. "Yes, I knew," he mumbled, not wanting to reveal how far he felt from Liana in reality. Not wanting to reveal how stupid he felt that of all people, Patrick knew before him. "How could you not say anything, Art, she's our Liana. How will she manage in England alone? She barely manages to find her way in the supermarket without getting lost," his mother sighed. And she was right. He knew she was right. And she wasn’t even their Liana; she was his Liana. And she was his Liana for exactly two days. What an idiot he is. "She’s a big girl. She can navigate the supermarket in England without getting lost. I have to go," he mumbled, angry at himself for still feeling the need to protect her. "Just tired from the flight," she smiled at him a tired smile and felt his lips leaving small kisses on her neck, causing her to close her eyes. "Can I help?" his voice was teasing as he took off her shirt without much resistance. Examining her for a second, as if trying to remember how she looked. "You're already helping," she smiled a genuine smile, and his lips were on her again, hungrier than she had felt him so far. "I want you so much, Li," he groaned into her mouth. His tongue intertwining with hers as if he had wandered for years in the desert and she was his source of water. "Do you want this?" he asked, as they moved to his bed and she nodded. In complete haze, at this point, she decided that Art Donaldson could do whatever he wanted with her. And it was a liberating decision. Knowing she was safe in his hands and he decided how good she could feel now. "Words, Liana," he demanded as he started taking off her jeans. She didn’t even notice she was already half-naked in front of him. "You're wearing too many clothes," she mumbled incoherently as his hand brushed over her panties. "You're already wet, Li?" his voice was amused as he took off his shirt. "Already ready for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet," he whispered in her ear and heard her moan, which caused him to release a groan of his own. "Do you want this?" he asked again. This time his hand applied more pressure over her panties. "Art." Her voice was desperate. "Please," she whispered, and he bit his lip. Stopping himself from all the things he wanted to do with her. "Please, what?" he asked, his mouth close to hers, teasing, barely touching. He kissed her right cheek and then her left

"Touch me. Please," she almost cried out of frustration and desperation, exactly the way he wanted her. His. His again. And he felt desperate too, so her panties came off in a flash and he gave her exactly what she wanted. He heard her moan beneath him as his fingers moved inside her rhythmically. He felt how tight she was. He tried not to imagine his dick inside her, thinking he might not last. She was a virgin. He knew that. She had told him. He was going to be the first inside her. "So good for me, Li," he murmured and smiled, never taking his eyes off her. He didn't think anyone could look better than Liana did now, beneath him, eyes closed, desperate sounds escaping her, moaning his name. He was sure the student in the room next door was jerking off to the sound of her. He was sure no one in the world could resist Liana Levy when she looked like that beneath him. He was no different from anyone else. Almost captivated. Almost helpless. Just wanting to deliver. Just wanting her to always be like that for him. His lips roamed over her body until they reached her clit, while his hand sped up.

"You take me so well, Li," he said as the room filled with the sound of her fluids and moans.

"I'm going to-" she mumbled, her voice breaking, making him look up at her. He had to see her come. He had to remember this moment.

"Come for me, Li, come on. I want to see you," he demanded in the most authoritative voice he could muster, even though he felt himself melting under her influence.

"Art," she moaned again.

And he was right, her face in that moment was truly the most beautiful thing he'd seen in his 20 years of existence. Her half-open mouth, her eyes closed, slightly teary, her hand on her breast. It was a magnificent sight and he knew only he had seen her like this.

Her body shook and he gave one last kiss on her sensitive clit, then stood before her.

"Open your eyes, Li," he said, and she did exactly as he commanded. "Kiss me. Taste yourself." Another half-command with a smile and scheming eyes. Within seconds, her lips were on his, her tongue mingling with his intensely, just wanting more.

"I want to be inside you," he murmured, and she nodded. "Can I?" he asked. He had to ask. He knew she could say no and he would have to accept it, and if he were less greedy, he might even be satisfied with that anyway.

But he was so angry with her. He wanted her to know. He wanted her to know that just as he was hers, she was his. That she couldn't just ignore him like that. Dismiss him as if he didn't matter.

"Yes," she murmured into his mouth, feeling him smile against her.

"Yes, what?" he asked, teasing.

"Fuck me," she whispered, and it came out vulgar and blunt, uncharacteristic of the girl in front of him. She was even surprised by the words that left her mouth, her eyes widening for a moment before remembering it was Art and relaxing. She was safe with Art. He wouldn't use her words against her. It was okay for her to need him.

"I didn't hear you," he murmured, removing the rest of his clothes and moving to his desk to grab a condom. "I'm on this side of the room, Liana. You need to speak louder." He leaned against the wall as he put the condom on, taking a breath. He had to steady his breathing if he wanted to last inside her for more than three seconds.

"Please, Art. I want to feel you inside me," she said louder, more confidently, more desperately. He moved toward her. "Please fuck me," she looked him in the eyes and bit her lip, feeling almost small but also kind of powerful. He looked almost as desperate as she did as his hand traced her face and then her chest, stopping at her sensitive nipple, making her moan.

"That much, huh?" he asked, positioning the tip of his dick at her entrance and hearing her sigh in response. "Don't worry, I've got you. Are you going to be good for me, Li?" he asked, watching her nod in response. "Are you going to take me like you were made for me?" he asked again.

"Yes, please. Art." She was almost crying with frustration. Liana didn't know what to do to make him enter her already. To feel him. For him to fill her with himself. For him to be close to her. Part of her. She didn't know when she started feeling all these emotions for Art Donaldson, but now was not the time to figure it out. He began to slide into her.

"Oh, Art," she bit his shoulder, making him groan.

"Fuck, Liana. So tight. Fuck. Hang in there, baby, are you okay?" he asked, studying her.

"More," she mumbled. The pain didn't matter. She just wanted him. She wanted all of him. He did move more. A bit more each time. Another moan and another sigh each time until he was fully inside her. Their lips merged in their most sloppy kiss yet. They were one for a moment.

"You can move," she managed to say after a few seconds.

"Are you sure?" he asked, seeing her nod. "Fuck, Li. I won't last long like this," he murmured, his movements gentle. He was careful with her.

When he felt he was close and knew she wouldn't come from the first time someone inside her, he added a finger to play with her clit.

"Fuck, Art," she moaned his name for the umpteenth time.

"I know. You're doing such a good job, Li, taking care of me so well," he said, feeling her tighten around him, bringing him to the edge almost with her.

After a few seconds, he gently pulled out of her, seeing her panting and feeling just as spent. He took off the condom and walked it to the trash, finding his boxers on the way and putting them on. He saw the girl in front of him, completely naked. Completely his.

"When were you planning to tell me?" he asked, looking at her from a distance.

Liana was still in euphoria, her eyes half-closed, confused by the question. "What are you talking about?" she sounded amused, looking at him with a smile as he put on a shirt. For a moment, she felt fragile, not understanding how she was still completely naked while he was fully dressed in front of her.

"About leaving Stanford. About Oxford? I don't know. Maybe there are more things you'd like to tell me." His gaze was cold, making Liana freeze too. She felt her nakedness now. She understood why he was dressed and she wasn't. She was vulnerable right now.

"How long have you known?" she asked quietly, swallowing and searching for her clothes.

"My mom asked me about it yesterday," he said, never taking his eyes off her. "Do you know how stupid I felt when I lied and told her I knew?" he asked. His voice didn't rise, but the frustration was clear.

"Art, I found out two days ago," her eyes glistened and she breathed quickly, feeling everything slipping away from her. He was slipping away from her.

"You're lying," he stated with an eye roll, sitting down on the bed.

"Art," she knelt in front of him, studying his face. He showed no emotion, only coldness.

"It's okay, Liana. We both know what this is," he said, instinctively moving her hair out of her face.

"What is it?" she swallowed. She knew Art. She knew he was about to say something he'd regret, and yet she still pushed him to say it.

"It's me passing time until Tashi realizes she wants me," he said, seeing her expression change to one he'd never seen on her before. She moved his hand from her face quickly and scooted back on the floor as fast as he didn't know she was capable of, as if afraid of his touch.

"Wow." She swallowed, looking at him, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm sorry if I hurt you," she tried to salvage the situation, and he chuckled.

"Come on, Liana." He rolled his eyes and lay down on the bed, no longer looking at her.

"You just fucked me, Art." She felt sick. It was the first time she had slept with someone. He knew that. She felt so humiliated.

"I know. I was there, and if I remember correctly, you asked for it. More precisely, you begged-"

"Shut up. Just shut up." She cut him off and stood up. She couldn't hide her tears anymore.

"Why did you do it? We could have just continued meeting at family dinners. Seeing each other in the hallway and occasionally saying hello. Why did you do it?" It came as a sob. She had never felt so humiliated. It was like a truck had run over her.

"I was bored, and you were cute, and let's be honest, a little desperate," her hand found its way to his cheek with a force neither of them knew she possessed. She wanted to apologize automatically because she wasn't violent, but it didn't come out.

"I hate you so much. I will never forgive you. You are the worst person I know." She mumbled and moved toward the door.

"At least I beat Patrick to it," he found himself saying. He had to have the last word in every argument.

"No, Art. You lost to Patrick. Even in twenty years, you won't have half the character and heart that Patrick has already. You're a complete loser compared to him, and I hope you never forget that." She said without stuttering while he didn't take his eyes off her, swallowing hard, finally hearing the door slam.

The moment Liana reached her room, after passing a considerable number of people who looked at her with worried expressions, some even trying to ask if she was okay, she collapsed on the floor and let out the loudest cry that had probably ever escaped her. She felt dirty. Almost used. She had trusted the wrong person.

She picked up the phone to call the only person she thought could understand her.

"Liana, are you okay?" Patrick sounded concerned and confused, probably because of the late hour.

"He really hurt me and I didn't know who else to call," she managed to say through her tears, hearing Patrick sigh, as if silently saying he knew. He knew this would happen.

Writing this part kinda broke me. I know Art was being cruel, but well, he was acting out without thinking about the consequences. Got your requests and maybe on the weekend we'll give Liana/Patrick/Art some more layers. Keep sending me questions and such. I LOVE it. Hope you're still enjoying and again, if you wanna join the taglist, say the word ❤️

taglist: @swetearss @ganana @yoitsme-04 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @serenadingtigers

[jokeroutsubs]

📝 ENG Translation: European Tours in Times of Inflation

💬Kris Guštin shares some insight into the organization of Joker Out's recent See You Soon tour.

Article written by Gašper Završnik and published in Delo on 03.04.2024, English translation by a member of JOS and @kurooscoffee, Proofread by IG GBoleyn123.

Coping with rising costs and crowded markets is a challenge for the whole industry.

The concert part of the music industry in the post-Covid era is characterised by the expansion of live performance. The long-suppressed desire to tour, to perform in front of audiences in as many countries as possible, is only this year being fully realised.

We took a look at how European touring is going in the new inflation-driven reality. This was one of the themes of the conference part of this year's Ment¹. The European concert market is facing many challenges, such as the rising costs of touring, organising concerts and festivals, increasing musician fees and, as a consequence, more and more expensive tickets. There is also the question of how to manage the concentration and congestion of concert venues and balancing the availability of the most sought-after artists. An additional problem is finding opportunities for new performers in such a competitive environment.

¹Ment is a showcase festival and music conference that happens every year in Ljubljana.

We also enquired about the European tours of Slovenian performers, two groups that have a different style and a different audience, Joker Out and Širom².

²We translated only the part of the article that was relevant to Joker Out.

Joker Out recently returned from a European Tour. As Kris Guštin told us, it was organised by “a booking agent from the Wasserman agency and our manager. The booking agent arranges the concerts, the conditions, and the dates, and then the manager comes up with all the logistics, that is, he arranges the transport, the accommodation, puts together a team and everything that needs to be done.” He says that tours have always been a big financial investment for performers. “Especially for performers of our size, who have only just started breaking into the European market, where the ticket sales often don’t make up for the costs of transit, accommodation, and the salaries of the performers and the team. The inflation over the past few years is of course making that even harder, but the musical market has slowly adapted to that with higher ticket prices.”

Joker Out had 19 concerts in 18 cities in 12 countries this year, and they have three more coming up in Great Britain. The ticket price for each concert is determined based on the size of the venue, how in-demand the artist is, the local standard, and the overall concert-going culture in a certain place.

Joker Out are very happy with how many people came to their concerts. “The turnout differed across Europe. In the countries we’re strong in, like Finland and the Netherlands, we played for crowds from 1500 to 2000 people, and for countries we haven't played in a lot yet, like Germany and France, we performed for 500 to 1000 people. The venues were always nicely filled and the audience was excited.”

We asked Guštin what they base the length of the tour on. “The length of the tour is based on demand, territory strategy, and how busy the performer is. In our case, we decided for a month-long tour, in which we covered a lot of countries that we couldn’t do last year,” he added.

[sissylittlefeather]

How The Web Was Woven: Chapter 4

A/N: The next chapter in the time travel/soulmate AU with Elvis and a fem!reader. This one is less exciting, but sometimes you need a little peace. I hope this one is enjoyable!

Special thanks to @ccab and @elvisfatass for being my Elvis besties and the loves of my life. I hope you love this chapter!

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, fingering, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie.

Word count: ~2.8k

How will you find him again?

******

Two years pass and in that time you formulate a theory. Unfortunately, that means that to find him you'd have to travel to Europe and that's just not financially feasible. You're a college kid who lost her part time job at a bank with the financial crisis of '08. Every penny you have goes to school and survival. Jetting off to Germany just isn't possible.

But you're pretty sure that if you can be in the same physical location exactly 50 years from when he's there, a portal will open. That's what has happened the last two times. So now you just need to wait until he gets back to the states in 1960.

But will he even want to see you? The way you left him was almost unforgivable. You've beat yourself up over it for years now. When you first came back, you sank into a deep depression that you never got fully over. You're doing a lot better now, but you'll never forget the look on his face when you walked through the portal. It's possible he may not have forgiven you either.

Still, you have to try. You can't live the rest of your life without him. After endless hours of research, it seems like your best bet is Washington Union Station on the morning of March 6th, 2010, or 1960 for him. If you can catch him there, you won't have to wait until he gets back to Graceland and risk being seen at the house. This way you'll be in public and can fade into the background if you need to. You're not sure how you'll get back, but you're never sure how that'll happen. It just always seems to happen, so you try not to worry too much. Besides, at this point, you don't care if you get stuck. You just need to see him.

You dress in your best 1960 outfit, fix your hair, and get in your car to drive to Washington D.C. You have a small suitcase full of vintage clothes and some toiletries with you, just in case. Wandering around Washington Union Station in the vague hope of running into him is a shot in the dark, but what choice do you have? You say a quick prayer that fate will be on your side again. Something seems to be bringing you together, so you hope it'll happen this time too.

When you get to the station, you head to the ladies room to freshen up. You want to look nice for him. In the bathroom, you take a deep breath and try to reassure yourself that everything will be fine. After a few minutes, you walk out and stand in front of the water fountain between the restrooms. You look out at the bustling activity of the station. Where do you begin?

******

It's cold when Elvis gets to the station with his entourage. He's still wearing his military uniform and he's just so ready to be home. There are fans pretty much everywhere he goes and while he's happy that he still has fans, he really just wants to go to sleep in his own bed. He decides to try to sneak away from his group for just a minute.

"I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be right back." He's got several bags with him, but he's so eager to get away that he just brings them with him. He walks to the bathroom and decides to stop and get some water from the fountain. That's when he hears the familiar buzzing sound and his heart stops. Without another thought, he grabs something out of his bag and walks through the portal.

******

You hear the buzzing sound and turn towards the portal. You can't believe you did it. You found him. As you're preparing to walk through the portal, someone comes through and bumps smack into you. You smell him before you see his face, considering you run into his chest. He doesn't pull back at all, he just wraps his arms around you, dropping whatever he was holding to the floor. You do the same and whisper into his chest.

"Is it really you?"

"God, honey, I've never been so happy to see someone in my life." You feel the tears well up in your eyes. He's happy to see you. He doesn't hate you.

The portal closes behind him with a quiet pop and you realize you were supposed to go to him, not the other way around. You pull back away from him and look into his eyes.

"Elvis, what if you can't get back?! I was going to come to you!"

"I told you last time. If I find you I'm not leaving. I don't care if it ever opens again." He leans down and presses his lips to yours passionately.

You forgot how devilishly handsome he is when he comes home from Germany. The kiss starts to get a little heated and both of you seem to have forgotten that you're in a public space. Finally, you hear an older woman clearing her throat. She wants to use the water fountain. When you unwrap from around each other she laughs and looks at you both. A look of recognition crosses her face when she sees him and her mouth drops open. You grab his hand and whisk him away before she can realize she's right. He reaches down to grab the thing he brought with him from the floor and then you both move quickly through the station.

"Where are we headed?"

"I don't know. This wasn't my plan." You get outside the station and the crisp air hits you both.

"What year is it?"

"2010. We're always exactly 50 years apart. I think I figured it out. We're 50 years apart in the same location. That's how the portals open."

"So it's been two years for you too. It's been a long two years for me." You look up at him in his army uniform, buttons glistening in the sunlight. You've missed him so much it physically hurts.

"It's been long for me too. I've missed you so much." He looks down into your face and leans down to kiss you again. He pulls back and looks out into the street again.

"Where should we go?"

"Well, we can go to a hotel or get in the car and drive back to where I live. Same town, but Katie and I have a house now."

"Let's go home. To your home." He corrects himself quickly, but he has every intention of making your home his as well. Especially after the last two years, he doesn't feel like he has much holding him in 1960. His career might very well be over and the one person he would miss is already gone.

You lead the way to where you parked your car and slide into the driver's seat. He puts the bundle he was carrying down at his feet and sits in the passenger seat. You've gotten a new car since the last time he was here, so it has new safety features. After a few minutes, it starts to ding.

"What's that?"

"You need to put your seatbelt on."

"The car is telling you that?!"

"Yes. It's up by your shoulder and it clicks in down by your hip." He looks around and reaches up to put it on.

"Damn car telling me what to do." He mutters and you laugh.

"Welcome to the future. The machines have won." Now it's his turn to laugh. He leans over a bit and puts his hand on your thigh.

You can't ignore the elephant any longer. You take a deep breath and ask the question you've been avoiding.

"You're not mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad?"

"Because of how I left you." He sighs deeply and looks out the window.

"I was angry. When you first left. But slowly the anger faded and I just missed you. The love was stronger than the anger." You put your hand on his on your thigh and he picks it up and kisses your fingers. You blink away the tears that have gathered in your eyes.

You drive in silence for a while before he asks to listen to some music. You plug your iPod into the aux cable and pick the newest album of the band he liked best last time he was there. For the rest of the way you talk about music. You tell him about the shows you've been to and he talks about how he misses recording. He has a small pang when he realizes he won't be recording anymore if he stays with you, but he'd rather have you. He can always sing. Maybe he'll start a band.

It's late afternoon when you pull into your driveway. You realize that you don't have any clothes for him, though.

"We might need to go shopping again."

"Later. I'm beat. Can we just rest for tonight? I'll wear your pajamas again." You laugh and nod as you make your way into the house. Katie is at work, but you know she'll be surprised to find "John" back when she gets home. She was incredibly perplexed when he mysteriously disappeared last time. But she just assumed he went back to Tupelo. She's asked about him a couple of times since, but you always assured her he was gone for good. You hope this will be a pleasant surprise.

When you get inside he drops the package he was carrying and wraps you in a hug.

"What's that?" You ask, gesturing to the bundle.

"It's for you." He picks it back up and hands it to you.

"For me?" It's something wrapped in brown paper, so you sit down on the couch to open it. When you get it open, you see that it's a bundle of letters.

"I wrote to you. While I was in the army. I wrote to you like you were back home waiting for me." You feel tears prick the corners of your eyes again.

"You wrote letters to me?"

"I did. I told you I never stopped missing you, never stopped loving you." You throw your arms around his neck and hold him tightly. All the sadness you've been carrying finally lifts and you wish he would never have to leave. You know he does, but you decide not to think about it tonight. Who knows how long you have before the portal opens again? You're going to make the most of every second you have with him.

"What should we do tonight?" He asks when you finally let go of him. You think for a second and then remember how much he loves movies.

"I have an idea."

You both change into pajamas and you bring him a stack of dvds.

"What are these?"

"They're movies. Pick some and we will watch them." His eyes get bright.

"We can watch them here at home?"

"Yes! Whichever ones you want." He starts to flip through the pile. He chooses three and you put the first one in, snuggling into him on the couch with his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you share a blanket. While he watches, you read through some of the letters. Each one simultaneously breaks and warms your heart. He was so unhappy over there, but his love for you is undeniable. You feel your heart swell with love for him, and it's only increased by seeing the childlike joy he has while watching the movies.

He's in awe of the progress in acting, cinematography, and technology. He can't believe how real everything looks. You're halfway through Star Wars when Katie comes home from her restaurant job.

"John's back!" You say as she walks through the door.

"Oh, wow, hey John." He waves, but is so laser-focused on the movie, he doesn't say anything. You turn back to Katie.

"He's never seen this before and he's really into it."

"Shhh!" He shushes you gently, so that he doesn't miss the dialogue. Katie smiles and tiptoes to her room. She's happy to see you two snuggled up again. Hopefully this time he'll stick around.

When the last movie is over, he gushes about the quality of the film, but you've fallen asleep on his shoulder. You were up before the sun to get to Washington and it's almost midnight. He leans over and kisses your forehead gently. He gathers the letters that are strewn about on the blanket and couch, making a pile of them on the coffee table. Then, he turns and scoops you up into his arms like a baby and carries you into your bedroom. He lays you gently on the bed and looks at you softly. You look like an angel when you're asleep and he can't believe how beautiful you are. He crawls into bed next to you, brushes your hair out of your face, and presses his lips to yours.

"I love you, y/n. I'm so glad I'm here." You nod sleepily and he wraps his arms around you to sleep. It doesn't take long for him to drift off too.

******

You wake up to the feeling of him running his hand up and down your thigh. When your eyes flutter open, he leans in and kisses you.

"Good morning, honey."

"Mmmm good morning." You smile and stretch. He kisses you again and then starts kissing down your neck. He's obviously in some kind of mood this morning, but you're not complaining. He runs both hands up the front of your sweatshirt squeezing your breasts lightly and presses his hard cock into your thigh.

"I missed you, baby." He whispers into your neck. You arch your back and press your body into him. He slips your sweatshirt up over your head and off. This leaves you in just your panties and he looks down at you hungrily. His passion rubs off onto you and you pull the t-shirt off of him and pull him over on top of you. He crashes his lips into yours and lets his tongue slide into your mouth. You roll your hips into his and then run your hand down his stomach to his dick, rubbing him through his pajama pants.

He moans into your mouth and bucks his hips forward into your touch. You slip your hand under the waistband and feel his naked cock in your fingers, stroking it up and down. He whimpers for a bit and then lets his hand slide under your panties, feeling the wetness that's gathered there.

"Mmm so wet for me. You missed me too, didn't ya baby?" You nod and moan softly as he slips one finger and then two inside you. He starts fingering you harder, slamming his hand against your pussy as he pumps quickly, the feeling driving you absolutely wild. You match his pace, rubbing his cock faster and faster. Your mouths are locked in a deep kiss as you both work your hands on each other. Finally, neither of you can stand it anymore and he rips your panties off while you yank his pants down and he pushes into you passionately.

"Mmmm."

"Yes, baby." He groans and puts his head on your shoulder. The sensation of you around him is almost too much. He starts to pump in and out of you and kiss your neck. You nibble on his earlobe and he moans deeply, pushing into you harder. You roll him over and sink onto his cock. Then, you bounce up and down on him as quickly as you can. He grips your hips tightly and pounds into you from underneath.

"God, yes. Yes!" You scream as you come hard on top of him, the electricity of your orgasm rushing from your fingertips to your core. He groans again as your walls pulse around him, pushing him over the edge into his release.

"Fuck, baby, yes!" He moans loudly and slams into you one last time, shuddering as he comes inside you. He kisses you one last time and you collapse on his chest breathing heavily. You lay there together for a minute before you hear the buzzing sound.

You sit up and slide off of him and see the portal over by the door of your room. He doesn't move.

"Elvis! The portal! You have to go!"

"No." He says it quietly without moving a muscle.

"What? No?"

"I said no. I'm not going."

"You have to!" You argue back and forth for a bit before he finally sits up next to you. He looks into your eyes and puts his hand on your neck.

"Y/n, I told you. I'm staying here with you. I love you and I don't want to be without you for another two years or God knows how long. Stop telling me to go." Just then, there's a quiet pop and the portal disappears.

Your heart and your mind race with the reality of what just happened.

"Oh my God, Elvis. What have you done?!"

******

Until Chapter 5

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @ashtag6887 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @eddiesgirlforever

[ot3]

Hi, I started playing Ace Attorney because of you (which thanks, I have been having a blast!), and I just finished Rise of the Ashes. I was wondering if you had any thoughts/head cannons on anything relating to that episode, especially the Skye sisters!

Any AA headcanons you been sitting on? Doesn't have to be anything new, just something you think you might be able to toss out a couple paragraphs for

oh man rise from the ashes.... extremely extremely fucking good case im glad you enjoyed it!

a headcanon i have is that ema was in the car accident that killed her parents... we don't have an exact number on how old she was when their parents died, but she and lana are ~13 years apart. it seems like lana took custody of ema immediately after their parent's death so assuming lana was bare minimum 18 when their parents died, this meant ema was at her youngest 5. i like to think she was slightly older - maybe 7 or so. anyway i imagine her parents were taking her to or from somewhere. i don't have any particularly strong reasoning for this headcanon it just feels right to me. i don't think ema feels like it was her fault in any way but i think she does have survivor's guilt and more important than that being Right There when she died gives her a sense of how easy it is for people to die moreso than it would have if they had just not come home one day

anyway after rfta ema gets sent to live with one of lana's friends who is a coroner in europe - i like to think that this was actually one of lana's exes but ema doesn't know that. i think part of lana's reason for sending ema abroad was to try and keep her away from the shitstorm going on in the LA justice system... she knows ema wants to be in forensics but i think after everything lana went through ema ending up in the stew like she did is kind of her nightmare. for obvious reasons. so i think after lana gets out of prison and ema is A Detective and also Miserable this is really really hard on lana. like she fundamentally feels like she failed ema and is heartbroken this is how stuff has ended up for her baby sister

but then its like this is also kind of a nightmare for ema, who just wanted lana to be proud of her when she can't be proud of herself, and so she kind of ends up mistaking lana's feelings of failure for judgement of how ema's life turned out. like despite ema knowing how much of lana's career accomplishments were because of gant's influence i think she still can't help but compare herself to the image she has in her head of lana as this cool hypercompetent professional, star detective And star prosecutor all before the age of 30. nevermind that she burned out hot and fast after that getting involved in multiple felonies! lana spent so long working herself to the bone to try and protect ema from the world and all she did was make sure that her young, impressionable sister grew up idolizing the kind of relationship to your career that ruins your life

its good stuff. theyre really messy.

[kiuda]

DREAMBLR CENSUS 2023

Hi, hello and welcome everyone to the 2023 Dreamblr census results! 

Let me start by thanking all of you for taking part - I love looking at statistics like that and making this has been a real joy. I hope at least some of you will find the results interesting as well <3

So, first things first - some numbers. 353 people have taken part in the census. There are over 350 people that say ‘yes I am a part of Dreamblr’. That’s amazing! I am so happy to see this community thrive :D 

Now let’s get to the questions.

What continent are you from?

One of the more straightforward questions on this census. 

The results are not surprising in the slightest - over 85% of the people that have taken the survey are from North America or Europe. 5.9% come from South America, 4.8% from Asia, 1.7% from Australia and Oceania. 4 people decided not to answer and thus became citizens of Antarctica and one person comes from Africa.

What country are you from (optional)?

Before we get to the statistics, it’s important to mention a couple of things. First of all - this question was optional. The survey site let you pass without putting anything in and the question itself had the word ‘optional’ in it. Despite that 2 of the 4 people that chose Antarctica also wrote in the countries they lived in. All in all 270 out of the 353 people decided to answer this question.

Second of all. 

Americans.

For the love of everything holy. 

Please. PLEASE. Decide on one way to call your country.

As I was using google forms, the survey was sensitive to lower- and upper-case letters, which meant that in the end there were 25 versions of the your country’s name, including (but not limited) to: America, Murica (including ‘eagle noise’ once), the U.S, The U.S., u.s, U.S.A., U.S.A, United States, united states, United States of America, United states of america, US, Us, us, USA, USA! and u s of a. 

Special shoutout to the person who just wrote in ‘Arizona’ as well. 

In the end the top 10 (eh kind of) most popular countries on the survey were……

Drumroll please!!

USA - 133 

Canada - 26

Germany - 17

Poland & UK - 8

Brazil - 7

England - 6

Russia - 5

Chile, France, Sweden and the Netherlands - each with 4

As you can see, I have decided to treat ‘England’ and ‘UK’ as two different answers, since that’s how the survey responders decided to specify their countries.

What age are you?

Another straightforward question. Over 70% of us are between 18 and 25 years old. 13 are 31-45 years old and 8 people decided not to specify their age. 1 person has declared to be over 45 years old. You can see all the answers on this awesome pie chart as well!

I think it’s pretty cool how while a lot of us are young adults or even still teenagers, there are also older fandom enjoyers among us :D I hope you are all enjoying your time!!

When did you join the fandom?

First of the more fandom-specific questions. And probably the first question, where the answers genuinely surprised me!

A lot of us are OGs! Either having joined in 2019 or early/late 2020! Those people remember it all - the beginning of Dream SMP, the first vlog, Antfrost’s coming out and even the beginning of manhunts in some cases!

Out of the rest, early 2021 was another popular entry point to the fandom. Which shouldn’t surprise anyone either - it was still during the pandemic, probably the peak of Dream’s (and Dream Team’s/Dream SMP’s popularity). 

9 people did not remember when they joined the fandom.

Similarly, 9 people are newbies! They’ve joined us in late 2022, while 23 joined in early 2022. 

No one has joined in 2023 yet. (or haven’t seen the census. also possible.)

Who is your main?

This is a question that I could have made better in hindsight. I think a better answer than ‘I can’t decide’ would be ‘I like them all equally’, since I was assuming that all participants of the census did like the Dream Team members either way. It’s not a big mistake, just a small note I wanted to add.

To most likely no one’s surprise - the most popular person among Dreamblr’s population is Dream (224), followed by George (63) and Sapnap (15). 51 participants couldn’t decide on one of them.

Who do you watch besides the DTeam the most (out of other mcyts)? Please list 3 people max.

This question caused more problems than I'd imagined. Guys. I was asking about other MCYT (aka Minecraft Youtubers and Streamers) besides the DTeam. That means that I had to unfortunately eliminate some answers, the most popular out of which was Hasan, who I don’t think has ever played Minecraft before.

To answer some of you, who had some doubts about who counts as a MCYT….

Yes, Wilbur Soot does count.

Yes, Charlie Slimecicle also counts.

Yes, Hermits also count.

I am also counting Ludwig, since he did make Minecraft content.

PeteZahHutt also counts.

Corpse Husband counts as well, since he is technically a DSMP member.

RTGame counts as well - again, Minecraft content on his channel.

Again - Hasan does not count.

So now, without further ado… The top 10 most popular answers!

I have also not counted answers that went over 3 people (as in, I have only counted the first 3 names).

If any of you were wondering - 8 people really wish Hasan did play Minecraft.

Which Dream content is the best content?

Another easy question with an easy answer, where most people either prefer Dream’s Youtube content or just love it all.

Quick shout out to the two people who love Dream’s music the most and two who prefer other content than specified in the survey. 

What got you into the fandom?

The toughest question to count. I did not expect so many different answers, so in the end I’ve decided to sort all the answers into a few categories (and I am sorry about that I know it’s not the best way to go about it, but here you guys can see all the answers to the question in an google spreadsheet if you want to).

dnf (answers included: ao3, heatwaves, dnf compilations on youtube or tiktok…)

manhunts (answers included: youtube recommendation of manhunts, binge watching manhunts…)

art (answers included: sad-ist animations, art in general, cosplays…)

lore (answers included: Dream SMP, lore vods…)

Other MCYT creators (answers included: SMP live, wilbur soot’s videos…)

Friend/family member recommendation

Among us streams

Twitter (answers included: seeing drama, twitter trending page…)

Other Dream Team content (answers included: other Dteam videos, tiktoks by them…)

Fandom (answers included: a tumblr mutual started posting about them, tiktok compilations, youtube compilations…)

Hot (answers included: found George/Sapnap hot)

I don’t remember

And finally. The last question of the census. The one we all have been wondering about.

Have you been here since before the face reveal?

As it turns out…

Only 2 people joined us since the face reveal!

The rest of us has known about this community and about Dream earlier and was waiting the day of the face reveal impatiently.

And that’s it! Thank you once again for taking part, hopefully my rambling won’t make this post too boring to read!

Have a great day/night! <3

[council-of-beetroot]

I had a dream I published this without making it anonymous lmao

I like ameliet only if it's done well. In my own family, people like my great great grandmother came to America at the age of 16 alone so I have that connection to the eastern European immigrant experience that Tolys has.

Seeing my last post this is hypocritical but it's not like I care that much because I read anything and will still enjoy it.

Common things I see in ameliet that I dislike

Alfred being interested in Tolys' culture

Especially during this era, assimilation was expected of any immigrants at the time. I don't see Alfred learning Lithuanian or learning Lithuanian cooking or whatever because all that was seen as something you left at the docks the moment you stepped foot in America as an immigrant during those times

The 1920s itself

I know it's canon but I personally in my fics have the outsourcing somewhere between 1890-1915. This is because in 1921 the us restricted immigration based on race and ethnicity so that the only people that could really move to America were Canadians or Western Europe such as the UK or Sweden. But I won't complain since it is canon.

Alfred as Tolys' saviour

I think this is just one annoys me because America has very little to do with say things like Lithuanian independence and the like. Also the way I see it depicted often renders Lithuania completely powerless and unable to lift himself up.

Now onto the other thoughts

I want to see more in outsourcing fics someone calling Tolys polish or Russian as at the time you could be labelled on papers as Russian despite not being ethnically Russian because your country was a part of Russia. For example my Great Great Grandfather's records are listed in the Russians to America files.

if it's the 1920s even better because you can have someone calling Tolys a Pollack and he gets pissed off, but not because it was meant as an insult but because how dare they mistake him for ugh a pole. 1920s is like the worst points for Tolys and Lithuania.

More red scare stuff too please

Tolys confronting the difference between his own experiences living with Alfred and his countrymen who are living in America working backbreaking jobs in poverty with little support. Yeah my great great grandfather ignacy for example was a miner upon immigrating to America. The work was literally back breaking in his case and he fractured his dorsal vertibrae which is incredibly painful but he managed to live with it for nearly 18 years until he got septicemia and died at 52. American dream amiright? There were instances where immigrants who tried to unionize were met with violence. I just think it would be interesting to see tolys grapple with this as he knows what it is like to work in a hostile environment.

Cold war era for example, I think Tolys would also have to grapple with the fact that he has romanticized America like literally as such a great place and Alfred is so much better than Ivan. So then when say Alfred does equally dumb stuff Liet finds it hard to take in.

1992 Barcelona Olympics these two and basketball. Read my basketball fic okay

Tolys thinking that certain things are normal American things as he doesn't realize it's literally something only Alfred does

The Feliks and The Baltics thinking Liet is an Expert about america but his knowledge no longer useful as it's been how many years. Same with slang

Tolys sabotaging his own relationship with Alfred because he thinks Alfred will manipulate him or end up hurting him like past relationships.

Tolys realizing Alfred's naïvete like omfg this is so good. Also Alfred turning to Tolys as almost a mentor or source of advice because Alfred on a nation scale is quite young

Also Alfred not grasping the reality of his actions because he has never been in a place where he has lost that power or been at the mercy of others while powerless. But Tolys is like wait a minute

Tolys having known both Alfred and Ivan and seeing what makes them different and quite similar

The awkwardness of moving in with someone you don't know well

Here is my fic that has ameliet as the backdrop of the fic

[two-white-butterflies]

post mortem | part two

Description: Six thieves gather hostages and lock themselves in the Royal Mint of Spain - a criminal mastermind by the alias of the Dragon manipulates the police to buy them enough time to print money. (money heist au) Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader, Aegon Targaryen x Reader, and Aemond Targaryen x Reader. Rating: Mature 18+

series masterlist | part one

(Toledo, 6 MONTS BEFORE D-DAY)

Viserys takes a cautious step towards the board - smiling at his students. "Thank you for accepting this job offer," he humored, looking around the room and familiarizing himself with everyone's faces. Some were familiar like - Aegon, Aemond and Rhaenyra, but some were new like - you, Harwin and Mysaria.

"We'll be living here, for now - until the heist happens and it won't matter wherever you go." he smiled, turning back to the map on his hands. It was a map of Old Valyria (a city that was now filled with nuclear waste) but it was his home - his father's home - and their names will be built around that.

"I thought we were using planets da-I mean sir." Aegon raises his hand. "I was supposed to be Mars, and one-eye can be Uranus." he kicked the chair in front of him - earning a small chuckle from his uncle. "I don't want to be Uranus," Aemond rolls his eye.

"Why?" Aegon frowned.

"It's an anus." Aemond turned to look at him - nailing daggers on his brother's face. "Language! Young man." Viserys scolded, walking back to the board.

He reaches for the chalk, writing on the board what names were available for the choosing. "No one is allowed to use their real names - just in case someone gets captured and etcetera," he mumbled and the crowd erupts into a chorus of agreement.

It made absolute sense to stay anonymous.

Daemon turns to look at you - a mischievous glint on his eyes. "It makes sense," you mumble - playing with a pencil. Viserys turns to look at you - a smile was on his face. "Why don't you choose first?" he offered. There were interesting names on the board.

Lorath, Lys, Myr, Norvos - but Volantis felt right.

"Volantis," you answered quickly - and the man turns to offer other people their choices of names. Daemon wraps his arms around your waist, leaning closer towards your ears. "The oldest and the proudest of all the Nine Free Cities. But Volantis has changed its name - it's Thessaloniki now." he whispered.

Viserys glares at his brother - seeing the closeness between you.

"- and you?" he raised an eyebrow.

Daemon reaches his full height.

"Rhyos. I am Rhyos."

That was the day you started calling yourself Volantis. The man beside you who was ogling at your breasts was Rhyos or Daemon. His face was familiar - you've seen him in the television - from millions of pounds to diamonds to armored cars. He's the biggest criminal in Europe and Asia. He was a fucking shark - but anyone can swim with him, you'd just feel nervous all the time.

The other guy who was staring at Mysaria's ass was Aegon or Norvos. He's not that big of a criminal - but he's wanted for stealing one of the Ambani Family's treasured jewelry. There's a saying 'Steal from the poor and they'll vote you for the next election. Steal from the rich, and they'll bite your ass.'

The guy in front of him was Aemond or Lorath. He went to jail at sixteen for leaking an unreleased episode of his favorite show - pretty much a rookie as the episode was getting aired the following day. Fuck, Game of Thrones eh?

Then there's that beautiful woman a few inches away from you. Her name was Rhaenyra - she is yet to choose a codename, but everyone already knows who she is. She used to be a model in the '00s. The most beautiful woman in the world - was what they called her. Until she was caught laundering billions of euros - she would've gotten away with it if her step-father didn't rat her out.

She's your role model. Your barbie, basically.

And the reason for why you know all of them?

You spend a lot of time reading the news.

(D-DAY 8.35 AM)

Six months of planning and it was reaching fruition. "Hands where I can see them!" you yell, pointing it at the truck driver. The first step of the plan was getting the unmarked paper bills to the Royal Mint.

"If someone calls the radio, you will answer like there is nothing wrong, okay?." Daemon briefed, pacing back and forth between the men - exuding his confident aura.

This was one of the few moments you were thankful for the minimum wage. These men were paid 1,600 euros per month - thus they didn't care whether or not their cars were getting hijacked. If their daughters were in the trunk, they wouldn't have opened it - but paper? Darling, they couldn't have given a lesser fuck.

"Now, let's go." he turned to look at you - leading the team towards the hijacked cars. Mysaria hands you a blonde wig - fixing it on while you settle the seatbelt in between your breasts.

"Don't take your eyes off the girl, we can't afford mistakes." Daemon looks at you - holding your chin softly. He takes a moment - licking his lips, then moving back and tapping the car - telling Mysaria to drive away.

"Let's find the little lamb," Mysaria breathes - driving through the empty road swiftly. "Who even takes a field trip to a Royal Mint? It sounds boring," you slump on your chair, holding the seatbelt tightly as you cruise closer to the Mint.

"Boring when you're poor, but classy when you're rich." she replied.

Entering the Mint was easy - but finding the little lamb.

"Where the fuck is she?" Mysaria curses, opening all the bathroom stalls. "It's like a game of Where is Waldo," you sigh - pointing the gun at every door you open. "What?" she raised an eyebrow, unfamiliar with the game. "It's a game where you find this little guy in a striped shirt," you explain and she rolls her eyes.

"Where is the little lamb," she rephrased the game - smiling in satisfaction as she opened the last stall. Revealing Cersie Lannister.

"Thank the Seven," you breathed - grabbing the girl by her arm and dragging her to where all the hostages were. "I-I need my phone," the girl stuttered reaching for the Iphone on Mysaria's hands.

The older woman pulls it away.

"Influencers," you mumble like a slur - earning a glare from the child.

"My boyfriend took my phone and retweeted a fucking anti-climate change movement. I don't care if I die today - I will get cancelled." she cried, and you pointed a gun at her waist - making her cries harden. "Are you serious?" you frown, biting back a loud laugh.

Being cancelled was going to be the least of her worries.

Daemon removes his mask as the last hostage puts on a blindfold. "Happy Friday, I hope everyone has had the chance to go to do their novenas. I want to say sorry for what we're doing today, it's not a happy way to end your week. Follow our instructions and you'll be safe." he smiled, Aegon nods his head - telling him that all the phones were currently under control.

"I hope that you enjoy this experience - write a book about it in the future, it might get you into a good college. Harvard or Yale, they love their sob stories." he chuckled, playing with his rifle that he named 'Dark Sister.'

A groan escapes your mouth, pointing a pistol at an old man's head. "What's the fucking pin?" you cursed, holding his Samsung with your left hand. A tear rolls down the man's eye. "Pin?" you repeat in an annoyed way - knowing that this wasn't supposed to be your job.

Another tear falls down his eyes.

"0."

"0."

"0."

He lowered his head in shame.

"0." he whispered, and a small laugh exits your mouth.

"You were acting really smart with me - and your pin is 0000?" you tease him, throwing his phone down the other sacks of phone. "Anyways, no shame in that." you chuckle, taking a step away from him.

"All the phones are unlocked, Lorath - you know what to do."

Aemond nods - smiling at you.

(Toledo, 6-MONTHS BEFORE D-DAY)

"Do you know why I do this?" Rhaenyra slurred - laying on your bed while she stunk of whiskey and vodka. "- because I want my sons back. I want them back from their father - whose actually not their real father." she chuckled bitterly, feeling the tears fall from her irises.

She grabs into your collar - pulling you closer to her body.

"I know where they are - they're in America with their fake grandparents, and I'll get them back once I get the money." she swore to herself, ultimately mumbling their names before falling back asleep.

next chapter>>

@fan-goddess @marvelescvpe @theshatteredideal @acollectionofcells1 @mxacegrey @bellstwd @nyctophilic0vitnir @icarusgloom @pearlstiare @shruie @immyowndefender @ammo23

comment to get tagged

[hippielittlemetalhead]

Inspired by some posts I've seen on my dash recently that had me THINKING... So imagine with me for a moment

Callahan is actually Phillip Callahan Harrington. Just. Picture it for a second...

He's born 8 1/2 months after [what's his name] Harrington marries his highschool sweetheart right out of highschool in a beautiful but kind of rushed ceremony. They immediately jet off on some months long honeymoon trip across Europe then stop in New York to visit the extended Harrington clan and come back to Hawkins with a bouncing baby boy. It is a well known secret that obviously [have they named her yet] Harrington nee [Idk, Callahan? To explain Phil's middle name] was pregnant when they got married and they tried to hide it but that's the sort of thing you just can't hide in a small town.

Life goes on and Adultering Asshole Harrington has a near miss with a young secretary so Mrs. Socialite Save Face Harrington decides they should have another baby. Especially since their first son was not living up to Harrington expectations. So they have Steve. Phil isn't sure about the baby they bring home just after Christmas (Or Halloween? Not sure which I like better tbh) but Mom says babies make families happy so maybe mom and dad will argue less.

They don't. Phil tries to protect his baby brother best he can but there's only so much he can do when the kid refuses to see what pieces of shit their parents are. As soon as he turns 18 he does what he needs to join the police force because his father seemed to hate that he could never buy the Hawkins police department and Phillip wants that. He wants to be able to tell his father no and know that the man just has to accept it.

He stays in touch with Steve who asks why his name tag by his badge says Callahan (his middle name) and he tells his baby brother that he wants as little to do with their folks as possible. Life goes on and Jim Hopper comes back to town in '79 just as his folks basically leave for good. He's 23 and Steve is just turned 13 and he does what he can to help the kid, stays over most weekdays only heading to his small apartment when Steve has groups of friends over or the two brothers just need some space from each other. By the time Steve is a Junior (about 16/17) Phil is only staying over when Steve asks or if the chief and Powell are on his case about the parties his kid brother, "King Steve" as they've heard some of the youth calling him, keeps throwing and the only way he knows to make sure Steve doesn't host a rager is if the kid knows he's in the house.

Then Will Byers goes missing shortly followed by the Holland girl. Nancy Wheeler confesses the two girls were at a small 'party' at the Harrington place and Phil isn't able to intercept Flo before she calls his folks, he calls Steve to warn him their parents might be making a visit once the secretary forwards Flo's message about Steve's peripheral involvement in the case

[qqueenofhades]

As an European I do love to shit on American politics of course, but at the same time, the moment you're a little bit aware of world politics as European you know to watch the USA.

Like. This is of utmost importance to us too. Look at the massive right in far right fascist ideas in Europe right now. I am willing to bet on Trump paving the way for these idiots. (In fact the night after Trump was elected, I dreamt he nuked the world outside of North America just because he felt like it).

In 2008, the crisis started in America and it spread from there. I remember watching with baited breath and it was rough. Tumblr's Americanocentrism is frustrating and unwarranted and must change, but American politics definitely DO affect the rest of the world in tangible ways. America is used as precedent. (I know you know this, mx. Queen, but idk about your followers which is why I'm saying this!)

These elections aren't just the most important to American citizens. They are extremely important to non-American too.

Ps I think it is bullshit you need to register to vote. I assume this is another Republican attempt to stop people from voting? Coming from a country where you're sent an invitation to vote when you're 18+ and they've voting offices at universities and train stations to increase the number of voters... Yikes. Fuck the Republicans and any politician abroad who supports them!

If, God forbid, American democracy was to end, the damage to both America itself, and the rest of the world, would be utterly incalculable. America is the oldest democratic republic and also the most powerful country in the world. We know the "freedom" thing is abused and misused, has been invoked to justify countless ill-omened imperial and foreign adventures, done plenty of very real harm to many places, and is built on a systemic and deliberate misreading of history. But if that's the case even in a flawed liberal democracy, how many orders of magnitude worse would it be in an unabashed theocratic fascist dictatorship? Can you even begin to imagine the damage that regime could and would do to EVERYONE?

America is a flawed, messy bitch of a country in so many ways, and it has never once actually lived up to its founding ideals. But at least it has been a democracy, and the influence it exerts on the rest of the world, for better or worse, is incalculable. It would be an absolute, unmitigated, unbearable, irreversible tragedy if fascism was allowed to have free rein here. If anyone is like "I hate America": I GET IT. I GET IT SO HARD. But if your response to that is "I don't care if it becomes openly fascist and won't act to stop that," that is a huge problem.

[sarahowritesostucky]

The whole worldbuilding you did around younger omegas and older alphas was so interesting! Like imagining how those issues would be handled in society. Why did you change the age of bucky tho? Wasn't he 16 before?

Hey! (I thiiink I know who this is?? 😉) I gotchu girl!

The 16 age is because there is a Tumblr staff member who doesn't understand the ToS and who has capriciously deleted whatever she feels like deleting when it "bothers" her. And she's decided that I bother her. So even though fiction with teenager/18+ character sexual pairings are permitted and are regularly posted by other fan authors, I need to be wary. So that's why Bucky is now magically 18, lol. If you want to read the story in it's original and intended format, you can go to Ao3. They don't censor fictional literary content.

NOW, buckle your seatbelt and come on this worldbuilding journey with me!

In this 'verse, historically, societies worldwide had different systems set up with the primary goals to:

Keep post-pubertal omega youths safe

Meet their sexual needs

Meet their non-sexual intimacy needs

Generally speaking, in a western cultural context, this is the order things would go in if a family took the "proper" steps with their omega child:

Once heats began at about 13-14, the omega youth would be assigned to an omega matriarchal figure for guidance. Sometimes this was a parent, sometimes an extended family member, or often just a well-respected omega in the community. This is the person who would teach them about being omega, their urges, how to handle their heats, etc. This person would also look out for them to make sure nobody was preying on them.

Now, omegas are naturally hypersexual beginning at around age 13-14 when their heats begin. But their urges intensify significantly in the following year or two, becoming much harder to ignore or self-satisfy.

Though religion in the west often asserted the need for chastity by restricting sexual relations to only one partner or certain times of the month, it was still understood that omegas were naturally hypersexual and needed special attention. It was also virtually expected that most omegas would wind up engaging in some degree of superficial sex-play with other omega peers. This wasn't frowned upon at all.

At around age 16, most omegas would transition from their omega matriarch into the care of an alpha mentor - typically someone older and more mature. It wouldn't be uncommon for an alpha in their 30s or even 40s to take on this role. They would fulfill all the roles of the previous matriarch, with the addition of a sexual relationship with the omega. They would help satisfy them through their heats, provide needed close contact, and give them practice for modeling healthy A-o relationship patterns.

There are other setups in other parts of the world, though:

In ancient societies and also in many non-western cultures, there might be one or a handful of community-designated alphas who always took the mentor role as part of their job (i.e. wise man, sexual mystic, healer, shaman, etc.). In such cases as that, the alpha guardian role was purely transitory and only meant to last until the omega reached mating age and went on to find a suitable alpha mate in the community.

In some middle eastern cultures, most omegas would be rounded up and appropriated by only the most wealthy and important alphas, who would be the ones to care for them in their harems.

Medieval Europe also sometimes saw the "rounding up" of omegas to be delivered into the hands of feudal alpha lords.

Polygamy was also fairly common in Europe up until the 1950s. The most common arrangement was an A-A marriage, with an added omega partner brought into the marriage later. Or a single alpha might mate two or three omegas.

In East Asian cultures, omegas often got betrothed at puberty and went to go live in their betrothed's family's compound, wherein they remained in that family's omega-only communal space, and were entrusted to the care of that extended family's alphas.

Back to the alpha-mentor system of western cultures. The alpha was usually either someone that the omega youth's parents knew and reached out to, or else the alpha might themself approach the youth's parents to ask for permission to take on the role.

In these arrangements, the alpha mentor might wind up deciding to mate the omega themselves, but it wasn't expected. It depended on the specific location and time period, as well as on the individuals involved (personality, class, wealth, age difference), as to whether this choice was socially approved of or not.

But for example in the US or England in the 1900-1950 time range, it would've still been very common for an omega youth to choose to mate with their alpha mentor once they reached the age of about 18-20. An age gap of anywhere between 10-30 years was considered normal.

(Due to the cross-cultural norm of large A-o age gaps, virtually all societies have always had strong social support systems set in place for the care of widowed omegas (though alphas do tend to live a decade or more longer than betas and omegas)).

Younger alphas aged 18-24 were usually not considered experienced or mature enough to perform the alpha mentor role.

It was after the feminist ("omega-ist") movement and the sexual revolution of the 60s and 70s that things really changed. Omegas were increasingly expected to be independent, to pursue careers outside the home, delay or forgo mating and children, and to behave the same way as anybody else.

So the omega matriarch/alpha mentor system really fell by the wayside and isn't commonly used in modern society.

Some schools may designate an omega matriarch equivalent in a school counselor, but the en vogue, "modern" attitude is to act like omegas don't have any biological need for alphas, and are in fact no different from betas.

Since the 2010s, there's been a growing backlash to the results of the feminist (omega-ist) movement, with some people returning to more traditional values. That's essentially where Steve and his school falls.

😅

I know I reeeeally went on a tangent on this one. Hope you liked the details and let me know if you have any more questions!

[sjsmith56]

Comfort - Chapter 2, Eyes of the Father

Summary: Bucky helps Lacey with some chores in return for food and shelter. A comforting gesture becomes more.

Length: 4.7 K

Warnings: Minors DNI, contains sexual content not suitable for readers under the age of 18. Mourning. Reference to drug use.

<<Chapter 1

🔨 📚🛌

Bucky re-entered the house a few minutes later, his back pack and jacket in hand. Before Lacey said anything to him he put a finger against his lips to stay quiet. Cocking his head slightly as if he was listening to something, he walked around the room like he was honing in on a signal. Approaching the bookcase he quietly pulled out several books until he found a small electronic device. After pouring a glass of water, he dropped the device into it. He cocked his head again and this time went into Lacey's bedroom. She followed him, watching silently as he looked up at her light fixture. Stepping onto her bed he reached his hand into the open bowl of the shade and pulled out another device, dropping it into the glass of water that held the first one. Lacey started to say something but he put his hand out again and walked throughout the house listening until he was satisfied there were no more.

"How did you do that?" she asked.

"I can hear a larger range of frequencies than most people," he replied. "As soon as I came in the house I knew there was a different sound and just assumed they planted something. I'm sorry about your brother."

Her lips trembled and she began weeping as she covered her face with her hands. Bucky put his arms around her, holding her, while rubbing her back with his right hand. He stood there with her for some time until her weeping began to subside and she reached for a tissue to blow her nose. As she sat on the couch he sat next to her, looking at her sympathetically.

"Were you and your brother close?" he asked.

"Yesterday was the first time I saw him in five years," she replied. "He fell in with a rich crowd in college and once he graduated kept hanging out with them, even working with a couple of them. Before he went to college we were pretty close."

Bucky listened without interrupting as she told him about her brother looking out for her during her teen years. Then she told him about the fun they had staying with their grandparents in this house, exploring the property and laying out under the stars until their grandparents would call them in to bed.

"It sounds like he cared about you," he stated softly. "Perhaps he left without saying anything to keep you safe. I can stay here for a while longer, in case anyone dangerous shows up."

"What about that boat to Europe?" She looked up at him. "Don't you want to get out of here as soon as you can?"

"There's always cargo ships going there," he replied. "Right now, I think you need someone to make sure you're safe."

"Why would you do that?" she asked, echoing his earlier question to her. "You don't know me."

He smirked then his face softened. "Matthew 25:35," he stated, "For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in. I'm not religious but my parents lived by that verse during the Depression from what I can remember. You helped me. I can at least repay that."

"Thank you," said Lacey. "I appreciate it."

His smile flashed again and Lacey felt her cheeks get warm. By his own admission Bucky had revealed he had a reputation with women and she could see why. Those blue eyes and brilliant smile probably got him into a lot of beds. Remembering the bloody bandages she emptied the garbage can from the bathroom into the kitchen garbage can.

"They didn't find these during their search," she said. "In fact, they never went into the bathroom at all."

Bucky pulled the bag out of the container. "Let me dispose of this," he said. "Don't want them to associate you with me."

He left with the garbage bag and didn't return for about ten minutes. For the rest of the afternoon they worked on fixing the windows as Lacey really didn't want to talk to her mother just yet. Bucky found caulking in the garage and seemed to know how to apply it to the windows so it was even. Lacey started painting the windows that didn't need the caulking and by the end of the afternoon had finished them. The upper windows had been sanded by Bucky who showed no fear of going up the ladder to deal with them, unlike Lacey who had put that chore off due to her fear of heights. He came back down and asked for the paint, which she handed to him gratefully. When he came back down from that task she noticed he had paint on his pants and offered to wash them again before the paint set. Remembering something she stepped into the house. He followed her inside and saw her pull the ladder down from the attic access door.

"I don't know why I didn't remember this earlier," she said. "My grandparents never threw anything away. There are boxes of clothes up here. I'm sure there's something that would fit you."

She went up and pulled on the dangling cord of the light bulb. It illuminated the dim and dusty space enough that she quickly found a box marked Clothing. Pulling the tape off she opened it and found a pair of overalls right away, handing them to Bucky.

"May I?" he asked, pulling the box over.

He went through, pulling out several pairs of work pants and T-shirts, as well as a few other things. The button up shirts were too small and he put them aside with a smile. Then he pulled up an old army uniform and looked at it.

"Your grandpa was in the army?" he asked.

"Korean War," she replied. "He was only 18 when he went over. He said it changed him, made him anti war." Bucky looked thoughtful and for a moment Lacey wondered if she had offended him. "Grandpa always compared later wars to World War II. He always thought we entered that one later than we should have. I think he just became more cynical about why they became involved in later wars. Said it always felt like they were manipulated into them."

"He wasn't wrong," replied Bucky, frowning. "I had a hand in setting some of those wars up. HYDRA thrived on chaos and used me to make it look like a war was the only way to deal with some of those situations. They tried to set themselves up as the answer to the chaos they sowed ... the chaos I sowed for them."

He turned his face away breathing heavily and Lacey stood up, moving to stand in front of him as he still knelt on the floor. At first he wouldn't look at her until she finally reached out and grasped his right hand, feeling the heat of it again.

"Don't," she said earnestly. "You didn't have control, they did and they used you as their blunt instrument. I've read some of their decrypted files on the internet and it's obvious they pulled the strings on a lot of what was wrong with this world. They're still out there but you're not going to let them control you any more. I respect that. You are a good man inside and that's what counts."

He raised his head and his blue eyes bore into her deeply. "If they catch me, they can still control me," he said quietly. "There are a series of activation words and all they have to do is say them so I become the Winter Soldier again, ready to do their bidding. I would do it without hesitation because that is how I was programmed."

His left hand gently touched her cheek. Unlike his right hand it was cold, and it's metallic surface felt strange against her skin. Then he dropped it and looked at the clothes he had pulled out.

"I'll take these," he said. "Thank you."

He gathered up the bundle, stood up, then descended the ladder. Lacey put everything else back in the box, turned out the light and went down herself. He was inside the spare bedroom with the door partially open and his shirt off to change into another shirt. She gasped when she saw the arm, realizing how it had been attached to his chest, shoulder, and back. The skin along the edge of the metal shoulder was angry, red, and covered in scar tissue. Approaching the door she gently pushed it open, looked at him with sympathy, as he looked back, almost ashamed.

"It hurts all the time, doesn't it?" she asked softly.

He nodded. "All the time," he replied. "It's integrated into my spine, my skeleton, and my muscles. It weighs more than a normal arm so it hurts my back and affects my gait. Even if I succeed in getting away I can't see how they will ever be able to remove it without damaging parts of my body. The prospect of a normal life with this isn't good."

Hesitantly Lacey approached him so she was standing in front of him. He bent his head to look down at her letting his hair fall over his face. Gently she touched the scarred skin that was adjacent to the shoulder portion of the arm. It felt even hotter than his hand had. She resisted the urge to touch his chest but she did look up at him.

"I'm sorry," she said sadly. "What they did to you was evil. I have no words of comfort except that I believe in you and hope that you find a way to live a normal life."

He was lightly licking his lips and once again she could feel her cheeks getting warm. Just as she was going to step back he put his flesh hand on her arm, locking his eyes with hers. She could have pulled away but she didn't want to and when he touched her lips with his she responded, opening her lips enough to feel his tongue on hers. The kiss was hesitant at first then became firmer as his other hand rested on her shoulder. Lacey felt a pool of warmth form inside of her, filling her with a desire for more. Just as she put her palms on his chest he suddenly released her and stepped back.

"I'm sorry, that was forward of me," he said, in barely more than a whisper.

She stepped back as well then practically ran out of the room and outside to the garage where she leaned against the work bench and breathed deeply, trying to get her bearings back. Never had she had a reaction to a man like that but then never had she met a man like him before, either.

"Get yourself together, girl," she said to herself.

When she came out of the garage Bucky had changed into a pair of the work pants and one of the T-shirts, which further accentuated his muscular physique. He was back up on the ladder again, painting the window trim.

"I've left my jeans on the table," he said, without looking at her. "I hope you can get the paint out."

She went inside, not wanting to betray how she was feeling. Using some dish soap and elbow grease she got the paint out then threw the jeans into the washer again with some of her clothes. Checking the time she pulled some steaks out of the freezer and defrosted them in cold water. While waiting for them to thaw she made a marinade and set it aside. Preparing some potatoes for baking she started the barbecue and put the potatoes in it to get them going. The steaks were thawed by then and she put them into a plastic bag, pouring the marinade in and distributing it. A prepackaged bag of coleslaw with the addition of some salad dressing made up the salad and she put it in the fridge. Turning around she was startled by Bucky standing in the doorway.

"I've finished painting the upstairs windows," he said. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"I was going to start cleaning the garage," she said. "Grandpa was a bit of a hoarder and I thought there might be some stuff in there I could sell. If you want to start that supper should be ready in about half an hour."

He turned away and she watched him walk to the garage, noticing how he walked. It was almost a swagger. When videos of him first surfaced on the internet there were many people commenting about the confidence it showed. Many called him a badass and he developed a bit of a cult following. Knowing what she knew now she could see how he was compensating for the weight of the artificial arm. All together it pointed to a man who was much more than what the media showed him. Her cell phone rang, showing her mother's number on the display. For a moment she considered whether to answer it but knew she would have to talk to her sooner or later. She answered it and almost regretted doing so immediately.

"Hi Mom," she said quietly. "You've heard from the FBI?" She listened to her mother and began to cry. "Don't yell at me! He just showed up unexpectedly, said he was in trouble and left before I got up this morning. I'm still dealing with it." There was still yelling from her mother and Lacey sat down, leaning her face into her hand. Then the yelling on her mother's end stopped and Lacey just cried for a time. "I know. It hurts. I need to do some things here before I come home for the funeral but I'll be there, I promise. Okay, I love you too."

She looked up and saw Bucky in the doorway. "Sorry, I heard you yelling, then crying," he said apologetically. "Your mom?"

Lacey nodded. "She needed to vent," she replied. "As the last person to see Tom alive I was the obvious choice. She wants me home for the funeral." He nodded in an understanding manner. "I might as well get those steaks on."

She went to the fridge and took the steaks out to the grill, laying them on. Bucky had noticed the beer in the fridge and brought two out, opening them both. He offered her one and took a drink of his.

"Can I ask you a question?" asked Bucky. "What were the FBI looking for when they were searching the house and property?"

"I don't know," she replied, frowning. "They never said and I was still stunned at Tom's death.  Once I told them he had transferred the money to a secret account they changed his status from suspect to material witness. Maybe they were looking for something that pointed to the account."

"What did your brother do, job wise?" he asked.

"Stockbroker," she replied. "Why?"

"He would be pretty computer savvy, right?" he asked. "Do you think maybe he put the information on something and hid it here? I can't see a mobster killing him if he was the only source of where their money was hidden."

"He just showed up out of the blue," said Lacey, contemplating Bucky's words. "My grandpa built this house and there are all sorts of hiding places for his money since he didn't really trust banks. It's how I paid for his burial."

Lacey stood up as a thought hit her and went into the spare bedroom. She pulled a night table out of the way and knocked gently on the floor beneath it. One of the knocks sounded hollow and she tapped along the length of the piece of wood until it suddenly lifted up on one end. Lifting the wood she peered inside then placed her hand in and ran it around the interior. Her face changed and she pulled her hand out, opening it to show Bucky a flash drive. His face opened to a smile.

"You were right," she said. "Tom used to hide his stash here. I'm going to call Agent Jones. The longer this thing is here the more likely they're going to come looking for it."

She got back onto her cell phone and called the number on Jones' card. He didn't answer but the person who did said they would pass on the message and she could expect to hear from him. At first she was going to keep the drive but instead she put it back into its hiding place and replaced the wood then moved the night table back over it. Bucky offered her a hand up and they both went back out to the barbecue. About ten minutes later she heard back from Agent Jones who said he would send an agent to pick it up but it could be as late as the next morning before he got there.  It wasn't exactly timely considering how eagerly the agent had the house searched.

"Well, let's hope that gives them the information they need to find Tommy's killer," said Lacey, as she tested the doneness of the steaks.

Bucky pulled the baked potatoes out with his artificial hand while she transferred the steaks to a plate. As she pulled the rest of the food out of the fridge he set the table. There was none of the awkwardness she had felt after the kiss when they sat down to the meal. While they were eating he looked at her questioningly.

"You said your brother hid his stash in that hiding place," he began. "What did you mean?"

"Weed," she said. "You know, pot, marijuana?"

"Reefer?" he asked, then laughed. "Why am I not surprised it's still around?"

"Did you try it back in the day?" she asked. "I don't anymore. It interfered with my writing."

"Maybe once or twice," he admitted, grinning. "It wasn't my thing, and was associated with criminals and musicians. It wouldn't affect me now anyways. My metabolism is so high that I burn off any intoxicants as soon as I ingest them."

They both laughed about it and she shared other transgressions of her youth while they ate. Bucky helped clean up, washing the dishes while she changed the sheets on his bed. Lacey excused herself to write in her room while he continued reading her book until it was dark then knocked on her bedroom door and announced he was going to sleep. Coming out of her room Lacey made sure the outside doors were locked and they both went to their separate bedrooms, wishing each other a good night. Several hours later Bucky heard whimpering and sat up in his bed. Listening carefully he could hear Lacey talking and crying in her sleep. Quietly, he got out of the bed and went to her room, his bare feet hardly making a noise on the wooden floor. He knocked but there was no response and he opened the door to Lacey moving restlessly in her bed while asking someone not to hurt him.

"Lacey," he whispered as he sat on the edge of her bed. "Sweetheart, you're dreaming. You're having a nightmare."

He stroked her arm and she grasped his hand forcefully as she sat up. "Don't hurt him," she pleaded, her eyes open wide in fear but still unfocussed.

"Honey, you're having a nightmare," he repeated, and stroked her hair, then cupped her face with his hand.

She blinked her eyes several times then seemed to wake up because she looked at him with recognition and started to cry. As she pressed her head into his chest he put his arms around her and held her, murmuring softly to her. Gently he stroked her hair then pulled away slightly so he could kiss her forehead. Their eyes met in the darkness of her room, with only the light of the quarter moon peaking through an opening in the curtains illuminating the space. This time he kissed her meaningfully, pressing his lips on hers as they both opened their mouths to let the other one in. He pulled her close into his body and she felt the heat radiating off of him, penetrating her skin. One of his hands threaded itself into her hair while the other went down her back to her bottom pressing her close into him. They both shifted position and Lacey found herself straddling his lap, facing him, their hips pressing into each other. Both of them were grinding against the other, desperately caressing the other over their clothes. Bucky pulled away first.

"This isn't a good idea," he said, breathing heavily. "You're vulnerable. I'm taking advantage of you."

"Just shut up," she said, as she peeled off her sleep T-shirt, exposing her body to him. "I want you."

He gazed at her for a few moments, noticing her lips were slightly open and her eyes were dark with desire. His lips found hers again and the thrust of her tongue against his filled him with a lust he hadn't felt for a long time. With purpose he bent his face to her breasts, mouthing them hard arousing her even further. He wore one of her Grandpa's old undershirts and she pulled it up over his head, running her hands over the outlines of his muscles then pressing her mouth over where she had just touched. Lifting her up he turned back to the bed and laid her down while he nestled in between her legs. He was heavy but used his artificial arm to prop himself up while he mouthed her neck and collar bone, all while continuing to grind his hips into hers. She could tell that he was big, based on the hardness she felt through the old pyjama bottoms he was wearing. A pool of heat had settled in her core and she knew how wet she was in anticipation of having him inside her.

"Do you want me?" he asked in a low voice that dripped with desire. "I want to taste you first, make you ready for me."

"Yes ... please," she added, suddenly feeling needy.

He sat up in a kneeling position and pulled her bottoms and panties off at the same time, then ran the flat of his hand over her body, moving it down to where her heat was gathering. Spreading her legs further apart he bent over and flicked her with his tongue, making her gasp.

"Sweet and salty," he whispered, as he looked at her from between her legs. "Just how I like it."

He buried his face into her again and she could feel his tongue on every part of her, exploring and pleasuring her.

"Fuck, he's good," she thought.

More moans came out of her lips when he used his fingers expertly making her come closer to orgasm. Then he made one more move with his tongue and she cried out as she felt the rush explode from within her. Her hands were all over herself before finding his hair and grasping it, pressing him deeper into her. Then he raised his head and placed his flat hand on her pubic mound massaging it gently. Wave after wave of pleasure radiated up and down her legs as she experienced the echoes of the bliss she felt just moments before. He laid between her legs again, using his artificial arm to take much of his weight off of her and kissed her sensuously, transferring her taste onto her tongue. Then he watched her but didn't say anything, waiting for her to speak first.

"Your reputation is well deserved," Lacey finally said. "I've never ...." She couldn't finish the thought as she became lost in the large dark pupils of his eyes.

"We're not done," he said simply, then he looked down at himself briefly. "Don't be afraid. I'll take my time entering you and let you adjust."

"What do you mean?" asked Lacey, with just a hint of concern.

"Touch me," he ordered, and guided her hand down to his crotch.

Hesitantly she felt over the top of the pyjama bottoms, feeling his hard cock, big in both length and girth. She almost pulled away but instead she stroked him and he smiled dreamily at her. Then he raised himself up off the bed and pulled the bottoms off revealing himself to her. She swallowed nervously as he was the biggest man she had ever seen.

"There's lube in the night table," she suggested. "It might help."

Smiling knowingly he opened the drawer and found the bottle pouring some into his hand and smoothing it over himself. He wiped the remainder off on the undershirt and returned to kneeling between her legs. Lowering himself onto her he watched her face intently as he guided himself into her still wet and warm entry.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered. "I watched as you came and you made my breath catch. I want to make you come again with me in you. You tell me if it's too much. I don't want to hurt you."

As he got deeper into her Lacey couldn't help but hold her breath, as he filled her up tightly. Once he was in all the way he came out and thrust himself into her again. It was uncomfortable at first then as she got used to it she began to respond to him, raising her hips to meet him.

"Fuck," she whispered. "You're huge."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Side effect. You're taking me well. I can feel every part of you and it feels good."

Bucky began to press harder into Lacey bringing moans out of both of them. While he pumped he continued to kiss and mouth her neck and breasts, with the occasional deep kiss. Each thrust was like no other encounter she had ever had, pressing on all the pleasure spots at once. She could feel the pressure building in her and pressed herself onto his girth, trying to find the spot that would accelerate her coming. With a smile, he used his thumb to stimulate her and she was suddenly there crying out in loud gasps as she came again with him in her. Her cries spurred him and she could feel Bucky swell inside of her as he came loudly, thrusting hard several times to empty himself into her. As his erection slowly softened she began to kiss him sensuously, reluctant to end what had been one of the most satisfying sexual encounters of her life. He caressed her gently, also wanting to prolong the tryst they had just shared.

"Are you okay?" he asked, as he pulled out and laid on his side. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, it was incredible," she replied softly. "Were you always this good, with sex?"

He smiled self-deprecatingly. "Every man likes to think so," he admitted. "I was popular with the ladies. Back then I think it was more because I didn't kiss and tell. I guess since this side effect of the serum treatment, my size probably has more to do with it. They equated a man's size with his virility and had big hopes for me."

He looked away for a moment, uncomfortable with the subject matter. "Bucky, this was amazing, even before you were in me," she offered. "I'm on the pill, by the way, no worries about pregnancy."

He smirked in a way that seemed sad. "That's okay," he replied. "I'm supposed to be sterile. They wanted me to breed super soldier babies and no one got pregnant, so they figured I was a dud as a stud."

She looked at him with concern, appalled to hear how he described it. "Is that how they told you?" she asked, incredulous.

He shrugged. "Not to my face," he replied. "Except to be told what a disappointment I was. Don't worry about it. I'm glad no one got pregnant or else they would have a bunch of indoctrinated kids with super soldier abilities doing their bidding." Lacey snuggled up to Bucky and placed her head on his chest, intertwining their legs. "Am I sleeping here tonight?"

She whispered yes and he put his arm around her, kissing her forehead. They both fell asleep easily.

Chapter3>>

Series Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging.

[cringelordofchaos]

how many died due to the nato bombing in serbia?

ermmmmmm idk ? I am no expert on history. Like, not at all. My parents remark how they didnt have school for months and that practically everyone that was sent to patrol the school died bc of bombings.

according to wikipedia (a terrible source, i know (sarcasm)) this is what i copy pasted

-

The NATO bombing killed about 1,000 members of the Yugoslav security forces in addition to between 489 and 528 civilians. It destroyed or damaged bridges, industrial plants, hospitals, schools, cultural monuments, private businesses as well as barracks and military installations. In the days after the Yugoslav army withdrew, over 164,000 Serbs and 24,000 Roma left Kosovo. Many of the remaining non-Albanian civilians (as well as Albanians perceived as collaborators) were victims of abuse which included beatings, abductions, and murders.[40][41][42][43][44] After Kosovo and other Yugoslav Wars, Serbia became home to the highest number of refugees and IDPs (including Kosovo Serbs) in Europe.[45][46][47]

-

so yeah

also copy pasted from the same wikipedia:

-

Casualties and losses (for serbia)

Serbian MOD in 2013: 1,008 killed (659 servicemen and 349 policemen) 5,173 wounded[23] Acc. to FHP: 304 soldiers and policemen[24] Serbian claim in 2015: Economic losses of $29.6 billion[25] Material losses: Acc. NATO 120 tanks, 220 APCs, 450 artillery pieces and 121 aircraft destroyed[26][27] Yugoslavs estimate: 13 tanks, 6 APCs, and 6 artillery pieces destroyed[27]Third party estimate: 14 tanks, 18 APCs and 20 artillery pieces destroyed[27][28]

-

also this is not related to how many serbs died but (again, copy pasted from wikipedia)

-

The bombing caused damage to bridges, roads and railway tracks, as well as to 25,000 homes, 69 schools and 176 cultural monuments.[180] Furthermore, 19 hospitals and 20 health centers were damaged, including the University Hospital Center Dr Dragiša Mišović.[181][182] NATO bombing also resulted in the damaging of medieval monuments, such as Gračanica Monastery, the Patriarchate of Peć and the Visoki Dečani, which are on the UNESCO's World Heritage list today.[183] The Avala Tower, one of the most popular symbols of Belgrade, Serbia's capital, was destroyed during the bombing.[184]

-

again im not claiming serbia never did anything wrong (bc it sure as hell did.). im just saying that you shouldnt talk abt how much you want serbia to be bombed AGAIN (??who would that help now??) and how you sholdnt wish death upon all people that happen to be residents of the same country. (ive seen it. ive also seen someone censor the word Serb?? hillarious shit actually)

you could say this is vengance? for what serbia did to albanians. and how it was neccessary?? IDK???

idk. i want to and should do more research but yeah. this is all ive got

also im just a Random Teenager. idk man. i dont really know politics. but i dont reallylike memes about how serbia should be bombed again, and how random ass civillians deserved being hurt and killed. neither did albanians deserve to be hurt and killed. ifeel like thats obvious but heck if i know. idrk why wars exist really. as you can see, im highly immature and am not really fit to talk abt the complications of bombing of yugoslavia. all i can do is just tell people to not make memes abtbombing serbia again.feels like human decency.

also random fact. ive heard on the news yesterday that apparently near the borders of Kosovo many serb teens are getting beat up ??? idfk havent looked into it but it seems to be related to all the conflicts. though there may be additional context im missing.

my case in point is to just sorta let it go. and to NOT MAKE MEMES ABT BOMBING SERBIA AGAIN bc WHO WOULD THAT HELP (i mean memes dont harm anyone butit just seems nonsensical tome)

anyway politics stink i hate everything and i wish none of this ever happened and everyone could just live their own fucking lives but the world is more complicated than that ig.

[sam-glade]

Author Ask Game

Tagged by the lovely @mariahwritesstuff here, @writernopal here, and @tisiphonewolfe here, @void-botanist here - thank you all💜

Gently passing the tag to: @starlit-hopes-and-dreams @vollzz @rbbess110 @flock-from-the-void @pheita @i-can-even-burn-salad (feel free to ignore if you've done it already)

1. What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

I don't write with the aim to teach a lesson. However, after figuring out the plot, I'll look back and see what message I can focus on. Usually, it's kindness, but I also hope to inspire people to find strength within themselves.

2. What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

A lot of real world cultures and history. In the case of my main setting, the amount of research into the history and culture of Central and Eastern Europe in the 18th century (especially the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth) would probably be enough to write straight up historical fiction, buuuut I like the fantasy elements, and I don't enjoy writing non-queernormative societies. So here we are.

The second instalment, The Truth Teller, is again in a fantasy version of the Eastern Bloc, and I get a lot of inspiration from talking to people who've lived there in the second half of the 20th century.

Finally, The Fulcrum is an exercise in worldbuilding. It started with a question, what would happen if evolution took a different path, and the dominant sentient species was most closely resembling birds. Other than that, I use it as an excuse to explore other periods in history - primarily late-Bronze and Iron Age.

3. What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

The goal is different every time. E.g. for Days of Dusk:

In Gifts of Fate, Lissan is the MC, and he wants to survive without hurting anyone (the demon possessing him makes it difficult). What I want to achieve with him is to inspire people to persevere.

In The Prince's Shadow Erya is trying to kill Lissan, while dealing with complicated grief. My goal is to inspire people to move on, without preaching forgiveness (the two main characters still hate each other at the end).

In Prodigal Children, Lissan, Erya, and Gullin are the three MCs who are told with absolute certainty that something terrible will happen and it will result in war. They each try to deal with it in a different way. Erya aims to minimise the damage. Gullin thinks he can't do anything about it, so he focuses on protecting his loved ones. Lissan refuses to accept that it will happen at all. My goal as the writer is to showcase that each of these responses has its merits and can't be condemned from the get go.

4. How many chapters is your story going to have?

I'm a pantser, so I can answer it only for completed drafts. Gifts of Fate currently has 49 chapters, averaging just over 2k words each - with the total being 109k.

5. Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Everything I post on this blog is original. I don't plan to post the novel-length project online - I'm hoping to publish them traditionally. Some side WIPs may end up being posted here or on AO3 (the unnamed parody thingy that still needs a title), and my Silmarillion fanfiction can be found here (more to come).

6. When and why did you start writing?

I vaguely recall writing my first fantasy heroine self-insert story at the age of 11 or so, then Tolkien fanfiction when I was 15-18, then original fiction onwards. It started as an outlet to my creativity, but now it's to get some peace and quiet in my mind. If I don't put the stories down on paper, they keep buzzing in my head, being distracting.

7. Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

Words of encouragement? Just do it. Imperfect doesn't mean bad. Don't let 'perfect' be the enemy of 'good'.

I follow a tonne of writeblrs, so here are a handful of shoutouts: @acertainmoshke @writernopal @tabswrites @toribookworm22 @winterandwords @aether-wasteland-s

Blank questions below:

What is the main lesson of your story (e.g. kindness, diversity, anti-war), and why did you choose it?

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding (like real-life cultures, animals, famous media, websites, etc.)?

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness, help readers grow as a person?

How many chapters is your story going to have?

Is it fanfiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

When and why did you start writing?

Do you have any words of engagement for fellow writers of Writeblr? What other writers of Tumblr do you follow?

[nanamiscocksleeve]

I have a weird confession. Like, I don't know why writers have to specify like 18+ plus on characters? Like the age of content where I live is 16 so a 16/17 year old can have sex w other 16/17 year olds. Is it bc the writer is 18+ and feels weird? I'm 18 and am completely fine with it? Idk. Maybe I have to wait till I'm older

Ok, I'm going to be honest, when I first read this, I was very tempted to not answer because I felt like it's very obvious why people state those things explicitly, then I realized if it was that obvious, this wouldnt be a question.

I purposely saved it until the end when the rest of the confessions were out of the way because I needed some time to think and also ask my other writer friends what they thought about this. This might get a little long but bear with me.

Although age of consent is 16 where you are, most other places it is 18 and a lot of writers do not want to get hate for making the ages too low

Even without age of consent, there are a lot of writers (myself included) that don't want to write about 16 year olds getting intimate, even if it is with people their own age. Why? Because while a 16 year old dreaming and writing about another 16 year old is fine, this is the internet. Most of us cannot prove our age and it gets into sticky territory (pedophilia for example) if we don't specify the ages.

Age gaps are a common trope in writing but I think a majority of us will be damned if we ever write anything sexually explicit about someone that young. There might be some writers that are fine with it (we judge them, in case that wasn't obvious) just because there's a certain ick factor with picturing someone who's not even out of high school in that way.

Most countries even with a lower age of consent still don't allow other age-related privileges until 18, such as driving by yourself (idk where you are but you can get a license at 16 but need someone who's a minimum of 18 with you in the car to drive in my state) or even to drink and buy alcohol which is 21 in the USA but 18 in places like Europe. And why are these set at these ages? Because the body needs to grow to a certain stage to do cognitive thought processes. I think in some places, you also need to be a minimum of 18 to get married (please don't bring up Alabama, I might have to get into a whole different discussion there).

So if 18 is deemed the minimum age for these privileges, it makes sense that most writers do not want to write about anyone younger than this unless they're fluff pieces.

That being said, most people will still call out predator behavior even when a consenting 18 year old is dating someone considerably older like say in their 30's.

So there's a lot of sticky and gray areas that fall under this minimum age thing. But those are some of the reasons we always age up characters. Because it would be extremely inappropriate if we didn't. I hope this helps, and yes, maybe it is one of those things that require you to be a bit older to fully grasp.