#point is fuck saving companies money... never saves me any

[medicinemane]

Was listening to Louis Rossmann talk at one point about this car that wouldn't let you use 3rd party headlights, and how other cars have had the fucking car brick from using 3rd party headlights (imagine your car dying badly from you installing a headlight)

And he talked about how engineers will be like "yes, but it's so much cheaper when you make a custom assembly because of x y z"

Coming around to why I'm writing all this, he pointed out that sure that might be true... but absolutely never is that savings passed on to the customer

I kinda don't care if something saves a company money, doesn't save me any

Like maybe slashing regulations is great cause it makes it cheaper to run the company (nevermind the risks it clearly lets happen) but uh... I don't really care, cause it's not like the price of the product goes down, they just pocket the money they've saved

Just kinda doesn't benefit me cause they lower the price

[nowoyas]

Trying to make sense of the Nanowrimo statement to the best of my abilities and fuck, man. It's hard.

It's hard because it seems to me that, first and foremost, the organization itself has forgotten the fucking point.

Nanowrimo was never about the words themselves. It was never about having fifty thousand marketable words to sell to publishing companies and then to the masses. It was a challenge, and it was hard, and it is hard, and it's supposed to be. The point is that it's hard. It's hard to sit down and carve out time and create a world and create characters and turn these things into a coherent plot with themes and emotional impact and an ending that's satisfying. It's hard to go back and make changes and edit those into something likable, something that feels worth reading. It's hard to find a beautifully-written scene in your document and have to make the decision that it's beautiful but it doesn't work in the broader context. It's fucking hard.

Writing and editing are skills. You build them and you hone them. Writing the way the challenge initially encouraged--don't listen to that voice in your head that's nitpicking every word on the page, put off the criticism for a later date, for now just let go and get your thoughts out--is even a different skill from writing in general. Some people don't particularly care about refining that skill to some end goal or another, and simply want to play. Some people sit down and try to improve and improve and improve because that is meaningful to them. Some are in a weird in-between where they don't really know what they want, and some have always liked the idea of writing and wanted a place to start. The challenge was a good place for this--sit down, put your butt in a chair, open a blank document, and by the end of the month, try to put fifty thousand words in that document.

How does it make you feel to try? Your wrists ache and you don't feel like any of the words were any good, but didn't you learn something about the process? Re-reading it, don't you think it sounds better if you swap these two sentences, if you replace this word, if you take out this comma? Maybe you didn't hit 50k words. Maybe you only wrote 10k. But isn't it cool, that you wrote ten thousand words? Doesn't it feel nice that you did something? We can try again. We can keep getting better, or just throwing ourselves into it for fun or whatever, and we can do it again and again.

I guess I don't completely know where I'm going with this post. If you've followed me or many tumblr users for any amount of time, you've probably already heard a thousand times about how generative AI hurts the environment so many of us have been so desperately trying to save, about how generative AI is again and again used to exploit big authors, little authors, up-and-coming authors, first time authors, people posting on Ao3 as a hobby, people self-publishing e-books on Amazon, traditionally published authors, and everyone in between. You've probably seen the statements from developers of these "tools", things like how being required to obtain permission for everything in the database used to train the language model would destroy the tool entirely. You've seen posts about new AI tools scraping Ao3 so they can make money off someone else's hobby and putting the legality of the site itself at risk. For an organization that used to dedicate itself to making writing more accessible for people and for creating a community of writers, Nanowrimo has spent the past several years systematically cracking that community to bits, and now, it's made an official statement claiming that the exploitation of writers in its community is okay, because otherwise, someone might find it too hard to complete a challenge that's meant to be hard to begin with.

I couldn't thank Nanowrimo enough for what it did for me when I started out. I don't know how to find community in the same way. But you can bet that I've deleted my account, and I'll be finding my own path forward without it. Thanks for the fucking memories, I guess.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! -17

Character : Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: It's just a business marriage. Bucky thought it would be easy until he encountered the stepsister of his fiancée. She turned his world upside down.

Warning: Tragedy, Angst, Manipulation, Intimidation

A/N: I know we hate Victoria, but this is the saddest chapter I have ever written. I can't stop typing the angst. 😭

The Malicious Daughter Is Back! Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Support : Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Everything changed so quickly. One moment, Jonathan, Genevieve, and Victoria were standing on a cloud, looking down at the people beneath them. Now, they were falling from the sky, landing in the quicksand, ready to trap their feet.

The bankruptcy of Celestial Enterprises happened too fast. Investors and shareholders pulled their money from the company, causing a rapid downfall.

To save the company, many assets were sold, including the house they used as their primary residence. The house built by Ophelia—the one thing you thought would be impossible to get—was now yours. Bucky delivered the great news and handed you the house key.

Without hesitation, you drove to your childhood home. Though you only lived there for a while, it held precious memories of you and your mother.

Standing at the white door, you inserted the key and turned it. The moment you walked in, the emptiness hit you. Looking around the house, you realize there was no trace of your life with Ophelia back then.

Genevieve had obviously changed the house's decoration. You walked around the first and second floors and then to your room. It was apparent your step-mom hated you. The bedroom, once your sanctuary where you could be alone without seeing Genevieve and Victoria’s faces, was now a storage place.

“I hope you're happy now. You have ruined our lives,” Victoria suddenly made her entrance.

You smirked. “Fucking deserved it. You people did it first to me.”

Victoria was taken aback. “You don't even care about your own dad?”

“Care? That man didn't deserve pity from me the moment he married his mistress. He fucking killed my mother,” you retorted.

That was the last straw. Victoria hated it when you called Genevieve a mistress. “I will not let you do this to me!” she yelled, pointing her finger at you.

You saw her frantic, paranoid, and utterly different from the elegant persona she usually maintained. You chuckled, “It must be difficult for you seeing me win.”

“Fuck you,” Victoria spat as she slapped you hard across the face.

You responded by grabbing her hair, yanking it fiercely. “You bitch.”

The two of you erupted into a full-blown fight. Nails scratched at each other's skin, wishing they were sharp like knives. Hair was pulled, kicks were exchanged, and all the pent-up resentment and hatred came pouring out in a chaotic clash.

It was clear from the beginning who would win. You quickly overpowered her. Without any desire to prolong the fight, you landed a solid punch to her stomach, causing her to crumple to the ground.

“Urgh. Fuck you,” Victoria growled, clutching her stomach in pain.

You huffed, sitting down on the floor. Victoria refused to look at you, unable to accept that she had lost.

Both of you sat there, catching your breath. A moment of silence between siblings who had nearly torn each other apart.

“I always hated you,” Victoria said suddenly, covering her eyes with her arm.

“The feeling’s mutual,” you replied, hissing as you touched the fresh scratches on your skin.

“I hate that I always did my best but was still compared to you,” she admitted. “The sin of the daughter from the mistress.”

You stood still, your expression unreadable, but a storm of emotions brewed inside. You crossed your arms, a subconscious gesture to shield yourself from the raw pain in her words.

“Even though I was the smartest at school, it was never enough to satisfy my mother,” Victoria continued, her voice trembling.

Growing up, she always knew she had to be better than you. That's what Genevieve has told her. She wants to make her mother proud of her. And the recognition from Jonathan.

“What made it worse was that you didn’t even try to compete, but all eyes were always on you. They always saw me as the mole in your life,” Victoria said, her voice breaking.

When she left her old school and entered the new one where you studied, she was greeted by judging eyes. The status of being a ‘mistress’s daughter’ haunted her. Everyone saw her as the villain compared to you, the victim.

In truth, you and Victoria were both victims of the adultery. Both of you were innocent.

“As a child, you listened to your mom. But growing up, you could’ve made your own choices,” you said quietly.

“You could’ve realized what you did to me was wrong. But you didn’t stop,” you added.

“And then we’d become good step-siblings?” Victoria scoffed.

You sighed, a hint of sadness in your eyes. “As a teacher, I’ve met stepmothers and stepfathers who worried about a kid not related by blood but saw them as their own. And step-siblings who worked multiple jobs because they wanted their younger siblings to get the best education.”

Victoria stayed quiet, her face a mix of anger and regret.

“Yes. We could’ve,” you said softly.

Another silence fell, but it was broken as Victoria slowly stood up without saying anything. Before she left, you told her, “You could’ve made your own choice. Remember that.”

She didn't reply or look at you. She kept walking until she arrived at the entrance door. Her hand hung in the air before she pulled the handle.

Victoria turned and looked around the grand entrance. She remembered the first time she set foot in this house, feeling like a beggar turned into a princess.

It wasn't a prince who found her glass slipper, but her dad, picking her up in his expensive car and making her a princess.

She thought her life would have a happy ending. But no. It turned out she was the evil step-sister, and her mother was the evil step-mom. Just like the characters in Cinderella.

If only she had never hated you, if only she had never listened to Genevieve’s words. Could you and she have become real sisters who talked to each other, laughed, cried, and went shopping together?

Tears welled up in her eyes. Victoria scoffed, “Idiot,” she whispered to herself.

She looked at the family portrait of Jonathan, Genevieve, and herself. The three of them looked like a perfect family, but it was just an empty smile. Her own father was pushing her into a marriage with a man known for his violence.

Her mother, who she always counted on, couldn't object. She would rather send her daughter to marry a psycho to save face.

Her parents didn't fight for her at all, unlike you, who objected to Jonathan and Genevieve’s wedding. You caused chaos that made Jonathan send you away so you wouldn't ruin his second wedding. But then Cassandra appeared and humiliated the couple.

She had always been jealous of you for not giving up. Everyone, including herself, laughed when you vowed to take down the company.

But who had the last laugh now? It was you. You won. You got what was supposed to be yours.

Looking back, her life was much simpler and happier when they still lived in an apartment.

She removed her heels, climbed on the antique table, raised her hand, and tore down the family portrait. With her heels, she ripped the picture apart.

The perfect family was gone. No more.

After being satisfied with her work, she felt the chains were broken.

Victoria put on her shoes and left the house. After that day, nobody knew where she went. Even Genevieve couldn't contact her.

Without the bride, the wedding wouldn't happen. That meant the only lifeline to save Celestial Enterprises was gone.

It was official. The white flag was raised, and the company was finally sold. The buyer was Patrick.

All of this could have happened because Victoria left. Sometimes, you wondered where she could have gone. Each time you looked out the window or at the sky, you whispered, “Good luck...sister.”

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@thetravelingtyper

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@chemtrails-club

@dexter99

@seresingirlie

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@tfatwsoldir

@itsteambarnes

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@sapphirebarnes

@thedonswife13

@angelbabyyy99

@cjand10

@esposadomd

@buckitostan

@wh0reforbucknasty

@bada-lee-ily

@evie-119

@mrsstuckyboo

@ghalouha

@iamasimpingh0e

@loki-laufeyson68

@buckybarnessimpp

@milllieeee

@stormy-stardust

@ashdoctor

@mushycore

@crazyunsexycool

@anixerz

@mcira

@touchstarvedforbuckybarnes

@sidraaaaaaaaa

Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[freebirdsworldburritos]

The classism in the "music gear" scene is fucking atrocious. So many people will shit on other people for using affordable gear as a way to justify within themselves that dropping $3,000 on a guitar was a smart financial move.

About 3-4 years ago I joined a band and a month after I joined we went on some video podcast. Play a few songs, do an interview, something I've never done before but it seemed like it'd be fun.

I wasn't able to really get a word in during the interviews (stuttering/speech impediment/anxiety issues ran wild) but I was able to speak up whenever the host went around and asked us what our favorite instrument/gear brands were. Weird question, but alright buddy.

I've always been a fan of cheaper gear. You don't need all sorts of expensive shit to get the sound you want. So when he asked my answer was "Squier" and the dude just started laughing. Because who possibly would prefer one of the cheaper brands??? (Keep in mind this douche had a whole wall of the absolute worst looking collection of custom shop BC Rich guitars you've ever seen.)

Eventually he backed down once I started arguing with him about it, but his immediate elitist attitude really struck a cord in me because I see that shit all over the internet in music communities. "Oh you only like Squiers/Epiphones/Harley Bentons because you can't afford BIG BOY guitars like a $5,000 Gibson".

Fuck right off with that shit. Why would I pay thousands of dollars for a guitar when I can get something that works amazingly for me for just a few hundred dollars? The extra money I save by not dropping 4 figures on a guitar or amp goes towards paying my bills, feeding my kids, just trying to fucking live and exist.

At this point I've had to sell 99% of my music gear after over a decade of following the gear chase. I only have a "cheap" acoustic I bought several years ago for $350 and it's the best guitar I've ever had. I love my little busted neck Hummingbird to death.

I'm much happier now than I was when I had a huge assortment of pedals and guitars to choose from. The Gear Chase is designed to make you want to spend more and more money in an endless pursuit of finding that "perfect" piece of gear. Guitar companies, partnered youtubers, influencers, and all sorts of advertisement campaigns are purposefully trying to misguide you into thinking you NEED their product. It's marketing and capitalism at work and so many musicians fall for it every time. I fell for it for years before I got completely fed up with it.

Go out and gig with your Squier Bullet Strat and a cheap amp you found at a pawn shop, fuck anyone that gives you shit for it. Go ahead and record with whatever you have at your disposal. Put out an album that's comprised of Voice Memos you recorded on your phone with just an acoustic and your voice.

Music, like any art, is about way more than what you used to get there. It's how you express yourself that really matters. Don't listen to the elitists and marketers telling you the only way you can authentically reach your creative vision is by buying their snake oil.

[holylulusworld]

TOL - I’m your daddy now (1) - Lloyd Hansen

Summary: You reached the end of the rope.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader

Warnings: plus-sized reader, needy Lloyd, Lloyd being Lloyd, Lloyd is an ass and boob enthusiast, mentions of sex for money, money trouble, mentions of cheating (her ex), groping, slight mommy kink (kinda, it's Lloyd)

A/N: This is part of my Traders of love (lust) masterlist series. It's the prequel to TOL - Like a virgin (Bucky Barnes) and tells the story about Lloyd and his assistant sunshine.

You reached the end of the rope. 

With your three-year-old little boy depending on you, it’s not easy to face reality. In two weeks, you will have to leave your home. The bank will take the house, and even the wreck of a car you call your own.

Your deadbeat of a husband left you with nothing but debs and resentment for men. He’s out and about with a younger, prettier, and slimmer girl. – His words, not yours.

While you tried to save your marriage, he fucked some woman he met at a bar behind your back. You knew he was a sleazy and worthless bastard, but never expected him to turn his back on his son too.

It’s not that you didn’t try anything to make enough money to pay for the mortgage and feed your son. One too many nights you went to bed hungry, only lukewarm water in your belly to at least save enough money to buy food for your baby boy.

“Mommy,” your little boy yawns as he looks up at you. He holds out his chubby hands, whining because you don’t pick him up. You just look at him for a moment, feeling your heart chatter all over again.

“How could I ever fall for your father,” you sniffle when you pick your son up. You peck his cheek and sigh. “At least he gave me you. The only good thing coming out of this relationship.”

You nuzzle his cheek and try to ignore the ache in your chest, and your growling stomach. At least you got paid yesterday. It’s not enough to keep the house for another month, but you can get food on the table.

Whatever happens tomorrow, you don’t know. The website you found promised help in hopeless situations. You never know with the internet, but it’s your last resort.

If they don’t keep their promises, you’ll end up on the street with your son only because your husband ran off with all of your savings. He even stole the money your grandmother left you for desperate times.

“Hi, uh-I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I have an appointment,” you wring your hands while looking around the lobby of the building inheriting the company promising to save your home. The woman at the reception doesn’t even look your way. She huffs and lifts her perfectly manicured index finger to stop you from talking.

“I don’t think you are what we are looking for,” she snaps at you, and your heart sinks. You look down at your body, sighing deeply. The business outfit you are wearing is a tight fit. You gained weight during pregnancy you never got the chance to lose. “You should go home and bake cookies for your kid.”

She points her finger at the stain on your blouse, simply to embarrass you even more. Some women are like that. They try to feel better, or above you by making you feel small.

“Kiki, that is enough,” you flinch when a hand brushes over your ass. The man pats your cheeks, humming happily. “What do we have here?” He purrs and gropes one cheek. “A perfect plump ass.”

“Mr. Hansen, Sir,” the woman splutters. She looks like she saw a ghost, or worse, a monster wanting to eat her alive. “I told her that she doesn’t belong here.”

“Kiki, Kiki,” Hansen tuts while patting your ass. “I decide who belongs here.”

You don’t know what to do. Usually, you’d slap any guy trying to feel you up across the face or kick their balls. But this man could be your way out of your financial crisis. 

“Yes, of course, Mr. Hansen but just look at her,” she squeaks, and points at you. “I don’t think any of our clients want something like this to fulfill their…”

“ENOUGH!” Hansen slams his fist onto the receptionist's desk, making Kiki flinch. “We never talk about our clients nor our employees in front of people outside of our organization. You are dismissed.”

“What?” She stares at Hansen in disbelief. “For today or…”

“Forever,” he huffs and turns around. The man brushes his index finger and thumb over his mustache and grins like he saw something he’d love to devour. You are afraid it’s you.

“I have an appointment,” you clear your throat and try to ignore your heart hammers in your chest. This man looks more like a wolf, with sharp teeth and glowing eyes, than a man. 

“I know, sunshine,” he smirks and holds out his hand. “Please excuse my annoying assistant. She’s no longer working for me.”

You’d love to roll your eyes at the man in front of you. He’s one of the guys who believe you must immediately fall for his charm and non-existent manners. 

“If you’d like to follow me inside my office, sugar plum,” he wraps his arm around your shoulders, and snickers, "we can talk about your problems and how to solve them.”

“So…” He plops down on a leather couch. He pats the seat next to him, but you prefer standing in the room. “What brings you here, sunshine. How can Lloyd help you?”

“I found your website while searching for a way to keep my house,” you lick your lips. You hate that you must talk about your situation with this man. 

“Humor me,” he smirks and pats the seat again. “If you want me to help you, I want to know it all. From the beginning.”

He tilts his head and looks you up and down. “What do you want to know?” You huff and cross your arms over your chest. “I came here, even though your offer sounded fishy. I reached the end of the rope.” You throw your hands up, and sniffle.

“Now, now. No tears in Lloyd Hansen’s office,” he gets up to march toward you. Lloyd cups your face and tilts your head. “I need to know every detail, sunshine. If you are lying, I’ll send you home with a slap to your plump ass.”

“Fine,” you snap at him and push against his chest. “Quit pro quo, Mr. Hansen. After I told you everything about my situation, I want the truth about your offer.”

“Be my guest,” he smirks darkly. “I hope you don’t pee your pants getting to know the truth.”

“I came this far,” you sniff, “you don’t scare me, Mr. Hansen. You’re not the first man wanting me to fail.” 

“A cocky one, I see,” Lloyd says as he sits back down on the sofa. “Begin, then.”

“What do you want to know? That my deadbeat of a husband left me for some bitch he met at a bar?” You drop your bag onto his desk and take your jacket off. “Or that I must raise my three-year-old son without him because his dick was more important?”

You stride toward Lloyd and step between his legs. He looks up at you, amused as you cup your tits. “I will lose my house and my car. I don’t make enough money to keep the house. He stole the money I spared to give her a nice life.”

“I see,” he licks his lips. “I think you already got what I have to offer.” Lloyd tilts his head and smirks as you start to unbutton your blouse.

“You want me to fuck you, right? That’s all this is about,” you wrinkle your nose. “And I’ll get the money I need to keep my house.”

He grins now. “Sunshine, you didn’t get that this is about business. I’ll put you on my website and my clients can decide if they want to fuck you or not.”

“Oh…” You sigh deeply. “I guess this means there is no hope.” You turn around to grab your bag. “Sorry for wasting your time.”

“Sunshine, wait,” he’s on his feet before you can grab your jacket. “I didn’t say you can just leave. Don’t you want to end up getting fucked good by my clients?”

“Do you honestly believe I was waiting to get fucked by random douches,” you turn back around and slap Lloyd with your bag. “I came here to find help, not dick.”

His grin widens as you slap his chest, face, and shoulder with your bag. “Careful, sunshine. If you don’t watch out, you’ll end up making me rock hard.”

“You’re disgusting,” you wrinkle your nose and cock a brow. 

“Oh, mommy can get mad,” he purrs and roams your body with his eyes. “I bet you are a strict mommy, huh? Do you scold your baby boy?”

“No!” You snap at Lloyd. “Keep my son out of this!” You slap him with your bag again. “Never mention my kid again, you asshole!”

“I knew you were special, sunshine,” he chuckles and grabs your wrist to keep you from slapping him again. “A wildcat ready to scratch and bite me.”

“I’m a tiger mommy if you want to know,” you growl and snap your teeth at Lloyd when he tries to press his lips to yours. “I’ll do anything to protect my son.”

“Sunshine, you’ve got yourself a deal,” Lloyd drops his hands from your arms to grab your face again. This time he kisses you roughly. You bite his lower lip, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He greedily shoves his tongue inside your mouth, devouring your mouth. “I think you’ll make a grand-prime assistant slash sexy bunny for me…”

Part 2

[gauloiseblue]

Medic!Reader × Poly!141

Part I | Part II | Part III

[Tags: platonic, fluff, self-indulgent]

A/N: This fic is dedicated for @rainlovesyou12 hope you like it <3

You are a medic, and you come from a rich family, so naturally you're placed in an elite team, at least populated by polite men

While you're not a spoiled brat, you sometimes dare to challenge anyone when you disagree with them. Your "courage" is usually dubbed as rich kid syndrome in the military

Strangely, the captain (Price) is amused by your behavior

He never scolded you, even when people said he should

Your job is a medic, but you're more like a secretary of the team.

You help Price with the paperworks, taking care of the base, and sometimes even their foods.

He also asks you to accompany him to meetings or private talks with the superior, the reason? They don't give him a proper secretary, even when they should.

When you first come in, the team is still on a mission. It took 3 whole months before you met the whole team

Your first reaction: "Wow, life's so unfair."

Their heights tower you that it's almost unreal

When you greet them one by one, a member catches your eyes

It's Soap

As a medic, it's your obligation to heal them if they have any injury. So when you see the blood on his clothes, you immediately point it out to him

"You're injured!"

He seems confused for a second as he looks down to his gears, before he laughs. "Tha' ain't my blood, bonnie."

"Still, I have to check if you have any wounds."

Surprisingly, most of them are minor

You begin to check the other members, but it's the same for them too. Just scratches and bruises

They'd dismiss you, if not for your question about their discomfort, or if they had any dislocation

And that makes them all your patients

Even the reluctant Ghost finally gave in. "Fucking hell Price, she's a pushover." He said, "You'll come to like it someday" Price replied

After that, you and the team settle in the base, trying to get used to each other's company

(You also didn't ask questions on why the big man is still wearing a mask even though he's in the base)

Soap, and Gaz are the easiest to talk to, while Ghost is just polite, but still keeps his distance.

The three of you bond over food, because it's mandatory to cook if you wanna save money. You and Gaz are great at it, while Soap is strictly prohibited from entering the kitchen

Soap absolutely ravaged the foods that you joked about how he always makes the plates squeaky clean

On rare occasions, the giant man does show up at the table

When you ask him about what they eat usually, you can't believe your ear

"I ate the ratio that's been provided by the base." "You ate that dogshit???"

You end up scolding him (unintentionally) and end up telling him to eat the cooked food, but when he gets defensive, you tell him he doesn't have to eat together, just reheat the food whenever he's hungry

He didn't touch the food for 2 days, until one day, the leftover is gone, and the dishes were washed

You have no idea when did he do it, but you're glad nevertheless

Remember when I said you're more of a secretary than a medic? That Price often took you to meetings? Well, that leads you to an unfortunate meeting with Graves

Even Price was hesitant to bring you along

When you first met him, he's exactly the man that you picture in your head; arrogant, stuck up, flashy, and playboy. Basically all the bad stuff

He shamelessly flirts with you, to the point that Price has to clear his throat to remind him of the ongoing negotiation

One time he asks you (forcibly) if you'd like a bottle of a fancy wine that you don't even know

"You look like a girl that'd enjoy the Chateau Lynch-Bages' Pauillac." He'd smile

After several failed attempts to decline, you eventually give up

"I'm flattered that you'd give me such luxurious items, but I'd love to receive basic ingredients for cake. That way I can repay you back, how's that sound?"

He literally takes it as flirting

The next day, you literally received the high quality flour, eggs, sugar, etc etc that come in 2 boxes, along with a message: "While I hope you'd return the favor in some other way, I can't wait to taste what you made" and a scribbled wink

You end up baking a peanut caramel chocolate cake (A/N: try it, it's soooo good) because of the amount of chocolate he gave

The team watch you as you assemble the cake

You cut the cake into a good size for gift, and give the rest to the team

They treat it like a delicacy

After you sent it via his man, you received his reply on the next day

"I know you didn't give me all of the cake, so I hope you'll make up for it the next time. Ps. I like it, you should make more for me in the future" along with the abominable wink

Although you're irked by his narcissism, you feel a bit embarrassed and puzzled that he knew it's not the whole cake

You try to figure out how, and finally it clicks; he purposely bought a bigger size pan, and a medium sized box. Along with the evidence of a long rollcake box that somehow can fit the rest of the cake. You sigh, this man is really petty

And stubborn as well

The pile of unopened letters, with his name signed on the back would be the proof of it

Soap and Gaz tease you about him when they read the notes, but you dismiss them by saying: "I'd rather date Ghost than him."

Fast forward, Price and Gaz'll leave for a mission for months. But Soap and Ghost stay behind

Weeks would pass relatively quiet, and they're still radio silent. You couldn't help but worry, though Soap quickly assured you that they'd be fine

Ghost still kept a distance between you and him, until one night, when you and Soap fell asleep on a movie marathon, you woke up startled by the sight of him on the sofa.

"Shit, you scared me."

"I'd be surprised if you didn't."

"Why are you here?" You quickly corrected yourself, "It's not that you're not welcomed, but you're not around much, so…"

"No reason, just feel like it."

Silence

Then you gather the courage to say, "By the way, I'm glad that you didn't eat those ratios anymore. Let me know if you crave something in particular, I'll try to make it."

He just stares at you, before saying, "I don't understand, Price can just order takeouts for us, why should you burden yourself with cooking? Aren't you a medic?"

"Well," you scratch your head, "I'm the one who suggested it, because I couldn't stand eating takeouts everyday. The foods he ordered were greasy, and I didn't want to get sick because of it."

He lets out a snort, "You don't have to care about your weight when you're in the military."

"It's not about that." You shook your head, "But if you said it that way, well, I won't be here forever, so I have to maintain it somehow. Besides, I'd like to keep my cholesterol level normal so I won't die of heart failure or something."

That catches his attention as he gives out a small laugh, "The doctors I knew are either dead or diabetic. You're the first one that cares about your own health."

You shrug, "As I should. You should too."

For a split second, you let out a cold sweat, wondering if it somehow offends him for some reason, before you let yourself relax when he continues watching the TV. The two of you watch in silence, before you fall asleep again

Nearing the arrival of your team, you decide to busy yourself with dinner. Which, more like grocery shopping and planning on the dishes

"They usually eat pizzas after a long mission, ye don't have to do that." Said Soap one morning

"I don't care if they end up ordering pizzas." He furrows his brows at you, "I just feel the need to do that, I don't know why."

He playfully grins, "Wife instinct?"

"That's not it," you laugh it off, "It's just that, Price ever said to me that maybe one day, one of them won't ever come back. It has stuck with me ever since, and I don't wanna think about that at all."

He nods understandingly. You need a distraction

"Let me help then."

You both settle with beef bowl, eggs, and potato salad, based on his input that 'they'd probably want to eat a lot, so just make them easy to get refill'

You bought a ton of sliced beefs and onion, rice, and potatoes

The day that they come back, you're hit with a bad feeling and fear the worst, but after seeing them both in one piece, you let out a relief sigh

Still, the dark mood is still persistent

They look like they don't have any appetite, even for a pizza

You actually would let them rest, if they didn't look like they're malnourished

(Actually, when you think back, it's just an excuse to feed them. You actually just want them to eat your food)

"Would you guys like a beef bowl?"

Price perks up at the offer

"Well shite (Name), just what I need."

You tell him there's also potato salad, but that day he just wants the rice

They end up eating one portion—a small size compared to what they usually eat

They're still quiet even after the dinner, so you decide to excuse yourself, giving them space and the rest they need

You're in the office, sorting through documents until Price knocks on the door

He looks weary but still offers you a smile

"I'm sorry for being so gloomy tonight." He told you

"That's fine, really. You don't have to apologize."

"I feel like I have to, especially when you too are affected by it."

You let out an awkward chuckle, "Well, it's nothing like that. I know you guys are tired so I don't wanna bother you with too many questions." You shrug, "Anyway, I'm glad you guys are alright."

A warm smile spreads on his lips, "You're a good girl, too good for us men." He uncrosses his legs as he leans away from the door frame, "Thank you for the food, we'll talk again tomorrow, yeah?"

The two of you exchange a "goodnight" as he walks away, and you come back to your work

After Price, you didn't expect anyone to come to your place again, until the second person showed up at your door. You lift your head and see Gaz standing there, almost shyly

"Oh hey." You greet him, "Didn't see you there. Need anything?"

"Hey." He greets back, "No, I don't need anything. Just checking on you."

You tilt your head, face clearly shows a questioning look but you cover it with a smile

"Uh, y'know what? I wish I could tell you what happened, you must've been worried about—"

"Oh, no, no. You don't have to tell me. I don't wanna know either." You offer him a reassurance, "Don't worry about it, Gaz."

He seems relieved upon hearing that

"You're right." He said, "But it doesn't mean that I can't tell you funny stories."

He pulls up a chair as he begins to tell you stories from the mission. From the horrible dad jokes, and a moment when Price slipped on the ladder. In exchange, you tell him about your encounter with Ghost, which makes him laugh

It actually surprises you to hear Gaz telling you stories and all. You assume that he only does it to cheer you up, or that's just his way to destress. Either way, it's nice to have a company like him

He'd keep going if you didn't remind him of the time, and you have to force tell him to sleep, promising that you'll talk tomorrow again

The next day, you're surprised to find almost all of the members are in the kitchen. Chatting and eating the leftover beef with reheated rice

All of them, except for Soap, but it's because he hasn't wake up

You didn't want to admit it, but seeing the pan empty makes your pride swell

You join their talk as you sit on the table, and they immediately complain about you not making enough batches for breakfast in a humorous way. You complain back by saying you didn't get paid enough for this

And that leads them to protest about the food budget to Price

He just sighs

By the time Soap joins in, all the food is already gone. And he's pissed about it

"You gotta order pizza for today." Gaz jokes

"Fookin' cunt."

As the conversation flows, Price announces something so suddenly, that you doubt your hearing

"What did you say?"

"You'll be on the same mission as us next month. Pack up and be prepared."

Gaz whistles, "We won't be doing paperwork then?"

"She'll focus on being a medic, so she won't be doing your paperwork."

He groans

"That's… great news." You responded when they all stared at you, "When will we be leaving again?"

"Exactly one month from now." He explained before he sighed, "But don't be too happy yet, because it's not easy to be stationed in the red zone. I know you can handle it but still." He shook his head, "The bad news is, and you wouldn't like it when you hear it but, the person who requested your assistance… Is Graves."

[sissylittlefeather]

I done did it again, y'all.

Suspicious Minds: Part 1

A/N: I watched the movie Argylle and was hit with some insane inspiration and I just couldn't control it. So, please enjoy the first part of this modern AU spy!Elvis x reader fic. I really wanted this to be a one-shot, but I hit 5k words at what I think is the halfway point and had to split it. I'm really excited to write part 2 for this one...

@ccab You know I love you so much. Thank you for screaming about this with me.

Warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, this is intense, gun violence, espionage, cussing, an erection, masturbation (female), kissing, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, I hope that's everything

Word count: ~5.5k

You adjust your glasses and look back at the computer screen. Your mom is always on you about not staring at a screen in the dark. She's convinced you'll ruin your eyesight, but it's not going to get any better, so why worry? Instead, you focus in again and go back to the hacking you've been working on for the past twelve hours. When you get in this mode, you don't sleep. For you it's like a game. You have a mission and you won't stop until you manage to finish it. You mainly do contract work for government agencies, cracking encryptions and writing code to secure against other hackers. But this was a private contract for a company you didn't recognize. Still, the money was unbelievable, so you took the job just as seriously, put on your EDM music, and got to work.

Now, 12 hours later, you throw your hands in the air in celebration. You finally got to what you were trying to get to. Your assignment is to download what you found onto a flash drive and deliver it to a lock box. But instead, you decide to take a peek at what you've uncovered.

It's maps. But they're maps with what look like targets and information that you're pretty sure you shouldn't see. This appears to be information that is vital to national security. You've done this kind of work before, but never for a private contract. You start to wonder if you should give it to the people who have asked for it. The flash drive blinks red to indicate that all of the information is saved. You eject it and hold it in your hand. Then, you set it on your desk and head to bed. It's 3am and the sunrise will be here before you know it.

******

You wake up with a hand on your mouth and scream into his palm.

"Sh sh sh... I'm the good guy. You're okay, honey, hush." You stop screaming mostly out of shock and he takes his hand off of you slowly.

"Who the fuck-" He puts his hand back over your mouth. Your eyes meet his blue ones and he's shockingly reassuring.

"My name is Elvis. I'm here to protect you. So please stop making noise." His southern drawl is comforting, for some reason. He moves his hand off of your mouth again. You whisper.

"Protect me from what? Or whom, I guess?"

"Where is the flash drive?"

"What?" Just then you hear your front door bust open.

"Goddamnit." He stands up away from your bed and you sit up frantically. "Get dressed, but don't make any noise."

He walks into the living room and you slide out of bed to the floor and crawl over to your closet. You grab some jeans and a bra and get dressed as quickly and quietly as you can, purposely ignoring the sounds of the struggle coming from the living room. But when you hear what sounds like a silenced gunshot, you gasp and run to the doorway. Elvis turns to you, having just shot a man who lays on your carpet bleeding.

"Go back in your room!" The other guy grabs him and punches him in the face, causing him to drop the gun. They trade hits back and forth and you watch. At one point, Elvis kicks the gun and it slides over and hits your feet. The other guy gets him in a headlock and he hollers to you.

"Throw me the gun!"

"The what?" You're so in shock that you can't understand the words he's saying.

"The gun! At your feet!" You look down and see it there, but your brain has a hard time making sense of what's happening. "Just pick it up and throw it to me!"

You pick up the gun and hold it in your hand. You've never held a gun before. It's heavier than you expected.

"Honey, throw it!" You look up at Elvis and he's struggling with the guy wrapped around his neck. You toss it gently and it lands about a foot away from him. He shakes his head at you and then grunts, throwing the guy over him onto the floor. You gasp as he grabs the gun and shoots the guy in the head. As the blood spreads over your floor, you inhale sharply and start to pass out. Elvis catches you and shakes you.

"Not yet, baby. Where is the flash drive?"

"The what?"

"The flash drive! With the information you downloaded from earlier!"

"Oh! It's on my desk." You walk to it and grab it, holding it up for him to see. He snatches it away from you.

"We need to hide this somewhere they'll never expect. Go get your dildo."

"My what?!"

"Your dildo, I'm going to-"

"I do not have one of those."

"Yes, you do. It's pink."

"How do you-"

"Not important! Go get it!" You purse your lips and run to your nightstand.

"It's a vibrator, not a dildo."

"Okay, whatever. Lemme have it." You hand it to him and he opens the end, dumping the batteries on the ground. He slides the flash drive into it and then closes it again.

"Wait... will I get it back?" He walks to you and put his hand on your cheek.

"Honey, stick with me long enough and you won't need it anymore." You blush. He's unimaginably attractive, but you try to ignore what he just said. "Pack a bag. We need to go."

You grab a duffel bag and throw some clothes and toiletries in it as fast as possible. Before you zip it up, he tosses the vibrator in the top and lets you close it.

"Wait. Why should I trust you?" He stops and turns back to face you, running his hand through his black hair in exasperation.

"Honey, I just killed two guys to protect you. You really need to ask that?" You shrug your shoulders and look up at him.

"I don't know you." He grabs your shoulders and looks into your eyes.

"My name is Elvis Presley. I'm an agent for the good guys. I'm here to take care of you and make sure no harm comes to you or that flash drive of information you collected. I promise you can trust me. Now, we need to go. Are you coming?"

You look into his face for half a second and then nod. You're not sure where this is going or even how you got here, but you have no choice other than to trust this man.

You run down the stairs of your apartment building with him close behind you. He puts his hand on the small of your back and practically pushes you toward his car. When you get to it, your mouth drops open. It's a 1970 Stutz Blackhawk.

"Isn't this a little conspicuous?" You ask as you slide into the passenger seat. He gets in and closes the door, starting it up.

"It's too conspicuous. No one would ever think it's mine. What kind of spy drives a car like this?"

"Are you James Bond?" He laughs as he pulls out onto the street.

"No. Bond is British." You think it's interesting that that's what he chooses to prove his difference. Like everything else about them is the same. You look out the window as buildings flash by. The sun is starting to peek over the horizon and it hits you that you've only had a couple of hours of sleep.

"Where are we going?" You ask sleepily, yawning.

"Somewhere safe. But we won't be there for a while. You can go to sleep." You shake your head and try to stay alert.

"No. I'm okay." But you're not. Not at all.

"Honey, this is going to be a long road. You should rest while you can. I won't let anything happen to you." He reaches out and pats your knee softly. You look down at his hand. It's an unexpectedly kind gesture. The exhaustion sets in and you decide to trust that you're safe with him, for now at least. You lean your head against the window and close your eyes, sleep setting in before you have time to think of anything else.

******

You wake up and stretch. That was the strangest dream. It feels like you're on a couch though. You don't remember it, but you must've fallen asleep in the living room after finishing your work.

"You're awake."

You sit up suddenly. It wasn't a dream. He's real. You look around the room and try to figure out where you are, but your surroundings are completely unfamiliar.

"Where are we?"

"Somewhere safe. Are you hungry?" The smell of bacon makes your stomach growl.

"Yes."

"I'm not much of a cook, but I made some peanut butter and banana sandwiches, if you want one." You frown.

"Why do I smell bacon?" A wide smile spreads across his face and a boyish charm shines through that you didn't expect from a hot shot agent.

"C'mere." You walk to the table and he sets a plate in front of you. On it is a sandwich with peanut butter, bananas, and bacon. You wrinkle your nose. "Just try it before you make that face."

You cautiously take a bite. It's better than you expected. Much better. You look up at him surprised and he holds his hands out.

"See! It's good!"

"It really is." He sits down next to you and you both eat your sandwiches. After a few more bites, a thought comes to you. "How did I get in here?"

"I carried you." He says it matter-of-factly like it's something he does all the time.

"Oh. What time is it?" You look around the room for a clock and realize for the first time that you don't have your phone. You must've left it in your apartment.

"It's a little after 2pm. You slept for a while."

The conversation continues and you make small talk. Once you finish eating, you work together to clean up the kitchen and then settle on the couch. It's very small, so you have to sit pretty close together. He turns on the TV and you spend the bulk of the afternoon there. For dinner, he orders a pizza and you sit together and eat awkwardly again. The evening passes in front of the TV and before you know it, it's time for bed. He stands up and walks from room to room.

"I'll be damned." He shakes his head frustratedly.

"What?"

"There's only one goddamn bed in this house. I'll have to sleep on the couch." You both look over at the tiny couch. It's essentially a love seat, so there's no way he will fit on there comfortably.

"Or I could?"

"No, you need to be in the bed behind a door, in case someone comes in during the night." You swallow deeply. That prospect is terrifying.

"O-okay, then. Goodnight..." He nods and you take your bag into the room with the bed. Once you have your pajamas on, you settle into the bed and the reality of your situation hits you. It's like the adrenaline from the day wears off and it becomes clear to you just how scary things are right now. The tears gather in your eyes and then start to slide down your face. Will your life ever go back to normal? What happens if these guys catch up to you? Before you know it, you're crying pretty hard, holding yourself and trying to breathe.

Elvis sits on the couch in the living room and tries not to hear you crying. He's been assigned to protect plenty of women, but there's something about you that makes him a little crazy. He shouldn't even think about what he's considering right now. Still, he considers it as the sounds of you crying come from the bedroom. It's torture for him to know how scared and alone you must be in there. He lays back on the little couch and tries to get comfortable.

"Goddamnit."

You're in the bed with tears on your cheeks when you hear the door open. You sit up quickly and see Elvis in the doorway.

"You alright?"

"No. Why the fuck would I be alright?! My life is literally in shambles. And I'm stuck here with..."

"With me?"

"No, that's not what I meant. I just mean... I'm scared. And I have no one." He sits down next to you on the bed. He almost whispers.

"You have me." You look up at him and he reaches out and wipes the tears off your cheek with his thumb. You're not sure why he's being so sweet to you, but it's exactly what you need right now.

"Will you... will you stay with me?" He clears his throat and pulls his hand back.

"Oh... you know..."

"Never mind. It's okay." You look down at your hands in your lap and try to ignore the lump in your throat.

"Yes. I'll stay in here with you. It's probably better that I stay close to protect you anyway. And there won't be any sleeping on that couch. The bed is the better option." You look up at him and nod.

Yes, he's sleeping with you because the couch is too small. Not because he can't stop wondering what it would feel like to wrap his arms around you. You lay down and he lays down next to you without touching you. You reach over and turn the lamp off.

"Well, goodnight." He looks over at you in the dark.

"Goodnight, Elvis."

You both lay there silently trying to fall asleep. It takes a while, but eventually you drift off.

******

In the morning, you wake up with your back pressed against him and his arm around you. You don't think anything of it really until you feel him. He has a massive erection and it's currently pushing up against you. You start to giggle uncontrollably and your movement wakes him up.

"What's going on? Why are you laughing?"

"Y-you..." You get out in between giggles. "I can feel you..."

"Fucking hell." He rolls away from you quickly, but it's even more obvious when he's on his back. "Goddamnit. I'm sorry."

He sits up on the edge of the bed facing away from you.

"I'm sorry. I just... it's morning... God..." You're laughing so hard that you can hardly breathe. He stands up and walks quickly to the door, muttering as he goes. "I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

He leaves you in the room laughing and hoping that he doesn't sleep on the couch.

The day passes slowly and awkwardly with the two of you eating sandwiches and watching TV again. Around noon, you decide to take a shower.

"I'm not sure that's smart."

"Why not?"

"I can't protect you if I can't see you." You roll your eyes.

"I've been fine this whole time. I think I'll be okay for a twenty minute shower." He thinks for a minute.

"Leave the door cracked."

"What? No!" He sighs, exasperated.

"I won't look. I'll just be able to hear you and get in fast if anything happens. Otherwise, no shower."

"Okay, fine."

You leave the door cracked and get into the shower, looking in the mirror to make sure he isn't watching. He's nowhere to be found, so you relax and let the hot water wash over you. It feels so good running down your skin, cutting hot pathways on your shoulders and thighs. Suddenly, a thought wriggles its way into your brain and won't go away. You imagine him in the shower with you, pressed up against your back. What you felt this morning is hard to ignore and you wonder what he looks like without his clothes on. You think about his hands running over your body and before you know it, it's not the shower making you wet. You peek in the mirror again to make sure Elvis is still not looking. When you're satisfied he's not there, your hand slides down the front of your abdomen until your fingers find your clit. You begin to make circles and think about his mouth. He has a beautiful mouth and the thought of it pressed to you as his tongue makes circles on you just about drives you wild. You slide a finger into yourself and pump it in and out as you continue to rub over and around your sensitive bud. Then, you imagine him on top of you, slamming his cock into you and without thinking, you moan.

"Elvis..." You say it quietly, but it's loud enough for him to hear it with the door cracked. He stands just outside and looks in the mirror to make sure you're okay. He can see the outline of your body through the foggy glass shower door. That's when he realizes what you're doing and swallows hard. When you cum, hard, on your own hand and say his name again, he almost loses it.

He cannot be having these thoughts about you. Sure, he's had sex with girls on missions before, it's practically his trademark, but something about this feels different. He doesn't want to fuck you. He wants to make love to you. And that thought terrifies him. He peels himself away from the door and goes to sit back on the couch. His erection is back, but there's not much he can do about it right now, so he tries to think of anything else to make it go away. He's dying to go into the other bathroom and do exactly what you just did, but he can't leave you alone. Instead, he tucks himself up under his belt quickly when he hears the water turn off.

"FUCK." He hits the couch next to him and then sits with his head in his hands. This cannot be happening.

"Are you okay?" He looks up at you quickly, standing there with your hair wet.

"Mhmmm. Yep, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." You think to yourself that he looks like he's about to cry.

"Well I am. Let's just... watch TV, okay?"

"Okay..." You sit down on the couch next to him and spend the rest of the afternoon watching TV. What you don't know is that Elvis is in misery being so close to you without touching you. And what he doesn't know is that you want him to touch you more than anything in the world.

******

Finally, evening comes and you start to get hungry.

"What's for dinner?"

"Well. I'm kind of a one-trick pony in the kitchen. I don't think you want another sandwich." He seems to have relaxed after whatever happened earlier.

"I can cook."

"Or we can just go get something."

"No, I'd like to cook for you. As a thank you for protecting me." He tries not to give himself away by how he looks at you, but the tension between you is palpable. "Can we go to the store? Is that allowed?"

"Yes, that should be fine. If they knew where we were we'd know it by now."

You get back into the Blackhawk and make your way to the grocery store. You're in a small town away from where you live, so there's only one store. Elvis stays close to you as you wander the aisles for what you need to make dinner. You also grab some essentials. He's not sure how long you'll have to be at the house, so you get food to keep you sustained for at least a few days. Once you've gotten everything you need and checked out, you make your way back to the house and get to work in the kitchen.

He watches as you move around gracefully and longs to put his arms around you. You notice him staring and decide he needs a task.

"Get over here and chop something."

"Yes ma'am." He salutes you jokingly and you set him up with some peppers.

"Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"My grandmother. She was an amazing cook. I spent summers with her when I was a kid, so she was able to teach me."

"That's nice."

"What was your family like? Or can't you tell me?"

"I probably shouldn't." You nod. It makes sense that he can't divulge any personal secrets. But he just can't seem to tell you no. "Fuck it. I was very close to my mother growing up. There were a lot of times when it was just me, her, and the shirts on our backs. My father worked a lot. And then she died when I was 23. I had just joined the army."

He gets very quiet and looks down at the vegetables he's chopping intentionally. You walk over and put your hand on his arm gently. The contact makes his heart jump.

"I'm sorry for your loss." He looks down into your face, his eyes flicking between yours and then down to your mouth momentarily. It takes everything in him not to lean down and kiss you.

"Thank you. Anyway I joined the military and was recruited by... who I work for now... and the rest is history."

Finally, the food is ready and you sit down to eat together again. He's impressed by your culinary skills and spends the next few minutes gushing about how good dinner is. The conversation continues and you talk about everything and nothing. Somehow, you make your way around to talking about music.

"Here's a fun question: what do you like better, singing or dancing?" He asks you as the meal comes to a conclusion.

"I'm not much of a singer, but I also don't dance, so I'm not sure how to answer that question." You respond and he laughs.

"You don't dance?"

"Well, I never really have before. Haven't had much opportunity. I was too big of a nerd to go to high school dances and in college I pretty much kept to myself."

"Then, it's not that you don't dance, you just haven't yet. We need to fix that." You're surprised by his enthusiasm, but he's eager for an excuse to touch you. He turns on the radio and finds a station with a good song.

"Really, it's okay. I don't really want to dance."

"C'mon, it's not hard." He puts his arm around your waist and pulls you in close to him. You both breathe deeply and he takes your hand in his. He moves you around the room effortlessly and your embarrassment melts away. The feeling of his arm around you is enough to distract you from anything. He dips you and spins you and before you know it you're both laughing. Eventually the song ends and he holds you close to him and looks down into your face. The next song is a slow one, so he begins to sway gently.

"See, dancing's not so bad."

"No, it's fun with you." You look up at him and his eyes flick down to your lips. He wants to kiss you. You can tell. And you want to let him.

He slowly leans forward, hovering above your mouth with your noses touching. It seems like he's trying to decide something. Eventually, he moves the slightest bit forward and presses his soft lips to yours. The kiss is a sweet one, and he kisses you again like this several times. The fourth time he kisses you, though, he parts your lips with his and dips his tongue into your mouth. By this point you've stopped dancing and both of your arms are around his neck, with both of his around your waist. The heat between you picks up as your mouths move together in a rhythm.

Suddenly, he stops and pulls away from you. He runs his hand through his hair and sighs.

"Y/n, I can't. I can't do this."

"Oh... okay..."

"I'm sorry. You should go to bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

"Okay. I'm sorry if I-"

"You didn't do anything wrong. It's me." You nod your head and walk away from him to the bedroom. After closing the door, you change into your sleeping t-shirt and crawl under the covers. The bed seems lonely without him.

In the living room, he paces back and forth, sitting down periodically. He's going through everything in his mind and trying to convince himself that there's nothing there for you. That he can reasonably fuck you and then move on like he always has. But these thoughts are invaded by other ones: the sound of your laugh, the softness of your smile, the grace with which you moved around the kitchen, and your voice saying his name in the shower. He's never been so frustrated by a woman. He starts to get a little angry. What is it about you anyway? Who are you to come into his life and interrupt it like this? He has a job to do. You're the one being all distracting and unprofessional. He needs to set you straight. You need to know that this is completely inappropriate.

You're almost asleep when the door opens dramatically. You sit up on the side of the bed and Elvis stomps over to you and sits next to you.

"You know why I can't do this, right?" He asks aggressively. You're not sure where this anger is coming from.

"Yeah, it's your job-"

"It is my job! My job is to protect you, not... this... whatever this is..." He gestures frantically to the space between you.

"Elvis, I'm not sure why you're yelling at me." He yells even louder.

"Because! You're making me feel things I don't want to feel!" He looks at you desperately, chest heaving. Your heart is pounding.

"I'm-"

His lips crash into yours with a feverish need. Everything he's just said goes out the window as his hands run over your body and he kisses down your neck. You whimper and he groans with the intense passion. He pulls your t-shirt up over your head and off, tossing it to the side. One hand immediately goes to your breast while his mouth explores the opposite nipple. Your hands are in his hair as he works, your head thrown back in pleasure. The sensation of his lips on your breast is exquisite and you moan as he lightly pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your fingers go to the buttons on his shirt and you fumble with them for a while before he just rips it open and lets you push it backwards off of his shoulders.

He lays you down on the bed surprisingly gently and kisses down your stomach. The only thing separating you from him is your white cotton panties. He sits up on his knees, erection stretching the fabric of his pants, and hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties. His eyes search yours for permission and you nod slightly as a smile spreads across his face. He pulls your panties down your legs and off and then presses his lips to your ankle. Pushing your legs open, he drags his finger up your slit to the bundle of nerves at the top.

"Can I make you feel good, baby?" He asks as he makes circles on you.

"God, yes, Elvis, please." You whine as he settles between your legs. He starts by pushing his tongue into you and then licking up either side of your sensitive bud. You need him to touch the right spot with his tongue so badly it almost hurts. Your legs shake with desire and he hovers about an inch away from you. You feel his breath on you and it feels like you might die with how close he is. Then, he very softly flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue. "Fuck! Elvis, please!"

Your back arches and your hips buck as you practically beg him. He continues to flick your clit with his tongue, though, adding a little more pressure each time. With each flick of his tongue, the blood rushes to your core and you feel your climax building. Finally, when you're about to scream and your orgasm is just seconds away, he dives in fully, licking your pussy with the entirety of his tongue.

"OH FUCK, ELVIS!" Your orgasm hits you like a runaway train, setting off fireworks all over your body as the pulsating waves of pleasure crash into you. He licks you through your release until you come back down to earth. Then, he sits up and wipes his face with his hand.

"I want- no, I need to make love to you. Please let me make love to you." You sit up and unbutton his pants, pushing them down to free his cock. He grunts as you take him in your hand and pump him, gently moving his foreskin back and forth.

"What are you waiting for?" You whisper. He moans deep in his throat and leans forward on top of you, kicking his pants the rest of the way off. Holding himself in one hand, he teases your clit with his tip and then lines up with your entrance. He begins to push into you slowly, giving your body a chance to adjust to his size. You feel every inch of his cock as he enters you and it fills you up perfectly. Once he's pushed into you fully, he slides almost all the way out and with a slow, deep roll of his hips fills you again. He continues to thrust into you, slow and deep, over and over. His rhythm is steady, his pace dramatic and soulful. You begin to moan softly each time his hips meet yours and he grunts in reply. There's something overwhelmingly sexy about how he's taking his time, filling you, pulling back, and then slowly filling you again. Sweat drips down his face, gathers on his chest, and wets his hair on his brow, matching your own. The feeling of him inside you is unlike anything you've ever experienced before. He reaches down to hold one of your hips, thrusting somehow even deeper than he already was. With every pump, his dick rubs against your g-spot and the slow pace has you dancing on the edge of another orgasm. Just when you think the lovemaking can't get any sweeter, he leans forward and captures your lips in a deep kiss. Then he presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes. All the while, he's still sliding in and out of you, pushing deeper with each thrust.

"Goddamnit, baby. You feel so good." He kisses you again and his pace speeds up the slightest bit. Every time your hips meet, it feels like the next thrust will send you over the edge.

Without pulling out, he rolls over on his side and brings you with him, throwing your leg over his hip. He goes back to thrusting, increasing his speed, but not changing the depth of his strokes. Your eyes meet and his blue ones search yours for something. You're not sure what he's looking for, but you hope he finds it.

"Y/n, I- FUCK." He's interrupted when the coil of his orgasm snaps and he cums hard inside you, closing his eyes and shuddering against you. His release pushes you over the edge and you tumble into oblivion with him, pulsing and fluttering around him. He presses his forehead to yours again as he pumps weakly a few more times and then pulls out of you. Kissing your lips, he rolls over on his back and pulls you onto his chest.

"What were you going to say?"

"Hmm?"

"Right before you came. You were saying something."

"Oh, it was nothing." He thinks to himself that it absolutely was not nothing, but he was probably just caught up in the moment. It doesn't need saying now.

You nod and snuggle into him, hoping he doesn't try to go sleep on the couch. He doesn't, thankfully. He stays right there in the bed with you. He knows it's stupid and inappropriate, but he no longer cares. Maybe you'll be stuck together in the safe house for a long, long time. This is his last thought before you both drift off to sleep.

******

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping and the feeling of Elvis wrapped around you, both of you still naked. You're just about to revel in the closeness and daydream about what you'll do stuck in the safe house today, but Elvis sits straight up in bed.

"What-?"

"Shh, honey, hush." He says it quietly and you start to get scared. "Someone's in the house."

He jumps out of the bed and grabs his pants, pulling them on without buttoning them, and gets his gun from the nightstand. You don't even remember him putting it there.

"Get dressed, quickly and quietly." You nod and slide out of the bed, gathering your clothing and slipping it on silently. He positions you so that you can't be seen from the door and then opens it, gun in hand.

"Ah, Agent Presley. You're awake."

******

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things

[issa-pheonyx]

CEO-sub!Leon S Kennedy X Fem!Reader🌶️

𝗧����𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲. 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱𝗻'𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗽 𝗺𝘆𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗼 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗼𝗰𝗰𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆. 𝗘𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆~😈💋

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

-After the incident in his office for the first time (as well as being in his office) people were finding it highly suspicious witnessing his behavior changed towards you. He is much more nicer, attentive, fucking following you like a lost puppy

-He doesn't really care if you did any work or not designing for the company, yet you are a responsible coworker and still do it anyway. The only reason he doesn't care is, because when he crashes to your office he will try to find way to distract you and convince you to his office for some fun. Besides he is always spoiling you, taking you out even on your days off, sends you deposits, and hands you money to go buy whatever you want before you go home , because he will be busy with a business trip (at this point I'm making him sound like a sugar daddy...nothing wrong with that shiieett-)

-You always reject his offer (yes, even after what happened read the story bi-) which he gets bummed that his boner is aching so much he needs you more now he would hang around your office or would leave you be and would call you from your office phone as soon he is sitting in his chair cause he wants to hear your voice while he is rubbing his boner tenting his pants that it is suffocating him that you're not stepping on it

-He would send you texts-spamming the shit out of you or would call you over and over if you don't respond to him, because the female coworkers were lunging at him and won't leave him alone. They question his actions on why all of sudden he is smitten by you, you're not worth the trouble, etc. You do save him...but, that'll leave to him being punished for embarrassing you like that due to his own consequences of his own actions sleeping with them in the first place

-However, with the male workers when you give them attention he would give you a 'feedback' about a design you made and wants you to change something, so you can go back to your office. Or if you were on break eating alone he would join you, eating with a male coworker he would only give a death glare without his presence knowing, or sends you sweets to your office with a personal note

WARNING!!! Spicy after this thread [MDNI🔞]

-He will send dirty texts, pics, and videos. He does not care if you see them in private or in public. He will go feral when you send back a dirtier text, pics, and videos-begging you to come to his office right away or on your days off he will send an limbo to your location to come by to his mansion. Let him worship you as your foot is on his dick rubbing it

-Sit on his face...hear me out. This man is wants his face against those cheeks whether you got clothes on or not. He can not help it, especially, when you pick something up or bend over in his surroundings and notices your ass revealing from how sheering your skirt is. Are you purposely teasing him? Cause it's working and he is in your office eating you out like he never feasted on anything so delicious he can't help, but moan with you and getting so into your pussy it hurts him so good. He would drag you to his office, but yours is closer and he can not take it anymore

-He wants to be used like the stupid man thing he is. He is tired of being dominant all the time and wants someone to put him in his place... duh that's you bi-he lives for the bruises, scratches, sores, numbness, etc. Make him not be able to sit on his chair from those spankings, pull him out of you or let go of his dick from jerking him off just to see him roll his eyes back and his hips buck, because of how good it feels

-He can cum just by the thought of you that it is embarrassing. You live in his mind rent free and when you're not available he would go through your pics/vids. He would even go far checking the security cameras that he deleted from the building just for him to save it on his phone or computer to jerk off of the times you visit his office or yours

-Now I wouldn't say this as a way of him taking over when you allow him to fuck you. It is more like a treat or a naughty alternative of worshipping you. So, if he is railing you breaking your back he is gonna go hard and fast like a damn horny dog telling you "Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck, feels so good, so tight" "Yes, finally inside you I love it, ahh~" "Please, tell me I'm a good boy, I love mistresses pussy. I must be her, fuck, her f-favorite boy, oh yeah~"

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣

[murphychips]

a treacherous descent into werewolf romance fiction

okay so. this story begins with me being on facebook, scrolling through videos, and getting these adverts at the end of EVERY video clip from these sites:

and i mean EVERY single one. and out of deranged curiosity i ended up clicking them and checking out their previews only to find maybe some of the more garbage i've ever had the displeasure of reading. each advert was different and each story varied, but all of them had dogshit quality.

eventually, i wondered who was making this stuff; MULTIPLE apps were being advertised to me under a bunch of different names, and all of them were centred around werewolves or mafia or billionaires. sometimes all three!

so i downloaded a couple of apps to see if i could identify an owner, but those all varied too! most don't even have websites; the app is the only thing they have. almost none of them have author names, or any way to identify the writer, and there's no way to submit to most of them. eventually, i chased up a few of these apps on reviews to find most appear to be stealing content from across the internet:

some of these are stolen from amazon, others are stolen from similar apps are cross-posted, others--as one comment says--appear to be scalping from wattpad (and likely AO3 and fanfic.net, although i'm currently trying to find examples).

HOWEVER

one app that crossed my phone was Letterlux, which does feature a submit page and appears to actually promote original work! the genres remain the same--werewolves, billionaires, mafia, etc--and so i was like alright. this appears to be a publishing outlet of SOME kind. what's the catch?

the catch is the abysmal fucking offerings:

the 'exclusive' contract here is if you do the whole 'submit a thing and they extend an offer', whereas non-exclusive is you just posting the thing. but look at the numbers! look how low they are! $450 if your story is above 200,000 words????????????????? and you have to post EVERY DAY for the update bonus; if you miss more than 4 days, you're out of the running. HOLY EXPLOITATION BATMAN. never mind that for the non-exclusive, you get a measly $250 for 200,000 words and NO update bonus. with the signing bonus of a whole $50, that's $300 for 200,000+ words: a whopping 0.0015 per word.

another app that appears to promote original work is Galatea, owned by inkitt; it appears legit in that it's been advertised by a bunch of different places, i.e. Writer's Digest, and has a fairly slick site, but reviews from users say it's a scam--a less predatory scam than usual, but still a scam.

TL;DR, if you write heterosexual steamy werewolf romance, your shit is likely making money for some company in whoknowsistan, who use microtransactions to make you pay for individual books. and i haven't even TALKED about how some of these apps have some of the most crazy IP protection i have ever seen, such as banning you for an hour if you screencap ANYTHING, and hiding recorded videos:

but despite all this, and this horrible rabbithole of novel apps i've fallen down, nothing compares to me having to read all this fiction and realising that we are ignorant to the quantities of sheer bad werewolf writing out there, so much so that i'm honestly tempted to post my own straight-bait just to see how far i can get. things that i've noticed:

all the female protagonists start off as abused or hated and are saved by some Alpha/Alpha King/Alpha Demon/idk man

sometimes the werewolf aspect is just an inner wolf who like. yells at you sometimes?

there's gamma rank werewolves?

there's DELTA rank werewolves?????????????

i honestly think i'm becoming addicted to finding out just how unhinged some of these stories get, but that is beside the point: in the end, for the love of god, don't be a dumbass and use these shady apps, and do NOT submit to places who won't even give you an entire penny per word. also, check your shit; it might have been scalped for someone else's profit. okay. ciao.

[tangibletechnomancy]

Valid criticisms of AI, or at least the way it's used:

- Just like any tech that can automate work in the professional sector, AI can have alarming implications for workers, especially in the current economy, including independent workers in gig economies for whom we may have an even harder time demanding a support system

- The amount of incredibly personal content in training databases really solidifies how dire the situation is with datamining on the internet today and buying products built with this kind of extensive, unmitigated datamining is pretty questionable

- There are many, very easy ways to be a complete fucking asshole with AI, from forgery to spite fine-tunes to maliciously flooding commission markets where one outright shows disdain for the community outside of how much money they're willing to spend, and the corporate developers seem to be content to encourage that crowd

- Social media culture is already toxically obsessed with instant gratification and things that look polished and professional, and AI has the potential to play into that

Not valid criticisms of AI:

- "The training data is copyrighted" - any copyright framework that bars usage as transformative as AI training from qualifying as fair use would do FAR more harm to small-time artists than it would prevent; do you want to get sued for drawing a similar pose to a Disney poster because they suspect you may have referenced from it? Do you want to go back to the Anne Rice days with fanart and fanfiction? Because that's what tightening up restrictions against transformative work to that extent will open up.

- "It's literally just sampling, copy-pasting chunks of pieces that already exist in the training set" - it's literally not. This is just straight up misinformation.

- "It's not Real Art, it's uncreative, there's no such thing as a creative use for it" - way too subjective to keep presenting as a fact, what little of it is objective is demonstrably false (see the number of people using it as a meditation on data and history, and many disabled people using it to preserve their ability to create), and if you claim that something needs to meet a minimum standard of creativity to be Real Art then I can name a LOT of manual illustrations that don't qualify either

- "No one actually NEEDS it as an accessibility tool, look at this famous artist who painted with their feet and this one who painted with their mouth and this one who forced themself through miserable pain every day, if art isn't worth suffering that much to you then you don't DESERVE it and what do you mean there are people who can't even move THAT much" - holy inspiration porn, Batman!

- "Well then if you really well and truly CAN'T draw on your own at ALL, just commission people!" - ah, yes, because what disabled people famously always have in surplus is money, and what we famously love more than anything in the world is having to rely on other people for every aspect of our own self-expression

- "It's going to REPLACE REAL ART, all the physical media companies and art tablet makers are going to GO OUT OF BUSINESS because NO ONE WANTS THEIR PRODUCTS ANYMORE, NO one cares about ANYTHING in art but the end result except ME and the other REAL artists, AI is going to DESTROY SOCIETY, even KIDS are NEVER going to want to draw for REAL anymore, the ENTIRE CONCEPT is DYSTOPIAN and we need to BURN THE TECH TO THE GROUND TO SAVE SOCIETY, my ingroup and I are the ONLY people not too stupid and sheeplike to fall for this VIOLENT DESTRUCTION OF ALL THAT MAKES US HUMAN that will DEFINITELY succeed in destroying art FOREVER" - ....yeah sorry if I don't sound like I'm taking you seriously when at this point you're just buying into blatant trad RETVRN bullshit to validate your discomfort and it's horrifying, STOP THAT

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

The Eras | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi! This is a short, silly little thing about the Ticketmaster fiasco the other day. If you were in that queue all day, I feel your pain. Seven hours of queuing for Houston. I know this fic is niche but I simply do not care <3 also, lemme know if you got tickets! And what you plan to wear to the show!

What’s your favorite track from Midnights?

Warnings: Ticketmaster 

“Any luck?” Bucky asked on the other end of the phone.

“Nope… still two thousand plus people ahead of me.” You poked at your sad lunch salad with your plastic fork, eyes glued to your laptop. “At least my boss is trying to get tickets too, that way I won’t get in trouble for getting nothing done today.”

Bucky let out a loud laugh, “I love that for you. And your boss. Is there-”

“It’s PAUSED?” you nearly threw your lunch across the room. “The queue is PAUSED!”

Bucky wasn’t accustomed to this new way of doing things. If he wanted to go to a show back in his day, he simply bought tickets at the venue. But this was a whole new beast. You had a plan, a strategy. The group text with Wanda and Nat fired constantly in the days leading up to the presale, turning your phone into a war room.

“What? Why is it paused?”

“It says it ‘should be back up and running shortly’,” you sighed, “and that to keep my place in line, I can’t refresh or close my browser.” The disappointed groan that pushed its way out of your throat broke Bucky’s heart. He heard you clicking and typing on the other end of the line, no doubt conferring with the group text.

“This kind of seems like a disaster…” He didn’t want to make things any worse than they already were, but he hated when you were upset. You’d looked forward to this- gotten your presale code, received boosts. And yet, you sat in a paused queue with no end in sight.

“Oh, it is. Ticketmaster is the worst.” You gave a harsh stab with your plastic fork and speared a piece of romaine, punctuating your sentence. “It’s owned by this company Live Nation- it’s basically a monopoly.”

“But you’re guaranteed tickets, right?” he asked, sounding almost on edge. “Cause you got the code thingy? That’s how this works, right? The code ensures that you get the tickets?”

“Nope. That’s just to get into the presale, but they don’t require a code to get in the queue, so… I’m not sure there’s even a point to those codes.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at the inefficient and deeply flawed system. “Oh. That’s… really annoying. And confusing. They should explain the rules better.”

You gave him a laugh, “yeah, well, all they care about is making money.”

Bucky could practically see you- sitting at your desk, shoulders slumped, lunch half eaten, computer stuck in a paused queue.  “I’m sorry, doll.”

You made a few more stabs at your wilted lettuce before giving it up all together. “And apparently ticket prices are nuts. Like, floor seats are selling for over a thousand dollars. My friend got seats in section C for the Dallas show, and he paid a thousand and twenty-eight dollars for each of them.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah…” you let out a sigh. “I’m so disappointed. I mean, I saw on Twitter that even nosebleeds are in the two-fifty range now. I know there’s way worse things in the world, but I was really looking forward to this- I’ve been saving for such a long time. I thought I was gonna get to see her in person, you know?” Bucky could hear the frown in your voice. “But between the queue and the prices, I just don’t think it’s gonna happen.”

“You never know, doll,” Bucky did his best to lighten the mood. “Don’t give up. Just keep the queue open on your computer and try to focus on other things, okay?”

You agreed to his terms and the two of you hung up, leaving you alone with your Ticketmaster nightmare.

That evening, Bucky waited by the door for you to come home. He stood so close, in fact, that you almost hit him with it. “Hey, baby! How was your day?” He was nearly vibrating with a strange energy you’d never seen from him before.

“It was terrible…” you sighed. “I was in the queue for seven hours. And when I finally got to the presale, tickets were unfathomably expensive. Even if I could afford them, every seat I picked disappeared. I got constant error notices and never even got one single ticket into my cart. It sucked.”

Bucky gave you a tight squeeze, so tight you could hardly breathe. “That’s terrible, doll. I’m so sorry you didn’t get tickets…” He released you suddenly, allowing your chest to expand. “But I’m actually glad you didn’t buy any.”

His words came as a surprise. He was always supportive, no matter how silly your venture. He knew how badly you wanted to go to the concert- why he celebrated your defeat was unknown.

“Oh. That’s…. ouch, Buck. I know I’m kind of annoying about how much I love her music, but-”

“No, no- I’m happy you didn’t get any,” he said, “because I got them for you.”

His words didn’t register. You stared at him, mouth agape, as the gears in your mind spun into overdrive. “I don’t… what? How?”

“He might be an ass, but Tony’s good for some stuff,” Bucky laughed. “I asked him to help me- and he said no. We both know he hates my guts. But when I said it was for you, he immediately agreed.”

“You asked Tony?” Bucky didn’t speak to Tony. Ever. Not since Siberia. But he’d broken his sworn vow against Tony. Just for you.

Bucky retrieved his laptop from the kitchen table, “I signed up last week just in case you didn’t get verified. But you did… and then I got a text late last night with a presale code. So, I thought I’d hop on the presale too just in case you couldn’t get tickets.” He turned the computer your way and showed you the screen, “according to this, my account is still stuck in the queue…”

You eyed the screen and saw the long line you stared at all day, “but if you’re still in the queue, how did you-”

Bucky scoffed, “Ticketmaster is no match for Stark tech, sweetheart. Tony found a way around the queue, grabbed three floor seats, and got outta there. Used some of that Iron Man money for good.” He shut the computer and tucked it under his arm, “and now, there are three floor seats linked to your account. You got the VIP package, preferred parking- all the bells and whistles.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Oh, and Stark told me to tell you…” he opened his computer once again and found an email from Tony. “And I quote: You’re too good for this idiot, but at least he’s resourceful. Have a great time at the show, kid.”

You launched yourself into Bucky’s arms, almost sending his laptop clattering to the floor. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh my god, Buck. You’re amazing- you’re the best!”

Bucky, always humble, did his best to duck your praises. “Well, Tony’s the one who got ‘em. I just called him and-”

“But it was your idea! And you entered for the presale just in case- you sat in the queue all day!”

Bucky’s cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink. “I just wanted you to see your girl. I know Taylor’s you’re favorite.”

“No, you’re my favorite,” you said, dropping a deep kiss to his lips. “Oh- I have to call Wanda! And Nat! And- wait, you didn’t ask Tony to get a ticket for you?”

Bucky shook his head, “Doll, this is your thing with your friends. I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep an eye on me all night; I want you to give all your attention to Taylor-” He laughed his own words, “as though I have to tell you to give her your attention.”

He dotted kisses all over your face and chuckled as you thanked him time and time again. “You’re more than welcome. All I ever want is for you to be happy, sweetheart. Go call your friends and let ‘em know.”

You rifled through your bag and found your phone, an unstoppable smile plastered across your face all the while. But before you could run off to tell Nat and Wanda the good news, you took Bucky’s face in your hands.

“Just so you know, Buck, this is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. I mean, getting the tickets is amazing. But signing up for the code just in case, sitting in the queue for me- you’re so sweet.” He blushed once again, still not used to your praise. “And obviously, it helps that you were able to get me floor seats, but I’d be just as appreciative if I came home to no tickets. Cause floor seats or no floor seats, you’re all I want.”

“Well I guess you’re lucky then,” he laughed, “cause you got me and floor seats.”

“Truly, what else could a girl want?” you asked.

“Backstage passes?”

“Yeah, you know I was incredibly grateful and touched that you did this for me-” you joked. “But no backstage passes? Lame.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at you and swatted you on the ass, banishing you to go call your friends.

He’d done a lot of bad in his life. Even if it wasn’t his fault, he’d hurt people. But knowing that he’d done something so meaningful for you eased his mind.

All he wanted for the rest of his days was to see you smile like that. He didn’t care if he had to team up with Tony every week and get you exorbitantly priced concert tickets- he’d do it. He’d do anything for you.

————————————-

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[strangerthingssimps-blog]

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Steve Harrington’s Twin)

The first time you met Billy was on his first day and you were in most of his classes. “Mr Hargrove, please take a seat at the back with Miss Harrington” The teacher says to him while pointing at you at the back of the class. He then went and sat next to you. You noticed the blonde and scouched up a bit, You didn't want to push his boundaries.

You took notes of the class while he sat there confused since it was a completely different curriculum then what he was taught back in california. You then pass him your notes on previous classes. “Here, they are the notes from previous lessons” You say while he looks at you. This was when you first had a look at him. He was pretty handsome compared to the other guys in the school.

Later that night you were at Tina’s Halloween party with your twin brother and his girlfriend. You saw billy come in and you were fucking drooling at his body. You had never seen such a physique before you felt like you were in heaven. You were wearing a tight leather black dress and black heels and your hair was down and it made your features look more physical.

Billy saw you with Steve and Nancy. He was amazed on how you managed to look like an innocent girl at school and at parties you looked completely different. The outfit brought out everything and he was living for it.

A couple of hours into the party, You were outside Chugging A Bottle of whiskey straight up. Everyone was cheering you on. Billy was shocked he had never seen a woman before who could chug whiskey or any kind of proper Alcohol straight up, he was amazed at how well you were doing.

After you chugged it, he went up to you. “Wow miss Harrinton, knows how to chug Whiskey, i’m impressed” He says while a puff of his joint that he got off someone at the party.

“Meh, it’s nothing” You say in a drunken state. You and Billy then spend most of your time together at the party and he walked you home making sure you got home safe. When he saw your mansion he was shocked. “Wow, so you're rich” He said while he walked up to the door.

“Yea, Thanks again” You say as you walk into your house as he leaves and goes home himself.

A couple weeks later, You were watching one of hawkin’s basketball games. You were looking at Billy the whole time. He looked so hot when he played basketball, it was just this thing about him playing basketball that made him look even more hot.

He then saw you watching him and smirked, he scored and it was half time break. He then got something to drink and then went up and grabbed the microphone and got everyone’s attention.

“Y/N would you do me the honours and be my girlfriend?” He said while looking at you and everyone then looked at you waiting for your answer. You were shocked that he would ask you such a question. You had gone on some dates to the movies but it wasn’t really official until now.

“Yes, i’d love to be your girlfriend Billy Hargrove” You answer him while you head down the bleachers to the front to meet him, He then hugs you while everyone on the team starts cheering and even the cheerleaders are happy for you. Some girls are looking at you with a jealous glance.

Steve then comes up to Billy, “You better teach her well or else Hargrove” He says while shaking Billy's hand.

During the summer, Billy gets a job as a life-guard at the community pool. You were working at the local bakery making cakes and all that. It was a small summer job so you guys could save up enough money to get a place in california.

That summer was the worst summer of your life, your boyfriend got possessed by a creature from a different universe. Your brother was kidnapped by Russians and everyone nearly died. With that you and Billy decided it was best if you left Hawkins once and for all. Away from all of this drama.

You both soon got an apartment in LA and got new jobs, Billy got a job as a mechanic and you got a job as a Cake decorator at a professional cake company. Overall you managed to get good pay and take care of yourself. Your apartment was bigger than you thought it was going to be and it already felt like home.

Around a year later, you get a phone call from Steve telling you what has happened in Hawkins and what happened to Max. When he starts talking about Max’s condition Billy walks into the apartment. “What's happened to Max?” He says in a concerned tone. You then tell him that Max was in the hospital suffering from a coma.

Next thing you know you're on your way to Hawkins to see what’s going on. Billy Was pissed when he found out that his dad had left Susan and Max to deal with this on their own and look at what had happened. You all saw people leaving Hawkins and The town looked like a mess. Cracks everywhere.

You both then went to the hospital where Max was, You both entered her room and went to see how she was doing. Billy then went and sat next to her bed and held her hand. “Hey Shit head, it’s me” He says as he starts to talk to her, it makes you cry seeing him like this.

You then left to let them have some time together and ran into your brother and his friend robin. You then gave him a hug just glad that he was alright, you then see that he has bandages on his torso.

2 months later the war with vecna ended and you were back in your old class, it was like Eleven never existed, Barb was alive and your brother was still with Nancy.

“Students meet Mr Hargrove, can you go sit with Miss Harrington”

You may have saved Hawkins but now you had to regain your love life …

“Do i know you, i swear we have met before” He says as he sits down next to you and it hits him “Angel” he said using the nickname he gave you when you first started dating.

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 1

Propaganda under the cut

Shiv Roy

She's honestly kind of a canonical victim of yaoi almost. She and her husband Tom have a loveless marriage but never end up getting divorced. Tom has a weird psychosexual obsession with Shiv's cousin Greg and at one point literally compares them all to the time Emperor Nero pushed his wife down the stairs and then castrated and married a slave boy named Sporus (Tom is unwell). Anyway the show just ended and long story short Tom is now CEO of Shiv's family's evil company and she is reduced to being his pregnant wife (which is the result of her voting not to authorize either of her brothers as CEO in order to save them from themselves) and Tom made another weird comment about literally owning Greg. And now people who ship Tom and Greg are like "omg it's canon we won" but I don't. Think that they did. Sorry I'm rambling it was just a really good finale idek if this counts but

I will be honest I'm not really tuned into the tomgreg fandom, but tons of people wanted tom to leave shiv and get with greg and tons of people thought shiv was the devil incarnate and refused to see any nuance in her character and I don't think those two things are a coincidence. 

She gets a lot of hate from fans, largely just for being a woman who reacts in a non pretty way to abuse and for doing the exact same shitty stuff her brothers do. But also a large part of the hate she gets comes from the people who ship her husband with her cousin. To the point where people claim she's abusing her husband who views her as an accessory, a baby factory, and a ticket to money. Don't get me wrong, their relationship is incredibly toxic and unhealthy, but it is so on both of their parts. But Shiv's the only one who gets criticized for it

Kyoko Kirigiri

The anime series Danganronpa 3's ending somewhat implied she and Makoto are a couple but the fandom likes to ship Makoto with Byakuya much more. The same anime series also saw a lot of hatred against her character and well, it was already there because people also complain about how she acted in the original Danganronpa Trigger Happy Havoc game as well, unfairly in my opinion. She's really cool and really smart and just isn't the quickest to trust people, which makes sense considering she's in fucking death games. Her deduction skills and strategy played a big part in saving the people who did make it out BOTH times she was in killing games and in one of those cases she was even willing to potentially sacrifice herself for it. I'll stop now but she is my most mistreated fave

arguably the most important character in the game but gets tossed aside a lot because of the two male leads byakuya and the main guy (dont even remember his name ngl) and she is so pretty and cool and smart and i love her so yeah <3

[astrophileous]

RARE BEAUTY IS USING PALESTINE AS A PR MOVE

(This is a long post. You can read the colored text for a summarized version.)

This is just sick. I can't believe this is happening. If you don't know what's going on, let me give you a recap of what happened in a chronological order.

So, a while ago, Selena Gomez took to instagram to post a story about her stance regarding what's happening in Gaza. Everyone instantly came at her for not only staying neutral in the face of a literal GENOCIDE, but to somehow make the entire thing about her by claiming she needs to "take a break from social media" for her "mental health". She also claims that any post she makes about it will not matter, which is bullshit, considering she's one of the most followed persons on Instagram. Not only that, people are also calling her out about her hypocrisy by pointing out the differences in her response for the Ukrainian crisis and the Gaza crisis.

Below are the instagram posts she made for Gaza (left) and Ukraine (right). Notice the difference?

(I took these photos from this post)

Not only that, people also noticed that Selena liked Amy Schumer's post—who is not only known to be a Zionist, but also problematic, racist, and Islamophobic—about a pro-Israel propaganda.

(I acquired the photo from the same Tumblr post linked above)

This led to people all around the world actively voicing their intentions of boycotting Rare Beauty, the makeup company of which she is the founder. One day ago, the official Rare Beauty page on Instagram posted a single picture with the words: "Humanitarian Crisis in Gaza".

Upon first look, this post seems great. It looks like Rare Beauty is finally stating its official stance about the on-going crisis! Until, of course, you read the caption.

(Click here to see the original post by Rare Beauty on Instagram)

As you read further, you will notice that Rare Beauty is still taking a neutral stance over what's going on. Not only that, they literally admitted in that post about injecting their money into the Israel government. Magen David Adom, the name that Rare Beauty mentioned as one of the recipients of the money they're donating, is a known Zionist organization.

Below is the profile of Magen David Adom on instagram.

(You can check MDA's profile through this link)

Now, we all know that many large brands out there have openly stated their support for Israel or opted to take a neutral stance instead. By this point, I'm not surprised anymore. But that's not what revolts me about what Rare Beauty has done.

It's the fact that they made a post titled "Humanitarian Crisis in Gaza", only to go ahead and use their money to fund the Zionist goverment instead.

It is one thing to publicly assert a neutral stance or voice your support for Israel. But it is another level of atrocious to literally use the name Gaza and/or Palestine as a PR move, as hundreds and perhaps thousands of people there die every single day, only to then go and fund the same regime responsible for this bloodshed.

And for what?

To manipulate people to stop the boycott and save their company from going bankrupt?

Where is the fucking humanity?

I don't know what else to say. I'm literally at loss for words. This just goes to show that we ought to be more careful about whomever we support, because you never know if there are any malicious intentions hiding underneath.

So, in hindsight, PLEASE KEEP BOYCOTTING RARE BEAUTY IF YOU SUPPORT FREE PALESTINE 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

[sapphire-weapon]

you mentioning how capcom doesn't owe anyone anything reminds me of just how much they literally won't commit to anything actually, just look at Claire and Leon's relationship, then the actual Redfield siblings?? Idk why exactly they're like this when it comes to their characters relationships but my gut is telling me because they're more focused on the gameplay it's self rather than any prolonged bonds showcase, although i could be wrong

Eagleone too, although this is one title where I've actually seen more effort put in so that fans can come to their own opinions and conclusions but even then, it doesn't change the fact that it's all dead in the water. But what do you think?

i've said this for years

resident evil is a game first. capcom is a video game company. they are in the business of selling games.

RE6 didn't fail because its story was trash. RE6 failed because it was a bad game.

should i pull out the chart? let me pull out the chart.

and, again, these numbers are fudged, this is just for me to illustrate a point.

the vast majority of RE's consumer base is not in the fandom. (and, in fact, a good chunk of the fandom doesn't buy the games.)

capcom is making products for that gigantic percentage of people who just want to play a good fucking video game, because that's where the money is coming from.

and the demographics of that percentage are primarily cishet men.

and the vast majority of cishet men skip the fucking cutscenes in any game that has cutscenes.

RE's focus is not and has never been its story or its characters or its relationships.

RE's focus is, has always been, and will always be its gameplay.

that's how RE7 saved RE.

RE7 didn't save RE with its story. RE7 saved RE with its gameplay. that's what capcom cares about. that's what they're selling to people.

[itsbenedict]

Hey. How's it going? You ok?

(You said once and again that you're better off with sc-accountability lists than without, and it's been a while...)

if you recall this situation, it's degenerated. "the team assigned to this unit didn’t have any senior devs who could handle a big infrastructure transition"- yeah, and they still don't. i? am not the guy. i'm not capable of being the guy! they had a guy, but now they don't. i? am not. the guy.

[insert forklift solo]

it's insane. they basically sold them a brand as if it were a company, plus a bunch of random expendable devs, and expected them to become a functional company in two months. we have- and there's a list, a gigantic spreadsheet of needs- 91 different applications that need to be migrated and stood up on their own, and i'm on the hook for all of them regardless of whether i have the first fucking clue how they work. it's a total disaster, everything is constantly on fire, and i have basically no free time for anything at all.

this friday (and all this weekend) are going to be the Big Cut, the point at which we're expected to be completely off the previous company's infrastructure. they're yanking life support, and everyone is going to find out how completely insufficient my past two months of frantic work have been. i'm desperately trying to ensure this goes as undisastrously as possible but i am not ready for it, i'll never be ready for it, and frankly even if everything goes totally smoothly, being responsible for this much shit is just not something compatible with me living my life. it's beyond unreasonable and i intend to quit in january, after i've bulked up my savings a bit and done everything i can reasonably do to salvage the situation.

really what i should've done was quit immediately and let the acquisition completely fail, which is what it should've done because it was an insanely stupid decision that probably involved significant dishonesty on the selling company's side. maybe then they could've sued them and made back their money!

anyway, i'm miserable and stressed out of my mind and this will likely continue through january or so.

(it does mean a lot to me that you asked, though! i really appreciate that someone cares enough to look into my well-being unprompted.)