#shown to me so i wanted to show it to you

[kimberlychapman]

For anyone who thinks 600 words in an essay is actually difficult, here are some pro tips:

Make your conclusion basically a mirror of your intro. In your intro, state what the essay is going to be about and why in whatever style you've been taught (it's changed over the years and can vary by country so do what you've been told to do, this isn't creative writing time, it's please-the-teacher time). "Throughout the vastness of time and space, humans have always done this shit, here is an example of the shit, and another example. Possibly a third example because Star Trek citation reasons. In this essay I shall examine how historical shit has influenced present shit and is likely to influence future shit." Got it? Then you do that backwards for your conclusion. "As shown by my many citations in this essay, it is clear that humans did that historical shit, continue to do the shit, and show no signs of stopping the shit. I once again refer to my previously stated examples or other versions thereof. Thus, I am able to conclude that shit is shit throughout time and space, etc etc etc."

The above is already 196 words.

Include a lot of properly cited quotations. FFS in this age of internet gobshittery double check that your citations and quotations are valid. But then make 'em plentiful and big. Honestly, this is a lot harder when you get a word _limit_ and you want to show off the legit research you did and you can't fit all of those grandiose, florid quotations in. Don't get in trouble for plagiarising, but cite cite cite with quotation marks! It screams, "LOOK AT ME, I DID THE REQUIRED READINGS!" Bonus points: do the required readings and then go pull some quotations from related sources.

The above is now at 306 words and I haven't actually even included a quotation yet.

According to mollypaup in their March 28, 2025 publication on the popular internet social media platform Tumblr, "im still losing it over the "how did high schoolers write 600 word essays before chatgpt" post. 600 words. that is nothing. that is so few words what do you mean you can't write 600 words. 600 words. this post right here is 45 words."

We're at 386 now. Over halfway there. Each sentence gets you a wee bit closer. This isn't hard. Wait, I mean to say this is not hard. Do that: expand your contractions. Do the opposite of tweeting or what those of us who went through journalism school had to learn: make every word, every phrase, every sentence as long as you can. Do not say, "Make every word, phrase, and sentence long." Do what I did above. Also, repeat yourself in the form of making a point. That is, to say, make every single word, make every single phrase, and make every single sentence as long as you can.

496 now. Home stretch. Now add embellishments. Are you engaged with a well-known fandom? What does your favourite character say about your topic? Does your fandom come with any long-winded authors you can quote? Lord of the Rings fans, I have good news for you! Or does your teacher/professor have a known fandom? As long as you can reference it competently, do it! For nearly any historical, political, philosophical, or literary essay I guarantee you there's a Picard quote that will serve. Weave it in there somewhere to help make a point, as in, "In the immortal words of Jean-Luc Picard, Captain of the USS Enterprise 1701-D, "Things are only impossible until they are not.""

612. Booyeah. You've got this.

im still losing it over the "how did high schoolers write 600 word essays before chatgpt" post. 600 words. that is nothing. that is so few words what do you mean you can't write 600 words. 600 words. this post right here is 45 words.

[thewisewill80sbyers]

I didn't know bylers shippers existed hehe, what makes you think Mike likes Will? Im really curious

Ohhhh, thank you for giving me the opportunity to repost this, I wrote it for the old blog, but it's a neat summary, so I'll reuse it lmao

these are more or less the main reasons:

I personally think there are some scenes in the show and there are some choices that the writers made that are telling us that the plot of the show is going towards Will getting a "pay off", in terms of writing, at the end of the show and Mike and El finding out they are better as friends instead and Mike discovering he has romantic feelings for Will

The writers have emphasized Will's sadness in relation to Mike and El as a couple both thematically and visually, in the writing & filming of the show there are too many scenes like this especially in season 3 and 4 they have made it clear that he will never be happy if Mike and El are the endgame relationship, even during Mike's love monologue after he supposedly decided that he was ok with El having his own feelings for Mike by saying that the painting was a thoughtful gift from El when it wasn't... They put a shot of Will's sad face in the middle of the monologue, and also he was framed behind Mike when he said "I love you" which in film is a EXTREMELY weird choice unless it means something more is going on that should make us not want El and Mike's relationship to work - the writers have been sabotaging the emotional connection of the fans with mileven by doing this and I don't think that professional filmmakers don't know that, I think it's on purpose!

The writers have shown Mike and Will as having a deeper relationship than all the other relationships Mike has, putting him in the same category of El as one of his possible love interests in the plot, they have multiple scenes bonding in a tender way than Mike has with any other of his friends, they happen in private usually or in emotionally charged moments that they film to make you as a viewer feel like they are in private and show how they have this connection that's more than just friendship

The writers have wrote in the show since season 1 MANY parallels between Mike and Will and other official couples (Mileven too!!!) that are, in my opinion, hinting at them ending up together at the end of the show

You can find most of the parallels here! (I have to finish re-uploading them all here, ugh)

The writers have continously shown El and Mike to have some kind of problem in their relationship and made El decide to leave Mike behind multiple times even if to save his life because she loves him, the writers have been showing us how Mike is not her PLOT priority and instead they have put having a romantic relationship with Mike as Will's deepest desire since season 3

The writers are building up El's character to have a coming of age that has recurrent themes of her finding herself without the influence of others around her, her becoming completely free from any kind of influence, and Mike has been represented as having too many internal fears to overcome at the moment about their relationship, especially with the love monologue at the end of season 4, he has beliefs about himself as a person that clash with El's character arc about not having to feel influenced in any way, the end of the show for El should be her having complete freedom in all aspects of her life because of the circumstances of her upbringing... Not saying that Mike is influencing her in a bad way necessarily, I think they both love each other a lot but having a relationship with someone that is that much insecure about his role in your life because you have powers will always be a type of influence

The writers have shown Mike and El as not being a team at the same level by separating them constantly after s1, instead they have shown the other couples that work as working together in the supernatural plot (Jancy, Jopper, Lumax, Byler)

The writers have paralleled Mike and El's relationship to all the ships that are not working for some reasons/are not endgame and have more infatuation than a real "true love" kind of relationship (Steve x Nancy, Karen X Ted, Bob x Joyce)

The writers have wrote in multiple scenes of Mike acting awkward with Will (Mike!!! Not Will) or them having coded conversations about how much they care for each other that have no sense to exist unless there is a pay off at the end

The writers have presented El, Mike and Will as being in a love triangle and have been framing them in a love triangle composition in the framing of multiple scenes, with Mike at the centre

When during season 4 the writers talked about all the movies that have inspired season 4 and 5 they have put multiple movies with love triangles that are almost identical to the situation between Mike, El and Will

Will and Mike have multiple fight scenes that are scenes you give to two possible love interests usually, the way the fight happen is written as two lovers having emotional fights instead of as how you would write two friends fighting

The writers wrote in the show a precise parallel in all the scenes of Vickie and Robin... between them and Will and Mike, paralleling Mike to Vickie specifically... who is a canon bisexual character and even paralleling Steve and Jonathan in that context as observers of the couples!

The directors filmed their scenes how you would film romantic scenes in stuff like Bridgerton or a romcom lol

The whole painting scene was Will making Mike feel so loved that he felt comfortable being vulnerable with El, but this means he was still not comfortable on his own relationship with her, he didn't feel safe enough to open up on his own and needed that talk and needed to believe all of those ideas about him being the heart came from Eleven so that he made the jump and told her how he felt instead of being selfishly silent on it because he was too afraid of her possibly leaving him one day... When you are really deeply in love with someone in the context of movies the characters don't let those type of fears influence them and if what gives him courage is the feelings of another character in the love triangle it means he's the right person for the character

( idk if you saw gossip girl, but there was a love triangle situation between Blair, Dan and another character where Dan made Blair believe the other character felt some type of way towards her, she understood that she loved Dan because of this act because she wanted those words to be from him and not from the other guy… The whole painting lie is that same trope)

The writers are obsessed with IT from Stephen King and there are clear parallels with it in the show, the whole plot of s4 about the painting is a reprise of the plot between the romantic relationship of Bev and Ben in IT (with the postcard and the poem) Beverly is supposed to be Mike, Ben is Will and Bill is El.... Mike and El share a kiss at the end of season 3 that is supposed to parallel a kiss between Bill and Bev (they did love each other and liked each other but are not endgame)

Both Will and Mike are queercoded multiple times during the seasons, rainbows around them, queer coded lines of dialogue, being framed inside closets etc etc

There are WAYYYY more reasons, but this post is becoming too long so I'll leave it as this lol

You should rewatch the show and imagine if Will was a girl, I think many people would be seeing what I'm talking about way more and take it as a sign that Mike is going to choose "Willow" and see how Will is the better love interest for him…

Maybe it's all just queerbaiting, who knows, but at the moment I believe this is way too much for it to be queerbait!

I personally think Mike is bisexual -> the power point I made about it

and has feelings for both of them, but his feelings for El have always been a "puppy love" type that is growing to become more platonic than romantic with time, and I think he's a better match with Will, I think Will is able to make him be the best person he can be, he's capable of making Mike feel worthy in a very natural way unlike the relationship with El does at the moment!

Thank you if you read all of this, regardless of what I believe, I think everybody should be free to ship what ship they like best!! ����

[angel-writes-here]

Do You Love Me

G-Dragon x AFAB! Reader Synopsis: You meet your ex after his show. Warnings: None really. Some fluff. A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in future fics let me know! PART 1

Jiyong practically lept out of bed after your conversation, much to his managers relief. He took a shower, washed his hair and brushed his teeth, he decided it was time to become the bona fide G-Dragon again, even if only for the night.

At the venue, the crowd is cheering, people are bustling back stage and Jiyong’s heart is racing against his ribcage.

“Has she shown up?” His voice is frantic as he puts on his mic pack.

“Not yet, she’ll be here,” his manager tries to reassure him. You had shown up actually, but instead of waiting backstage you chose to sit in the crowd. You hadn’t let anyone know, you didn’t want to be any kind of distraction. You wanted him to know that you aren’t the reason he is who he is.

The lights go down, the music starts and there he is, strong and radiant along side his best friends. You manage to stay out of view of the man you once loved, the one you aren’t sure you’re completely over yet almost until the end of the show.

He scans the crowd constantly looking for you, his smile faltering when he doesn’t find you, until the last song, One Last Dance begins and he spots you. He stops mid stride and stares you down the whole first half of the song.

His gaze is intense, but you can’t look away form him. When his verse comes up, he hops down from the stage and stands right in front of you by the barriers, serenading you in front of everyone, drawing millions of eyes to the both of you in the crowd and on screen.

“Just one last dance.”

He cups your face and fans are screaming around you. His touch feels like velvety and comfortable, something you’ve deeply missed. He smiles at you before returning to the stage for the outro of the song.

-

At the end of the night, you find his manager and he sneaks you back stage. Jiyong is sprinting off the stage instantly looking for you. He goes back to the green room, no sign of you. He looks around back stage, not a single trace you were ever there. It’s not until he finally changes that you knock on his dressing room door. He opens it and freezes. He really hadn’t thought this far, what he’d say or do. He drags his eyes up and down your outfit, one he recognized from your very first date. He doesn’t think, just pulls you to him and shuts the door behind you. His grip is strong, like that of cement. You don’t speak; you just hold each other. You start humming a tune and wrap your arms around his neck, swaying with him in the room.

The two of you dance for a moment before you whisper his name.

“Jiyong.”

He pulls back and looks at you, hands still tight around your waist. He searches your eyes, still bewildered he’s holding you again. He leans his forehead against yours.

“I missed you,” he chokes out. He couldn’t possibly pull you any closer, and yet somehow, he does. You can feel his breath against your lips, the heat from his body intoxicating in the intimate moment.

“Jagi, I’m so sorry,” he whispers inches from your lips, a stray tear making its way down his cheek.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” before he can finish your lips crash into his, longing and fervent. The kiss is intense, as if neither of you can take being physically separated from a moment longer.

Your lungs start to burn from lack of oxygen so you pull away for a moment, both of you panting, fanning each other with your hard breathing.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he tries to explain, “I was drunk and I’m sorry. It’s no excuse but I can’t take it back. Y/n losing you,” you cup his cheek.

“Shh, shh,” you try to comfort him.

“I know, baby. I know you’re sorry.” He sighs in relief, but his body is still tense under your touch.

“I swear if you give me another chance, it won’t happen again. I need you like I need air. This means nothing, all of it pales in comparison to you. If you aren’t here, I can’t do this anymore.”

“Jiyong that’s not true, you did it tonight without knowing if I was even here.”

“It still wasn’t the same,” he mumbles.

“Please tell me you still love me,” his words are small, his voice weak due to fear of your rejection.

“I still love you,” you offer him a small smile.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know.” He says and you can’t help but kiss his soft lips again.

“Come home,” he pleads.

“That was the plan,” you smirk he grins from ear to ear as he pulls you into an almost suffocating hug.

Tags: @breakmeoff

[spinedotlazuli1120]

No one is ugly, no one is beautiful, we're all different levels of attractive and thats it.

I see that there's trans related drama in the reblogs and that hating on the HC that Sirius wears a skirt is transphobic, well let me tell you something:

Everyone has their opinions, and can like or hate anyone. Yeah, we hate the Sirius wears a skirt HC, but it's not BC we're transphobic, it's because it goes against how Sirius actually is. People hating on others for hating on a popular HC in the fandom is the real problem, not the "transphobic" that's VERY "clearly shown" by every single anti marauders fan.

Seriously, we're talking about the hypocrisy and audacity of toxic marauders fans to accept people as long as their faces are pretty, and this just shows how fucking toxic these people are. And when it comes to Snape, the literal bane of their existence, then it's "justified hatred". You know what's justified hatred? No you don't, because there's no such thing.

Just stop and look at what you're doing, people. You make gender the very core of a person's character and personality that the moment someone says something remotely the "opposite" of the gender you want the person to be, you dubbed them as a villain.

I literally give zero shits about gender, and as long as respect is circulated equally to everyone, I'm fine with that. So stop being childish and look beyond the aesthetics and instead dive into their characters.

I love how the Marauders fandom is like everybody is perfect the way they are, they can be black, brown, white, fat, skinny, tall, short, everyone is pretty. Except Snape, no no no, he cannot be pretty, he has greasy hair, you cannot be pretty with greasy hair

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/779889755795095552/httpswwwtumblrcomolderthannetfic779634954778?source=share

It's so depressing seeing someone in the comments on this one go, "Wouldn't it be funny if, instead of reacting to something in-universe the way a real person would, the black girl was sooo over it bc she's read about black magical girls?"

No. The MCU and Big Bang Theory and Family Guy may find "I'm so ~*~unaffected~*~ and ~*~over it~*~" funny but it's lazy. It's lazy writing. Writing characters is hard. Writing Snarky Irony Poisoned Aloof Diet Edgy MC #4000 is easy. I get that the familiar is comforting to some audiences - it's why Family Guy never dies and people still rewatch MCU movies instead of watching something new - but it's boring to audience members who want actual stakes. If the characters are constantly going, "I'm over it. I don't care. I'm not impressed. Something has shown up that ten seconds ago I thought was physically impossible and I refuse to treat that as significant", then why the fuck should the audience care?

No, really, that's not sarcastic - why would anyone care about another media property where the characters keep reminding you that no one, not even they, take this seriously? What's engaging about that? Allegedly it's "funny", but I'm not even clear on how that works when this is so fucking common. I grew up on the MCU and at this point characters being totally unaffected by finding out that how they thought the world worked is wrong is just a day ending in y. But even if it wasn't common... it makes the character too stupid to root for, honestly, if they, like an anti, can't tell fiction apart from reality. If they react to a real event the same way they do as a fictional one, that's not funny. That's every person in my dorm, basically.

This is an unpopular opinion with my generation and with Millennials. But the reason you see people blowing up for this show is because it isn't on its' hands and knees pleading with you, "We're detached and cool and aloof! We're not taking this seriously! We promise not to be sincere!" Instead the people making it asked, "How do we tell a good story? What sounds in-character for these characters to say?"

And even on here, you get braindead losers going, "Okay, but imagine if instead of Zira acting like Zira, a character whose race, age, hobbies, personality, attitude and background inform her reaction, she just went 'haha me no care me read manga'? Wouldn't that be funny?" No.

Genuinely, it depresses me that Pretty Pretty Please I Don't Want To Be A Magical Girl has writing that is too sophisticated for the kiddults of the internet. Go rewatch some superhero movies with a Chris in them if you want that shit.

(The extra stupid part is that Zira DOES have several moments of being unaffected and trying to play it cool. She just also shows enthusiasm for one thing and that one, singular moment is too much variety for people who want everything to be as uniform and familiar as possible.)

--

[thatmclarengirlie]

for any mclaren fan who feels the same way, please feel free to reblog

i'm officially pissed. i've seen this one too many times now to not say something about it.

you know, there was a lot of talk throughout 2023 and 2024 that oscar was the next big thing. and he is an incredible driver, i do not disagree with that in the slightest. he has the mentality, he's certainly got the skill, and in recent races he's found that pace that had been eluding him so far, especially in one lap.

what that expectation of oscar inadvertently did, though, is it led to lando being diminished every time oscar did something better than him. the hate piled on like crazy, and things have relaxed in that regard now but even still, he's explicitly said he doesn't want to open social media after bad weekends since he knows what he'll face.

am i saying that all of the lando hate was caused by comparing him to his teammate? no. but a decent amount of it was.

lando is perfectly capable of holding his own. he showed it in australia with max practically breathing down his neck towards the end of the race, and he handled it beautifully. he showed it in abu dhabi last year, with an enormous amount of pressure on him to maintain the lead of that race, and he delivered when his team needed him to the most. he showed it in china this year, putting that mclaren (with its fucked up brakes) across the line. he has matured and has shown that he is championship material. anyone who wants to refute that can take me up on it.

then there was that brief moment when everyone started to wonder if oscar was actually who everyone thought him to be, specifically when he was having strong races but was not able to get the speed out of the car that lando was. everyone was wondering why, and i saw a fair share of negativity on that note as well. but just like lando, oscar is also absolutely capable of holding his own and is also championship material, i don't think i need to cite specifics for that.

it is NORMAL for drivers, and athletes in general, to have waves. oscar had a drought at the start of last year, with lando picking up podiums in australia, china, miami, and imola before oscar got his first in monaco. i didn't hear anyone say anything bad about oscar then. and before you tell me that lando's been in the sport much longer, he also didn't have the car to be scoring regular podiums, and even in the midfield outqualified his teammate every single year. not once did he lose that h2h record.

what i'm trying to say with this is that i'm really sick of the oscar fans who try to frame lando in a negative light, and the lando fans who try to frame oscar in a negative light. we have (so far) a championship battle on our hands, both of them have proven in every race this year why they deserve to be driving for a top team, and i'm tired of the people who need to put other drivers down just to make their favorite look a little better.

it's fucked up, a lot of what they say is just flat out wrong, it's inconsiderate, and i'm over it.

the f1 fanbase (and the mclaren fanbase) needs to get its shit together. that's it.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

When What We Had Was Everything Pt. 3

This is a three part fic series and will complete three of my @jacklesversebingo card spaces. This first part will fill the "You won't take care of yourself, so I will." square. Pt. 2 will fill the But We Lost It square. Pt. 3 will fill the They're Out of Time square. ❤️

Summary: When Y/N really needs him, Jensen steps up, leaving all their past in the past. Can Y/N possibly do the same?

Pairing: Jensen x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Nothing too crazy. Implied smut. Groping. Making out. Some brief smuttiness. Very brief fingering. Some sexy shower time. Kissing. Angst. Fluff.

Word Count: 2,725

A/N: This series has sort of kicked my ass. I don't know why I struggled with it so much. I had a good grasp on what I wanted it to be, but the muses just weren't musing. But I've been having a lot of trouble writing lately, so I'm very proud that I finally finished this little three-parter! Thanks so much to everyone who said kind things about the series, and motivated me to finish it.

Enjoy! And if you do, *please* remember to reblog and/or comment. It makes all the difference in the world to future writing. ❤️

Series Master List || Jensen Ackles Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Two and a half months later:

Jensen heard the knock on his hotel room door and was grateful that room service had arrived so quickly. He strode to the door and yanked it open, but froze when he saw who was on the other side.

Not room service.

“Hi.” Y/N said softly, and she folded her arms over her chest, the way she did when she was nervous and trying hard not to show it. 

“Hey.” Jensen answered, his body paralyzed. 

Y/N gave a slight shrug. “I’m a little early.”

Jensen barked out a laugh, his shock disappearing in a wave of need so strong he pounced, grabbing Y/N’s wrist and yanking her into the hotel room. She tossed aside her purse and he slammed the door shut before coming together in a frenzy of open mouths and grasping hands. 

Walking away from Y/N months earlier had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. She’d been so warm and pliant beneath his hands, her lips so tempting. He’d wanted nothing more than to take her up on the offer to stay, to spend the night with her beside him. He dreamed of her constantly and was never able to shake the memory of her. So to have her back in his arms had felt like a dream.

But he’d known it couldn’t mean what he wanted it to mean if he stayed. No matter what she said, her emotions weren’t to be trusted. He’d shown up and helped out which left her feeling grateful. Her heart was broken from the loss of her father, and she could be mixing up those emotions with what she felt for him. But quite beyond anything else, she was vulnerable, her heart tender and bruised, and he wasn’t about to prey on that. 

So, he’d walked away, praying to God he’d see her in three months time. He’d been counting down the days, and now here she was.

He tilted her head to the side to let his lips trail down her neck, sucking on her pulse point and loving the way he could feel it pound against his lips. His hands slid up from her waist to cup her breasts through her thin cotton t-shirt and bra. But it wasn't enough, he desperately needed to feel her warm, silky skin, to feel her naked and writhing beneath him. 

He tried to slow himself down, step back, breathe, but he just couldn't. He craved her like a drowning man craves oxygen. He wanted to inhale her, absorb her, needed to feel her tremble as she sought her climax, needed to hear the way his name wavered on her lips, and died on a sigh.

He slipped his hands beneath her T-shirt and pushed her bra up, lowering his head, about to pull her puckered nipple into his mouth, when another knock sounded at his door - his actual room service. 

They both froze for a moment, her hands buried in his hair and his tongue aching to taste her, before he growled quietly and quickly righted Y/N's bra and shirt. He pulled back from her as another, slightly impatient knock came. 

He moved to answer it, but Y\N grabbed his hand to pull him back. Her cheeks were pink and she pointed at his pajama bottoms that were very clearly tented by his massive hard on.

She smiled a little shyly. “Maybe I should get it?”

Jensen grinned. “Good idea.” He moved over to the bed to hide himself among the blankets there, just as Y/N opened the door. 

The room service attendant smiled a slightly painted-on smile as he wheeled a cart into the room. 

“Here you are, Mr. Ackles. Please enjoy.” He said, almost running back out the door.

Y/N closed and locked the door behind him and turned back to face Jensen, taking a few steps towards him and gesturing towards the food. 

“What did you get? Are you hungry?”

Jensen nodded. “I got a steak and potatoes, and yeah, I'm starving.” He answered, softly kicking the food cart out of the way so he could lunge forward and grab Y/N's wrist, pulling her down on top of him.

“But not for steak.”

A long time later, Y/N was happily laying in Jensen's arms. She stretched her arms above her head, so content she could almost purr. She was facing him, both of them laying on their side, covered with only a sheet as their bodies cooled. Her head was pillowed on his bicep, and her legs entwined with his. 

Jensen was absentmindedly running his fingers up and down her bare back, making her shiver. But the longer she laid there, the more she could feel the tension rising in him. 

Finally she looked up at him, and smiled softly. His fingers left her back to trail gently over her jaw, his thumb skimming her bottom lip.

Her expression became shrewd. “So which of us is going to ask the question?”

Jensen shrugged. “What question?”

Y/N scoffed quietly and answered. “You know what question. What’s happening here? What was this?”

Jensen leaned down to press the softest kiss to her lips. “Okay.” He whispered. “I'll ask it. What was this?”

She closed her eyes for a moment before pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him, straddling his lower abdomen. She could feel his cock twitch slightly below the sheet that pooled at her waist. 

She ran her nails lightly across his chest and bit her lip before smiling gently. “This was…wonderful?” She asked, her voice rising slightly to indicate that she was still searching for an answer. 

She shrugged delicately. “I don't know, it was…unplanned. I found out you were staying nearby, or well, maybe not nearby, but near enough to get me to consider taking the chance to come see you.”

She traced patterns across his chest, connecting freckles. “I messaged Jared to find out exactly where you were staying. And I just sort of got in my car and drove.”

Jensen nodded. “Good, I'm glad you did. But,” he hesitated, “you know that's not what I'm asking.”

Y/N shook her head. “I know, but how about instead of looking for answers right now, we just…” She trailed off before leaning down to kiss him hard. 

She pulled away panting, to lay her cheek on his chest. “What if we just had this? Just tonight. For now, I mean, without asking the questions or fighting for answers.” 

She pressed soft kisses along his collarbone. “What if we stayed here? In this space?” She smiled against his skin. “And reordered room service, cause I'm starving.”

Jensen was smiling at her, but she could still see the questions lingering in his gaze.

“Please, let's just be together.” She sat up, bracing her hands on his chest and rolling her hips against him, watching the questions burn away in the heat of his gaze. 

“Let's just eat and fuck.” She said, blushing slightly at the crudeness of her words, but happy with them when she felt Jensen growing hard beneath her.

She gave a squeal as he wrapped her up in his arms and rolled her under him, before pinning her wrists to the pillow on either side of her head. 

“Fine, but you're the appetizer.”

The night was spent almost entirely in bed. They ate there, and talked there, but mostly they reacquainted themselves with each others bodies there. By morning Y/N’s muscles were incredibly sore, her lips were swollen and there was a constant, pleasant ache between her thighs. 

As the sun began to light up the room, Y/N crept from the bed where Jensen snored softly, to step beneath the steady spray of a hot shower. Her tight muscles were just beginning to loosen when Jensen opened the shower door, and immediately pulled her back against his body.

The water pelted them both as Jensen's hand swept down over belly to cup her soft mound.

His voice was low and hot in her ear. “Too sore?” He asked as he ever so gently circled his finger against her little bundle of nerves. She instantly clamped her thighs around his hand and shook her head.

“No. I mean, yes, but I don't care.” 

Jensen chuckled quietly. “I'll be gentle.”

Y/N groaned as he plucked maddeningly at the swollen little button. “No, don't be.”

After ordering in some breakfast and eating outside on the balcony in their bathrobes, they fell into a long silence.

Y/N knew the time was coming when the questions needed to be answered. They'd had their time to play and now time was running out for them. Real life was rushing towards them with all the demands and unknowns.

Finally she stood up from her chair and held out her hand to Jensen. She nodded towards the balcony door. 

“We should…”

Jensen nodded and followed her back into the hotel room. By unspoken agreement they decided they couldn't have the conversation they needed to have while wearing bathrobes. So they got dressed wordlessly, and then settled beside each other on the end of the bed.

Jensen picked up her hand and ran a blunt-tipped finger across the back. 

“Okay…so, what's the verdict? Are you here for now or for good?” His tone was slightly teasing, but his voice was tight and worried.

She shook her head. “It's not that simple, Jensen.”

“It could be.”

“No, it can't.”

Jensen let out a puff of frustration. “Why, Y/N? Why do you have to complicate what’s so easy between us?”

Y/N bristled slightly, and sensing that her defences were about to go up, Jensen turned on the bed to face her.

“Look, I just mean, what's so wrong with what we have here?” He moved his hand back and forth between them. 

Y/N turned too, lifting a bent leg onto the bed so she could face him as well.

“Nothing is wrong. Here.” She lifted her hand to indicate the whole room. “Here everything is amazing and perfect. If we could stay here, just the two of us forever, I'd be so happy.”

She shook her head. “But of course we can't. Real life exists and sooner or later, we have to face it head on.”

Jensen frowned. “And you're not interested in facing that world together? Three months ago, you were telling me you were wrong to walk away. That you'd been feeling that way for a long time.” 

He shrugged. “But I guess, that was…not real? It was just like I thought then, just confused feelings.”

Y/N shook her head adamantly. “No.” She said resolutely, then relented slightly. “I mean not completely. I was a little confused, and my feelings were definitely all jumbled up. But I did regret letting you go. I mean, I do regret it…regret letting go of us. It's just that…”

Jensen's mossy green gaze bore into her as she searched for the words. Finally she dropped his hand and stood up to start pacing. “Look, we have vastly different lives.”

Jensen rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed with this old talking point, one they'd rehashed a few times when they'd been together.

But Y/N held up her hand. “No, it's a simple truth. You live in L.A. Your life is red carpets and parties, expensive, fancy restaurants and world travel. And that's great. I mean it's good. It's yours.”

“It could be yours too!” Jensen interjected.

“I don't want it to be!”

Jensen was about to say something more but her words slammed his jaw shut and she could see the pain that entered his expression before he looked down at his lap, and swallowed hard.

“Well, there you go then.”

Y/N felt her stomach lurch. She strode back to him quickly. She stood between his knees and put her hands on his cheeks lifting his head so he was looking at her. 

“Please try to understand, I don't want a life of glitz and glamour. I'm not a glitzy girl.” She shrugged. “I like small, simple things, puzzles, books, family, closeness, home, quiet. I even work from home in my cozy little office.”

She chuckled listlessly. “I guess I grew up too fast, so by now I'm like an old lady. I couldn't survive in a world like yours.”

Jensen shook his head, frowning up at her. “Did I ever say I wanted you to change who you are? Did I ever hint that I expected my life to become yours?”

“But how could it not?”

Jensen continued without pause, speaking over her. “Do you think I know so little of you that I'm expecting you to suddenly turn into some kind of celebutante?”

Y/N frowned. “I don't know what that means.”

Jensen sighed deeply. “It means I don't want you to change your life for me.”

“But…you asked me to move to L.A.” Y/N said in confusion.

“Yeah, so you'd be close to me, not so that I could get you an agent, or pull you into some creepy Hollywood cabal.” 

“But…”

Jensen grabbed hold of her hands, which had come to rest on his shoulders. 

“Look, I want you close to me, that's all. I don't want to push you into parties and red carpets. The fact is that I don't do a whole lot of that sort of thing myself. It's not exactly my favorite either. We'll find someplace quiet and cozy, where you can live and work, just as you always have. Except,” his voice softened, “except we'd be together.”

Y/N could feel all the yearning in her heart, aching to be free. What he was saying sounded so good. The idea of a life with him, all those old dreams coming true, was bubbling in her mind and she was almost crying with how badly she wanted it. 

She took a trembling breath. “But how can you be sure that I'll be enough?” She whispered quietly. 

And as she spoke the words she knew that this was the crux of her fears - that one day he'd wake up and wonder what the hell he'd done. 

Jensen looked shocked. “Enough?” He shook his head, his face falling into a deep frown. “Baby, you're not ‘enough’. You are everything.” His voice was harsh on the last word, emphasizing its importance. 

“Everything.” He repeated, before he stood up quickly, making Y/N stumble back slightly. But he caught her arms and yanked her to him, smashing his lips down on hers. 

Y/N whimpered as he plunged his tongue into her mouth, stamping her down and claiming her completely. She clung to his t-shirt, making fists in the cotton, as she let him suck away her oxygen. If she couldn't breathe, she didn't care. Jensen was everything for her, the very breath in her lungs.

The idea that she'd ever be able to permanently walk away from that, from him, suddenly seemed ludicrous. Even if she was still scared, she knew she'd rather risk putting her heart into his hands than to feel it wither into something cold and empty without him.

Jensen pulled out of the kiss at last, his breathing harsh and his words stucato between gasps. “How…on earth…could you have…ever thought you weren't…my whole world?”

Y/N shook her head. “You never said.”

Jensen barked out a laugh. “I told you I loved you. What did you think that meant?”

“I don't know.” She said, a little bashful. “Nothing that big and grand.”

She laughed tearfully, happy and nervous about making the decision that was never fully hers to make; her heart and soul had belonged to Jensen since the first moment. 

Jensen kissed her softly and slid his hands up her arms to cradle her face between his palms. 

His voice was slightly shy when he spoke. “What did you mean, when you said you loved me?”

Y/N slipped her arms around his waist. “I meant that I love you. I need you. I want you.” She blinked up at him. “I meant that you're my everything.”

Jensen sighed and a soft smile spread across his face. “That's what I thought you meant.”

@lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused @jzackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

@arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry @ladysparkles78 @kr804573

@whimsyfinny @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl

@hobby27 @waywardcheshire @livya99 @k-slla @leigh70

@eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @stoneyggirl2

@fanfic-n-tabulous @traiitorjoe @lastcallatrockysbar @b3autyfuld1sast3r

[pinestripe37]

Another connection I found encouraging! God says in Hosea 14:8: "I am like an evergreen cypress; from Me comes your fruit."

Our fruit comes from God and His Power is "evergreen!" The Holy Spirit is able to empower us to bear spiritual Fruit in every season, so through faith in the Lord we're enabled to bear fruit not like seasonal trees that whither but even in the cold of winter.

God truly gives us all we need to fulfill the calling with which He calls us: and all we need is Him!

happy holy monday aka Jesus cursing a fig tree and flipping tables day 👍🏻

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

Hi! I don’t know if you’re doing requests, if not ignore this. I love your writing! My request would be bad batch x Jedi!reader( can be gen) where it’s their reaction to you having to save them and do a bunch of cool badass force moves to get to them. 🩷

Absolutely— I will gladly take any request x

I hope you enjoy this, I kinda went off on my own little world at the end.

⸻

Title: “About Time You Showed Up”

Bad batch x Jedi!Reader

The op was supposed to be simple: get in, grab the intel, get out.

So naturally, it was a disaster by hour two.

The Bad Batch was cornered inside a decrepit refinery complex, hunkered behind a wall of overturned crates as blaster fire lit up the air. Explosions cracked the walls. Wrecker was bleeding. Tech’s datapad was sparking. Crosshair was out of ammo.

Hunter muttered a curse. “We need backup. Now.”

Crosshair scoffed. “You mean the Jedi?”

“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing,” Tech said, wincing as he adjusted his shattered goggles. “They are highly efficient warriors, after all.”

“Well, ours is late,” Echo gritted, shielding Wrecker with a dented durasteel panel. “And I don’t think those guys outside are going to politely wait for her.”

Then, like the Force heard them bickering—

The air dropped a few degrees.

The wind shifted.

And then the main door of the facility exploded inward—not from detonite or a charge, but like something had pushed it in with terrifying, silent power.

Smoke billowed.

And out of it stepped you.

Cloak trailing behind you, lightsaber already humming in your hand, you walked into the chaos like you were late to a dinner party—not a battlefield.

“Sorry I’m late,” you said, lifting your hand.

Three enemy droids shot into the air like ragdolls, slammed into a pipe overhead, and sparked out. “Had a bit of traffic.”

Wrecker blinked. “That… was awesome.”

Hunter stared as you leapt forward, deflecting blaster bolts without looking. “Remind me never to complain about Jedi again.”

You moved like a shadow. One second you were blocking a shot, the next you were throwing your saber, calling it back mid-spin, flipping off a wall, and dragging a pair of guards toward each other with the Force so they knocked heads and dropped.

“Show off,” Crosshair muttered, but there was something weirdly close to admiration in his tone.

“Excuse me?” you called as you force-pulled a turret off its base and crushed it into a ball. “You want to do this next time, sharpshooter?”

“I mean… I wouldn’t mind the view,” Crosshair said under his breath.

Tech, oddly calm amid the chaos, adjusted his goggles with a broken-off screw. “Fascinating. You manipulated five separate Force events within a span of—”

“I’ll send you a diagram later!” you called.

You sliced the control panel, opened the bulkhead, and gestured. “Come on, boys. I’m not babysitting this op all day.”

Hunter helped Wrecker to his feet. “That was… intense.”

Echo gave you a half-grin. “We’d be dead if you hadn’t shown.”

“You would be,” you said smugly. “Good thing I like you.”

“Is that a Jedi flirting?” Crosshair drawled. “Should I be worried about a lightsaber through my chest or a date?”

You raised a brow. “Depends. Are you always this cocky, or is it the blood loss talking?”

Crosshair smirked. “You tell me.”

As the team jogged after you, Tech whispered to Echo, “I believe this is what organic beings refer to as ‘tension.’”

“You think?” Echo grinned, ducking blaster fire as you launched an enemy into a vat of molten ore with a flick of your hand.

“Let’s save the flirty quips for after we’re not being shot at,” Hunter grumbled—but he wasn’t exactly not smiling.

You stopped mid-run, looked over your shoulder, and grinned. “Then pick up the pace, boys. You can flirt after we survive.”

⸻

The air inside the safehouse was still hazy from Wrecker’s attempt at cooking, and someone had definitely patched Crosshair’s blaster wound with duct tape and attitude.

But everyone was alive. And that was saying something.

You were seated cross-legged on a crate, calmly cleaning your lightsaber with the kind of peace only someone who had deflected about 200 blaster bolts could muster. The Force hummed around you, quiet but alert.

Hunter dropped onto the floor nearby, arms resting on his knees. “You always fight like that?”

You looked up, raising a brow. “Like what?”

“Like gravity doesn’t apply to you and you’re mad at every object in a ten-meter radius.”

You grinned. “Only when people I care about are in trouble.”

Crosshair, lounging against the wall with his arms crossed, scoffed. “So, you do care.”

“Don’t get excited,” you teased. “I’d do the same for my hydrospanner.”

Wrecker burst out laughing while Crosshair smirked like he’d just been promoted.

Echo, who was calmly running diagnostics on his arm, chimed in: “I don’t know. I think you’ve got favorites.”

You shrugged. “Maybe.”

Tech looked up from where he was scanning his datapad, eyes sharp behind his cracked goggles. “You know, from a technical standpoint, some of your techniques—particularly the telekinetic manipulation mid-flight—could be extremely beneficial in combat.”

You tilted your head. “Are you saying you want to train with me, Tech?”

He cleared his throat. “For research purposes, of course.”

Echo leaned back against a support beam. “I wouldn’t mind a session or two either. Might pick up a move or two that doesn’t involve being thrown across a battlefield.”

“I think I should go first,” Hunter said mildly. “Since I’m the one who has to keep all of you alive.”

Wrecker raised a hand. “Hey, I want to train with the Jedi too!”

You looked around at all of them. “Let me guess… you all want to train now?”

“Better than watching Crosshair try to flirt,” Echo muttered.

“I don’t flirt,” Crosshair said flatly.

“You stared at their hands for five minutes straight,” Hunter pointed out.

Crosshair didn’t deny it. “They’ve got good saber grip. It’s tactical.”

You smirked and slowly stood, clipping your saber back to your belt. “Alright. We’ll start tomorrow. One at a time. You’ll get a feel for the Force, and I’ll see who whines the least when they land flat on their back.”

“I never whine,” Crosshair muttered.

“Good,” you said with a wicked grin. “You’ll be first.”

Wrecker fist-pumped. Tech adjusted his datapad like it was a test. Echo and Hunter shared a look that said, We’re all going to die.

You stretched your arms and turned to leave.

“Oh,” you added over your shoulder. “And if you’re all so eager to get closer to the Force… don’t forget it can read minds.”

Five men froze. Completely.

You didn’t have to look to know exactly which ones had immediately panicked.

Yeah. You were going to have fun with this.

⸻

You stood in the middle of the field, arms crossed, calm as ever.

The Bad Batch lined up in front of you like misbehaving cadets at a very weird summer camp. Wrecker was bouncing on his heels. Crosshair looked bored already. Echo was trying to focus. Tech was holding a notebook. And Hunter—Hunter was watching you like he was trying to anticipate your every move. Again.

“Alright,” you said, voice light. “Rule number one: you are not Force-sensitive. So stop trying to feel it. You’ll just give yourself a migraine.”

Tech quietly lowered his fingers from his temple and put his notebook away.

“Instead,” you continued, pacing in front of them like an instructor, “we’re going to focus on reflexes, awareness, and how not to swing a lightsaber into your own leg.”

Wrecker raised his hand. “Wait—do we get lightsabers?”

You blinked. “Do you want to lose an arm?”

Wrecker grinned. “Kinda depends on the story I can tell after.”

Echo muttered, “Maker help us.”

You tossed a training baton at Crosshair, who caught it one-handed with zero enthusiasm.

“Let’s see how you handle this, sharpshooter,” you said, smirking. “Try to block me.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes. “I don’t need a magic trick to win a duel.”

You raised your training blade. “That’s cute. Try to last thirty seconds.”

What followed was the most stubborn, cocky, and utterly chaotic sparring session you had ever experienced.

Crosshair lasted eighteen seconds. He blamed the sun.

Hunter was fast, perceptive, and nearly knocked you off your feet once, but then got distracted when you smiled at him. He never admitted it.

Echo was calculated but got annoyed when you used a Force push to trip him mid-roll. “Not fair,” he growled, flat on his back.

“I told you I’d use it,” you shrugged.

Tech kept trying to guess your next move based on logic. Unfortunately, you were using the Force. And chaos.

“I have a theory,” he said, face-down in the grass.

“I’m sure you do.”

Then came Wrecker.

“Alright,” he said, grinning like a kid about to break a toy, “gimme your best shot.”

You dodged his first three swings. The fourth came very close.

“Easy, big guy,” you huffed, ducking under his arm. “This is training, not deathmatch—”

“Oops!” Wrecker slipped on a rock, stumbled forward, and you had to Force-jump to avoid being pancaked. You landed behind him, breathing hard.

“That was… impressive,” you managed.

“Did I pass?” he asked, hopeful.

“Pass? You almost Force-chucked me into next week!”

“Cool.”

Later, as the group collapsed in a sweaty, bruised heap under a tree, you sat cross-legged nearby, sipping from a canteen.

“I’ll admit,” you said with a sly grin, “you’re all… slightly less hopeless than I expected.”

“High praise,” Echo muttered.

Crosshair lay back, arms behind his head. “So when’s the advanced class?”

You tossed a pebble at his head. “Never.”

Tech looked up from scribbling notes. “I would still like to record your movement patterns. Possibly… for private analysis.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Private?”

Hunter cleared his throat, cutting in fast. “I’d be up for a meditation session. Just us.”

You blinked. “You meditate?”

“I do now.”

Wrecker sat up. “Wait, I want to meditate too!”

“No, you don’t,” Echo sighed.

You lay back in the grass beside them, arms tucked under your head, eyes half-closed. “You know… for a bunch of non-sensitive, chaos-wielding commandos… you’re not so bad.”

Crosshair, eyes closed, smirked. “Careful, Jedi. Keep talking like that, and we might start thinking you like us.”

You smirked back. “I do like you. I just like kicking your asses more.”

[elliespuns]

Can’t remember if someone asked you this (honestly maybe?? I feel like someone did, but anyways) if joel didn’t get hurt, didn’t encounter abby at all (so not even like oh he survived the that whole thing, it just didn’t happen) how long do you think it would take for ellie and joel’s relationship to get back to normal?

I guess it’s hard to say because we don’t know the things that would happen, something could come up and all of a sudden she gets upset again or something, but like generally/theoretically what do you think?

i would say given that she was planning on having a movie night with him (😢😢😢) and still said she’d at least try to forgive him, AND how guilty she felt after yelling at him in the dance scene, she would for sure come around and they’d eventually go back to their old relationship and grow even closer.

Especially now that she has family, and lives in jackson where it’s pretty safe, i have the feeling she’d start to see where he was coming from, and start feeling less survivors guilt, and also get used to the idea that her worth isn’t only tied to being a potential cure for humanity.

Sorry that was so long, i always like to hear your thoughts bc they’re so well thought out and not very out of character at all (at least for me)

I believe that if Joel hadn't encountered Abby, it's likely that Ellie and Joel's relationship would have gradually healed and returned to a positive state over time, given the strong bond they share and Ellie's willingness to try to understand and forgive Joel's actions.

Ellie's feelings of survivor's guilt and her belief that her worth is tied to being a potential cure would likely fade as she integrated into the community at Jackson and built a stable life for herself. Seeing the care and acceptance of the people there, combined with the love and support Joel consistently shows her, would help Ellie realize that her value lies in who she is as a person, not just what she could potentially do to save humanity.

Joel's gentle patience and dedication to Ellie, as well as his own openness about his past and his insecurities, would help rebuild trust between them. The movie night Ellie planned suggests a desire to reconnect and find enjoyment together again. Her guilt over yelling at Joel in the dance scene implies that she values their connection and wants to support him.

With time, understanding and stability, I believe their bond would become even stronger than before, built on a foundation of mutual love, trust and respect. Ellie would learn to see Joel not just as a gruff, stoic caretaker, but as a man who deeply cares for her and wants to protect and guide her. And Joel would find renewed purpose and healing in helping Ellie build a hopeful future for herself and others.

Of course, it would not be a simple or quick process, with many ups and downs. Both would have to work through deep-seated grief, loss and trauma. But given their resilience, the loyalty they've shown each other, and their shared desire to build a better life, I believe in the strength of their relationship to overcome those challenges and grow into something beautiful and life-affirming.

[raven-undergrove]

I'm tired of the IWTV fandom only acknowledging Armand being evil because he "killed Claudia." First of all, he played as much of a part in the trial as Lestat did, so why aren't there more people condemning Lestat for acting in the play that ended with his own daughter burning alive as there are people condemning Armand for directing it? The trial was orchestrated by Santiago, something he even admits to, and it is confirmed in interviews with Assad Zaman that Armand didn't actually want to direct the play. Besides, as much as we like her, Armand playing a part in the trial that killed Claudia is one of the less evil things done on this show. Claudia wasn't some innocent person, guys. She was a murderous vampire who took pleasure in killing her victims and keeping souvenirs of their bodies. I could argue she's just as evil if not more evil than Armand. The same goes for characters like Lestat and Louis. They are shown killing numerous innocent people on this show. Lestat punches a hole through the head of a priest. He humiliated and killed a man because he was a bad singer. Louis killed at least 128 innocent queer men in the 1970s. He was also a pimp, which is morally not a good thing to be, as pimps typically take advantage of sex workers. Once Louis starts regularly feeding on humans, Armand actually has the most ethical eating habits out of any of the vampires on the show, as he targets evildoers and people who already want to die. You're less likely to get brutally murdered by Armand if you're in the wrong place at the wrong time than you are if you encounter any of the others. But you want to tell me Armand is the evilest just because of the trial he didn't even orchestrate himself? Yeah, sure, okay.

[dearstvckyx]

I keep thinkin' bout you and I - Bucky Barnes

Every Friday, you and Bucky Barnes share dinner as neighbors—comfort, laughter, and quiet moments. You call him Jamie, unaware of his past as the Winter Soldier, and he never corrects you. When you get stood up on a date, you call Bucky, and he comes running—because even if you don’t know it yet, he’s been yours for a while. Soft angst, gentle pining, and finally, quiet confessions. - The Neighbourhood , U&I

TFATWS!Bucky Barnes X Neighbor!Reader

Warnings: None.

The Neighbourhood Lyrics Masterlist - ⌂

Bucky Barnes had never thought much of Friday nights.

Until you.

You moved in six months ago—bright-eyed, hopelessly chatty, and completely unaware of who he was. Or maybe you were just pretending, but Bucky didn’t think so. You called him Jamie the first time you met, misheard his mumbled “James, but everyone calls me Bucky” and the name stuck. He didn’t correct you. He couldn’t. It felt… soft. Safer. Lighter. And it reminded him is his mom.

So, when you showed up at his door with two plates of leftover Thai food and a wide grin, it became a routine. Friday nights turned into something warm—full of garlic bread, laughter, and the clatter of mismatched dishes. You’d dance around his tiny kitchen like it was a stage, humming pop songs while Bucky leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching like a man in a dream he never wanted to wake from.

This Friday felt no different—until you said those words.

“Jamie, guess what?” you chirped, bouncing into his apartment like sunlight in human form.

He glanced up from where he was drying a dish. “What?”

“I got asked out!”

The words hit him like a punch to the ribs.

“Oh,” he said—simple, flat, and emotionless. The way he used to respond to mission reports.

You didn’t notice the change in his voice, too caught up in your own excitement.

“At that café near the bookstore,” you went on, placing silverware on the table. “He just came up and asked, totally out of nowhere! Isn’t that wild?”

He forced a smile. “Yeah. Wild.”

You were glowing, spinning around his kitchen with a kind of happy energy he’d only ever seen from a distance. “He’s picking me up at seven. Fancy place. I hope I don’t spill wine all over myself like last time.”

Bucky tried to laugh. It came out dry.

You didn’t notice that either.

Later, when dinner was done and you said goodnight, he sat alone at the table, staring at the empty chair across from him.

I keep thinking about you and I…

He didn’t sleep that night.

⸻

Saturday evening, the clock ticked past seven.

He imagined you laughing at some stranger’s jokes, dressed up, eyes sparkling—eyes that used to look at him that way, even if you didn’t know it.

At 8:12 PM, the apartment hallway door clicked open.

Soft footsteps.

Your voice on the phone, soft and quiet but loud to him with his super hearing,

“Yeah, no—it’s fine. I just… I didn’t think he wouldn’t show up.”

Bucky was on his feet before he realized it. He crossed the hallway in three strides and used the spare key you gave him on week two of knowing each other—“in case I get locked out or set something on fire,” you had joked.

The door creaked open slowly.

You were on the couch in your dress, makeup slightly smudged, clutching a takeout menu you weren’t reading.

You didn’t even look surprised to see him.

“I figured you’d come,” you whispered, voice tired. “No one else ever does.”

He walked over quietly, sitting beside you without a word.

“I know I’m… ditzy. I talk too much. I don’t get what half your books mean,” you murmured, eyes still forward. “But I really thought maybe this time—”

“He’s a fool,” Bucky said, voice low.

You swallowed hard. “It’s embarrassing, you know? You—you’re Bucky Barnes. I’ve seen you fix things with your hands, cook better than I ever could, stay calm in a blackout like it’s nothing.”

You finally looked at him. “And then there’s me. Crying over some guy who didn’t even bother.”

He wanted to scream. To tell you the truth. That he would’ve shown up early. That he looked forward to Fridays more than anything in this godforsaken life. That he had never let himself want anything since the war—until you.

“You know what sucks the most?” you whispered. “You can do what I can do. But I can’t do what you do. I’m not strong like you.”

“I don’t want you to be like me,” he said, voice firm.

“I don’t understand you half the time, Jamie. But I know you listen. You care. You show up. I… I don’t even know why you let me in every week.”

He finally turned to face you. “Because you make me feel like I’m someone else. Someone better.”

Your lips trembled, but you nodded.

He reached forward gently and cupped your cheek, thumb brushing a smudge of mascara beneath your eye. His gloved metal hand stayed by his side—careful, restrained, always afraid to break something so delicate.

“You’re not an afterthought,” he said, voice quiet. “Not to me.”

You leaned into his hand. Closed your eyes. Breathed.

“I keep thinking about you and I,” he whispered.

And you whispered back, barely audible:

“Me too.”

Neither of you moved to kiss.

You just sat there, shoulder to shoulder, the air between you finally filled with truths that had been dancing between dinner plates and laughter for far too long.

[icantbelieveitsnotbutler]

Hello! Back here with another ask.

So, the Sebastian vs Undertaker fight in private school arc: what was that all about?

In my translation of the anime Sebastian’s lines amounted to “According to the contract your life comes first. *beat* I’ve put a lot of effort into raising you. I won’t let anyone take you away.” which sounds awfully cute?? Dadbastian time, people! Yet, their faces are weird: Ciel looks shocked to hear him say it and Sebastian looks equally shocked that he’s saying it. I thought that on the whole it was an unexpected show of care from Sebastian even in violation of an order, which is probably accepted as a good thing by Ciel since he’s not objecting after that. But then I noticed that Ciel doesn’t just look shocked: he looks scared. He was shocked a moment ago and his face was completely the same except for the face shadow. So something must be wrong here.

So I found the manga page and yep, “I went through the trouble of cultivating it. I won’t let myself be robbed of it.” indeed sounds less like a confession of affection and more like a declaration of possession. Still, the way we can’t see Sebastian’s eyes in the first two lines suggests he’s lying or hiding something, and when we finally do see them it’s a weird indescribable look.

So, I looked into what people thought about it and, as it usually is with these two, there are two polar opinions.

One: Sebastian could be sure that the Undertaker wouldn’t harm Ciel, as he’s been repeatedly shown to not take the chance to kill Ciel when he had it, so it’s not his goal. Therefore, Sebastian has been selfishly protecting the contract, as in his moment of epiphany he realised that the Undertaker wanted to use bizarre dolls to put Ciel into another body and to free him from the contract in this way. Then Sebastian lies about acting according to the contract to excuse his crime of not letting Ciel be saved. Sebastian looks fiendish because someone dared to interfere with his property. Ciel is terrified because he’s reminded of being a snack. The relationship is somewhat damaged.

Two: Sebastian could be sure that the Undertaker would cause Ciel harm, as he’s been repeatedly shown to put Ciel in dangerous situations that could be deadly had Sebastian not been there to save him. If he died the Undertaker would probably just bring him back in his usual style. Therefore, Sebastian has been selflessly projecting Ciel at the expense of the contract, as in his moment of epiphany he realised that the Undertaker’s next aim for bizzare dollification is indeed Ciel and Sebastian won’t allow that. Then he lies about having acted according to the contract, in the same way as Ciel did when he lied about the reason he tried to save his aunt: to cover up for the fact that it was an emotional decision, and to convince the other the contract is still on - since, I think, Ciel COULD pull out of the contract at that moment on account of Sebastian disobeying his order and therefore breaking a condition. Sebastian is scared of this possibility, hence the look. Mirroring Sebastian, thought, Ciel falls for the lie and takes it at face value, and is terrified of being a snack. The relationship is somewhat damaged, which was the Undertaker’s direct intention putting Sebastian in this situation.

The truth is probably somewhere in the middle, and it seems to me that some leaps are taken about Sebastian suddenly figuring out the Undertaker’s plans, but I don’t have a better idea. I’m not caught up on everything, so I might have missed some important details. Curious what your thoughts on this moment are!

This ask has apparently been sitting in my inbox for 6 days, so first I want to apologize for not seeing it sooner. But I'm happy you sent it because it's a moment I've been wanting to talk about.

Sebastian's lines here are tricky to translate because the words he uses encompass the meanings of several more specific words in both English and Japanese, that the translator is forced to reduce into a single word. Japanese also allows the subject and object to be dropped and the translator has to fill them in from context to make the sentence grammatically correct in English. (e.g. Candy bought. Want? = I bought candy. Do you want some?)

Sebastian's first line is straightforward enough: according to the contract, Ciel's life (命/いのち/inochi) must come before everything else, including direct orders.

Then he says (the panel with his eyes hidden) that he went through great trouble to 育てる(そだてる/sodateru), but doesn't specify an object for that verb. 育てる means to raise/rear/bring up a child, plant, or animal, or to educate or train a child, or to develop/promote/nurture/cultivate the growth of something.

In the panel where he smashes the zombie's head, he says having the unspecified object snatched away would be たまらない/tamaranai: intolerable or unbearable.

The thing that he raised/cultivated and doesn't want snatched away could be Ciel's 命 (his life), which was just mentioned and therefore could be dropped from the next sentence. In this context, Sebastian is referring to the animating force keeping Ciel alive, i.e. his soul, which he has been cultivating.

The dropped object might also be Ciel himself, which would be inferred from the context. If a human were talking about protecting a child's life, and then used the verb 育てる, they would obviously be talking about raising the child. But because Sebastian is planning to eat Ciel's soul and has technically been developing it, the meaning becomes ambiguous.

He's either saying "I went through great trouble to raise you, it would be intolerable to have you snatched away," or "I went through great trouble to cultivate your soul, it would be intolerable to have it snatched away." Or maybe he's saying both?

Because English allows for less ambiguity, the official and unofficial manga and anime translators are forced to choose one version. I've seen people bothered by either version, because it doesn't fit with how they view Sebastian.

However, in my opinion (as someone with very limited knowledge of Japanese; please share your opinion if you think differently!), Toboso wrote these lines to be purposefully ambiguous. Like I said in this post, I don't think we're supposed to know how Sebastian really feels about Ciel.

I think Ciel looks scared because Sebastian just exploded someone's head close enough to him that the blood spattered on his face. Usually Sebastian is more careful because he knows Ciel doesn't like gore.

As for Sebastian's actions, the last time he saw Undertaker was on the Campania, when Ciel ordered him to capture Undertaker, so he put Ciel down somewhere he thought was safe and prioritized the order. That ended in Ciel nearly getting killed, which Sebastian had to grievously injure himself to prevent.

This time, Ciel has again ordered him to catch Undertaker, and while Ciel is seemingly on his way to safety, Undertaker says "All that sets us apart are our goals" while glancing in Ciel's direction. Whatever Undertaker's goal is, it involves grabbing Ciel, and Sebastian has calculated that he can't protect Ciel and complete the order, so he prioritizes protection.

He may have been reacting solely to Undertaker's glance. He also might have thought that his own goal is to protect Ciel (at least for now), so Undertaker's goal would be to kill or hurt him in some way. Or, since Sebastian's (alleged) ultimate goal is to eat (kill) Ciel, he might think Undertaker is trying to prevent him getting his meal.

[jd-loves-fiction]

“come back any time, i have very few blue lock requests”

ur wish is my command. 🙏

i’m back, with another karasu request. idk how u feel about angst/comfort so again feel free to ignore this!

could you write like an argument with karasu and the aftermath? angst but a happy ending. i honestly dk what the argument could be about so u can pick whatever.

thank youu💗💗

🌑KARASU MY MAAAAN 🥺❤️

[15:46] “C'mon baby, you know I love you.”

“Really? Because you're not great at showing it!”

Karasu goes to speak but you cut him off.

“It's all jokes with you, isn't it? Can't you be serious for once? I'm asking what we are and you're making jokes!”

The heartbroken, panicked look in your eyes sends his brain scrambling, trying to find an easy solution where there's none.

Tabito tends to work well under pressure, at least in the environments he excels in (football), but right now all he wants is to get you to stop looking at him like that.

The timing couldn't be worse as his phone starts ringing, screen lighting up with the name of his team's coach, no doubt to talk about the pre-game meeting coming up. If he could, he'd throw the thing as far as needed to stop hearing that noise. But it's important.

You see the look in his eye before he says a word.

“Can we talk about this later? Believe me, I want to talk about this seriously but, I want to be focused, y'know?”

“You can't–” Deep breaths, “Fine, but it better be quick.”

You stomp away while trying not to shout as your boyfriend watches, bringing his phone up to his ear with a mighty guilty look on his face.

The phone call takes a long time, or maybe not but to you it feels like an infinity – sitting dejectedly on the couch without even turning on the TV, moping.

Finally, after 15 endless minutes, Karasu slowly walks through the living room door. By the silence, he almost expects you to be asleep, but the top of your head peeks above the back of the couch, “Hey, baby…”

“Hey…”

“Can we talk now?”

“I don't know, can we?” You snap weakly, biting back mostly to distract from the fact that you’re already over it – you can't show him that or else the conversation will end before it’s started, “Sorry, yeah, let’s talk.”

He smiles gratefully, sitting down beside you, “I see now that I haven't shown you how– wait, how much I–. Let me start again, I love you more than anything and I'm so sorry that I haven't been showing it baby. I am serious about you, about us, but sometimes work just starts taking over and I kinda let it. Because deep down I still feel like you deserve someone better and you're gonna realize it one day and I know I shouldn't let that affect us but… it did. It has.”

You listen in patient silence, slowly moving to tenderly hold his hand as he speaks, “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. I had a feeling there was something bothering you, I just needed to get it out of you. I’m glad you told me, honey.” Your foreheads touch as you both sigh in relief, tired after so little.

“Nap?”

“...Nap.”

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"COME CLOSER, DARLING"

In honor to TLOU 2X01 being released, I wrote this fic with Joel 😉

I hope you like it! 🖤☝😌

WARNING: EXPLICIT SMUT UNDER THE CUT

Anyone who knew Joel knew that going out on patrol wasn't one of his favorite things to do.

Normally, it was Ellie who did it with Tommy and the others, but that day he had plans with Dina, so he asked her to please take his place, just for that day.

Joel agreed because what else could he say to her? It wasn't like he had anything else to do anyway, so he mounted his horse and, after informing Maria of his departure, began his expedition.

He rode for several hours, never straying too far from where he had started.

Suddenly, the horse reared up, and Joel stroked its mane tenderly before looking up at the grassy road in front of him.

"What's up, girl?" he asked the animal in a low voice. "What did you see?"

The animal couldn't answer him, but when it heard a scream coming from about 20 meters away, it was all the answer it needed.

Joel spurred his horse in that direction, hiding behind a thick mass of branches and vines.

He ducked between the cars to hide and walked to the source of the screams.

He peered over one of the vehicles, observing the scene unfolding in front of him.

A girl ran desperately, while several runners chased her. Joel watched as she tried to reload the pistol in her hands, failing miserably due to nerves.

If he didn't do something, the infected would kill her. Joel had seen enough people die.

He didn't want the same thing to happen to you, so he sprang into action.

He emerged from his hiding place, his shotgun drawn, and whistled to draw them toward him.

"Hey, you guys!" he shouted, causing the runners to whip their heads around, momentarily forgetting about you. "Come and get me!"

You watched in horror as the ten infected ran toward the unknown man, who pulled the trigger of his weapon every time one of them approached, instantly blowing their heads off.

Within seconds, a trail of corpses surrounded him.

He took a few deep breaths before focusing on you. His gaze was kind and compassionate.

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking around, checking that everything was clear for the moment.

"It could be worse," you replied. "If you hadn't shown up… I would have…"

"But I showed up," he stopped you gently. "I'm here," he repeated. "I'm going to take you somewhere safe."

"How do I know I can trust you?" you questioned. He held your gaze steadily.

"You can't," he decreed, gesturing to where he had hidden the horse. "Are you coming or are you staying?"

You weighed your options until you ended up choosing the most obvious.

You wrapped your arms around his waist to keep from falling.

He couldn't help but revel in the delicate, gentle touch of your hands and the way you rested your head on his back to nap every now and then.

You arrived in the city as the sun was setting over the horizon, at which point, after he introduced you to Maria, he took you to his house where you would spend the night.

"I hope you don't mind sleeping here for a while," he said, positioning the house a little. "We're working on a construction plan to build more houses before summer arrives," he explained. "This will give us more space in case more refugees arrive."

"Are there still people out there?" you asked, astonished. "Flesh-and-blood people, not infected?"

"Yes, they still exist," he nodded, sitting in the armchair opposite you. "I know it's hard to believe, but it's the truth."

"I see," you murmured. You remained silent for a few seconds before speaking again. "Thanks for saving my life."

"It's part of the job," he replied casually. "What's your name?"

"Y/N," you murmured. He nodded.

"That's a beautiful name," he smiled. "I'm Joel."

"Nice to meet you, Joel," you whispered, bringing your hand to your side in a wince.

Joel's face twisted in concern.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, when I was trying to get an infected person off me…"

"Did he bite you?" Joel asked, fearful. I didn't want to have to kill you now that he was starting to like you.

"I was going to say, he pushed me against one of the cars," you said, partially lifting your shirt to reveal your abdomen, where there was a shallow cut. "… with the bad luck that one of them had a broken rearview mirror." You ended up wincing as you readjusted yourself in the chair. "I don't know if I have any glass stuck under my skin."

"Don't move, I'll get the first aid kit," Joel said, quickly getting up to get the things he needed to treat you.

When he came back, you lifted your shirt, and he put on his glasses to get a better look at your wound.

They fit very well, which made you blush when you realized you were staring at him too much.

"It's not deep, but I have to stitch it up so it doesn't get infected." He looked up at you as he grabbed a needle and thread. "It won't hurt, I promise."

"I'm not… very needle fanatic—you swallowed nervously. He gently fixed his brown eyes on yours.

“Squeeze my arm.”

“What?”

“If it hurts, you can squeeze my arm. I won’t complain,” he offered. You nodded slowly. “Ready?”

“I think so.” You took a deep breath and held it as he began to stitch you up.

You dug your nails into his shoulder a couple of times, but he didn’t seem to notice, as he continued treating you as if nothing had happened.

Then he pulled away and took off his glasses, simultaneously cutting the remaining thread.

"There you go," he announced as he disinfected the needle. "You did very well," he smiled, making you blush violently.

"Thanks," you whispered. "But the credit goes to you. You're the one who cured me."

"It's no big deal. I've stitched up other people before," he said, beginning to gather things. "After a while, you get used to it."

"Sure," you murmured as he disappeared to leave the first-aid kit in the bathroom.

When he came back, he did so with an oversized sweatshirt and pants that were more tailored to your size.

"I thought you'd want to change," he said, handing you your clothes. "You can also take a shower if you want; we have hot water."

"A shower would be nice," you agreed, making him smile. "Thanks again."

"You're welcome, kiddo" he murmured as you disappeared into the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, you came out wearing the clothes Joel had lent you.

He looked up from the book he was reading to look at you. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he did so.

"What's wrong?" you asked, seeing him looking at you.

"Nothing, it's just that my sweatshirt fits you like a dress," he laughed, looking you up and down. "It suits you better than it does me."

"It's very warm," you said, putting your hands in your bags. "Aren't you cold?" He pointed at the fireplace beside him. "Of course, I didn't realize." You smiled, sitting back down in the chair you'd been in before.

"I didn't want you to catch a cold," he confessed after a few moments of silence. "So I gave you the warmest sweatshirt I had."

"That's… very kind of you, Joel," you whispered. He held your gaze firmly.

"Have anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?" he blurted out suddenly, making your eyes widen.

"I think th-if they had told me, I'd remember." You swallowed hard. "Why do you ask?"

"You're welcome, I'm just pointing out a fact," he murmured. "Even though I can't see you well from this distance, the lines on your face tell me my statement is true." He smiled at how your breath hitched at his words, patting his knees lightly. "Come closer, darling," he asked. "My eyes aren't what they used to be, you know? And I want to see you properly."

Slowly, you sat on his lap. His eyes scanned your face before a smile spread across his lips.

"Just like I was saying," he whispered, lowering his gaze to your mouth. "Perfect," he added more to himself than to you.

"Joel…"

"Y/N," he mimicked you. "Can I kiss you?"

You nodded, and instantly, he placed his lips against yours with need, your fingers tangling in his gray locks.

He shifted you onto his lap, resting his hands on your hips so you were straddling him as he continued kissing you.

Now his lips were on your neck, his trimmed beard tickling your pulse point.

He held your face in his hands, deepening the kiss, making you gasp against him.

"I have rough hands," he commented when he broke away for a moment. "I guess it's from holding the horse's reins, wielding weapons, chopping wood, and all the rest of it."

"Never mind, Joel, I…" You pressed your lips into a thin line, embarrassed. "I like it."

"I see," he murmured, giving an amused smile. "My girl likes my big, rough hands, right?" he asked, and you nodded slowly. "Because that's what you are, you know, right?"

"What?" you asked, not knowing what he meant

“You’re mine,” he said, kissing you again. “MY girl,” he repeated, taking off his shirt and you doing the same with the pants he had lent you. “Spread your legs, baby,” he ordered kindly. “Spread your legs and look at me while you do it,” he whispered, and you did. “Oh, that’s it,” he celebrated, smiling. “Fuck yes, that’s perfect, good girl,” he praised, making you gasp at the name. “I need to taste you,” he growled. “I want to feel your orgasm when you cum on my tongue,” he whispered. “But first, I must ask you if this is what you want.”

“Yes,” you nodded firmly.

“I want you to forget absolutely everything tonight,” he began. “About your life, about the people you’ve lost, and about those who are still out there,” he whispered. “I want your mind to be focused only on me, on us, on this moment, and on the pleasure I’m going to give you.”

You felt like you were going to faint when his tongue slipped between your folds, finding your clit. It didn't take long for you to come; a couple of licks and two tugs with his teeth, and you were a trembling mess in his arms.

You caught your breath for a moment, and then you kneel down and return the favor.

Then he stopped being gentle, held you by the hips, and sat you on his bed, inserting himself inside you in one swift thrust.

He lightly covered your mouth with the palm of his hand.

"This is what you wanted, right, precious?" he growled, thrusting against you. "Did you want your savior to fuck you like you deserve?"

"Yes!" you whimpered. "Please, Joel, I need…"

"I know, baby, cum for me."

After that, he took you in his arms, and just before you fell asleep, you heard him say:

"I'm glad Ellie asked me to go on patrol instead of her"

[diminuel]

I'm experiencing Rocks derangement syndrome at the moment because I'm reading the German translation of volume 95.

I just want to know what kind of guy he was! (Was he a guy? I'm just going to go "thehehe, what if not?" until we see him for real.) Loki's flashback gave us a taste of him and it's questionable at best X'D He definitely is a guy who goes around stabbing kids that challenge him. Is he going to be pure evil? I hope not but there seems to be something a bit off with him anyway. Just look at the figurehead of his ship? What's wrong with you man. *lol* (Though we've been shown that ship while Sengoku was telling a story of his reputation, so it's possible that the ship did not look like that. But I will just assume it does until shown otherwise.)

Rocks lives in the gaps left by the story for the time being and I'm really enjoying that freedom to imagine whatever X'D

I want to watch more Rocks theory videos but I want to see one where he's not being imagined at this super buff guy. What if he's not? Show me lady Rocks, youtube men!

Sorry. I'm gonna go to bed before the derangement gets worse.