#so really no idea how i'm gonna work this out :')

[tucsonhorse]

Her art is absolutely gorgeous and she is impressively skilled.

As someone who knows how to do a wide variety of arts/crafts and regularly puts them together I have thoughts on how she may have come up with this, and it definitely wasn't all at once. Building the idea step by step makes it much easier to come up with, and when you think about it that way it becomes much simpler to conceptualize.

Rambles about that below the cut

I'll preface this by saying that these specific techniques are not ones I work in, I am assuming that the thought process behind growing into a combination of these techniques is similar to the process of combining the techniques I use (primarily a variety of fiber construction techniques often combined with small electronics, clay/sculptural work, painting, and leather).

Based on the way the skills are combined, I suspect that she started with painting/drawing or the bas-relief, possibly both separately around the same time, and combined those two first.

The way the techniques are combined looks to me like the bas-relief is brought in as a way to complement the painting, so to speak. To me it looks like the color work is the primary focus and the other things are there to accentuate and complement it.

I feel like I'm not making sense, so here's a "dramatic" retelling of how it may have gone (abridged)

My flower paintings are great but I want more dimension than I can get with paint. Hey cool, this bas-relief stuff gives great texture, I wonder if I could make it work with my paintings to give them the pop I've been wanting. *Time passes with much practicing* I really like how that worked out, I would love to get more shine in some places though and these metallic paints just don't do enough/don't act how I want them to. I wonder if I could paint it on a mirror or glass? *Experimenting happens, realizes it would work better to put the mirror on the painting* cool, guess I'm gonna learn to cut mirror now!

And voila!

I'm not trying to say it's easy or not impressive, just like, it's not superhuman, it's not something another person couldn't do if they developed the same skills and played a bit. Art is like any skill set, with enough practice and devotion, anyone can do impressive things. You just have to want to.

But maybe that's just me cause I was raised doing art since before I can remember and it was always "play around, figure it out to make it look how you want, there's no rules in art".

[king-liminaxe]

feel free to delete if u dont wanna be dragged back into it but wis is still going and bitching about yall. she sounds so insecure

"The concept of adopting demonic imagery and then making music shitting on one of the most marginalized people in United States of america AND ON TOP OF THAT censoring the cuss words is the most American brained thing I have ever seen in my life 😭

#diss track on my transgender ex friend#its so fucking funny#censoring am*rican cuss words"

like is she just making stuff up atp omlll

At this point, neither of us really care lmao.

Wis is just gonna ramble forever and never shut up as she's made it clear so lol, it's just free promotion at this point.

It's not a surprise that she's making shit up. She claimed I was constantly abusing and stepping over the boundaries of some 19 year old with no evidence like? Lmao on top of that I literally have no idea who tf shes referring to. Genuinely. She also claimed I was a terf. Lmao.

We just have more shit to focus on lately. I'm doing paid animation work for Yam's so called "ruined career" as she's been preparing for a live show that had tickets sell out incredibly fast. I'm finishing my career degree for sterile processing technician. She's working on another pretty big deal thing that I'm not gonna spoil.

We're just chilling, dude, lmao

We just have more, ultimately better stuff to focus on than her doing the same shit over and over and over, lmao. We don't care about her grasping at straws and trying to spew out random shit to a brickwall. Keep bringing people to our work with your ramblings, Wis. Work on your own art. Why don't you work on your relationship with transmascs and transmen, since we apparently killed your grandma with how much you clearly hate them/us.

So Wis doesn't blow that grandma comment out of proportion like she so always does, that was a trolls movie reference. Nothing else.

[ellyswsw]

⪩⪨ ── actor!Angel x actor!David headcanons ; no magic au, this is a pretty long one bear with me here, insomnia spoon-feeding me headcanon ideas and finally being helpful instead of being a son of a bitch and giving me eyebags, probably the longest post I've ever posted

☆ the couple. these two have acted together in so many films and shows and almost 90% of the time it blows up the charts. almost everyone you meet will probably know two or more movies where their star in. they're both iconic.

☆ david's really known for his villain roles in horror films, and he's basically just dwayne johnson at this point. every horror film he's ever acted in was the most suspenseful and terrifying shit you'll ever see, all because this guy is so good at playing the killer, it's actually kinda scary,,. he's also playing a guy that can turn into a wolf on a 'fantasy universe" a big company created.

☆ he's so thirsted over by so many people it's kinda insane, guarantee that your ears will be bleeding whenever he walks on red carpets cause of all the high pitched squealing.

☆ david practically grew up around cameras, and has achieved great roles as a child actor. gabe was a really well known iconic figure at the time and when he died, david definitely needed a break, and a long one. after 2 years of hiatus, he finally got active. he didn't land roles immediately, but he still got back and now he's one of the most awarded actors.

☆ angel has a big history on the comedy and drama side of the industry. their first ever successful job that can actually pay their rent was comedy, so they're pretty witty, and they're known for being witty at interviews and being pretty good at dodging some risky questions that can only be answered with risky responses.

☆ angel's digital footprint is so scattered and over the place, so there's a chance that you'll just randomly stumble upon their audition tape to be one of ariana grande's backup vocals on your youtube recommendations.

☆ angel's famous for improvising a lot throughout a film. ironically, half of their popular scenes probably have one or two improvising.

☆ the most popular film david and angel have ever acted in is the first ever film where they first met and worked with each other. it was an enemies-to-lovers romcom film, as cliche as it sounds. it got so many positive feedbacks, even twitter loved it. it was on top of the billboard. everyone was so taken aback by david and angel's chemistry with each other; every eye contact, every lingering touch, every snarky comment, every emotional scene, every kiss. it was phenomenal, these two were in their prime.

☆ during their first days of working together, david and angel had this.. playful flirting thing going in between them. angel would shamelessly flirt with david by complimenting him when a cameraman goes up to them for a behind-the-scenes like; "oh, david? I'm literally saying to you guys, that man knows how to act, if i didn't know any better i'd assume he actually means every 'i love yous' he said."

☆ days when david remembers gabe a little too much, angel would be probably the only one that's gonna notice. david's a professional actor so he knows how to suppress his actual emotions, and so is angel.

☆ lunch breaks where every other actor eats out but david and angel lingers and stays seated in front of a big flashy vanity mirror and talk about random things is what hits hard.

☆ angel knows how to distract david and turn his emotions upside down whenever he's feeling blue. david gives angel space to be more sincere and serious, angel knowing that they'll be free of judgement and expectancy to be funny and chaotic anytime that they're around david.

☆ a year and a half later of dating rumours, and fans and paparazzi spotting them coming out of hotels and mcdonalds; awooga, they both finally announced that they were dating by angel posting pictures of the both of them hugging and kissing each other in front of the same restaurant they got caught in numerous times, with a caption saying "idk guys all this acting shit makes me miss my boyfriend" (with a shrug emoji)

☆ definitely have won an mtv movie award for the best kiss

☆ david's famous for doing half of his stunts by himself

☆ if they weren't already successful in the acting industry, they definitely would've been models and are probably walking down on runways right now if they were. these two know how to serve face, they just suit each other so well.

☆ angel is that celebrity that either has a really goofy picture of them as their profile, or just a picture of them posing as if they're auditioning to be one of the models on the next victoria's secret show. they change profile pictures like twice a month, different profile pics for each social media account.

☆ angel reposts edits of them and david

☆ david has an official verified tiktok account with millions of followers but he only has like 7 videos and is following only one account (angel's)

☆ these two are just so addicted to looking at each other with the most love and adoration anybody has looked at anyone with the most love and adoration ever at interviews. the way angel tilts their head ever so slightly, and the way david gives out the most inconspicuous smile. ugh we love to see it

☆ you don't need to know anything about the two of them to know that they are the most devoted and loyal people each other will have in both of their lives.

[charlie-shmarlie]

hello!

i absolutely adore your head canons!

i had a request if you dont mind, for playful headcanons about loki? we know he's mischievous lol but just general playful things he'd do with a lover, female if specific. thanks love!

Aww thank you, I'm glad you do! And I absolutely love that idea! Thank you for requesting <3

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How he likes to toy with you: Loki Odinson headcanons

Some headcanons of how Loki would like to mess around and tease reader ♡

Loki being a smug little jerk, established relationship, deep down he's a softie for you.

Requested <3

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So we all know Loki loves making trouble. Causing drama, or just toying with people to get reactions out of them. It's what he lives for, really. He's not called the god of mischief for being sweet and well-behaved, if you know what I mean.

So naturally, a relationship with him means lots of unexpected moments. Lots.

Such as returning home to find your room in an all-consuming darkness, only to have him further use his magic to scare you out of your mind and right into his arms.

Or, getting out of the shower/bath only to find that the clothes you had sitting out have mysteriously disappeared. Yep, he loves that one.

Or, or, him purposefully turning off your morning alarm the night before, so you wind up sleeping in with him and show up late to work.

Or, or, or, him shifting into someone else to pry information out of you that he specifically isn't supposed to know- such as any birthday or anniversary surprises you might have planned for him. Which only lasts so long until you realize it's him and then have to change plans all over again.

You shout the single word "LOKI!!" a lot.

The severity of his pranks and teases can range with him. They can either be small and barely noticeable. Or! Absolutely traumatizing.

Yeah, he considers that time he faked his death to be a "prank."

"YOU ASSHOLE! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU PUT ME THROUGH?? I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD."

"....but I'm not ☝️"

He actually did feel pretty bad about that. But don't worry, he won't do it again.

Probably-

I'm just gonna say it, you've gotta have A LOT of patience to be in a relationship with this man.

Absolutely ADORES teasing you. He loves seeing you get all flustered and sputtering. To him, it's endearing that he can get such reactions out of you each time without fail.

But of course, he does try not to go too far with the teasing, although the line may get blurred at times. It's not that he wants to say or do something out of line, it's just- he can't entirely help it, you know? That's kind of his thing, pushing people to their limits and inevitably causing trouble.

But, that being said, if he ever does something that legitimately upsets you, he will apologize and try to make up for it. Maybe not directly- but he will make it up to you in his own way.

PLAYFUL BANTER. You bicker like an old married couple.

Loki has a great time embarrassing you by practicing pda in public, especially if he knows it flusters you. He'll be touching you and "sneaking" kisses all the time.

If you tease or prank him BACK?? Oh, you're cooked cause he is not gonna hold back next time. Sleep with one eye open, dear.

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[glitter-stained]

Write your own fanfic

Seriously

I say that as kindly as I can, I hope you figure out how to write what you're looking for and you find the people who are willing to work with you here, because respectfully, I'm not touching this comic with a ten foot pole unless it's to rewrite it completely

Imo that's the question really -are people writing Dick and Jason OOC or is Brothers in Blood just a really really really bad comic?

Cause like, genuinely, I get it, you like the hot mess, it's camp, there are funny ideas, I've got a lot of mutuals who like it and it's fine I respect that y'all are entitled to enjoying badly written things i also often enjoy badly written things

But if you're gonna claim that fic writers are not doing a good enough job of writing dick and jason because they're not basing themselves on Nightwing: Brothers in Terrible Writing, I'm like- no, no, no

This might sound mean, i'm not trying to sound mean, i feel like the tone of the post was pretty light-hearted, I just- please let us escape the nightwing brothers in blood hell. It was a long time ago, depending on crises and stuff we can even decide it's not canon anymore, I can't keep seeing people imposing that comic in arguments as the basis for jason and dick's relationship, for their characterization, let me oooout

Seriously if I keep seeing people arguing that this piece of crap should be the base for their relationship I'm gonna transform into a man-swallowing tentacle monster and that's not a threat I'm not doing it on purpose I just feel my control on my human form slipping. As far as I'm concerned the basis for their relationship is batman #416 and that jaybin story where he was with the titans, and there are nightwing and red hood stories that don't make me want to claw out of my skin, especially once we got out of the hot mess that was late post-crisis hell (remember when jason was written exclusively by people who hated him, including bruce jones? They were all so bitter), so if y'all allow it, I'm gonna go and base my writing on comics that don't project my astral self directly into the deepest pit of hell, please and thank you.

[wvffles]

eeeeeeeeeeeee i'm loving this series so much already !!💙

Ben’s grip tightens a fraction. “All I need is a fucking ride. That isn’t too much to ask, now is it, sweetheart?”

well ben you're not exactly asking now are you 🤠 also i do love how she's still snapping back at him, even if it's not the best idea with the temper he has 🤣

For all Vought claimed to care about diversity, your boss once commented on your “wild” hair shedding on the tile floor.

the familiarity of this made my eye twitch a little bit loll

“Where are you from, exactly?” he asks. 

oh no...

He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. What are you, Mexican or something?” You raise a brow, your lips pursing when he begins to smirk.   “I do like me a juicy taco,” he says. 

jesus christ ben 🤦🏽‍♀️ I actually had to take a moment to pause and take a deep breath lmfao he's just soooooooo, out of pocket sometimes like dude pls 😭

“All right. Calm down, Chiquita. You should take it as a fucking compliment,” he says. He raises a brow at you. “You’re a real spicy one, aren’t you?”

oh i'll show you spicy alright, lmfaoooo he's ridiculouss 😩😂 i'm only laughing because it's ben, and also fictional (<3) but it's wild to me how there really are people like this irl, just boggles my mind

“I’ve gotten with a few Latinas in my time,” he says as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as his thighs splay out a little wider in the sweatpants you let him borrow. “Always with that fuckin’ feisty little temper. But you know what, I got no problem with a hot tamale.” 

yeahhh i'd have to start cussing him out in spanish 😭 show him what a 'feisty temper' really looks like lmfao pinche cabron 🤣

“I know for a fact you can get basically whatever you want on this fucking thing within half an hour,” he says. “Do what you need to do to get some grub over here, but you’re not leaving this fucking apartment until I say so."

some of us are poor, benjamin 🤦🏽‍♀️ it really does cost an arm and a leg to get anything these days it's the worsttt :/

honestly I thought I was gonna yap some more but I realize now that i'm thinking of the whole story so far, including the next two chapters 😩😅 it's so good already !!💗

what I feel is a bit different from this story compared to your other SB stories is that in this, the reader seems a lot more civilian-like. idk if that makes sense like, in the bmd-verse I feel that given the nature of that mc's job, she was a bit more used to "combative situations" and in lost on you that mc is a supe herself, whereas in this story she's really just like, your average person working in an office, which to me adds an extra sense of like vulnerability to this dynamic.

and I mean i'm not saying she's a complete damsel in distress because she is certainly holding her own lmao, but she is being thrust into this whole new dangerous world, thanks to the unfortunate luck of working at that hellish company ;_; like poor girl just wanted to pursue her interests and stay afloat then boom, the building is crumbling and she's harboring a fugitive 😭 one with outdated morals at that ay no, pobresita 😔

+ after listening to the podcast episode I do just wanna put this out there — you're doing super well with navigating this challenging dynamic !!💙 as a fellow latina poc i’m absolutely lovinggg this and i’m excited to see how they got from point a to point b (aka lost in translation) lol <333

UNRAVEL ME - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Afro-Latina!Reader

Summary: In the wake of Vought Tower finally falling, you find yourself crossing paths with Soldier Boy. Rogue, weakened, dangerous, and hunted, he needs a place to hide. You’re not about to offer up your own home to shelter a supe wanted by Homelander and the CIA…but he’s also not going to let you refuse.

AN: Finallyyyyy lol. I know I've been talking about this series for months now, but it was genuinely challenging for me to write this prequel for Lost in Translation (which was requested by various Tumblr friends and anons who wanted to see Soldier Boy matched with a woman of color). I think maybe it's because this is now my third Soldier Boy series, and getting this guy to show character growth is hard to do three different times. 🤣 But let's see how it goes with another post-season 3 misadventure! 💜💙 This series also fulfills a hilarious prompt for @jacklesversebingo!

Song Inspo: “Unravel Me” by Sabrina Claudio

JVB Prompt: Accidental Old Person Acquisition

Word Count: 6K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, threats, SB being his typical asshole self, obnoxious flirting, racial elements, Ben drinks Cuban coffee, among other ethnic mini adventures in the future. The reader is a mixed-race Afro-Latina with textured hair. 

💜 Series Masterlist

💙 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 1: Hot Tamale

Vought Tower is falling.

Or at least, that’s what it feels like: the ground trembling like a Magnitude 7 earthquake, overhead lights flickering, a line of rubble falling on your head as you finally manage to squeeze out of the stairwell and into the main floor's reception area. You take in a large gulp of air, breathing past the oppressive clog of warm bodies, sweat, fear, and a hint of piss.

The walls quake along with the tile floor; you spill onto it hard, hitting your knees, though you curl your fingers fast when a woman from Legal almost steps on them in her dagger heels. Fuck!

Fear and adrenaline compel you to scramble onto your feet and claw your way through the gift shop. Maybe you'll be able to cut through the aisles of overpriced Starlight plushies and Special Edition Black Noir Funko Pops to get to one of the east exits.

It's Vought’s very own 9/11. You were told to evacuate over the intercom, and now you're about to find out why.

It’s taken over an hour to try and escape. You’re still trapped in the building, obviously, caught up in the lobby. It's backed up by the clusterfuck of people squeezing themselves through the narrow exit doorways to the garage, like rats clamoring over one another to avoid extermination. Somehow they've broken through the glass to override the security protocols that had first tried to lock you all in.

Just when you make it past the display of red, white, and blue Homelander mugs, a blinding light catches your eye through the tall windows and the growing darkness of the evening. The light falls and falls, what looks like a tangled ball of red and orange and green.

It explodes into the ground, shaking the very foundations of New York City. You cling to the display table and manage to dive underneath it.

You hide there until the shaking stops.

Tears sting in your eyes as the unsteady screams of your coworkers ring out in the lobby, even though you don’t recognize most of them. You suddenly remember your boss; you lost sight of him on the way down the first five flights of stairs. You morbidly wonder if he was one of the ones who got trampled along the way, or blown off the side of the building in the crash.

When the outside world is quiet again, you crawl out from underneath the table. Everyone who still can is slowly getting to their feet, picking themselves up, some of them helping the people closest to them. You don’t know what the hell is happening, but you have a strong feeling Homelander is involved. He’s been playing at CEO for weeks, now that Stan Edgar has been deposed.

Instead of leaving out the front, you continue your plan of going through one of the east side exits. There’s a narrow alley that leads to the garage farther down. You step out into the evening light, made darker in the alley behind what’s left of the Tower. You know the metal door to the garage isn’t too far away, but before you can get to it, you see a man stumbling right toward you.

It's too dark to see him clearly, and even though you back up a couple of steps, the green of his uniform captures your attention.

“Oh my God,” you breathe. “Soldier Boy?”

He glances up at you through furrowed brows. The state of him, ragged and soot-stained, his labored breaths, and the way he’s leaning against the wall—it all tells you that he’s been through some major shit.

“Uh, a-are you okay?” you ask shakily, clutching your messenger bag.

“I’m fine,” he says, though his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that makes your spine prickle with unease.

In record time, your brain collects what little you know about the ancient relic of a supe that’s mere steps away from invading your personal space. Homelander has been calling him a rogue in the press, but even though your role at Vought barely makes you a blip on anyone’s radar, you know enough about what really holds the company together…which means you know better than to believe even one iota of what that star-spangled prick told the public. 

Your gaze flits over Soldier Boy, now with some concern despite your wariness.

“Are you hurt?” you ask.

“I said I’m fucking fine. Do I look fucking hurt?” he growls tiredly. When he tries to stand a bit straighter, he almost stumbles against the wall.

Part of you twinges with sympathy, but still, your lips purse at his attitude.

“Dude, you don’t want me to tell you what you look like,” you say.

His eyebrow twitches. He opens his mouth to retort, but that’s when a man’s voice can be heard nearby. You turn your head at the sound.

While you’re distracted, Soldier Boy grabs you with more strength than you anticipated and drags you along with him against the wall. You gasp, but he holds a dirty half-gloved hand over your mouth.

Voices begin to echo from down the other end of the alley, closer to the main road. The supe has already turned his head in that direction, but your gaze flicks there next, your eyes wide and fearful.

“I don’t need a fuckin’ doctor,” says a man. His accent is thick as hell, like a Mary Poppins chimney sweep. Cockney? He’s tall, wearing a long black coat to match his black hair. He’s also arguing with a black man and a skinny white guy. A couple of ambulances zoom by, for a moment overtaking their voices and casting their bodies in the red glow of the siren alarms.

“Considering you coughed up blood on my fucking shoes, I’m dumping you off at the nearest hospital within a mile, and then you lose my number for good. Got that, motherfucker?” says the black man. He’s just as intimidating as the other guy, if not more so, considering the way the Brit's leaning against the wall like he might keel over right there.

The skinny guy breaks the tension between them. “Look, we should go. Annie’s got Maeve, and Homelander could be circling the sky looking for us right now.”

Queen Maeve? What happened to her? She was supposed to be in rehab. Who's Annie? Oh shit. Annie January. Starlight broke Maeve out? No. I should've known that rehab story was bullshit too. Who fucking knows what actually happened there. More importantly, what's happening here?!

Your thoughts tumble into one another while your heartbeat pounds in your ears. Your breathing comes out shallower through your nose, considering the big meaty hand covering your mouth.

If Homelander's looking for these guys, then none of this little scene is good. It makes you a fucking witness. Shit...

Soldier Boy tightens his hold on your arm. Slow and quiet, he opens the door to the parking garage with his elbow, since his other hand is still locked over your mouth. He guides you in. 

“Don’t scream, or I’ll start squeezing,” he warns. At least he releases his hand from your mouth, instead, grabbing the back of your neck. “Where’s your car?” 

“Wait, come on,” you plead, your voice shaking. “Whatever you did, I don’t want to know, but I didn’t sign up to be your getaway driver.” 

Ben’s grip tightens a fraction. “All I need is a fucking ride. That isn’t too much to ask, now is it, sweetheart?”

“Depends on where you’re trying to go,” you say. But you decide that not getting snapped in half is good enough reason to lead him to your car. You rarely have cause to drive it, so it mostly just stays parked here in the garage. For once, you’re grateful that you shell out a portion of your monthly paycheck to reserve this space. 

You fish your keys out of your car and unlock the door with shaky hands. Soldier Boy watches you press the button on the small key remote with furrowed brows, but he takes it from you after forcing you in the driver’s seat, so he can enter the car on the passenger side.

The second your tiny blue Kia rumbles pitifully to life, your music blares loud enough to feel the bass in the floor. Soldier Boy smacks the radio buttons roughly until it stops.

You give him a thin smile. 

“Not a fan of Bad Bunny?” you ask.

Irritated, he grabs a hold of the small plushie swinging from your rearview mirror. He yanks it off despite your protest, nearly breaking the mirror, and stares in gruff bewilderment at the white fluffy heart. It has a Dominican flag embroidered on the front and a Cuban flag on the back—custom made on Etsy.

The supe raises a brow, but he dismissively tosses it somewhere in the back seat. When you look at his grumpy face, he just reminds you of Oscar the Grouch. He reaches down and shifts the seat back, but he barely has any leg room for those thunder thighs and combat boots.

“Just fucking drive,” he says, his voice like sharp gravel.

Again, your annoyance sparks at his rudeness. Are all supes assholes, or is it just the ones you’re forced to interact with?

“Okay, but where the hell do you want me to take you?” you ask. “The subway? The airport? The Hudson River? What?”

He thinks about it, drumming his fingers against his leg. His uniform is a bit poppier than military green, yet more classic than Homelander’s with the stretch of that silver-plated eagle across the chest. 

“Too many eyes at the airport. I need to lie low for a while before I get outta dodge,” Soldier Boy admits. Then he sits back in your passenger seat, adjusting the recline until his broad frame is below the view of the window. You think it’s both for his own comfort and so he’s less likely to be seen. 

“Your place should be all right,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your mouth falls open in shock. “Are you for real?” 

He just gives you a stern look. He’s not fucking kidding.

“Look, you may be a superhero and all, but I don’t fucking know you! And…” Just then, clarity strikes you as you remember what’s been going on in the news for the past week. “Didn’t, uh, didn’t you…blow up a building in Midtown?”

He doesn’t seem to want to answer at first, leveling you with that stoic, bearded face. His gaze eventually drifts away from yours. 

“That was an accident.” 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. “That’s a pretty big accident.”

Again, Soldier Boy doesn’t answer you. You try to focus on the road, but it’s pretty impossible when you have a supe that’s supposedly risen from the dead in your passenger seat, who also exploded 19 people on accident, who tried and failed to kill Homelander.

Speaking of, Homelander himself is looking for this guy…which means you’re helping a fugitive escape. What’s worse, he wants to crash on your goddamn couch.

One of your hands leaves the steering wheel to cover your mouth. You press your hand there until the mix-match of gold and silver rings start to bite into the sensitive flesh of your lower lip. 

“Coño su madre,” you mutter the curse under your breath. I’m so fucking screwed.  

You unlock the door to your third-floor apartment with a heavy sigh. As usual, it gets stuck the first time you try to swing it open. You throw a little more strength in your arm the second time, and the door finally budges. 

You flick the lights on inside and unveil the shoebox that is your home. It’s barely a one-bedroom. The open kitchen lies to the right with a small two-seater table nestled against the wall, while the “living room” lies to the left. There you managed to fit a faded violet loveseat couch from your college days, a bookshelf from Goodwill, and your TV perched on what’s supposed to be a coffee table.

Straight ahead is a narrow hall that leads to your bedroom door on the right side and the one and only bathroom on the other. 

Well, this is gonna be fun. Slumber party with America’s Most Wanted, you think, with no small amount of Jesus fucking Christ weighing your steps.

Soldier Boy’s broad shoulders barely clear the open doorway. He shuts and locks the door behind him and takes stock of your apartment with a slow turn of his head. He doesn’t seem impressed, except for the paintings, funky ‘60s style shelves, and other canvases decorating the walls.

“You some kind of artist?” he asks, giving a cursory glance to each one.

“Uh, yeah, kinda,” you nod. “But most of these aren’t mine.”

On every wall, there’s a cluster of art, from canvases to pottery, glass, burnished clay, and brass. There are replicas of paintings by Salvador Dalí and Frida Kahlo, Picasso and Basquiat, Monet and Amelia Peláez, even a sculpture of a woman that you tried to replicate from Ana Mendieta. It’s meant to represent the suffering of women. Hell if today doesn’t qualify.

You toss your messenger bag onto the couch and throw up your arms at your sides.

“Well, since the police, Homelander, and probably the rest of the government are looking for you, you should do the whole ‘get outta dodge’ thing in the morning,” you say. You clasp your hands together in the facsimile of a prayer and politeness all in one. “But if you really wanna spend a night on my couch, then that’s okay.”

We’ll get through this. Just one night of insanity and then this’ll all be over. 

“That bed looks big enough for two,” the supe says. He nods at your open bedroom door and smiles suggestively, his gaze roaming over your form.

You get that shiver down your spine again, even as you blush. You take a pointed step away from him.

“Uh, how about fucking no,” you snap. “That door will be locked, and I have a taser that I’m not afraid to use on any tender bits.”

He raises a brow at you, but he snorts. He steps toward you, his gait slow and arrogant. You cross your arms while he closes the distance, his hair falling forward across his forehead as he stares down at you with a hint of a sneer. His chin and forehead are still stained with grime, just as his red gloves are scuffed and half burnt from whatever happened in that blast.

Your heart trips up faster. A tremble of fear runs through you, but you refuse to move.

“You do realize that that’s tantamount to flicking me with a rubber band,” he says. His half-lidded gaze runs over you with a note of interest. The corner of his mouth raises in a smirk. “Besides, whatever we might get up to, I can guarantee you’ll enjoy it. Just ask Loni Anderson. Farrah Fawcett. Hell, Molly Ringwald. Love me a fuckin’ redhead once in a while.”

You give him a look that could (proverbially) crumble Empire State.

“Don’t fucking bet on it,” you say.

Yes, your voice is quiet. Yes, you have to work past a swallow. But you don’t ever drop your gaze. You meet him head-on with every bit of stubborn fire you have left inside you.

“If you touch me, I’ll scream," you say, a wary trembling in your chest. "Even if you kill me, they’ll find you that much quicker.”

His smirk falls away. His gaze roams over you again, this time in a different way. Maybe he sees the way your entire body is tense, locked up tight, prepared to recoil and scream if he tries to grab at you. He relents.

“Christ, relax. It’s your fucking loss anyway, sweetheart.” His eyes roll dismissively as he turns away from you. “I need a shower.”

He strides down the hall in search of it. You move quickly to get ahead of him. The last thing you need is him rifling through your bedroom drawers.

“Ah, wait! I’ll get you a towel,” you say. It irritates you to have to treat him like a “guest,” but you don’t know what else to do. The man can literally snap your neck. Even for that big ass bluff you just pulled, you really, really don’t want to die.

You could try calling the police while he’s in the shower, but you don’t know what he’ll do if he finds out. And who’s gonna be quicker on the draw—the human police force, or the literal super soldier?

No, it’ll be more painless to just wait this guy out and see him off in the morning. For now, he doesn’t seem inclined to hurt you. He even took a rejection of you “sleeping” with him pretty well, for a supe. They tend to think they're God’s gifts to humanity. Working at Vought, you’ve been propositioned more than enough times. Though God forbid you say no for a ride on their magical dick. You’d rather not jump on that potential steel trap. You know a guy in Marketing who had his happy place literally frozen and chipped off.

After finding a fresh towel for Soldier Boy, he shuts himself in the lone bathroom across from your room. Soon, the old pipes roar to life. You retreat into your room for a long, slow breath. It’s less steadying than you’d hoped.

You also shut and lock the bedroom door behind you, for whatever good that might do you. 

Not much, you realize warily. 

You sink your fingers into your hair and blow out a sigh of frustration. What even is my fucking life right now?

Tugging on the knotted curls, you loosen them from the bun you wrapped tightly this morning. For all Vought claimed to care about diversity, your boss once commented on your “wild” hair shedding on the tile floor. 

Taking in a few deep, yoga-style breaths before you lose your shit, you dig into the recesses of your closet and dresser drawers. Your most recent ex had left at least one shirt, maybe a pair of boxers. Soldier Boy will have to make do with your favorite sweatpants. They’re stretched out enough from years of wear and washes that they’ll probably fit him. 

Juuuuust great. You're really contemplating this asshole wearing your clothes.

By the time you gather your bearings, shove your soul back into your body and leave your room, Soldier Boy is exiting the bathroom, the fluffy purple towel slung low around his hips. 

“Jesus!” You jolt and instinctively step back. There’s nowhere far to go in the hallway, so your ass ends up bumping against the hollow wall. 

Once again, he wears a smug sort of smile as he stares down at you in amusement. 

“Like what you see, huh, baby doll?”

“Put your tits away, please,” you snap, handing him the bundle of clothing while trying not to look at him directly. You can’t help glancing at his muscular frame out of the corner of your eye. 

Good lord, it’s like he was chiseled from marble. Make that marble with a golden tan, and a patch of hair across his chest that you could run your nails through.

His lips curve with a cockier smile. You quickly look away.

Great. He caught you ogling for one tiny second. And with that moment of human weakness, all that strong talk you accomplished earlier had probably just withered away into nothing. Is he going to take that as an invitation to slide into bed with you tonight while you’re trying to sleep?

Yeeeah. Who the hell are you kidding? You’re going to tape your own eyes open if you have to, but you’re not dropping your guard around this guy. He doesn’t seem to actually want to hurt you. He wants to use you for convenience’s sake. But it doesn’t change the fact that he’s dangerous, hunted, arrogant as fuck, and weirdly horny for a guy who just threw himself off a building.

Subtly clearing your throat, you move past him to the living room. There you set up the couch for him to sleep on. He ventures back into the bathroom to get dressed, which gives you a small break. You’re mentally counting the seconds. 

He comes back somewhat fully dressed. The shirt is a bit small for him, as are the boxer shorts. 

“Christ, who did this belong to, a fucking eunuch?” Soldier Boy asks. “Tell me you’ve got a brother. Because if this was your boyfriend’s, then he wasn’t doing shit for you, sweetheart.”

You begin to blush on reflex, shooting him a steely glare. Those clothes did belong to your ex, but that’s none of his damn business. 

“As promised, here’s the couch,” you gesture to the neatly fitted sheets, blankets, and even a fluffy(ish) pillow you so generously laid out for him. “Again, I will be locking my bedroom door, and if you make even a step in that direction, prepare to get tased in the dick. It’s already set on the max setting.”

Soldier Boy smirks. You fail to see how what you’ve said is in any way funny. You’re definitely not laughing, but you do blink in surprise when he takes your hand and brings the back of it to his lips for a kiss. His beard briefly rasps against your skin. He looks down at you, meeting your eyes with his own. The green in them makes you falter. 

“Believe it or not, I appreciate the help,” he says, turning on the charm. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

Your lips purse. Does he really think hitting you with that Brad Pitt tone of voice is going to work on you? He fucking kidnapped you, and not to mention, is currently holding you on house arrest.

“Oh, now you want to know my name? After conning me into being your Uber driver and your Airbnb in one?” You try to slip your hand out of his, but his grip tightens. He’s still smiling, amused by your struggle. 

“Come on, what’s your name?” he cajoles.

You sigh. Despite your better judgment, you give it to him begrudgingly.

"What's yours?" you ask, mostly drenched in sarcasm. Though a small part of you is...curious.

He stares back at you for a moment, something almost like surprise flicking through his gaze. His lips twitch at the corners, wry and humorless.

"Ben," he says, finally letting go of your hand.

“Okay, cool. So nice to meet you, uh, Ben," you reply, gesturing at his overall form. You still can't believe he's standing here like an iron lamppost in your living room. Are you about to step into the portal to Narnia now and continue this fever dream, or fall straight down to hell?

"All right, mind if I go now?" you say, crossing your arms as the snark escapes its cage. "I’ve had a bitch of a day and I need my beauty sleep."

Ben raises a brow.

Shit. You bite your lip.

Okay, you know you’re being a bit too hostile to a man who can all too easily snap you in half, but he’s got this way of pushing every single one of your buttons at once. Not in a good way. In the wish I could fucking scratch your eyes out kind of a way.

You're frankly lucky that Soldier Boy just seems amused by your attitude. Silly woman with her silly fits of belligerence.

His green-eyed gaze slides from the curve of your jean-clad thighs to your hips, over your breasts concealed by a red blouse, and finally up to your chin, your lips, your eyes. You can’t help the way your skin tingles at his scrutiny, even as you frown.

“From where I’m standing, sleep isn’t what you need,” he says. He somehow manages to sound both flattering and suggestive. 

Your face flares hotter, and your lips press tightly together.

“Sweet dreams, Soldier Boy,” you say, somewhat sarcastically as you head back to your room. You intend to grab your pajamas and take them with you into the bathroom. You’re going to have to bring your taser and lock yourself in there for a shower, even with the obvious safety hazard. What-fucking-ever at this point, as long as it keeps out Hungry Like the Wolf out there. But his reply makes you pause. 

He snorts. “Good night, sweetheart.” 

You turn to look at him over your shoulder. He spares you one final look, less arrogant and more taciturn, before he turns away and lowers himself down onto the couch.

You sigh, but you can’t help peeking around the corner at the supe sitting in your living room. His broad frame takes up the entire center of the little couch. You’re not all that sure he’s going to be comfortable there, since his long legs are definitely not going to fit across the loveseat, but he’s going to have to deal with it until tomorrow. 

You watch him rest his elbows above his knees and blow out a long, tired breath. He raises a hand to rub between his furrowed brows. For a long beat, he just stares vacantly at the floor between his knees. 

Then he leans back against the couch, crosses his arms, and closes his eyes. He seems…lost. Exhausted.

You wonder if he has anyone in his life worth getting back to. Anyone at all.

Shaking your head, you quietly make your way back to your room.

Ben finds himself watching you the next morning. He sits at the two-seater table while you putter about in the kitchen.

You’re cute, he has to admit, all sleepy and barely awake as you slide around in your fuzzy red slippers. A large Knicks shirt hangs off your body, exposing one smooth shoulder. Your sweatpants are overlarge as well, which only makes him think about the generous curves you’ve got hiding underneath. He took notice yesterday. You had a lot to work with under that little blouse, jeans, and chunky heels.   

Yesterday you were put together, even though you’d clearly had a rough time escaping the Tower. Today you've slunk out of your room with baggy pajamas, your hair a mess of curls running down your back. 

“Want a cafecito?” you ask.

Ben raises a brow. “If you mean coffee, then that’d be good. Something hot to eat would be even better.”

“First of all, this isn’t a bed and breakfast,” you say, turning to him with an edge to your voice. “Look, I’m exhausted. There’s a bakery down the street. I can pick something up.” 

As a matter of fact, your favorite Colombian bakery is right around the corner. You start thinking about all the pastries you’re going to treat yourself with, even though it does make you miss the Cuban bakeries back home. You would absolutely kill for an empanada with guava and cheese right now. 

Instead of cold-blooded murder, you set the tiny espresso cup of coffee in front of Ben. His face shifts to confusion and bewilderment. 

“I asked for a cup of coffee, black, not this baby doll tea set cup of coffee,” he says. 

“It’s a Cuban espresso,” you inform him. “And believe me, you don’t want it any bigger than that.”

Unless he just wants to spend the rest of the day on the toilet. Maybe he needs to clean out his system. 

“Just try it,” you encourage. “I think you’ll like it.” 

He eyes you with skepticism, but he takes a sip.

It’s sweet, but the rich, robust taste hits him between the eyes. His brows raise high.

“Okay,” he says with a growing smile. “I see what you mean.”

“See? Now you don’t gotta doubt me again,” you nod. He watches you pour one for yourself, stirring in a frankly alarming spoonful of sugar. 

“Where are you from, exactly?” he asks. 

You glance over at him, taking issue with the way he asks the question. 

“New York,” you respond tartly. You're really from Miami, but he doesn't need to know that.

He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. What are you, Mexican or something?”

You raise a brow, your lips pursing when he begins to smirk.  

“I do like me a juicy taco,” he says. 

His slutty grin is too much for you. Your hand tightens around your coffee cup.

“Okay, a lot to unpack there, Romeo, but no. Not all of us are Mexican!” 

“All right. Calm down, Chiquita. You should take it as a fucking compliment,” he says. He raises a brow at you. “You’re a real spicy one, aren’t you?”

You gape incredulously. “Excuse me?” 

Chiquita?! What the hell is that? Is he saying you look like a goddamn banana, or does he actually know a few words in Spanish? Is he actually calling you a little girl? And for the cherry on top, did he really just call you spicy?!

Either way, he’s about to get slapped across his pig-man mouth. 

“I’ve gotten with a few Latinas in my time,” he says as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as his thighs splay out a little wider in the sweatpants you let him borrow. “Always with that fuckin’ feisty little temper. But you know what, I got no problem with a hot tamale.” 

“Oooh.” The sound is pure and unadulterated FED UP. You down your espresso like a shot. You’re already contemplating another dose, because you don’t have the energy for this.

But you’re also reminded then, that this man came to fame in the 1940s. He was born, what, before the damn Dust Bowl and the Great Depression? He’s literally an ancient relic, a walking black and white billboard of tóxico, and he acts like one too. 

You fairly slam your ceramic cup on the dining table as you slide into the seat across from him. 

“Just so we don’t have any more conversations like this in the future, here it goes,” you say with a sharp sigh. “My mom is Cuban. My dad is black and Dominican. I’m as mixed as it gets, but I’m in no way spicy. If you’ve got me mad fucking tight right now, it’s because you clearly have no idea what decade you’re in.”

Your insult strikes a nerve, making his eyebrow twitch. Soon, however, his lips curve. 

“I’ve got you tight, huh?” he says, cocking his head. A lock of his hair falls roguishly across his brow. “Gotta say, wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had that effect on a woman.” 

You freeze, another hot blush burning in your cheeks. You can feel it making its way down your neck. “That’s…that’s not what you think it means.”

His lazy, arrogant, salacious smirk really makes you want to slap him, but you have a feeling that it’ll hurt you way more than it would hurt him. You get up from the table and ignore the loud scrape of the chair on tile.

“You know what? Forget it! I’m hungry. Don’t follow me.”

You go back to your room and lock the door behind you. You come back out a few minutes later dressed in what he thinks is your way of teasing him—in some ass-hugging jeans and a shirt that clings to your form. Ben watches you cross the room, smiling at the way you give him some narrowed side-eye while twisting your hair up into a wild ponytail. It’s a simple thing women do that’s always attracted him for some reason.

He also likes the shade of red you painted on your lips. 

“You are a feisty little thing,” he remarks, sipping his espresso. “Can’t say I mind.”

“Good. Stay here,” you hotly retort. Or better yet, get the FUCK out of my apartment.

You don’t say that last bit out loud, but he can read it loud and clear in your eyes, filled with that Latina fire. He remembers it all too well.

He grabs your wrist before you slip by him though. He hears the way your breath hitches, your gaze snapping down to meet his. You manage to hide most of your fear.

Maybe it makes some part of him twinge, deep down. You don’t know that he mostly finds you amusing. That he’d rather not hurt you, considering you don’t pose even one fraction of a threat to him. That like it or not, he needs to stay in your rathole apartment until he can figure out how to get out of the city unseen, let alone out of the country.

“You think I’m fucking stupid?” he asks.

You say nothing, but the look on your face tells him what you want to say. His eyes narrow.

“You’re not leaving,” he says.

“Well, I’m not cooking,” you counter. “There’s nothing to cook—”

“Order a damn delivery.”

“You know how expensive that is? Between delivery fee and tipping nowadays, Doordash charges a whole other meal on top of the meal! UberEats isn’t much better. Plus, none of the good places around here deliver like that. Not for breakfast at least. And anyway, I really need to go grocery shopping. What do you expect me to do, open a can of tuna and a jar of olives for breakfast?”

Ben’s not going to pretend he knows what the fuck you’re talking about, but his patience is running out.

“All right, enough. Give me your uh, your phone,” he demands. His tone gains an edge, a warning.

You expel an irritated huff, but you reach into your purse and all but slam it on the kitchen table. He takes it and examines it with some curiosity, but mostly, he retains his stoicism.

“I know for a fact you can get basically whatever you want on this fucking thing within half an hour,” he says. “Do what you need to do to get some grub over here, but you’re not leaving this fucking apartment until I say so."

He raises his brows and meets your eyes in a not so subtle warning.

"Just so you know, I've got a sharper ear than you think," he adds. "If you get stupid and try making a call for help, it's gonna be the last thing you fucking do. You understand me?”

Your teeth grind together, but ultimately, your sense of self-preservation reminds you not to poke the bear anymore. You force your anger and fear to dim to embers beneath your skin, and you nod in agreement. You then lower your gaze, waiting for him to let you go.

When he does, you slip away from him as soon as possible, taking your phone as you go.

For what it’s worth, you lock the bedroom door behind you. 

AN: Aaaand we're off! lol Did you expect him to basically force her into house arrest? 😅 We're gonna have some fun on this one, but there's also going to be a fair bit of action and slow-burn moments.~

Next Time:

You suddenly stand from the table, your chair scraping across the floor. You can tell the sound irritates his sharp ear as he glances up at you with a frown.

“You are a goddamn fugitive. You get that right?” you say, regarding him with an incredulous tilt of your head. “Now you’ve hooked me into this. I could get into serious shit because of you, and you don’t even seem to care! What…what kind of fucking superhero are you supposed to be?”

At the same time, you don’t know why this surprises you. Most of the supes you’ve met couldn't care less about the average person. The entire purpose of Vought’s Legal Department springs to mind.

Still, you thought America’s first supe ever—the one who supposedly fought in WWII, pounded Nazis up the ass, and represented the ideals this country was supposed to be founded on—might actually give a shit. Yet again, it stings to be proven wrong.

Ben’s expression had been verging on apathy, but now, he’s irritated and angry. He pushes back from the table and stands up to his full height. Even wearing your ex’s plain gray crew shirt and some threadbare sweatpants, the man’s frame is intimidating. He makes slow steps closer until he’s looming over you.

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[joelmillerrrr]

Smoke and Sex | Joel Miller x Reader

pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

warnings: drug misuse, protective!Joel, established relationship (kinda), age gap (reader is 25, Joel is 56), no Ellie, angst, suicidal tendencies, sex (not with Joel), swearing, nsfw.

Summary: The reader likes to smoke the devil's lettuce and used to buy it from Joel until Joel became overly protective and didn't want you relying on that to be happy. As a result, you started buying from someone else, and Joel catches you together.

w/c: 1k ish

a/n: hey! I hope you enjoy this story, I'm open to requests as dark or as light as you like <3

Present Day

"I'll meet you up there in a second, I'm just gonna grab my stuff."

You were sneaking out.

You usually did it every day at the same time, sometimes more than once a day if possible. Smoking was the only way to get through this bleak life of yours. This shitshow of a life started when you were 3 years old, turning 4. You had no idea what was happening, and when you did fully understand how the world works, you had already seen so much.

Too much, really.

Shoving through your door, you grab your smoking supplies, you hadn't been able to buy off of your regular dealer because he was "done selling you drugs, you ain't ruining your life," as if a bit of pot would do that, but whatever. You thought.

Regular Dealer - Joel Miller.

He literally sold opioids to FEDRA, and he had issues selling you a bit of weed he found on the off-chance. Quite frankly, you found it ridiculous. Also, kinda sexy. It felt like he was trying to protect you. Protect you from a world that had already changed too much.

Plus, everyone knew not to mess with Joel; he was the toughest guy in the QZ.

2 weeks ago

"No."

"Joel, pleas-,"

"No."

"You sell to everyone else but me. How is that fair, Joel?" You couldn't believe this was happening right now. He had been selling to you for a whole year, without any issues, you thought.

Joel stepped towards you, his voice low and assertive, "because you ain't stupid enough to be wasting your life like this."

Pushing him away, you scoff, "You don't even know me, man, why do you care?"

He grabs your upper arm with force and pulls you towards him, "Don't."

"Don't, what, Joel?" It had been three days since you had had a smoke; you were irritable and in need of release, and Joel couldn't give that to you right now. He was no use to you.

Joel gets so close to your face, you swear you can feel his lips brush yours, "Don't talk to me like that."

You don't say anything back, frozen, staring at each other until Joel pulls away, "I'm done selling you drugs, you ain't ruining your life."

"I'll just find someone else," You mutter under your breath, fixing your jacket.

"Yeah, and if I find em I'll fucking kill em," Joel was mad now, really mad. His voice was way too low for someone who was in a good mood.

"You are fucking crazy." You would reply, slamming the door behind you.

Present Day

You had told your friends you would meet them at the usual place, but you decided to go to your own secret spot in the QZ, which happened to be where you met your new drug dealer.

Sneaking past the FEDRA trucks and the security lights. The only sound coming from the megahorn as the soldiers shout commands down it.

You hated living here. It was like a bleak dystopian future that you didn't want to be a part of anymore. If it wasn't for the drugs, you honestly don't know how you would cope living anymore. Life wasn't exciting, you had no one, and the only thing you relied on was a smoke at the end of the day and that's even if you fucking got any.

Lance was waiting there at the spot; every time you saw him, you knew how low you had stooped for your habit. It made you feel like a dirty whore, which in a way you probably were.

He was sleezy. The only way you could pay Lance for the weed was sex. Whilst you lay there, on your back, Lance's face in between your legs, your mind would go to Joel.

Joel never expected this of you, even if you got the sense that he definitely would if given the chance. The only thing Joel ever asked was for company outside of the QZ for supply runs or smuggle runs. You always knew you were safe with Joel; there wasn't any second-guessing.

And with that, he lines himself up with your hole. You know this isn't what you want to do, but you have no choice. Joel took that away from you.

"Oh, baby, you taste so good," Lance moaned in between your thighs. A small noise emits from your throat. You are putting on a slight show for him.

'Just get it over with,' you think to yourself.

The door busts open, "Get the fuck away from her."

That deep voice gives you flutters.

"Wait your turn, you can have her after, I'm sure she wouldn't mind." And with that, Lance is ripped away from you and thrown against the wall.

"JOEL," You scream, but he doesn't hear you, or if he does, he ignores it. He stalks over to Lance, grabbing his collar, bringing his fist to his face, over and over again.

Blood is all over his hands as he continues to pummel him. You get up and run over, "Joel, please stop."

He throws Lance to the ground and looks up at you, "What the hell are you doing?"

"You took my choice of dealers away from me. What did you think I was going to do?" You pull up your trousers, just now remembering that you were half naked in front of Joel. Suddenly becoming very self-conscious.

"So you just sell your pussy to anyone then? If you want to do that, go down the clubs in the QZ."

"It's no-, it's not like that." You turn around and grab your shirt from the bed.

When you turn back, he's there right behind you, "If you wanna give that pussy to anyone, you give it to me, alright Darlin'?"

"W-What?" Everything he was saying was sending a wave right down into your core.

Whispering in your ear, he says, "That pussy belongs to me," he puts his hands on your crotch and rubs slightly, sending the warm feeling down between your legs.

A moan comes from deep inside your throat. You have wanted this. You have wanted Joel to touch you, to want you, to have you in every sense of the word.

"And we will work on the drug habit, yes?" He moves away from you, giving you a small kiss on your neck.

"Yes." You shiver at his touch; this could be your new drug.

Joel Miller.

[gatheringbones]

[“Ozzy: Since we're talking about academia, I just was curious if there's anything you feel like you've learned from your students, or just younger trans people, that has changed how you think about your own gender?

Susan: I have to say I'm really intrigued by the relatively recent emergence of nonbinary frames of reference and nonbinary identities. And it's not new in and of itself, right? Because for me back in the early ‘90s, it's what “transgender” meant; it actually meant more like “not a binary trans transsexual who just wants to disappear into the woodwork.” “Transgender” was [Susan makes explosion sound effect] – boom. And then it's come to mean something else. But I look back into the ‘60s, and I see things about “genderfuck,” or whatever. There's plenty of quote unquote “nonbinary” ways of expressing gender. It's not a new thing.

But what I think is new is that, as I read it, a lot of younger people who are embracing a nonbinary identity or they/them pronouns…it's not so much even that people are necessarily saying “I think of myself as androgynous,” or “I’m blending or mixing and matching,” but what I really hear is this deeper awareness of saying that “society treats gender as if it is nonconsensual, and I'm just gonna call bullshit on all of that.” It’s just like “I don't agree with that perspective, I am orienting myself away from that,” or thinking about all the complexities of how cis and trans relate to each other.

The way that I think of it is “well, if cis means ‘on the same side’ and trans means ‘across,’ aren’t we all kind of different combinations of things we stay on the same side of, versus things that we cross over?” So for me the question is always: how are you being cis and trans – in what ways and what combinations? I think there's a really interesting conversation happening there about: when do you need to name specifically a trans difference? When do you need to call out an unstated norm? How do we all situate ourselves in this mix of different ways of moving across and staying on the same side of? That can too often just collapse into yet another biologically-defined-by bearing.

So I feel like I've learned that from younger people. ‘cause for me, the “cis” terminology…I was already thinking about trans before that word really started taking off, and I have found it really useful in some ways, and I find it to shut down necessary conversations in others. I guess those are the two main things.

Maybe another is that I am always blown away when I discover some small niche trans subcommunity, some subreddit or whatever. Just kind of like: wow! You've got a whole world of references here, and internal dialogues and dynamics and whatever. And I never even heard about this.

I call that “truffle hunting” – I love to find a good truffle that I have just never, never come across that tasty morsel before. And there's just so much of it. There are tens of millions of people who have some claim to trans community or identity, and that's a big place to live. I have not in my 30 years of foraging – plus all of the archival work that I've done – I have not in the least exhausted what is there to be found. It is an active, living, ongoing culture, and new stuff is coming up all the time. And I just love it when I find something that's new to me.

Tuck: Mhm. Well, it reminds me of something that you said that also ties well into our last question, which is: In that 2022 interview I keep referring back to, one thing you said was “...we simply don't know yet all that trans can do. It keeps doing new things, evolving over time.” And that mental image of it continuing to evolve – especially since we were talking that it is maybe in a moment of feeling like it's being co-opted by neoliberalism – and it's like as you said, we're in one moment, and it can evolve back out of that, and that's an exciting potential.

Susan: Yeah. You know, where that idea comes from for me is reading Spinoza, and reading Deleuze and Guattari – the post-structural cultural theorists. But this thing that Spinoza said back in the 1600s is like we don't even know yet what a body can do, and then Deleuze and Guattari pick up on this. But the basic idea there is that a capacity to affect and be affected by things that happen in the world…it's always relational.

It's like a body only means something or can do something or has certain capacities for acting or feeling in relationship to some other specific thing. It's not an essential quality that's intrinsic to the body; it's a capacity that emerges in the relationship of that body to the rest of the world. And so as the world changes, you might discover different capacities of your body or your identity. And so that sense that there's always a potential for something new to emerge feels really important to me.

I know what trans meant to me when I was thinking about it as a kid, and I was coming out into it as a young adult, and I've studied it as an old person, and now in this world it's like… what is trans going to become? It's not gonna be your grandma's transsexuality or transgender or transness. It’s gonna become something new. I see transness as a practice of freedom that is trying to find a way towards life. And so as material circumstances change, what new paths open up? What new needs emerge? What new strategies or tactics do people develop?

To me, to be trans is to be actively alive and engaged with the world around you. And it's experimental, and it's emergent, and it's a virtual…you’re grasping onto virtual potentials that might exist but are not yet fully materialized. And through your actions, you materialize those things that are virtually present in the material organization of the world at this moment. And I can't think of a way I'd rather be, you know? Even if the world is hard, even if it's all on fire and falling apart, and Project 2025 is staring us…[Tuck laughs]...right in the face. So even with all of that, I'm still really happy to be here now.

Tuck: Yeah! Well that perhaps completely covers our last question, but we have to ask it, cause we always do after every interview. So the way we always end the show is by asking: in your ideal world, what would the future of gender look like?

Susan: That it would increasingly be a means of self-expression and connection with others, and the more-than-human world, and less a structure of coercion and control.”]

[sweetums0kitty]

Erik Campbell X Death!Reader Ideas

Author's Note: Please be nice to me, I haven't written anything since 2022. I'm rusty and this was just thrown together. Erik is my pookie bear tho and I love him! <3

He’s the wife because provider verses providee in the relationship. It’s at least how Death sees it. Not understanding human relationship terms. Death sees life as something fickle and short. The rules are the rules and they take what they were promised eventually.

Not a malicious force really, thinks it’s fun to give humans extravagant deaths! Why go out with something dull and common when you could be crushed by a garbage truck!

Eros and Psyche analogy where Erik gets to go from the human realm to living in death’s cool goth palace. Gonna give him angst where he’s okay with trading his life for his siblings.

Of course he can still visit his family! He just can’t stay with them. That’s why he’s the Persephone of this story. The tattoo shop is burned down so he doesn’t have job.. Julia, Bobby, Stephane and Charlie have lives and futures that they can live. Idk emo boy depression and issues I’m projecting onto Erik.

Death who’s really into how alive people are, obsessed with his pulse and feeling it, idk pain kink?!? They’re switches cause that’s hotter but also Death will peg him cause I need to do that to Erik.

When Erik is in the land of the living he’s paler, maybe he doesn’t have a pulse, it’s like being the living dead. Idk why I find that cool just he’s the living dead. Maybe it works like he can’t die no matter what happens cause he’s Death’s consort.

Imagine: You’re death and you’re reviewing souls who have to die on a big long list and you’ve got Erik on your lap while doing so. You’ll stroke his hair and kiss his neck. Just cuddle the human you love.

Sorry if this is unrefined, I’m a little loopy right now but I love him.

[witches-dream]

I'm really curious about what the other beastancient legendary costume pairs will be so here' some theorizing by: ME

So, so far we have 2 pairs but they have different concepts: one is basically a swap au, while the other is something like a bad ending type deal. We can expect the other 3 pairs to either have their own concepts, more fitting for their characters and dynamics, or to continue playing with concepts similar to these two. Since we know nearly nothing about Silent Salt so far, i'm gonna skip on talking about them

The concept where the ancient joins the beast really only works for eternalberry, where Sugar actively wanted Holly to remain at her side. It is also PARTIALLY what happened with Truthless Recluse, but since he already temporarily joins Shmilk in the story, the costume set had a different idea, that being an alternate universe where Shmilk and Vani swap places (while still, interestingly, remaining themselves in their heart, down to having the same motivations as their normal counterparts; just existing on a different side of the narrative). With eternalberry, however, it's less like a parallel timeline where things are different, and more like another way that things could've happened in the main story. Holly even has her doubts about staying in the garden, proving that she's still very much the same person.

So, with these two sets, a pattern already emerges: 1) both costume sets show how things could've "gone differently" and 2) it does so by reimagining the same characters in a new situation, rather than changing the characters completely. That is to say, my first theory is: *drumroll* there WILL NOT be a corrupted ancient or a redeemed beast in these costumes. Because to have either happen, the character's lives must go so differently that they will become entirely different people. Of course, with only 2 sets, this cight as well be a coincidence. But I also think that keeping the former identities of the beasts a mystery adds to their characters and the fun of analyzing them. Basically, I would rather continue theorizing rather than being handed an answer. Although! Corrupted ancients as a costume concept is a bit more likely (given that it's KIND OF what already happened with both sets), but when i say it won't happen, i mean we won't get "ancient if they became a beast". It will be more akin to the sets we already got, where, you can notice, the ancients don't entirely agrre with their beast half (even Holly)

Mystic Flour better get another legend costume that's NOT a part of a set with Cacao, because, since they're already doing sets, it means all pairs will get one, but Mystic is still in the queue for her COTY costume. Give her like a cute Valentines one like they do for COTY winners in CROB, or a Christmas one since they already missed out on Valentine's. As for the set with Cacao, I don't think there's a universe in which they are together bc obv Mystic's goal is to erase the whole damn world. A swap au like in shadowvani's case wouldn't work either, since you can't easily swap their soul jams like you can with shadowvani, as in mysticao's case, their conflict is not a "two sides of the same coin" or a difference in ideologies; their Resolution and Apathy (Emptiness) are polar opposites that i don't think would necessarily work well in a swap situation. So, what could they do? They could swap aesthetics, for one, but that's boring. But here's something interesting they have in common that wasn't explored in the story: their connection to dragons. Dark Cacao is obvious, but, if you didn't know, her gacha background portrays her facing a dragon (on the left)

Som could both of them, like, fuse with dragons and begin an eternal fight like the black and white dragons that Cacao sealed...? Idk, i think that's a sick idea. So that's one theory that I have.

Goldenspice (i'm STICKING with this name, ok) is hard also, bc similarly to mysticao, i don't think you could twist the story for them to be together and whatnot. It's either one survives, or the other. Except, Goldie doesn't kill Spice in the story, and we don't exactly know her motivation (we do know the writers' one tho lol), but i think for her to kill him is to prove him right about destruction being "the only way". So, why don't we go that route...? Goldie's costume is the timeline where she defeats Spice without awakening, killing him because of anger rather than because of her wish to protect what's dear to her, and becoming a lot more of cruel person afterwards. And Spice's costume is one where he kills Goldie, in which he becomes sorta detached and apathetic, where destruction no longer brings him the same joy because he no longer has the perfect opponent to look forward to. In both instances, they get the other's Soul Jam, but the light of theirs fades and they become ordinary gemstones. How's that for a bad ending...? (I gotta say, it's interesting, but i don't think it's gonna happen even remotely, lol).

[rekino2114]

that crossover post got me thinking

Emma and Stella both walking down the red carpet with you and showing their boyfriend off to the press

Walking down the red carpet with Emma and stella

Pairing:Emma magorobi x male reader x stella hoshinari

A/n:disclaimer: I have absolutely no idea about how the red carpet or celebrity interviews work so this is probably very inaccurate

You were sure you got your suit wet with how much you were sweating, you could barely breathe even if the windows in the limousine you were in were completely open. Safe to say you were nervous as hell

But who wouldn't be? You would be important event that you frankly were too anxious to even remember the name of where hundreds of people would be looking at you and gossiping and taking pictures of you and who knows what they would be thinking about you-

"My dear is everything alright?"

As if to specifically answer your thoughts, stella put down her drink and looked at you with concern

"O-oh y-yeah totally"

".........are you sure about that because you don't look........fine"

"I noticed that too, you know you can tell us anything right darling?"

Emma joined the conversation and put a comforting hand on your shoulder offering you a smile

".......thank you girls, I really appreciate it"

"Don't worry, now tell us what's been troubling you"

"W-well it's kinda simple, I'm going on the red carpet and I'm not a celebrity"

"And?"

"I mean what are people going to think? I'm gonna be there just because I'm dating you, I'm not famous or anything"

"So? The celebrities' significant others are invited too all the time and no one says anything"

"But most of the time aren't they famous as well?"

"I suppose so, but don't worry, darling. I'm sure no one will say anything, and even if they do just don't let them get to you, we're here to support you"

"Besides If they do, they're probably jealous that you have two beautiful, rich, famous, and loving girlfriends, I mean you're practically living every guy's dream"

"Hehe, I guess you're right"

The two girls suddenly approached you and kissed one of your cheeks each

"We're gonna be there for you the entire time, just like always"

"Yeah we're not gonna let anyone talk badly about you"

"....thanks seriously you're the best"

"Don't mention it, it's the least we could do"

Your two girlfriends moved closer to you and helped you calm down until the car stopped

"Oh looks like we've arrived"

You waited for the driver to open the door and exited the car while stella held your hand. When you were fully out, you looked in front of you, and sure enough, the path towards the building was covered in a red carpet surrounded by blockades to stop the many people from stepping on it

Seeing all of these, you blushed and tried to look down only for both of your hands to be grabbed by your girlfriends who gave you a smile as you looked up to them

"Just relax y/n, ignore all the people and focus on us if it makes you feel more comfortable"

"Right, remember we've always got your back"

You smiled back at the two actresses and took a deep breath as you started walking with them

While you were walking down, emma and stella stopped to sign autographs, take pictures, and answer questions. You really appreciated how nice they were to their fans but you always knew they were like this.

You started to relax more as none of the people seemed to pay any particular attention to you, that was until a group of journalists approached you

"Ms magorobi, Ms hoshinari, the fans want to know, is it true that both of you are dating this man?"

You got surprised and blushed even more as emma started answering

"It's true he's y/n, our lovely wonderful boyfriend, we're sharing him"

You felt her squeeze your hand tighter as she said that

"And how is your relationship? Is there any jealousy between you two"

This time stella answered

"Our relationship is absolutely wonderful. Of course, there is the occasional jealousy, but we mostly all hang out together and y/n loves us both equally so there's no issues"

"We are so glad to have him in our life"

Hearing their sweet words made you blush more but smile as well

"And how did you meet?"

"Oh how about our darling answers this one"

"Great idea, come on y/n"

You raised your head and looked towards the reporter, and started mumbling

"W-well we....huh...we go to the same school actually and w-we-"

"Sorry but we have no more time for questions"

"H-huh? O-ok"

Emma and stella brought you closer to them while glaring softly at the reporter

"How rude, he immediately stopped as soon as you answered, it's like they don't even care about you"

"....y-yeah but don't worry I don't mind as long as I have you two"

Stella ran her hand through your hair and gave you a kiss as all of the fans cheered and took pictures

"That's the spirit dear, let's go now we're almost finished"

Before you could move on you felt emma grab your other hand

"Wait a minute stella, you're not gonna be the only one on the news tomorrow"

As she says that she kissed you too as even more fans went wild behind you

When she broke the kiss she giggled and held your hand as stella did the same

"OK so now we that we had our daily dose of y/n let's go, it's getting warm outside anyway"

"I swear though if they don't have our reserved seats next to each other I will complain"

"Let's just go"

"Of course my love"

They both kissed your cheek again as you entered the building while your girlfriends waved at their many fans

[mudandmire]

OOhh I love these questions!! (lmao, I see you Wigs)

Long Story- I have to go waaaay back. I think at first I was drawn to how out of the blue it was. Azris popped up on my feed once and I laughed and said, "surely not!" And then dug deeper into it because, from where I stood, these two had nothing to do with each other. And then. Oh, and then. I went deep. Reddit posts, Tumblr metas, fanart (chefs kiss), and I slowly donned my tinfoil hat with the biggest grin. Because these characters, though they intrigued me separately, consumed me together. And then I started reading fics. And oh. Oh Man, I was Completely Lost. The talent, the craft, the dynamic that came alive with these creators, and I had So Much Fun experiencing the dynamic that they inspired me to get back into writing. 

Honestly, I don't really know if I have a consistent theme that I explore in my fics?? I do love my motifs and imagery, but none of them are the same in each fic so I think in general I explore different motifs when I write Azris.

I think by far my favorite fic I've ever written for Azris, maybe my favorite thing I've written ever, is 'In This House'. The premise was way out of my comfort zone, and something I'd never done before, but man, seeing that fic come together and mold out of its original concept idea was addictive. Watching each layer of narrative peel away until I was left with the heart of it, what it was telling me to focus writing on. Damn. Seriously proud of that one.

Bold of you to assume I'm organized enough to have a routine. Yeah, no, sometimes I get ideas and most of the time I write down the bare bones of it. Like a paragraph of concept. But I think most of it comes down to rumination. Most of the construction work is done in my head just thinking through the story I want to tell, and then looking to the left, seeing what kind of avenues are available that I'm not looking at properly. dunno if that makes any sense, but finding the right vibe for the tone helps, so usually I'll also pair that with a specific song or sound that inspires in me a particular emotion. Like, for 'In This House' I literally just happened upon a song called 'In This House' in the early stages that had the right haunting, loving tone I was going for.

I'm terrible at headcanons, so uh, here goes nothing. For Eris I suppose I like the idea that he enjoys long baths in his Secret Gay Cabin and also has a little journal full of sketches of flora he finds in the woods. For Azriel, I guess I've always imagined he has the most abysmal handwriting, not because of the scarring, but because he simply does not care enough to put That Much effort into writing reports. And for Azris, goodness, I don't know what constitutes as a head canon lmao, but I love the idea that Azriel is the only one who can see through Eris's pompous language into the truth of what he's saying. I like the idea that when they're together, Eris can be snarky like always, but sometimes he could just say "I'm tired" instead of avoiding it, and Azriel will accommodate. ALSO same goes for Azriel, Eris gives him room in every space, every conversation, to say more than he thinks he needs to. (maybe that's how Eris learns Azriel is quite the talker in bed ehe).

No I have not.

Maybe!

I have two things that are going to continue after Azris week and I'm very excited to explore them further. One of them is the therapy au, which is my beloved right now, and I just hope I do right by Azriel and Eris in that situation lol.

uh, not gonna lie, non-fiction short stories, personal essays, fiction short stories, etc. I had the opportunity to read and edit A BUNCH of short stories these past couple of months and learn more about what makes them work, their structure, and all that. Also, other fics and writers!! I love that I read about these two losers falling in love over and over again, and every time I see a new way their connection is described, it's like I discovered them all over again. It just inspires me more! Nature, too, plus music. I like to shake them up in a cocktail maker and see what comes out ehehe.

Been there, baby, everyone has, and you're not alone in that situation. I'd say to being stalled, start something new. That's what I needed, I was so stuck on the idea that this one idea had to be It, had to be Perfect, and yet I've enjoyed myself so much more working on all of these little one-shots just to see the limits of what I can do in them. I'd say to anyone who wants to participate in Azris week but doesn't feel ready or good enough or whatever other lies their brains tell them- DO IT!! Write your thing and Do It. I know that's what everyone says, like 'perfection isn't possible you just have to get the words out' but they're RIGHT so just send out your little thing, your imperfect attempt, but it's Yours, and see what happens!!

Azris Week 2025 Self-Spotlight

Only five more days until the main event! To continue fostering more community between Azris creators, instead of having user-submitted writers or artists answer some questions, creators can interview themselves!

Pretend you can see my jazz hands.

These questions are for ALL Azris creators - writers, mood board creators, artists, you get the idea! At the end of Azris Week, anyone who has filled out the below interview will get added to a master list so that everyone can see your thoughts. Feel free to add your own questions at the bottom, if you think of anything else you’d like to say about your Azris Week creations.

If you aren’t doing anything for Azris Week 2025 but want to participate anyway, go ahead! No one will stop you and you’ll still be included in the master list.

Questions

1. What drew you to Azris?

2. What themes do you explore most often in your fics? Do you have a favorite image or location that you return to again and again?

3. What is your favorite fic/art that you’ve made? Why?

4. What is your writing/drawing/painting setup? Do you have a routine that you follow?

5. Give a favorite headcanon about Azriel and Eris, separately, and Azriel and Eris, together.

6. Have you worn wigs?

7. Will you wear wigs?

8. What upcoming projects are you excited about?

9. Name some influences on your writing or art style - could be fellow writers, poets, singers, nature, etc.

10. What encouragement would you give someone who is just beginning a project? Someone who is stalled on a project? Someone losing steam/interest?

[callalillywrites]

A Civil War of Charades

Written for @steverogersbingo. D2 - Team Cap.

Steve Rogers Masterlist | Steve Rogers Bingo | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 1530

Summary: The Avengers have split into two teams for a game of charades. Team Cap might soon be behind Team Iron Man, but Steve has a trick or two up his sleeve to catch up and possibly win the game. You.

Warnings: established relationship; Steve's sneaky but Reader knows him well enough; good-natured competition

A/N: I know I could've written something that matched canon with the whole team thing, but I thought this idea was far cuter and way more fun time write.

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

****

Whoever decided playing charades was a good idea didn't account for how competitive a group of superheroes could get.

The two teams, Team Cap and Team Iron Man, proved formidable opponents of each other.

"You're not going to win this, Cap. Give up now," Tony shouted above the others.

Steve simply shook his head. "Never gonna happen. We can do this all night if necessary."

"You're down over thirty points," Rhodey pointed out. "Even a lightning round won't save you."

"He's right, old man. You and your team are toast at this point."

"We'll see," Steve said, not nearly as daunted at their lower score as everyone else thought he should be. After all, he had a plan. He just needed Tony to step into his trap, and his plan would unfold just as he knew it would.

"You're dreaming, Capsicle. Absolutely dreaming."

Steve had bite his lip to keep his face from splitting into a wide grin. It would only give away his plan, and he'd be damned if he'd give that away, especially as he heard, "And that's twenty points from Team Iron Man. Name-calling is out of bounds, Stark, and you know it."

"This is a stupid rule," Tony groused even as he watched you wiped the points from his team. "It's not my fault that these names come to me. Or that they fit others so well."

"It's also poor sportsmanship, and you know it," you countered. "Remember what happened last time? Do we really need another emergency response from maintenance because you can't learn to play nice with others?"

"Who says I'm not playing nice?"

You merely arch your brow at Tony before letting your gaze drift over to Steve.

Steve couldn't help letting a small smile slid across his lips as he met your gaze. You were just too cute and sweet for your own good sometimes, even if you were the baddest of them all with your powers. How he ever managed to catch your eye, he'd never know, but he never failed to be thankful for it.

"I call foul," Tony raged, his finger coming up to point between Steve and you. "This is favoritism right here, and I won't stand for it."

Steve almost wished your gaze didn't leave him to return to Tony, having basked in it. He'd never get enough. He was sure of it.

"That's fair," you said after a moment. "I have a proposition for you both then. I'll give your points back, Tony, if you'll let me play the lightning round with Steve. Thirty seconds to get as many points as possible. Winner will be called after that. Deal?"

Steve watched as Tony eyed you harder. He could see Tony's mind twisting and turning over every possible outcome of accepting your offer. It was clear that Tony had some doubt that you wouldn't cheat in some way to help Steve win, but Steve knew you better. You'd never use your powers in such a way. Against a bad guy, maybe, but never anyone in the room.

"Tones, you sure we can trust her?" Rhodey asked, eyeing you as well.

"Ah, Rhodes, it hurts my feelings that you don't trust me," you said though you never let your smile fall from your face. "Come on, Stark. Time's up. Lose your points or let me play the final round?"

Tony stared at you a moment longer before he shouted, "Fine, play the lightning round with your boyfriend. Let's see just how good you two truly are. You'll need three-five points to tie and thirty-six to win. Thirty seconds is all you get."

Your smile blossomed into something that nearly stole Steve's breath.

"That's all we'll need," you assured, returning the points to Tony's team.

Tony reset his watch while you grabbed up a prompt slip from the hat the two teams had been using. You quickly read whatever words had been printed before neatly folding it and setting it aside. Meeting Steve's gaze, you said, "Ready."

Tony's team count down, then shouted, "Go."

Those thirty seconds proved the longest and shortest of the evening as Steve quickly and accurately guessed each of your efforts. One right after another, you seamlessly moved from one idea to the next with him keeping pace right alongside you. The way he could read each one would've astounded anyone who hadn't witnessed how well you two worked together. It's the reason you two typically went on missions together and performed them so flawlessly.

Steve could make out the points on his team creeping higher and higher. They were sure to catch up to Tony's team without any issues. He could almost taste victory, making the comeback he knew he would with your help.

His team cheered when you two tied the game.

"Two seconds," Tony shouted in warning.

A spark came into your eye at hearing that, moving into your next clue for him.

He called out everything he could think to match the movements you made. His brain couldn't quite compute what it was that you were doing with your hands. It was so unlike him not to be able to read what you were doing.

"And time," Tony and his team shouted.

Steve groaned.

He'd been so close to victory, too.

Both teams cheered and groaned at not being able to proclaim themselves the victor.

At least for a minute, they did.

After that, everyone worked together to clean up the common room and get it back to the way it's supposed to look.

"Good game, my love," you said, coming up to Steve's side. "Maybe you'll beat him next time."

"Yeah, maybe," he agreed, his arm wrapping around you and tugging you close. "Thank you for helping us out back there. Don't know what we'd do without you."

He should've known by the way your smile shifted, but he was still unprepared when you said, "Oh, I'm pretty sure you would've played a bit more fairly without me around."

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" he asked, feigning innocence and failing miserably if your face was anything to go by.

"Don't play the fool, my love. It doesn't become you. I figured out your game early on, and it's why you tied instead of won tonight."

Steve's brows pinched until it hit him. "You made us tie on purpose."

"I did."

You didn't sound the least bit repentant, either.

"You forget that I know you, Steven, and I know when you're up to no good. You made Tony call you those names, knowing I'd step in and dock him points. You were banking on it."

"But, I—"

You held your hand up, stopping him from trying to talk his way out of trouble.

"He's your friend and teammate, my love, even if he tries you every now and then. You both have your faults, but I love you and I like him. I won't play favorites, and you know it. This way, you're both back to being even. No more need to one-up one another."

Steve knew you had a point and did his best to look as contrite as he could. If he could pull off his kicked puppy face, he knew you'd forgive him that much faster, but then, you could also…

"Put that face away, my love. It's not going to work tonight."

"What'd the punk do this time?" Bucky asked, coming up to finish clearing up the cups and cans from the area where you and Steve worked. "He only looks like that when he's trying to get out of trouble."

"Not everybody needs to know that, jerk," Steve groused, earning him a gruff chuckle from Bucky and a sweet smile from you.

"Everybody already knows, my love. It's one of your tells."

"It is?"

You nodded. "It's a cute tell though, but you can put it away. You were forgiven right after I figured out your little ploy."

"So, punk here was trying to cheat, huh?"

A proud gleam entered Bucky's eye at the idea of that.

"Don't encourage him. Go and help your lady love, soldier, and leave your friend to me."

Bucky disappeared then, happy to take the hint you'd given him.

When he was out of earshot, you murmured, "I'm sorry I couldn't let Team Cap win tonight, but maybe I can make it up to the team's captain a little bit later. What do you say?"

Steve caught your coy smile and felt himself grinning in anticipation.

"Not sure that's going to fully teach me a lesson, sweetheart."

You glanced over your shoulder as you moved a bit away from him, heading towards the kitchen with the bag you'd finished filling. "Guess you'll have to find out what I have planned then, won't you?"

Well, you didn't need to tell him twice to get a move on then.

The common room was cleaned in record time, giving him the opportunity to sweep you up and toss you over his shoulder. Your laughter could be heard all the way back to your shared quarters, causing the others to simply shake their heads even as they hid their happiness for their Cap and you.

[lennyfromvinci]

i'm not following the rules but i'm curious about your take on this. so this idea has been plaguing me for the better part of two weeks. thought of it before bed & (like an idiot) didn't write it down so all i remember is:

• robby & samira have the worst best sex of their lives, set maybe three-four months post-pittfest & samira's grabbing her clothes when she realizes:

• there's a ring on robby's nightstand. and a tan line on his finger.

• and a picture frame, face down

(who does the ring belong to? god knows. maybe i would if i'd written it down when the thought hit me. we can make up a delusion together)

First of all: I’m insanely into this, would read any iteration!!!

Second of all: it’s Robby’s ring (duh), because he and Jack have been doing this cyclical — and frankly exhausting — relationship thing for nigh on a decade, and at some point after covid and Heather they got married and were actually happy for a little while there. But because Robby saying Marry me to plug the hole in a sinking ship (his own, they really were doing okay for once) makes a terrible foundation, it inevitably falls apart again, at least until pittfest when they’re like oh maybe…. we should…. not give up on us.

Which explains the tan line and the picture, because it works for a long enough but also not long enough at all: Robby won’t go to therapy, Jack talks about therapy too fucking much, having a husband on the dl at work is killing them both, it’s too easy to fall into the same old fights instead of having hard conversations, etc etc etc. So now Robby’s fresh off his second let’s just fucking call it conversation and making actively bad decisions and HOW ARE YOU GONNA GET THEM OUT OF THIS MESS, INDOLICS??????

[amoreuxi]

Do you have tips for girls who have never done the "it girl" glow up but want to get started?

I don't know where to start, I've never exercised or even played sports, I don't know how to cook properly, and I'm too poor to buy makeup and clothes. Is there hope for me? (sorry for sounding too depressing)

hi, hopeful one!

there is definitely hope for you, since i myself was in your exact shoes until a couple of years ago

i always tell everyone who knows me, "if i could do it so can you", exactly because i was the most sedentary and lazy person ever, horrible eating habits, nightmarish views about health in general. and poor to boot!

i'll give you some general tips, but if you want more insightful or specific tips, just ask me and i can go deeper into any of them!

AMOREUXI'S GENERAL GLOW UP TIPS ✿

don't associate your glow up to having money. i know it always sounds hateful when someone who has money says "you don't need money" but i'm speaking from experience. expensive doesn't mean high quality anyway, not anymore at least, so you'll have to unlearn to make this association and start exercising a good eye for what is really quality, what is really needed, and exercising keeping your desires in check

start slow and small, and experiment a lot. if you've never exercised before, start with dancing and stretching and going for walks around the block, or the neighbourhood, if you can. just take an hour or two every other day that will be exclusively dedicated to moving around. if you create the habit of allocating time and energy to moving your body before you start to really get down to exercising and experimenting with different workouts, it'll be a lot easier to keep at it

forget the idea of motivation being the fuel behind consistency and discipline, and forget the idea that once you get started you'll get addicted to it. i have been working out in very consistent terms for almost 5 years now and most days i still have to fight inside my mind to get up and get to it. and i do actually enjoy it a lot, which is not the case for everyone, some people just don't like doing it and that's normal and fine. still, it's necessary, so we gotta do it regardless of our mood for the day

as for cooking, demystify the kitchen first and foremost. get to youtubing and learn the absolute basics before you even turn on the stove. watch professionals teaching things like how to hold a knife, how to choose produce, how to store them, how to select spices, which pan and pot does what. be humble yet shameless about it, and be curious

when you're less scared of the kitchen, learn how to make 3 meals, or 2 meals and 1 snack. if your favourites feel to hard to make (for instance, you like sushi), try to learn how to make the base of your favs (for sushi, that would be a nice rice bowl). practice these until they are just the way you like it, then move on to adding another recipe to your arsenal. food needs practice and even when you're experienced you're gonna need time before a new recipe gets good. be humble and curious

my personal advice: quit all ultra-processed food, and lower your meat and sugar consumption. this step alone will make you gain a lot of health points

if you want to go down the makeup route, practice it when you're staying home, and don't cake yourself up. learning how to draw an eyebrow and blend your blush are way more important than covering and covering and covering, trust me

these are all for now, but like i said, if you want more insights, just ask me ♡

[johnnyshrine]

★ 127 // “Chao”