#something along the lines of 'i have a game but how about sunday instead'

[luvyunjinxo]

Can I request for g!p Sakura?

just friends? || g1p!sakura x fem!reader 🤍

CW: public sex, g!p sakura, both receiving, degradation & not proofread.

A lot was going on for the past few weeks, it's been hectic. having to go to work, having a talking stage with your best friend sakura, and dealing with paper work. you were obviously stressed to the brim but you had her.

you were off on sunday so you asked the girls if they wanted to hang out all together. and gladly, you all did. hung out, had fun, went everywhere around Seoul. you and sakura were flirting every now and then her saying, "look at those cute couples, that could be us soon" as she winks at you and points at those couples making out in the corner. you were so flustered by her words, always. but always knew how to bite back.

you guys went shopping and asked her which ones would fit you better and she pointed to this specific pair of jeans that she thought would suit you perfectly.

"lets go to the dressing room for you to try it on!" you were so scared of the thought of going into the dressing room together but you were up for it.

"sakura promise not to look when I take off my pants?"

"no promises baby." and smirked while she turned around facing the wall so she wouldn't see you .. or not .... little did you know she was looking the whole time and yet you didn't notice once.

"sakura can you help m-" you turned to her and FINALLY, you noticed she was looking. you playfully slapped her and kept whining about it. she just chuckled and said "relax y/nnie! now, what did you need?" the laughter stopped.

"I was j-just gonna ask you if you can help me with my zipper.." you looked down to show what you needed help with. your fly being down along with your button being undone.

she moved closer to you, the tension being so high. she looked straight at you with both of your eyes locking with each others. you guys never lost the eye contact for even one second. she zipped up your zipper slowly and buttoned your button, never losing the eye contact still. fuck, that was the hottest thing you've ever experienced. you were such a loser when it came to locking eyes.

"I-I .." all you could stutter out. She chuckled and tickled the bottom of your chin "your funny y/n, lets go check out now!" even when you guys were at the check out line you could not believe what had just happened.

the time was now 4:43 PM, all the other girls decided to go back home while you and sakura just kept hanging out with each other. you guys drove all the way up to this place that has a great view over the city and over the sunset as well.

by the time you guys got there it was now 6:15 and you just needed to wait till 6:30 and the sun would start setting. you both walked to the trunk of the jeep and set up a little comfy laying area where you could both watch the sunset in.

you guys were now laying there, taking in the view when all of a sudden she said she forgot the snacks in the front ? you have no idea what she said. but while she was getting up she accidentally touched your clothed crotch and said "oops!" and smirked.

two can play that game. when she got the snacks and came back to lay down, she had a bag of hot cheetos in between her lap. This was your chance to fight back.

"oops so sorry!" you said as you accidentally cupped her dick instead of grabbing a cheeto from the bag. you both were now serious about this. but .. you guys forgot about it for a FEW minutes and moved to the edge of the trunk so you could see the sunset closer. instead of sitting next to each other you decided to sit on her lap which caught her off guard but she liked it.

she just hugged you from behind while you sat on her and you both watched the sun go down slowly. you started to grind against her bulge subtly and tried to do it innocently. you could feel her getting hard by every second but then finally said something about it.

"your not slick y/n I know what you're trying to do. if you wanna fuck me then just say it." she took you off of her lap and pulled down her pants motioning for you to start sucking.

"this cock isn't gonna suck itself is it? hurry up slut." she was becoming so rough with you it was a whole other level of degradation. you were hesitant but started to start sucking on the tip, going lower and lower each time. she scoffed and pushed you down fully making you gag on her.

"get up." she pulled down your new pants that you had just bought a few hours ago and starts to collect your slit with her cock and starts adjusting into you. she starts off slowly and continues to fasten her pace each time. She then thrusted into this certain spot once and it felt so fucking good you could cry.

"shit sakura!~" she thrusted in that same spot once more,

"oh yeah? does that feel good?" she groaned in a low voice and kept abusing that spot, you were gonna cum.

"m-mommy im gonna- fuck! no .. im coming!" you screamed at the top of your lungs and released onto her, and not to long after she came into you too. the liquids were drooling right down your thighs and you honestly weren't complaining. you guys collapsed onto the laying area you guys made and started to look at the stars.

"I know this is the wrong timing y/n .. but will you be my girlfriend?" you gladly accepted and you guys fell asleep under the stars. luckily sakura woke up and drove both of you back home<3.

[thecoffeelorian]

Dumbstruck (The Swedes x Reader)

Title:  Dumbstruck Fandom:  The Umbrella Academy Characters:  Axel, Otto, and Oscar/“The IKEA Mafia” Word Count:  2.5 k Brief Description:  It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, and you have just witnessed a crime. Pairings:  Axel x Reader; Otto x Reader; and Oscar x Reader in that order. Disclaimer:  As this little tale is purely for fun and games and shouldn’t be taken seriously…whatever you do, NEVER try to flirt with an assassin in real life, please.  Protect yourself instead. Special Notes:  Please refer to Google Translate to get the Swedish lines in this little tale translated to English, as I kinda want them to be as big a mystery as the MC (Main Character) views them, as they don’t speak a word of this language.  Yet. No Pressure Tags: @snippychicke @gggoldfinch @flyiingsly @talia-the-gemini @stephsageek and anybody else who might like more Swedes x Reader tales.

Normally, you wouldn’t be in this part of the apartment block.  Not when you’re either coming home from work, your favorite shows are on, or you have the irresistible need to go to the movies.  As fate would have it, though, it’s laundry day and you’ve got to get a few ketchup stains out of your favorite shirt by any means necessary.

This puts you right inside the laundry room at 9 AM on a Saturday morning, your body pointed somewhat towards the western window just as the sun’s rays are beginning to shine in.

This, unfortunately, is also the same time in which you hear the gunshots.  

Gunshots coming from inside the first room down the hall.

And, wouldn’t you know it…you are neither armed, dangerous, nor able to find the nearest exit without somebody seeing you.

This is how you find yourself scrambling to squeeze yourself under the laundry room sink, your only true way of concealment being the divider wall behind you.

Unfortunately, you also have the stupidity to knock over a stack of spare laundry baskets as you do so…and, naturally, all six of them go clattering to the floor in different directions, making enough noise to have you cursing yourself for not remembering to avoid them in your rush to hide.

Or, as the slow, rhythmic sound of approaching footsteps suggests about a few minutes too late…perhaps you should have waited until Sunday.

AXEL

You see the youngest of these three assassins before he sees you, a silent figure dressed almost entirely in white who eyes the fallen laundry baskets with little more than slight curiosity, as no doubt he believes the person who knocked them over must have run away by now.

God, do you wish you already had.

And yet.

One moment later, your eyes finally meet and he’s lunging forward with nothing less than murder on his mind, his rifle drawn and aimed straight for your head with the full intention of making you his next person to take out of this world—only in an instant, there’s a sudden flash of blue and white, and then a second man is holding him back.

“Nej, Oscar.”

This assassin looks either somewhat bored with the situation, or else suspicious with you and you alone—it’s difficult for you to discern anything over the sounds of protest the first one makes, he’s certainly being loud enough—and yet, as he’s got him under control regardless, you almost swear that he takes a single second to smile down at you.

“Vi är klara här.  Gå till nästa korridor och vänta på oss där.”

Why, though…?

Specifically, why on earth would someone who could be two minutes away from killing you suddenly look down at you like the way he did?

There’s still one more of these assassins to worry about, unfortunately, so you can’t exactly think this one over for very long.  The third comes along like a shadow behind the other two, a menacing scar over one eye and an even more unnerving look in his stare.

In fact, this one’s eyeing you with something closer to the glance of a predator than a person, and for the briefest of moments, you wonder if he might, indeed, feed upon your corpse in the exact same way.

You definitely wouldn’t put anything past him now, especially not so late into this little standoff.

That’s when the man in blue intervenes a second time, this time with a mere snap of his fingers, and once again your life is spared.  All three of them are moving far away from you now, a promising sign for someone so close to their own execution, and the one called Oscar is also the first to be pushed into the next hallway over.

Believing yourself to be officially out of harm’s way, you let out the small breath you were holding, preparing to see these three strangers leave whatever way they came in and so enjoy your peace.

However.

It’s not until the one with the scar goes into the hallway that the first man’s eyes are upon you once more, and with it, your pulse begins to race all over again. He’s clearly not quite done with you yet…a fact made all too real to you as soon as he draws a few steps closer.

“To…morrow.  Be ready.”

He manages this one sentence of English with the most insistent stare you’ve ever seen from anybody, one that might have almost melted you if it had the same amount of power as an explosive or a bolt of lightning—and yet, regardless of whatever horror you’re still feeling or how quickly this stranger vanishes into thin air, you’re not too slow to grasp his meaning.

Not only might you be able to count on meeting this assassin again within the next 24 hours, but there’s a chance he just might come alone.

He's certainly spared your life as well, and not just once, but two times over.

And where there’s your first surprise visitor, there also comes the need to look your absolute best for him…so, now that you’re by yourself once more and the sound of the police sirens are drawing closer, you don’t hesitate to come out of hiding, almost robotically combing your own hair with your fingers as you begin your preparations.

After all, whatever your tall blond stranger brings with him tomorrow, he will never see you as a walking mess.

OTTO

At first, you don’t see anyone creeping around the corner, and instead hear the slow clomp-clomping of heavy boots.  For a moment, you delude yourself into thinking that the day janitor has arrived, and that he’ll soon call the cops once he sees the crime scene.  Maybe you’ll even have the opportunity to find some restored sense of safety once you find each other, if not also a strong crack at identifying the culprits.

Then…you just happen to catch sight of the stranger’s face, and once he also gets a good look at you, that’s when your blood runs cold.

“Det.”

Not only does this stranger’s demeanor spell out the word Killer in bold, six-foot tall letters, but he’s also got the scar over one eye to prove it…and right now, both of those ice-blue eyes are fixed solely upon you, unblinking and waiting to see your next move.

“O-Okay, mister, wait a second…”

Every limb of your body feels like they’re trembling at this point, which is surely not the best look you’d ever want to demonstrate to the one person that can and will destroy you without a second thought.

“…Let’s talk this over, huh?  You want some money?  A little cold, hard cash?  Well, I can get my wallet out right now, you can take as much as you need, and then—”

“—Shhhhh.”

Nevertheless, once you start in on what you hope sounds like a worthwhile negotiation for compromise…that’s when the stranger silences you with a finger upon his lips, a quick glance to the right indicating the sounds of the others drawing near.  You don’t know how many others there might be, unfortunately, or whether or not they’re armed.  That information remains hidden by the walls that currently separate you.

“Stay.”

And yet, whatever the most sinister-looking one among them might or might not be thinking about you, never mind what to do with you or not—well, he’s certainly not considering the idea of killing you and so removing a clear witness.

“You…you will tell nobody.”

In fact, even if you didn’t know any better and this is nothing but one big move to cover his tracks—you, of course, secretly pray that it isn’t—you never think twice about accepting this man’s directions.

“I will tell n-nobody,” you hear yourself agree, your voice going up one octave out of sheer terror.  “Scout’s honor, man!”

It’s here that you surprise the stranger as well as yourself, offering him your right hand as some kind of peace offering and hoping he’s not about to cut it off.   As awkward, scary, or however else this first meeting feels to you…you still kinda need that hand, no exceptions allowed.

Lucky for you, this one knows a deal when he sees it.

“Tack.”

You can only assume that means ‘Thank you’ as his palm slaps against yours, followed close behind by the tightest handshake you’ve received in your life.

“S-Sure, buddy!  You, too!”

You manage to squeak out this final sentence before he makes his exit, one small glance back at you and a somewhat aching hand the only things he leaves behind.  Maybe you’ll have to put some ice on it just to be safe, even though you’re a little bit sure that he hasn’t quite injured you.

Not yet.

Once some weird flash of light emits from the hallway and you begin to hear sirens going off in the distance, however…?   Well, your roiling stomach doesn’t exactly let you break out into a happy dance over not being offed as well.  No, celebrations or sighs of sweet relief are the very last thing on your mind, especially since you’re still a bit too close to wetting yourself out of sheer terror.

However.

Once you’ve hoofed it to the nearest restroom and made doubly sure you’re not about to lose your lunch, that’s when you begin to realize something important.

This assassin, rather than take you out so that there would be no witnesses to his crime, decided to spare your life.

For whatever reason he might have chosen to do this—be it for some twisted sense of honor, workplace professionalism, or hell, even basic human affection—that’s when you start wondering about whether or not you’ll ever have to spare his life as repayment.

And third…as crazy as all of this will probably look to you by this time tomorrow, you’re secretly very, very grateful for all of it.

OSCAR

In the course of your life, not once would you have ever expected to be fighting an assassin who posed as the driver of a milk delivery truck.

All this changes, however, as soon as that sort of opponent comes right at you with a loaded rifle, giving you mere seconds to decide whether to run for it and risk getting shot in the back, or else stand and fight and then risk getting shot in the head instead.

Without thinking, you choose the fighting option, and let the only ‘weapon’ currently available to you—a half-full bottle of laundry detergent—fly straight at his face, hoping that whatever time you have left on this planet includes hitting your target.

Strangely, whatever gods are watching over you right now seem to regard you with some kind of favor, because lo and behold, that detergent bottle introduces itself to your attacker with a mighty SMACK.

And not only that, but the rifle he just happens to be holding drops out of his hands exactly two seconds after impact…which, when it doesn’t go off upon hitting the ground, leaves you with a very, VERY, golden opportunity to gain a much more powerful weapon.

A weapon that, as soon as he’s grabbing the most painful part of his head and so becomes momentarily distracted, you don’t think twice about taking custody of.

“HA!”

And as soon as you’re properly armed and dangerous, that’s exactly when things get interesting.

“Not so brave without your nasty toys, huh?!”

He’s slowed down a little thanks to the unexpected knock to the head, yet the daze wears off just the same, leaving him with a fresh scowl and you with a fresh run of the good old adrenaline.

“You…you give back.”

A scowl so strong, maybe, that he might not exactly think twice before wrestling that rifle out of your own hands this next time.

Unfortunately, as this one’s about to learn, you’re not quite done with getting the upper hand today.

“No way, Mister Milk Truck.  I think I’m gonna hang onto this as some accident insurance, which oh by the way, reminds me…”

Specifically, as the sirens in the background are sounding and any associates of his will be following him to you any second now, well…you’ve obviously got to think fast.

“…Not only did somebody just call the cops on you, but I’m also one step away from taking you out myself…so listen carefully.”

You’re feeling crazy enough by now to jerk the barrel of your new gun a few inches closer to his face, and to your greater amusement, he’s jumping backward out of nothing less than pure fear.

Fear of you, for once, and not the other way around.

“You get the fuck out of here right now and don’t make any trouble for me, I’ll think about tracking you down and returning this.  However, if not…”

Still, as it’s your own life on the line here, never mind your survival pitted against his, you definitely have zero problems mimicking the sound of a gunshot to drive your message home.

“…Sound good?”

And lucky for this half crazed platinum blond stranger, you don’t have to explain it to him twice.  No, he’s out of there like a spooked rabbit, most likely to get ten steps ahead of local law enforcement, while you’re left staring at the detergent bottle on the floor, its contents now leaving a small puddle around it due to having broken open upon hitting the ground.

Ah, shit…clean-up on Aisle 6!

Well, perhaps cleaning up that mess will help endear you to whatever officers end up coming through that door, as well as softening them up ahead of time so that they don’t keep you too busy answering questions.  You’ve rarely been that brave enough to pick fights with more than one person at a time, so considering they might already be primed to deal with a few “violent offenders”, you’re certainly not about to take your chances with them.

And while you’re on the subject, it’ll be a really smart idea for you to first deal with the obvious.

Number one, you’ve got a piece of crime scene evidence to secret away before anyone else sees you with it.

Number two, you’re best served hiding this thing under that gap beneath your loosest floorboards, or at least until you can get it to a more secure location.

And number three…if nothing terrible happens to you in the next 24 hours and you make it to your next sunrise, you just might have a mystery man to track down as soon as possible.

[steviesbicrisis]

MORE STEDDIE EUROVISION BRAINROT LETS GOOOOO (part 2 of this if you will)

Eurovision is chaotic, a million things are happening at the same time, everything is all over the place until you get on stage and do your part. Even so, Eddie finds plenty of time to recall all the moments in which he talked About Stef- Steve when he was around, thinking he wouldn't understand any of it.

After the Turquoise Carpet, Eddie can't look him in the eye anymore, his strong desire to get to know Steve more even through the "language barrier" has been overcome by the embarrassment of his situation.

For better or worse, Corroded Coffin is assigned to perform in the second Semifinal, while Italy (being one of the Big5) is presented during the first but will go straight to the Final, meaning that Eddie only has a chance to see him again if they qualify.

Except that Steve, by giving a little tease to the press of what had been going on between them in the past few weeks, had lightened up a fire hard to extinguish. Even if Eddie hadn't managed to see him after the carpet, he and the rest of the band are asked about him constantly by the press, social media content creators, fans, and even by a few contestants.

In a span of a couple of days, his band got, completely by accident, into a competition for Stefano's heart and Eddie is the least willing participant.

The night of the Second Semifinal arrives and Eddie hasn't really seen Steve in four days, not that he's counting. Maybe seeing Steve before his semifinal would've helped with his nerves, an ideal scenario would include Steve confessing that he actually didn't know English until he met Eddie and he used Duolingo to become fluent just to talk to him (which would mean that Steve is the actual linguistic prodigy but he wouldn't really complain).

For a long second, Eddie thinks that his daydreaming skills must've reached new levels as he imagines Steve walking into the green room, where all the contestants hang how as they wait to perform. Then, with horror, he realizes that there has been no improvement in said skills and that Steve is actually there, walking towards their couch with an Australian flag on his shoulders.

"Hey guys! Thank you for inviting me!" Steve says as he reaches their spot.

"Thank you for coming, I'm sure you're super busy as we all are" Jeff replies, revealing himself as the culprit (aka the one guilty of betraying Eddie by inviting his crush behind his back).

"Oh yeah, these days have been crazy! But I always have time for my favorite contestants" he winks at the group, before sitting in the small space between Eddie and Jeff.

Steve turns around to face Eddie and says “ciao” lower than his previous tone, as if Eddie is the only one meant to hear.

“C-ciao” Eddie replies, still stunned by Steve’s presence.

Steve seems to have the time of his life teasing Eddie “mi sei mancato.”

This one takes a little longer for Eddie to understand. He knows he said something along the lines of “I missed you” but it takes him a couple of seconds more to understand that Steve is talking about the messages and the gifts he stopped sending to his changing room since Sunday.

Eddie could give him a million excuses, come clean about his embarrassment, ask him out on a date on the spot, or even play dummy and change the subject quickly.

Instead, he mutters one of the phrases he remembers learning in the past few days “mi dispiaci.”

His Italian must’ve been better than he thought, judging by the big smile forming on Steve’s face.

“It’s okay” Steve pats his hand on Eddie’s knee and squeezes it for half a second, still smiling at him as if they’ve been sharing a big fat secret just between them. Maybe they have.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. They keep on playing their game of “who’s Stefano crushing on?” By sitting together in compromising positions (still keeping it family friendly of course) every time the Australian booth is in the frame during the performance breaks, and each time with a different member of the band.

By the time Australia has to perform, the internet is already filled with screenshots of each moment and it’s captioned with “What is going on between Italy and Australia?” Or ��Oh to be Italy with 4 beautiful Australian boyfriends”.

When it’s time for them to go on stage, Steve whispers a “buona fortuna” to Eddie’s ear and quickly exits the green room.

Corroded Coffin does an amazing performance, Eddie feels giddy and full of energy after spending the whole night with Steve sitting by his side.

If the performing part passed in a blur, the wait for the votes is painfully slow. With no beautiful Italian Greek-sculptured god sitting by his side, Eddie is left to his bad habit of overthinking: “We should’ve done that in a different way” “What if it sucked for the people watching at home?” “If we don’t pass, we won’t be with Steve for the final”.

But alas, he’s put out of his misery by the hosts announcing Australia as one of the finalists. The band and their team jump off of their seat, waving the Australian flag to the camera that is showing their celebrations for the people at home.

Eddie is too caught up in the moment to notice Steve approaching them as the announcements keep going.

He feels someone tapping on his shoulder and he barely has time to turn around before he feels Steve’s lips pressed on his.

It’s a quick peck on the lips but it leaves him stunned nonetheless.

Steve smiles at him mischievously as he says “ci vediamo in finale.”

And he’s off as quick as he came, leaving Eddie to process what just happened.

What a night to remember.

[shihalyfie]

I think it's time to the fanbase stop misremembering 02 as some sort of "very light and funsies" series and start talking about how there were some mild fricked up horror things in it.

Like, body horror always existed in 02. Not on Ghost Game levels, but it was there too.

And psychological horror was also present in both Adv'99 and 02. Again, mild compared to Ghost Game, but yeah.

This being in light of 02TB having quite a lot of psychological horror (which now I think enough people have seen that we can have proper discussion about it instead of relying purely on the hearsay of rumors that often tended to up-play or exaggerate how bad it got in the movie), I definitely agree that the movie was intense about it in a way that you wouldn't expect on the Sunday morning kids' TV show slot, but nevertheless, I definitely have seen people act like a discussion of child abuse or a portrayal of psychological/body horror is Not My Digimon or something. 02's always been about psychology, family and interpersonal drama, and stuff along that lines, so at worst it's just the usual taken to another level. And as you said, Ghost Game exists, on the exact same time slot the original series had at that, and I personally still think much of the body horror in that series was far more extreme than the 5 minutes of what we got in 02TB.

Of course, I don't agree with up-playing anything Digimon with how dark and disturbing and edgy it can get because I dislike that kind of edginess syndrome that only cares about how many people are suffering in a given series. (But of course, I know you know that too, I'm saying that for anyone else reading that post.) But it's also insulting to act like the original series only had light, fluffy things where none of this bad stuff ever happened. At best, you can only say it wasn't as intense; the roots were always there.

[chuckwon]

Concept: Jack Kline was turned into an Ostium

And looking at how the Ostium was used in the season finale further underscores what will be needed in the future for the story to move forward, and for Jack and his family to heal.

Let's go through it:

LATA: Our box has a name. They call it the Ostium.

CARLOS: Oh. Latin for "an opening in the body." What, didn't any of you guys ever go to Sunday School? ...So is that thing organic? Is it a mouth or... [chuckles] any other kind of hole?

LATA: Let's just stick with a mouth, please.

ADA: So this box eats monsters?

–SPNWIN 1x07, "Reflections"

–––

ADAM: It's one of my ribs, dude. Everything can contain the spark of the divine, but this puppy? It's packing enough punch to create life. Or, in your case, destroy God.

SERAFINA: Jack, making your vessel strong, reclaiming your human soul, it was... it was all preparing you for this.

JACK: What'll it do to me?

ADAM: Start an elemental chain reaction. It fuses your soul and your grace into a... Like a...

SERAFINA: Metaphysical supernova.

DEAN: Meaning what?

ADAM: You'll collapse into a living black hole for divine energy. One nothing can escape—not the darkness, not God himself. But once it starts... you can't stop it. So, don't use 'til game time. You dig?

–SPN 15x17, "Unity"

–––

Dean: All that prep work we did to turn Jack here into a cosmic bomb? Oh. Well, it turned him into sort of a power vacuum. He's been sucking up bits of power all over the place.

–SPN 15x19, "Inherit the Earth"

–––

"A living black hole for divine energy" / "a power vacuum" is akin to how the Ostium functions. (And remember that Chuck orchestrated this outcome.)

The final step of Jack's transformation in 15x17 and the way the Ostium is activated are also similar:

Adam's rib, containing extra "spark of the divine," was placed in Jack's palm and he absorbed its power. After his initial explosion outward, Jack was then turned into a vessel that acted as a vacuum for divine power.

When an item was placed on the Ostium–like a rock from the Akrida's world–it absorbed the item, which determines what powerful beings the box "eats" and where it sends those beings when activated.

Both Jack and the Ostium were also wielded as weapons.

Which, of course, this show condemns explicitly:

LATA: So you had a friend stuck in a cycle of violence, and instead of helping him, you wielded him like some kind of weapon?

–SPNWIN 1x06, "Art of Dying"

And, with Joan / the Akrida Queen, we saw what happened to a hunter who absorbed monster essence: she became corrupted.

JOAN: What I decided was that the monsters weren't the problem, kid. Mankind is the problem. They always need saving. And Hunters are the ones who end up paying the price with our lives. And then what do these rescued humans do with their precious second chance at life? They waste it… kill each other, beat each other down, destroy our planet. Monsters have it right. Humans are nothing more than food.

LATA: Is that you talking? Or is it the monster essence that's powering you?

MARY: The monster essence drove her mad. She became so obsessed with making sure that Hunters were protected, and she believed the only way to do that was to wipe out everyone who needed saving.

–SPNWIN 1x13, "Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye"

(Joan is also a dark mirror for Dean, but that's a separate meta topic entirely.)

With how Jack is acting in 15x19 and the SPNWIN finale (and as part of Chuck Won as a concept), something seems to be wrong with him along those lines.

So in regards to the Ostium, what was the solution the team used in the season finale? What did they need to defeat the Akrida Queen?

ADA: The Queen is about to sing her swan song. We can't rewind this tape here.

CARLOS: Wait. What if we could rewind the tape? Metaphysically speaking, if you know what I mean.

–SPNWIN 1x13, "Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye"

–––

CARLOS: Well, whatever you feed it creates a portal connected to that object. So we fed it the rock, and it was able to shoot the Akrida back to their world.

MILLIE: So, if we feed it the journal and trace the sigils in reverse, the Ostium can bring here whatever was tied to the journal... the Mystery Man, if he's even alive.

–SPNWIN 1x13, "Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye"

They reversed the polarity of the Ostium to try to summon Dean, which required using the journal–something “personal” and “clearly connected” to him, as Mary said at one point.

Now, of course, the result when they used it on the Ostium was that it gave the team the Impala rather than Dean for plot reasons. However, the point holds: Dean's journal was the key to metaphysically rewinding the tape and getting the Ostium to release / return what it had absorbed.

That journal was filled with Dean's thoughts, which we got throughout the show in the form of the story he's telling / narrating. They're the healing lessons repeatedly demonstrated by the 1972 gang that Dean has to use in his own life to free himself from the trap he's in, break the cycle of violence, and get his own happy ending.

So, follow the through-line:

The Ostium and Jack are seemingly similar. Just like Dean's journal was used to reverse the Ostium and get it to release/return what it absorbed... The lessons inside of Dean's journal are what’s needed to reverse the polarity of Jack’s transformation, getting Jack to release the God power he absorbed too.

And what are those lessons in Dean's journal? Ah, well, that's what The Winchesters (the story Dean is telling) is dedicated to showing and telling us. That's the function of the entire show.

To highlight a few mirroring moments relevant to the topic at hand:

TONY: You're scared of your own son?

ADA: I'm not scared of you. I... you are my son, and I love you.

TONY: If you love me, you would've told me the truth.

[...]

ADA: I... was wrong to lie to you about who you are, and I was even more wrong for not believing in you. I know you're not your father. You're not the worst parts of him. You're not the worst parts of me. You're just... you're my... You're Tony.

–SPNWIN 1x05, "Legend of a Mind"

----

MAC (possessing John): Why did you give up on me?

TRACY: I didn't know how to help you. I was scared.

MAC: I was scared too. I needed my family by my side.

TRACY: I know it's about ten years too late... but I'm here now, and I am so sorry.

LATA: It's not too late, Mac. You can still break the cycle.

–SPNWIN 1x06, "Art of Dying"

–––

MARY: Because I still want to get out of hunting. I really do. But it's not gonna be at your expense.

–SPNWIN 1x06, "Art of Dying"

–––

Mutual honesty, apologies, and forgiveness between Dean and Jack are the vital place where they must start. After all... Jack went through with his transformation and later with the corrupting absorption of God power simply because he was desperately trying to earn Dean's forgiveness, something that was repeatedly emphasized throughout season 15. The cycle remained intact instead of broken, and that's why they lost.

So saying that they need to reverse the polarity... What does that mean? It means that their family needs to have emotional release for there to then be the cosmic release of God power, so that that power can be put back out into the universe and no longer have personhood.

Only then will they break the cycle of violence and be able to be free of Chuck's influence once and for all.

You don't need Jack and Ostium parallels to understand and know this about the story. But I do think it's neat, further enhances the overall themes, and once again supports the fact that a Chuck won plot / what happened to Jack was deliberately being centralized! :)

[mewnia]

Hiya! If TOZ got a remake, what sort of changes would you want to see in it? No pressure to answer, I'm only curious and I want to hear some opinions from the fandom. Have a swell day!

Heya!! Lol sorry for the very late response, I always wanted to respond but was never sure when. But since I'm trying to do Tales-of-Sunday now, why not!

Let's see... If Zestiria got a remake? While I don't think that'll ever happen (because they would need to make an actual remake for games like Symphonia and Abyss first for that to happen) I would like to see changes for sure.

Story-wise, I would want more interactions with Heldalf. I hate the whole introspection into Heldalf's character via the iris gems because it feels so lazy. The artwork is great! But the concept and execution of it is so, so confusing and uninteresting and the fact that the characters have to spell it out for you anyway is annoying. I especially like how in the manga they insinuate that Heldalf is Sorey's biological father, and I feel like if they incorporated that more into the story for the game, it would actually create an even better connection for Sorey to want to do something about him. Personal connection!

Another story thing I find disappointing is that Mikleo isn't used as much as the story likes to suggest. They have the two major situations, like Sorey not wanting to make Mikleo a sub lord, and Mikleo watching Sorey's health when Alisha is involved-- that's solid stuff! Learning about Camlann is also good. But there's a line said in the game that I think EVERY Sormik shipper remembers and hates that it was never used for more than fluff, something along the lines of "water is the easiest to corrupt" or something? Like WHAT you're telling me they didn't do anything with that with MIKLEO? Bro.

Anyway, in terms of actual game elements, obviously the battle camera could use work; the field maps literally do not ~need~ to be as big as they are; and I think the puzzles could be a lot more interesting instead of "press this specific button in these specific areas." Although, I do prefer the puzzles in Zestiria compared to Berseria. But that's a different topic!

Sorry for the long post, but I'm very passionate about Zestiria! I understand where a lot of criticisms come from, but I for sure don't think it's the worst game in history, y'know? It has an amazing and endearing concept -- Berseria came from expanding on it! It just struggles with actually executing it.

[lokinightfury]

More from speak now please!

I've already done a sneak peek for @1lostsoul0fishbowl from both Eddie and Chrissy's POV....

so how about a little Jason preview? (I hate writing as him, but this scene works best from his viewpoint).

July 14th, 1990 The small church has never been quite so packed before. The usual Sunday congregation eclipsed by the sheer number of people here today, packed into the pews like sardines. Ladies are fanning themselves, trying to stave off the already stifling heat of the summer afternoon, and cars are lined around the block, not a space to be found anywhere. Jason looks around with smug satisfaction. Of course they are. This wedding is going to be the event everyone is talking about for years to come. Their classmates are amongst the people crowding into the chapel, spilling across both sides of the aisle. Some are more welcome than others, his basketball teammates back from across the country to support him get warm smiles as they enter. Chrissy’s mismatched group of friends just get a courtesy nod.  The pastor calls the congregation to please take their seats, and with shuffling and the conversations slowly diminishing to nothing more than a soft background hum. Jason turns back to face the altar, waiting for the bridal march to begin. Instead the doors to the chapel crash open once more, late guests making hurried footsteps down the aisle, fierce whispers to move others along, to find their seat. He turns to the source of the commotion. Of course it’s them. The constant thorn in his side, but the one thing he knew he could never push Chrissy on. Soon enough she won’t have time for old friendships, for old friends. Her life will be full of the duties of being a married woman. No time to disappear to gigs with the excuse of it being a new band they just had to see, or spending hours on the phone every week discussing the intricacies of the latest childish game they were planning to play. Once they were married, he could make that push, help Chrissy to see the error of her ways. Her husband had to trump everything else. Even now, he can’t even be bothered to turn up on time to his so-called best friend’s wedding. Who had best friends at their age anyway? Sure, he was closer to some of his friends than others, Andy stood up here next to him as his best man, but ‘best friend’ sounded like something from Middle School. Which was precisely the problem. Eddie Munson had always been a freak.

[pterrorgrine]

in search of a purgatorial bangsian fantasy webfic about interpretation of a certain garfield comic, titled "mondays"

so i've been trying to hunt down an original short story i read on a website a bit ago, but when i post it to reddit's /r/tipofmytongue it gets deleted for being nsfw. i swear i'm not a garfield fucker. oh god. maybe i should just copy my first attempt at a tomt post:

so for context there's this infamous garfield strip wherein jon arbuckle, maybe, drinks a cup of dog jizz. i swear this is relevant.

i read this piece of web original fiction titled "mondays", which was a bangsian fantasy (i.e. set in the afterlife) about the interpretation arguments surrounding this comic. the premise is that people who die go to one of seven afterlives based on which day of the week they died. those who died on a monday go to an extremely large (but finite) field with a grid of towers at regular intervals. there is some kind of oracle or something to provide exposition on what they need to do to escape. everyone in this afterlife must vote on the question of whether or not jon actually drinks dog cum in the comic. there is a correct answer. if everyone unanimously votes correctly, they go on to the next stage of the afterlife, an actual paradise. however, if they vote unanimously but incorrectly, their memories are wiped and they have to start all over again, not remembering what discussions they'd had on the matter or how they voted last time. obviously there is much existential despair, and the story is more about how people react to the situation than the actual question. it's sort of a sociological survey of the different groups of reactions -- the die-hard supporters of each side, the people who despair that they'll never escape, the people who want to ignore the whole thing and just hang out, etc. i think it ends with the narrator coming to the conclusion that the "game" is "fair" but they will never escape anyway because they'll never agree or if they do they'll be wrong.

unfortunately, despite all the details i remember, i'm having trouble finding a google search that actually gets results; everything is swamped in more popular irrelevancies, like mainstream articles about the debate around the comic, or web fiction groups that post on monday, or whatever. i do remember that it wasn't on reddit, and i don't think was on a major site, but instead the author's blog or something. (however, it's possible it was on AO3, but searching there doesn't help either. possibly a tumblr with a custom theme?) i do think i was linked there from reddit, probably /r/curatedtumblr (where i'm at a lot), but it could have been tumblr itself, or anywhere. (metafilter?!?) obviously it was published in the last few years, as the comic arose in prominence as an interpretive debate along the lines of "when ralph wiggum says he's a viking, does that mean…", but that doesn't help turn it up because all the other content about the comic is also from that timeframe.

anyway that's the TOMT post , it got deleted for discussing dog jizz but when i edited it it still got deleted for linking to discussion of dog jizz. so now i've given up on TOMT and am posting it here so i can post it to /r/curatedtumblr on self-post sunday, and accessorarily associate myself with the concept of dog jizz. dammit. i swear i have non-dog-jizz-related reasons for being obsessed with finding this story again but that little detail keeps tripping everything up.

[alizekk]

8 Ways to Think Like an Athlete

By Sheila Monaghan, SELF

Here’s the thing about athletes. They think about their bodies differently than the average gymgoer; they work out, get motivated and define goals — all differently. And their way is highly effective. You don’t need a sponsorship or superior genes to adopt this mindset and achieve the body results you want.

Dream HUGE. You’ve heard of hurdler, wait, bobsledder Lolo Jones, right? She made it to the Olympics but tripped over a hurdle in 2008, failed to medal in track in 2012, then turned up at Sochi on the bobsled team. This is a woman who will change sports in the name of gold. Jocks have pie-in-the-sky ambitions that can’t be crushed. And while you may have no illusions of stepping onto a podium, setting loftier diet and exercise goals can help you succeed. In a New England Journal of Medicine study, people who set out to reach a self-described dream weight lost more pounds than those who aimed for a number they defined as acceptable. The theory? It’s tough to get (and stay) excited about a lackluster achievement. “When the result is modest, it can undermine the optimism and motivation it requires to achieve that result,” says study author Krista Casazza, Ph.D., assistant professor in the Department of Nutrition Sciences at the University of Alabama in Birmingham. What that means for you? Even if you’re just on ramping at CrossFit, make the end game deadlifting twice your weight. Chances are, you’ll actually do it.

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But practice small. Say you’re Tom Brady — we know, you’d rather be Gisele, but play along. Your sights are set on the Super Bowl, but there are more than a few games to win beforehand. While the long-term objective doesn’t go away, you have to move the needle every day. “Pro football players call it chopping stone,” says David Epstein, author of The Sports Gene: Inside the Science of Extraordinary Athletic Performance. “You’re chipping away at something over time with small goals instead of solely thinking about the big win at the end.” For Brady and the New England Patriots, that means beating their Week 1 opponent, then projecting to next Sunday’s game and the following Monday-night matchup. Each victory builds upon the next, helping the team gain momentum. Gymgoers have a different mind-set. They see a workout as finite: “Yay, I survived that 30/60/90 class. I’m done.” Connect your dots. Realize that today’s intervals will prep you to crush tomorrow’s long run, and both will carry you across that half-marathon finish line with a PR — it’s all a process.

Be an athlete 24/7. If you put her in a pair of Choos and hand her a glass of Champagne, Maria Sharapova doesn’t suddenly stop being a four-time grand slam champion. “My swim coach in college told us we are athletes 24 hours a day and that as athletes, every choice — from what to eat to when to go to bed to whether we stretch and foam-roll — affects our daily performance and the final outcome,” says Sara Isaković, a 2008 Olympic silver medalist in the women’s 200-meter freestyle swim and a psychiatry research assistant at the University of California in San Diego.

Okay, your final outcome isn’t Wimbledon, but your choices matter, too. It’s midnight. You’re tempted to cue up that sixth episode of Orange Is the New Black. Ask yourself: What would Sharapova do? Probably go the hell to bed so she could wake up for 5:45 a.m. boot camp. “Identifying yourself as an athlete has a way of revealing bad habits that could be holding you back,” says Jim Afremow, Ph.D., author of The Champion’s Mind: How Great Athletes Think, Train, and Thrive. And somehow it’s less naggy and annoying to pass up a second glass of wine or skip the sugary dessert when you frame it as a workout saboteur versus a no-no.

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Really feel the burn. Athletes get comfortable being uncomfortable. They anticipate the pain of a bonkers workout and embrace the fact that it’s going to suck at points. Very different from us regular folks who freak out or shut down at any sign of exercise unpleasantness. “A lot of people panic when they experience any discomfort in their bodies,” says Epstein. “Elite athletes do the exact opposite — they program themselves not to be rattled. You can see that on pain-threshold tests of elites; they become accustomed to the pain, and even while their bodies are in distress, their minds aren’t. You can learn to do that just as you do any other part of training.” How? You don’t fear the hurt. Instead of backing off when breathlessness takes hold during a sprint, tell yourself, Relax. I know I’m going to be fine. This is not too hard for me, and I can do this. Then take your speed up one notch. Your body already knows it can handle the challenge. You’ve just got to prove it to your brain.

Imagine greatness. You bet your ass Hope Solo has pictured herself making a diving save to win the World Cup on a penalty kick in OT. Athletes fantasize about having a stellar performance in future workouts or games, and those daydreams affect their reality. According to a study in the Journal of Applied Sport Psychology, hockey, track and field, and volleyball athletes who envisioned themselves playing their sport with confidence and control also exhibited the most mental toughness — meaning they didn’t crumble under pressure or give up if a competition got tough. Take five minutes a day outside the gym to imagine yourself overcoming an obstacle in your workout. “Picture yourself pushing a certain weight on a bench-press, but also feel your chest muscles engage, your core tighten as you push, and hear the sound of the bar as you put it back on the rack,” says study coauthor Krista Chandler, Ph.D., professor of human kinetics at the University of Windsor in Ontario. “Imagery is not merely visual; it engages all of the senses. And when we imagine something, we create the neural pathway similar to that created if we were to physically execute the behavior.” For Isaković, that means prepping for a punishing swim interval by imagining herself as light as a feather on the surface of the water and ready to fly over it. Pinpoint and mentally play out the ideal scenario for your workout.

And talk to yourself. For athletes, it’s a package deal: amazing bodies, voices in their heads. A Medicine & Science in Sports & Exercise study found that cyclists who repeat pump-up phrases like “you’re a winner,” “feeling good” and “dig deep” during a hard workout increased their time to exhaustion by 18 percent — meaning they were able to bust their butts almost a fifth longer than those who didn’t talk themselves up, according to study author Samuele Marcora, Ph.D., professor of sport and exercise sciences at the University of Kent in England. When Spin class starts to wear you down, instead of thinking, Gah, when is this over? or I can’t go any further, go into cheerlead mode. “If you mentally tell yourself, I’ve got this, your body will respond,” says Isaković. “I happen to love quotes, so I’ll find one to think on each week, and when I’m in that moment of pain, I repeat it in my head over and over.” The fitspo quote that got major love on SELF’s Pinterest boards: “It’s not who you are that holds you back. It’s who you think you’re not.”

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View the playback video. An ice queen misses a triple lutz and no doubt she’s scrutinizing that jump six ways to Sunday in slow-mo to pinpoint exactly where she went wrong. “Pros constantly evaluate themselves,” says Epstein. “After every set or drill, or after they play a game, they self-assess the way a coach would.” That appraisal helps determine what’s going right or wrong, what you need to focus and practice on and how to improve, Epstein adds. For you, that critique can be as simple as training in front of a mirror to fine-tune your form. Are you running on the treadmill with raised shoulders? Lower ’em. Are you lunging with your knee too far over your ankle? Line up those joints. It’s also not a bad idea to hire a personal trainer, run coach, pilates instructor — whatever your workout bag — for some expert guidance, even if it’s for one session. A tiny technique tweak could be all that’s standing between you and greatness.

You do you. The best athletes are narcissists — they obsess over themselves, not the competition. “Elites are confident enough that their own bodies are unique, and they don’t have to look to others to see what to do,” says Epstein. Take Usain Bolt and Yohan Blake, the two fastest 200-meter sprinters in the world, who train together for their sport. “Bolt definitely does not work out as hard or as long as Blake, but that’s because he understands his body and his mind enough to know that he doesn’t tolerate as big a training load as Blake does. You can be sure Usain Bolt is not thinking about other people during his workouts.” Which is exactly why you should worry about numero uno — not the random girl next to you in barre class or running one treadmill over (admit it — you’ve looked at her speed and thought, I’ve gotta match that). What if she isn’t pushing herself as hard as you could? What if she lets up halfway through and that makes you want to quit? If you only make it a competition with yourself, you’ll always win. And while, yes, it’s true that most athletes want to trounce their opponents, their main motivation to exercise is intrinsic. “Remind yourself, Am I a spectator or the one working out?” Afremow suggests. Because you didn’t show up to sweat, to work your butt off, to push yourself for her. You’re working out to be your best.

Forward from : https://www.diopdesign.com/

[wittywinks]

Air - Movie Review

AIR

A movie by Ben Affleck

These days people watch movies while commuting to office, during office hours (shocking, but true!), on road trips, in restaurants while eating, bathing…yes, the list is endless. With the advent of OTT platforms and cheap internet we watch anything, everything and all the time.

But I still prefer the “old fashioned” way of watching movies on weekends. To select something that will make a lazy Sunday noon interesting and entertaining is quite a task at times but I make sure it is worth the wait.

Last Sunday I saw “Air”, a movie based on Nike’s transformation from an also-ran sports shoe company to the leader in basketball shoe sales.

Initially I thought the movie was an adaptation of Nike founder Phil Knight’s bestseller memoir “Shoe Dog” but it isn’t. Instead, it focuses on one of Nike’s foremost employees, basketball talent scout Sonny Vaccaro, played by Matt Damon, who is hired to sign NBA players for marketing their basketball shoe line. Seeing Damon as a middle-aged man with a paunch and a weary face, in simple t shirts and pants working in a typical 80s office setting felt so refreshing somehow. Every other office-based movie or show these days has slick suits, ray-ban shades, super sleek bodies, razor sharp looks with employees looking more like models off the ramp walk than college graduates with degrees.

Along with Matt Damon, the movie boasts of an impressive star cast of –

Ben Affleck as Phil Knight

Chris Tucker as VP of Nike’s Basketball division

Viola Davis as Deloris Jordan, Michael Jordan’s mother

Chris Messina as David Falk, Jordan’s agent

Jason Bateman as Rob Strasser, Director of Marketing at Nike

Matthew Maher as Peter Moore the creative director

Matt Damon is at the top of his game in this sports drama while traits of understated elegance and nonchalance with an unexpected dash of arrogance in Ben Affleck’s Phil makes him a delight to watch. The argumentative verbal banter over telephone (yes, it is the 80s, remember?!) between Matt Damon and Chris Messina is thoroughly entertaining making you chuckle while the depth and grace portrayed by Viola Davis steals the show from everyone around her. Matt Damon’s short, game-changing speech addressing Michael towards the end makes you sit up to listen and process each word as future is unveiled in the form of newspaper cut-outs and headlines on the screen.

A casual scene in office where Jason Bateman as Rob Strasser, laments about his personal life to Matt is so realistic and superbly enacted, that though you may have heard similar conversation before, it emits a high emotional wave. It shows us how little we know about those who we work and spend time with 5 days a week and often for years at a stretch. It made me reflect upon the sacrifices made by so many of us at some point or the other, with respect to our family lives and our personal gratification for our organization, our jobs, for that monthly pay check.

And so, when Matt Damon says to Michael in the end, “Each of us sitting here at this table will be forgotten when our time over here is up but for you” it hits you all the more. It tells you in plain, simple words – most of us are replaceable, forgettable. It makes you realize that legends are born once in a while and are one among millions.

Apart from the serious dialogue exchanges, the movie has its fair share of laughs and witty one-liners as well, especially those delivered by Ben Affleck wearing a deadpan expression. The wonderful comic timing of Chris Tucker and his matter-of-fact life truths gives the movie many light moments. The banter amongst employees as they are discussing, brainstorming or arguing is so natural, you will be able to relate to it instantly if you have ever worked in a corporate environment.

Even though the entire movie is a pursuit of Michael Jordan, Affleck chooses not to show his face even once, adding enigma and arrogance to the then future legend.

Though we all know how the end will pan out, (who hasn’t heard of Air Jordan shoes from Nike, bestsellers since its launch?) the slick editing and smooth direction keep you riveted to the screen. Maybe cause somewhere behind all the negativity in life, we all believe in the power of dreams, no matter how absurd or unattainable they may seem.

With this movie, we get to know and carry with us a story about a legend, or maybe two legends. And isn’t that one of the reasons we watch movies for? To be a part of stories, to peek into the lives of people who seem like us in every way but still so different, so inaccessible, so inspiring.

Watch this movie for its story-line, acting, simple but thought-provoking dialogues, direction, and yes, to see Ben Affleck’s purple Porsche, or rather “grape” coloured Porsche!

[bongaboi]

South Dakota State: 2022 NCAA Division I FCS National Champions

FRISCO, Texas -- A different Dakota is celebrating a national championship nearly two decades after the border-state rivals moved up together to the Division I level.

"I continue to think back in 2004 and wondering how it was going to work out. Well, this is pretty sweet how it's worked out," coach John Stiegelmeier said after South Dakota State won its first Football Championship Subdivision title Sunday.

Mark Gronowski threw three touchdowns and ran 51 yards for another score as the Jackrabbits won 45-21 win over North Dakota State, which lost for the first time in its 10 FCS title game appearances since the move from NCAA Division II.

As a true freshman two seasons ago, Gronowski tore the ACL in his left knee on the opening series of the Football Championship Subdivision title game. Now nearly 20 months after a loss in that unprecedented spring finale, and after the quarterback missed the entire 2021 season, the Jackrabbits (14-1) beat their border-state rival for the biggest prize in coach John Stiegelmeier's 26th season at his alma mater.

"It's really a storybook ending for us,'' Gronowski said.

"We made a memory,'' Stiegelmeier said. "I live through our players and I always will, always have. And so my joy is great today because their joy is great.''

Amar Johnson rushed for 126 yards and Isaiah Davis had 119 for his ninth 100-yard game this season, and both scored touchdowns for South Dakota State. Gronowski, who completed 14 of 21 passes for 223 yards, had his scoring run on the third play of the second half to stretch the lead to 38-14.

"We knew NDSU was going to fight until the end of the game, and we knew that we had to come out in the second half and just start fast, score early,'' Gronowski said. "That's what we did there on that play.''

Cam Miller was 17-of-26 passing for 256 yards with two TDs and two interceptions for the Bison (12-3), who went from Fargo to Frisco for the 10th time in 12 seasons.

"So tough to lose,'' Bison coach Matt Entz said. "Not something we like to do, not something we're going to make a habit of at NDSU. But I'm more concerned about our players right now. … They'll bounce back, I know that.''

The Jackrabbits have won the past four meetings between the Missouri Valley Football Conference rivals, all in less than two years. The previous three had been in regular-season games for the Dakota Marker trophy that wasn't up for grabs in the MLS soccer stadium nearly 1,000 miles from the border of their states. It was their 114th meeting since 1903, but only the fifth in the FCS playoffs and first in the championship game.

South Dakota State's only previous FCS title game appearance was a last-minute loss to Sam Houston State in May 2021 after the lower-division season was pushed back to the spring because of the COVID-19 pandemic. The Jackrabbits beat NDSU in that abbreviated regular season, then again later that fall before a 23-21 win last October after overcoming a 21-7 halftime deficit in the Fargodome.

Johnson's 32-yard TD run broke a 7-all tie early in the second quarter. The Jackrabbits got the ball right back when Steven Arrell stripped the ball from running back Kobe Johnson, and Dalys Beanum recovered it at the Bison 34. Gronowski hit wide-open Jaxon Janke for an 18-yard TD four plays later -- Janke also had a 30-yard TD catch in the fourth quarter.

There was an exchange of 44-yard touchdown passes right before halftime. On third-and-1, Gronowski went forward as if he was going to try to run for the first down when he instead stopped for the line and threw to Mike Morgan all alone behind the entire defense.

"It means the world to me. And I've got to thank every single person that has helped me along this journey and the guys who played an awesome game,'' Gronowski said of his comeback from injury to being the game's most outstanding player and winning a championship. "There's no better feeling in the world.''

THE TAKEAWAY

North Dakota State: The Bison have a 44-4 record in the FCS playoffs, and missed a chance to match the record of 45 wins by Georgia Southern, which is now playing at the FBS level. They have only 14 losses overall since 2011, when they won the first of their record nine FCS titles, and six of those losses are to South Dakota State -- no other team has multiple wins over NDSU in that span.

South Dakota State: The Jackrabbits have won a school-record 14 games in a row since opening this season with a 7-3 loss at Big Ten team Iowa.

UP NEXT

North Dakota State opens the 2023 season on Sept. 2 in Minneapolis, one of the school's largest alumni bases, against perennial FCS playoff team Eastern Washington.

South Dakota State still hopes to fill an open slot on its 2023 schedule for Labor Day weekend. As of now, the first set game is Sept. 9 at home against 2021 national runner-up Montana State, which the Jackrabbits beat in this season's national semifinal game.

[lornology]

goals and resolutions and aspirations and hopes

well there’s a lot... so... I don’t even know where to start...

The big one that a lot of people are going to be starting soon is losing weight. I’ve done it once and I can do it again, I’m even getting a head start by starting back up this month instead of next month. 

Second biggest one is probably eat cleaner/cut out sugar. Both of which I need to do... badly... (details on this plan to come.)

I didn’t read a book every month this year, there was 3 months that I missed, however I read so many books at the beginning of the year that it still comes out to 12 books so I’m gonna go ahead and say that I halfway met my goal. In 2023 I’d like to finish the game of thrones series by April 1st, and move onto another fantastical series to finish by June 1st. 

I’d like to only drink water with the exception of maybe the occasional glass milk or a cup of coffee. I have reignited my Dr. Pepper addiction at work, so now it’s time to reel it back in by going down to half/half tea if I really feel like I need something other than water. Maybe in 2023 I’ll be audacious and try to cut out soda completely. 

Something else I need to cut out is unnecessary spending. I might try a no buy month and see if I think I could go the next month. Of course buy things I need like groceries, but only buy what I need when I need it. If I run out of a skincare item I can buy it again, but it needs to be used up again before buying something along the same lines. Only things I need too, so no expensive things that I really don’t need (like serums, or phone cases, or shoes). Just stick to what I need.

Hmmm, what else? I can think of several throughout the day but when it comes time to write them out they all disappear. 

By June 1st I’d like to be making more money at my job and start a plan or blueprint for the second half of the year regarding the new position. I think by May 1st I’d like to start a M-F work week and see if I can’t get Saturdays and Sunday’s off... 

I’d like to discover my own sense of style, more than the same 4 jeans and few t shirts I wear. I’d like to be able to get dressed nicely and not just wear gym clothes or work clothes. I’d like to have a hairstyle I love and I’d like to get a little more knowledge and practice with the basics of makeup. 

I’d like to get back into playing ultimate frisbee. I went a few weeks ago to a pickup game, the next week it was freezing cold out so I skipped, and then last week I just completely forgot about it. Maybe I’ll go tomorrow night. 

I’d like to start my day with sunshine and spend less time on my phone in the morning and throughout the day in general. I did a great job staying off TikTok but I’ve been ignoring the time limit lately and spending hours upon hours on the app a day. 

I think that’s it for now, so for a quick recap my points are: -Be consistent in the gym again. Lose the weight I’ve gained in the past year.  -Eat cleaner and cut out the sugar. -Finish the game of thrones series by April 1st and start another fantastical series to start then finish by June 1st.  -Drink 80oz of water a day!!! And only water!!! (a few exceptions, but 99% of the time WATER!!) -Test the waters of a no buy month and see how far into the year I can go. - Make more money at my job and have a clear blueprint of what to expect the second half of the year in regards to the new position I’ll be starting. (Try to get Saturday’s and Sunday’s off by May 1st.) -Discover a sense of self in a physical way (style, hair, makeup).  -Stay active and social by continuing to play ultimate frisbee.  -Start the day with sunshine! Maybe drink a cup of water on the balcony in the mornings and evenings even if it’s just for 5 minutes. -Spend less time on my phone, specifically TikTok... 

[morrisxn02]

“No, you’re fine. There’s no need to apologize.” The initial wariness that coats his voice is instantaneously washed away as the once mysterious, lurking threat reveals herself as the friendly face of one Carmen Hearst. His first reaction, provoked by an acute fight-or-flight instinct felt exaggerated now. But one could never be too careful when roaming around campus alone given the current circumstances. The modest smile that briefly lit up his features was a gesture of assurance to her that he did not mean for such an abrupt greeting. He, of course, does not mention how insecure he is about being alone sometimes, or how he is scared he might be the next on a murder’s blacklist, or how he feels like he is walking around with a glowing red target on his back. Instead, his tranquil eyes and his tender smile denote he is as confident and composed as one can be. So, in place of complementing with something along the lines of ‘With everything that has been going on it’s easy to get jumpy’, he says “It’s not your fault you were sneaking. I’m the one uttering lines to myself at–“ He looks down at the Vacheron Constantin on his wrist for the time, “Seven thirty-five on a Sunday morning.” He is almost surprised that almost two hours have passed since he had left his room. “You were quick to figure it out, though. Kind of impressive, actually.” He would be lying if he said he was surprised. After all, Carmen Hearst was one of the people he would imagine would be able to recognize classic literature when she saw it. What impresses him, though, is how she manages to pinpoint it from just a few lines. It is not an impossible task by any means – other friends of his like Parker, or his arch-nemesis, Natalia Vega would also be able to tell. He just never knew she was as enthusiastic about theatre as they were… That is one funny thing about Carmen Hearst. She knows everyone, but it feels as though very few people know her as thoroughly as she does them.

Edward tries to find a way around mentioning he was trying to adapt Macbeth into a horror game. Not only did no one know, he did not want anyone to know. At this point, his ideas were nothing but messy drafts of dialogues and sketches and a few 3D models in Nuclino. So if they never came to life, nobody needed to know how miserably he had failed. “I’m sort of targeting the general public here. So, it needs to be more… democratic.” He talks about it with an unexpected confidence as if Shakespeare is the most interesting thing in the world. It was how he dodged the nerdy-intellectual stereotype. By acting as if his cultural hobbies were as cool as the athletic ones. “And also, I want it to be a little scarier than it is. So, that’s why I kind of butchered that Weird sisters scene. So, from one reader to another,” A hand goes to his chest in a comical gesture of apology. “ I’m sorry if you hated what you heard.”

It's not a rarity for Carmen to be up before much of Ogden's student body, an internal alarm that rarely allowed her to enjoy a late sleep even on the days that classes didn't demand her presence. The year before it hadn't bothered her but this year, everything was different, something eerie in the silence of the school's dorms and grounds that often made it hard for her to remain there. The journey to the park was much closer to Waverly, far easier than having to find a ride to the beach but with the warming weather, it was hard to resist the opportunity to enjoy the area's rare moments of tranquality. Her feet are bare, shoes dangling with her grasp as she traveled towards the water's edge, prepared to enjoy the view until she spotted the other person settled in the sand — or rather, recognized the other person settled in the sand. A part of her mind insisted that interrupting his morning was discourteous but the other argued that merely ignoring his presence would be more so. The silence isn't intended to scare, rather out of respect, but the closer she draws, the more intrigued she becomes and Carmen forgets just how quiet she's being, somehow jolting as he exclaims, as if she's the one who should have been caught off guard. "Sorry." The apology tumbles past her lips instantaneously, remorse washing over her features. "I didn't mean to scare you, I just..." Her eyes drift towards the drawing and she's not sure what explanation she can even offer. "I got wrapped up in the story." Or perhaps, his depiction of it, changes to the words and what she, herself, would have sketched in a telling of the witches. Hazel orbs move from the image to his face, offering a warm smile, as if it acted in place of a proper greeting. "Pretty sure Shakespeare only makes sense if you know the language so I suppose it all depends on your audience."

[kokkoro]

I'm going to save you from the terrible date you're having - while ice skating. Bonus points if one slips and is caught by the other, leading to a tender but charged moment of eye contact 🤭

On the list of worst dates, Clarke would rate this at a solid four. Definitely not as terrible as the comedy show that was just as bad as the food (turns out bigotry and food poisoning go hand in hand), but it’s definitely getting up there. The ice rink is packed for a Saturday evening and she glides ungracefully towards the wall of the ice rink avoiding the other skaters with narrow success, hands outstretched until safety is firmly established. She grips the edge until her hands hurt and somewhere in the back of her mind she hears Raven say, “I told you so.”

“Clarke!” calls the voice of her date and it’s a nice voice all things considered. Deep and manly and rough (and he’s certainly not bad on the eyes either), but when she glances behind her, catching sight of the wide smile she at first thought was handsome, all she wants to do now is smack it off with her fist. Multiple times. He skids to a stop, spraying a sheen of ice flakes over her feet. “Are you tired, already?”

“Connor–”

“C’mon, don’t be a party pooper. We basically just got here.” He reaches for her hands, tugging her away from the wall. She bites back an involuntary yelp as her feet threaten to slip on the ice, but he does at least one thing right and waits until her feet are firmly under her before letting go again. He skates backwards for a moment, making sure she’s still there before turning around and speeding off.

Other people swerve to avoid her as she stands motionless on the ice, rushing by with impressive speed, and all it takes is one tiny bump to send her balance on an all expenses paid vacation without her.

“Sorry!” calls a teenager, but Clarke barely hears it. She’s too busy concentrating on her feet and the series of uncoordinated steps she takes back towards the wall, waving arms with little success for stability. As a result Clarke reaches out for the first stable thing she can find.

It just so happens to be another person.

There’s a quiet gasp of surprise, almost too soft to be heard, but instead of the solid impact of the ice, Clarke is pulled fast against a firm body and for the first time in the last half hour she isn’t fighting off the urge to fall. That is, until she looks up at her saving grace and finds what must be the prettiest green eyes this side of the continental US.

“Hi,” The woman says, breathy, brown hair a tad mussed from their brief but ultimately victorious battle against gravity (definitely no thanks to Clarke).

“I’m so sorry,” Clarke replies, but her death grip on the woman’s coat doesn’t loosen in the slightest. She can’t help the fleeting thought that this date just got unexpectedly better, though perhaps not for the right reasons, but she’ll definitely take whatever she can get.  “I am not having a very good time right now.”

“I can see that,” The woman says with this slight smile, confident enough in her ability to hold Clarke steady with one arm as she takes her right hand and runs it through her hair to tame the mess. “Do you want some help off the ice?”

“I would love some–” And as if on cue, Clarke hears her date’s voice somewhere in the noise and the urge to groan is immediate. She wonders if it would be inappropriate to ask to hide inside this nice woman’s coat. “–but I am currently on the fourth worst date of my life.”

The woman looks over Clarke shoulder, and by the look on her face, Clarke suspects she’s found him. The woman returns her attention back to Clarke. “Do you want an out?”

“You saved my life once already,” Clarke says with a shake of her head. “I can’t ask you to do it again.”

“Lexa.”

Clarke blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“My name,” Lexa says. “And it would honestly be my pleasure.”

“Clarke.”

It’s a second, but the smile is quick to spread across Lexa’s face. “Nice to meet you, Clarke.”

And the things the sound of her name from those lips does to her should be illegal in at least thirteen states.

“Clarke, hey, Clarke!”

This time Clarke does indeed hide. Face pressed against Lexa’s soft jacket, she thinks maybe here she’ll finally find some semblance of peace. It lasts seconds if that, but Clarke inhales this calm earthy scent.

“Hey Clarke,” Connor says, “are you okay?”

Clarke sighs, pulling away, but keeps herself firmly tethered. “I’m–”

“It’s my fault,” Lexa interrupts, and Clarke looks up at her. “I bumped into her and I think she might have twisted something. Isn’t that right?”

“Wha- oh yeah, my ankle. I think I twisted it trying to catch myself.”

“Oh no,” her date says, and out of the corner of her eye, Clarke thinks she sees Lexa roll her eyes. “Do you, uh, want me to help you?”

“That’s alright,” Lexa says. “I can take it from here, Chad.”

“My name’s Connor.”

Lexa doesn’t look at him. “Sure.”

He seems too confused to respond to that and they both leave without looking back. Lexa helps her towards the exit of the rink and Clarke wonders if he’s still there, motionless in the middle of the ice, when they finally make it back to solid ground. It makes her feel a tiny bit better about the whole thing.

Lexa taps the tip of her skates against the ground, the excess flakes falling off, but even without the ice under her Clarke’s legs feel like jello and Lexa quickly reaches for her arm again.

“I think he was trying to show off,” Lexa says, making sure Clarke stays upright while Clarke leads them towards the small wooden benches.

Clarke plops down at the one near the rental counter, making quick work of the laces. “Yeah, well, he sucked at it,” she says, tugging the left skate free with a grunt.

“It’s not bad once you know what you’re doing.”

Clarke looks over, Lexa beside her on the bench with her hands folded together in her lap, and stops, fingers woven between the laces. “Are you offering?”

Lexa offers a small shrug. “Possibly. If you’re interested that is.”

“I might be.”

Lexa glances away, and Clarke watches the corner of her lips quirk upwards. She can’t keep her eyes away for long and when Lexa looks back, Clarke holds the stare. “What do you say about dinner? Right now. A little bit of food and warmth, and if you’re still feeling up to it we can…” Lexa takes a breath, steadying, a blush forming on her cheeks and ears and Clarke thinks it might be the most endearing thing she’s ever seen. “come back when there’s less of a crowd. I can show you how it’s done.”

Clarke’s heart stutters. “I would like that.”

[forever-rogue]

Obvious

Summary | It’s so obvious, isn’t it? Maybe not to Bucky. But you’re going to make his first Father’s Day something to remember.

Pairing | Bucky x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count | 2.8k

Warnings | slight language, pregnant!reader, references to sex

Masterlists | Bucky, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

At first you were positive you’d eaten something off and were suffering from a mild case of food poisoning. With your luck, it wouldn’t have been the first time. But then it lasted for more than a few days...and then some more after that. After a couple of weeks of denying that it could be anything but a mild stomach bug, you came to the earth stopping conclusion that it was something different entirely. 

The signs were all there, and it wasn’t that you had been ignoring them but...you had been ignoring them. The idea that it could have possibly been anything but a stomach bug was terrifying. But there was only so much hiding you could do from Bucky before he came extremely concerned at the sight of you repeatedly hunched over the toilet. He insisted you go to the doctor and knowing him, if you didn’t comply, he’d throw you over his shoulder and take you himself. 

After a little white lie of saying you’d go right away, you’d sneaked off to the corner drug store in search of those dreaded pregnancy tests. Bucky was off doing whatever the hell it was he and Sam did half the time, so you had a few hours to yourself. You felt like a criminal as you bundled up in a hoodie of Bucky’s and looked around furtively as you grabbed one of each of the tests and took them to the counter to pay before practically running home. 

You felt so silly, so dumb as you had the six tests on the counter, while your phone slowly ticked down the time. All the signs were there - how could you have ignored them? The missed period - wait, was it two? You’d been so bad about tracking them, you honestly didn’t even know. The morning sickness, apparently not food poisoning, the extra sensitive breasts, the fatigue. It all seemed so obvious now. 

You sighed as your timer went off and looked at the various tests. 

They only confirmed what you had already accepted. Pregnant. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You felt like you were floating on air as you walked out of the doctor’s office with some of the grainiest photos you had ever seen. But the only thing that mattered was the small little bean that you could clearly make out in the middle of them. Your little bean - yours and Bucky’s. Your baby.

It’d been a week since you’d taken the tests and made your little discovery. After that it had become a little game of hiding it all from Bucky - you wanted to tell him and soon, but you wanted to surprise him at the perfect time. You knew he’d be over the moon about it all. You’d talked about children, and it had been decided, especially since you’d been together for a few years now, that if it happened it happened when it would happen. But you just knew he wanted this - and honestly, so did you. Despite the extreme nerves it had set upon you.

So, you decided to play a little game with Bucky to see if and when he finally realized you were pregnant. Hopefully it’d be before you were showing - he wasn’t that blind after all. But you were going to have fun with this.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey Buck,” you were sprawled on the couch, resting your head in his lap as the two of you watched a movie on Netflix. It had been a long day and there was nothing you wanted more than a quiet evening in - this was nothing short of pure bliss. He made a small sound of acknowledgment as he gently played with your hair, silently telling you to go on, “what do you think you’d want to name our baby? Boy or girl?”

Sure, it was anything but subtle, but the way you had been resting your hand on your belly wasn’t either. And he hadn’t caught onto that either. 

“Hmm, I’ve never really thought that much about it,” he mused as he looked down at you and offered you a soft smile. You grinned back at him as you grabbed his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles, “I like...and don’t laugh at me - the idea of naming a son Steve. Maybe a daughter Rebecca or Sarah.”

“Bucky,” you could see that despite his seemingly disinterested attitude, he had actually given this a lot of thought. You knew they were so much more than just names,”those are lovely names. I think any one of those would be a lovely name for our baby.”

“Yeah?” he asked, almost timidly as you reached up and touched his cheek, running your fingers over his stubble as you nodded. He practically keened into your warm, gentle touch as his eyes closed, “I love you.”

“I love you too, bub,” you whispered as he pressed a kiss to the palm of your hand, “let’s get to bed, huh? It’s getting late and I’ve just been so incredibly tired lately.”

“Come on,” he slowly ushered you up and off his lap before standing and stretching. You couldn’t help but admire him as a rush of love overwhelmed you. You really loved him more than anything - well him and your small bean now. Bucky effortlessly leaned over and scooped you up in his arms, cradling you to his chest as he walked towards the bedroom, “you’re so beautiful.”

“You’re not bad yourself, Sarge,” you grinned as you rested your head against his shoulder, “but I almost feel like I’ve just got this...glow lately ya know?”

“You always do,” he promised with a kiss to the top of your head as you almost burst out laughing. So many not-so-subtle-hints and he still didn’t catch on. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Bub? You in the kitchen?” you called from the bedroom, knowing damn well he was there, finishing up a big weekend breakfast for the two of you. You tip-toed out of the bedroom, pulling on your - his - shirt to indulge in a lazy Sunday. 

“I’m in here, sweetheart,” he looked up and smiled softly as soon as you came into view. He still looked at you as though you had personally hung the stars and moon, like he was still in the process of falling in love with you every single day, “hi.”

“Hi,” you walked over to him and motioned behind, “can you do me a huge favor and get me a glass of water and my vitamins? I left them on the counter.”

“So demanding,” you both were aware of the fact that he’d never say no to you. You took a seat at the bar, hopping onto your stool as you swung your legs back and forth and waited for him to either realize what was going on, or make some sort of joke. But instead he hummed some tune under his breath as he set a glass of water in front of you and grabbed your vitamins. 

The man, this silly, lovely man, picked up the bottle of prenatal vitamins, opened them, and handed two of them to you before following up with your other supplements. Your mouth hung open as you looked at him in awe - you’d literally put it all in front of his nose and he still didn’t catch on. 

Goodness Gracious.

“There you are, pretty girl,” he leaned over and kissed you gently before turning back to the stove. You watched him with a dumbfounded expression but slowly  grabbed your water and vitamins and downed them, “anything you want do today?”

Alright. You were willing to push a little further and see if he finally caught on.

“There’s a new store that opened up downtown,” you said noncommittally, “they umm...have a lot of baby and kid stuff and I wanted to go ahead and check it out.”

“Sure thing,” nope. Apparently you were going to have to hit over the head with a two by four, “sounds good. We’ll go after breakfast?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, shaking your head in amusement, “sounds good to me too, bub.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been almost a month of dropping hint after hint, and they had been becoming increasingly less subtle. You were pretty sure that you could have just straight up told him you were pregnant at this point and he still wouldn’t have gotten it. 

But you had one last little idea - Father’s Day had come around and you were going to make sure his first father’s day was special. Maybe it was silly to celebrate when the baby wasn’t even born yet, but you didn’t care - you just wanted to finally tell him. 

The evening before Father’s Day, you’d let Bucky go to bed first, telling him you were just going to be a little longer, needing to finish up some work. He believed it hook, line, and sinker, and told you to join him soon. Once he was snoring soundly, asleep on his back with the gold and black vibranium arm splayed over your side of bed, you pulled out all the supplies you’d gotten. 

You made quick - and quiet - work of blowing up multicolored balloons and throwing some confetti around. You’d regret it later but the surprise would be worth it. Once you were satisfied, you grabbed the newest sonograms you’d gotten at the doctor the day before and tucked them into the envelope along with the card you’d picked out. After writing on the card, you sealed the envelope and on the front side simply wrote Happy Father’s Day. 

On the back, knowing how Bucky was, you scrolled one more little note. You left it all on the counter, along with the box of cupcakes you’d snagged from his favorite bakery, ready for him to discover in the morning. He’d be up before, and he’d have the little surprise to wake up to. 

Hopefully this time the message was loud and clear.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Bucky stifled a yawn as he slowly crawled out of the bed, stretching his stiff limbs. You were still all bundled up and lightly snoring with a little smile on your face. He reached down and gently brushed a lock of hair out of your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

Slowly making his way down the hall, a confused expression crossed his features as he noticed the glittering confetti on the floor. How strange.

But as he walked into the living room and saw the ballrooms all over the place he was visibly confused. What on earth was going on? He picked one that was close to his foot up and played with it for a moment before lightly smacking it across the room. He perked up when he saw the colorful box on the counter, a clear giveaway that it was from his favorite place.

Shuffling across the room, he was ready to throw open the box and indulge in an early morning sweet treat when he was stopped by the card on top. He picked it up and instantly recognized your handwriting. Happy Father’s Day!

It must have been for your father...maybe this all was for him and your parents were coming over and he’d somehow managed to forget about it all. He would definitely hear about that later on from you. Shit. 

No...he surely would have remembered that. He was old but his memory was still sharp. He felt the envelope beneath his fingers, noting that it was slightly thicker than a normal card. Curious. He flipped it over and his heart almost stopped when he saw what you had written on the flap.

Yes. This is really for you, James.

James. That’s how you knew you were being serious. 

His heart felt like it was almost bursting out of his chest as he slowly slid a vibranium finger underneath the seal, careful to prevent any rips or tears. After what seemed like a millennia, he opened the thing and pulled out the card, along with the sheet of photos. 

Bucky’s mouth fell open and formed a small o as he looked as he read over your sweet message in the card. Once he studied the grainy photos and realized that holy shit, this was your baby - his baby. You were having a baby! He inhaled - a shaky broken little thing as he fought back a few tears. After all this time, he was getting something he thought would only be a dream. 

“Surprise,” you whispered so you wouldn’t completely scare him. You’d woken up a few moments after him, already missing his body and warmth as soon as he had left. You had tip-toed after him and watched him finally realize what you had been dropping hints about for almost a month. His reaction had been everything, priceless. 

“Sweetheart…” he looked between you and grainy photos in his hand, his blue eyes gentle and glossy as you walked over to him, “we’re having a baby?”

“Yeah, bub, we are,” you promised, feeling tears well up in your own eyes as you carded a hand through his soft hair, “I’ve been trying to tell you for like a month. But you, sir, do not pick up on anything. Baby names? Prenatals...the baby store? The continued morning sickness. For a moment I thought I’d have to have the baby before you realized what was going on. I wasn’t being subtle anymore.”

“Oh...oh,” he said as a dark pink blush crept into his cheeks, “okay now it all seems so clear. I guess I...man, I’m blind.”

“Yeah, old man,” you teased softly, “turns out that food poisoning was never food poisoning at all. It was morning sickness.”

“Shit,” he was incredulous, “a baby. I can’t believe it...how far along are you?”

“Almost twelve weeks at this point,” you laughed, “I was wondering if you’d realize before I started to show.”

His hands found your hips as he played with the hem of your sweater before slowly pushing it up. A warm, gentle touch found your belly as he leaned in and brushed his lips over yours, offering you the sweetest kiss, “thank you.”

“For what?” you eagerly accepted his kiss and offered him a few more. He couldn’t stop himself from pulling you into his body and holding you close to him. Soon it would be a very different type of closeness. 

“For you,” he whispered, “for this...us - our family. I...it’s just that I never thought I would be good enough for all of this.”

“Of course you are, Bucky,” you promised softly, reaching up and touching his cheek, “you are a good man. You are. I love you so much, more than anything in this world. You are worthy of this, you have always been worthy. I will gladly spend every day of my life showing you that if I have to.”

“I love you,” he pressed his forehead against yours, “I still can’t believe this is real.”

“I love you too,” you beamed, “now, how about you eat a cupcake and I’ll start breakfast. Then we can start telling everyone that you knocked me up!”

“It sounds so dirty when you put it like that - I like it. I’m sure we had fun doing it too,” he snorted as he opened the box of cupcakes, grinning when he saw that they too proclaimed Happy Father’s Day. 

“What makes you think that, old man?” you bumped his hips with yours as you opened the fridge to get the ingredients for some omelets.

“Because we always have fun.”

“Cheeky!”

“Well, it’s not like it’s a lie,” He grabbed one and took a bite before offering you a taste, but you shook your head, “no?”

“It’s not me,” you insisted, pointing at the tiny swell that was slowly becoming evident, “the bean doesn’t seem to like sweets very much. At least not right now.”

“More for me,” he grinned as he pumped his fist in victory, causing you to dramatically roll your eyes before laughing, “hopefully the bean will be nice soon and let you partake. Oh…”

“Oh?”

“We have so much to do,” reality suddenly hit as his eyes widened and you laughed, “we’ll have to set up the spare room as the nursery. Your doctor’s visits - I want to come of course, and then all the stuff we’ll need when the they come-”

“James,” you put a finger to his lips as you quietly shushed him, “relax, bub. Breathe - we have plenty of time. There’s no reason to panic...today we’ll be lazy and relax, tomorrow we can figure everything out. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he visibly calmed down as you grounded him - just like you always did, “we’ll figure it out. We can do this.”

“Yeah, we can,” you agreed softly as he took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze before kissing it. Gods, you really loved him more than anything, “Happy Father’s Day, Bucky.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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[the-iceni-bitch]

Every Little Thing

Pairing: Colin Shea x fem!Reader

Words: ~4.3k

Summary: You and Colin are two slutty pea in a pod neighbors, but maybe you could be more?

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, f receiving oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex), idiots in love, excessive alcohol consumption, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: Ugh, I love Colin and I can’t believe it took me so long to write him. Before I get a bunch of notes about it, they’re gonna realize their feelings eventually but it might take a couple fics because they’re both morons, but they’re pretty morons so it’s fine 😉

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!!!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Oh god, what the fuck was that noise? Why was your phone ringing at 8 AM on a fucking Sunday?

You picked up the offensive object and growled when you got a look at the caller ID.

“Colin, it’s Sunday morning, this had better be really good. I didn’t get home until 4 AM.”

“She won’t fucking leave.” He hissed over the line. “She wants to go out for waffles.”

“I fail to see how this is my problem.” You grumbled, rolling over onto your back and flinging your arm over your eyes. “Just ditch her at the fucking waffle place.”

“C’mon, Y/N, that’s like a second date. What about our deal?” That fucking deal, he definitely benefitted more from it than you did.

“You’re an asshole.” You mumbled, sitting up with an exhausted groan. “Gimme 5 minutes.”

“You’re the best!” You could hear the fucking grin in his voice and rolled your eyes at him.

“Yeah, I fucking know.” You didn’t wait for him to confirm before you hung up on him, stretching your whole body as you moved to put on some clothes.

It only took you a few minutes to pull on some old jeans and a sweatshirt and then you were stomping across the hall to Colin’s apartment, determined to make this as uncomfortable as possible for him. 

“Colin Shea!” You pounded on the door viciously. “This is your wife! I found your little love nest! What hooker do you have in there now?”

You couldn’t help but grin to yourself as you heard a commotion from inside, someone was cursing up a storm and you were pretty sure you heard a couple of slaps.

“I can hear you in there.” You tried to make it sound like you were on the verge of tears. “What about Colin Junior? I’m not raising that baby on my own, you bastard!”

The door slammed open and a very angry looking woman stormed out, shooting a glare over her shoulder and calling Colin a motherfucker as she scurried down the stairs. He came rushing after her with a frustrated look on his face, rubbing the side of his jaw and scowling when he got a look at the shit eating grin on your face.

“My wife?” He asked incredulously, grabbing his hoodie and pulling it over his naked torso as you just continued laughing at him. “That was kinda mean.”

“8 AM on a Sunday, Shea.” You booped his nose with your finger and winked at him before turning to head back to your place. “You wake me up before 10 AM on a weekend and you take what you can get. I’m going back to bed.”

“Wait, Y/N, don’t you wanna have breakfast or something?” He jogged after you, ignoring the glower you shot him as you opened your door. “I’ll make you my famous eggs.”

“Did you not hear me when I said I got in at 4 AM?” You frowned at him when he kept you from closing your front door. “Colin, quit being so clingy. If I wanted to have breakfast with some annoying dude I would’ve actually brought that lawyer from last night home.”

“A lawyer, huh?” He was giving you one of those stupid looks that he typically reserved for girls he was trying to bang but that he definitely knew didn’t work on you. “And that didn’t even do it for you.”

“I mean, I still rode that beard for a good hour, but he was super depressing.” You kept knocking your door against his foot with an annoyed air. “Which is why I need to sleep, so get out of my fucking doorway.”

“Fine, we’re hanging out later though!” He called as you slammed the door in his face.

You just ripped off your clothes and crawled back into bed, burying your face in your pillows and cursing the sun as you did your best to fall back asleep.

It must have happened at some point, because you woke up six hours later with a mouth full of cotton and absolutely drenched in sweat. Why was it so fucking hot?

The pillow case tried to come with your face when you rolled out of the bed and you threw it away from you with a huff as you padded to inspect your air conditioner. 

It wasn’t on. You knelt in front of it and whined as you tried flicking it off and on and nothing happened. This could not be happening, not with summer just about to start. It was supposed to be in the 90s today. No matter what you tried, it didn’t turn on. Granted, all you tried was unplugging it and plugging it back in, but that always worked with your computer.

The call to the repair company was no luck, they were closed for the weekend. This was going to suck, you fucking hated being hot. You moved to your kitchen to try to find some way to cool off after opening every damn window in your place to hopefully get some kind of air circulation going.

That’s when you spotted it. 

The frozen margarita machine you had bought on an absinthe fueled online shopping spree and never gotten around to returning. It was like a little miracle right there in your kitchen, designed to help you cool off and get drunk so you could forget about how fucking hot it was while you did the week’s worth of chores you had been procrastinating.

You hummed happily when that first gulp of frozen tequila goodness slid down your throat, and maybe you shouldn’t have chugged the whole thing but who fucking cared, it was hot. Time flew by as you downed those things like it was your fucking job, scrubbing your pots and pans and singing little songs to yourself.

Music started drifting through your open windows but you barely registered it even as you started singing along because it was Queen and how could you not.

It was the third time you had filled that margarita machine and you were feeling fantastic, dancing around your kitchen as you continued cleaning your dishes. Whoever was playing music was still going strong and you began belting when they started doing Seven Seas of Rhye.

“You are mine, I possess you, I belong to you foreveeeEEER!”

“Hey, Y/N!”

Your badass high note devolved into a shriek and you turned to chuck the cup you were holding at the intruder on the fire escape, cursing when you saw it was Colin. He managed to duck out of the way at the last second with a muttered fuck and you sighed as you watched your mug sail over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Shea, that was my favorite mug!” You pouted, stamping your foot a little and taking another gulp of your margarita. “What the fuck are you doing on my fire escape?”

He gave you a stupid cocky grin as he watched to try to lean on one hand on your counter and almost go down when you missed it at the last second.

“Are you drunk, honey?” Fuck him for calling you honey, that wiley asshole. “We could hear you singing from the roof.”

“I’m just a little buzzed.” You hiccupped. “Who’s we?”

“My band.” He crawled into your apartment and caught you when you tripped over your own feet again, still grinning at you like an idiot. “The ones you were singing along with.”

“That was your band?” You had never realized how blue his eyes were. “You guys sound great!”

“Yeah, you sound pretty good yourself.” He grabbed the cup you were holding and gave it a sniff, coughing a little before he set it on the counter. “Maybe you should come hang out with us instead of drinking what I think is blended jet fuel and ice all by yourself.”

“If I’m gonna hang out with you guys I think I should bring a pitcher of margs.” He was really fucking pretty, had you noticed that before? “Don’t wanna be a bad hostess.”

“Oh, baby, you’re wasted.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear and you felt your chest flutter a little bit. “No more margs for you. Come sing with us while you sober up. No, no.” He pulled you back when you tried to crawl out the window and started dragging you towards your door. “Ladder doesn’t really seem like a good idea right now, let’s take the stairs.”

You tossed your head back as you laughed, slapping his chest while you leaned heavily on him and let him guide you through the hall and to the stairs to the roof. Those were some firm pecs, you were a little marvelled at the way your palm just bounced right off so you slapped it again.

“Wow.” It was like your hand was moving independently from your brain as you gave him a pretty brazen squeeze. “Your tits are fantastic, Colin.”

“Holy shit, Y/N!” He was laughing hysterically when he shoved the door to the roof open. “Your drunk game is on point sweetie. Guys, this is Y/N, the killer vocals you heard from downstairs. She’s a little tipsy.”

They introduced themselves and you promptly forgot all of their names, your hand trailing down Colin’s chest until you could press it against his abs. This was getting weird, it’s not like you hadn’t seen him naked before. But seeing and touching were apparently two very different things.

“We still doing Queen, boys?” You said, finally tearing your eyes away from Colin after poking him in the bellybutton and grinning when he made a noise like the Pillsbury doughboy. “Cos I’m good with whatever.”

“What about some Journey?” He slung his SG over his shoulder and watched you carefully as you grabbed the mike one of his bandmates was handing you. “You wanna sit down, hon?”

“Don’t call me hon, sweetheart.” You teased, giving him a wink and tapping the mike a couple of times. “I’ll be fine. Journey feels a little basic but ok. Faithfully or Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’?”

That grin he gave you should not have been affecting you like this, maybe you did have too many margaritas. The bassist started playing the opening riff to Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’ and your grin got even wider, your hips moving to the beat as you kept your eyes on Colin. You laughed happily when he joined in with the guitar part, joining in after the piano had done its thing and losing yourself in the music.

He could not take his eyes off of you, he was pretty sure you’d never been this fucking cheerful around him before. Not that you were especially grumpy or anything, or that your typical dry wit didn’t immediately endear you to him. But seeing you with that goofy grin as you sang every fucking Journey song they had in their roster until the sun set was not helping the already prodigious crush he had on you. 

Now the two of you were sitting on the couch he had dragged up there months ago and watching his bandmates pack up their gear, saying goodbye to each of them as they headed down the stairs and left you two to lean against each other and sigh happily. You had your legs flung over his lap as he plucked at his guitar strings lazily, kicking your feet slowly and leaning back on the sofa as you watched him closely and sipped on a bottle of water.

“You ever do any actual performing, honey?” He asked, his fingers running over your calf absentmindedly. “Cos with that voice you could probably line up some gigs.”

“Just karaoke.” You murmured. You were definitely sobering up now, but you were still hyper aware of his hands on your skin and it was giving you some feelings you weren’t totally sure about. “Lemme see that thing.”

“What?” He gave a little huff when you grabbed the neck of his guitar and pulled it into your lap. “Baby, do not tell me you play.”

“I mean, it’s been a little while, but I think I remember a couple chords.” You gave him another grin and his chest started to hurt.

“Jesus, a couple chords?” He laughed to cover the absolutely filthy sound he almost made when you started playing, it was like he had made you on a computer. “Honey, that’s Led Zeppelin.”

“Yeah, but it’s easy Zeppelin.” You teased, turning your body so you could lean against his chest and not missing the low rumble you felt when you tucked your head against his shoulder. “It’s Coda.”

“Uh-huh.” Being this close to you was doing something to him, he suddenly had the overwhelming urge to smell your hair. 

“Why haven’t we slept together, Col?” Fuck it, you might as well do this.

He choked on the water he was drinking, turning his face so he didn’t spit it all over you as you stopped your playing and grinned at him.

“I seem to remember giving it a good try when you moved in.” He managed to get himself under control and turned his face back to you. “But you said you had a rule about not fucking people who live in the same building as you. Something about not shitting where you eat.”

“That’s about sex with coworkers.” You said, scrunching your face up as you tried to remember what your exact justification had been.

“Which is what I told you.” He tried to scoot away from you but you followed after him. “To which you replied, ‘doesn’t matter, not gonna happen’.”

“Huh, that seems awful short-sighted of me.” You scooted closer again and this time he let you. “C’mon, we’ve fucked almost everyone else in this city, we’d have gotten to each other eventually anyways.”

“Jesus, what a romantic sentiment.” He was trying to focus real hard on his softeners, but they weren’t working with you squirming against him like that. “You really want to do this?”

“I mean, I think we’d enjoy it.” You set his guitar aside and turned so your chest was pressed to his. “It’s not like we’re gonna catch feels, or anything. Just gonna see what all the fuss is about.”

“Right.” Maybe this would get his little crush out of his system. “Let’s not do it on the roof, though.”

“God, no. My place?” You stood up and started heading towards the fire escape.

“Yeah, ok.” He watched you climb down to your apartment before sliding down the ladder after you like the damn frat boy he was.

As soon as he climbed in the window you were dragging him towards you, swallowing his tiny cry of surprise when you pulled his mouth to yours. His lips were unbelievably soft against your own, and when he opened up and stroked your tongue with his? 

Fuck.

“Shit, Colin.” You purred when he started trailing his lips down your throat. “I feel like maybe we should’ve done this sooner.”

“Yeah, maybe.” His voice was muffled as his mouth moved to your chest, one hand moving to hook under the neckline of your camisole and pulling on it until your breasts popped out. “Well fuck me. No wonder you know so much about fantastic tits.”

You laughed at that, arching into his face and grinning down at him as he buried his face between your tits and gazed at you through his lashes. Those stupid, long as all fuck lashes that were brushing against your skin as he mouthed at your soft curves. 

“Jesus, fuck.” You wound your fingers through his hair when he dragged his tongue over your nipple, tugging on it softly and guiding him further into your apartment. “God, you really know how to use that mouth of yours, sweetie.”

“Oh, honey, you don’t even know.” He teased, moving his face back to yours and lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist as he started carrying you towards your bedroom.  “You wanna find out, though?”

“You tease all the girls you fuck this much?” You nipped at his lips and grinned when he moaned into your mouth, reaching behind you to open the door to your bedroom. 

“Nah, that’s just for you, baby.” He cooed, giving you a quick peck on the lips before dropping you on the bed with a huff.

Every place his fingers touched sent a jolt of heat through your body straight to your core, your eyes never leaving his as he started kissing and nipping his way down your torso after pulling your cami over your head. He grinned against your thigh when you moaned after he yanked your shorts down your legs, sucking a soft bruise into your flesh before rubbing his face over your clothed core and inhaling deeply.

You throbbed under his lips as he pressed gentle kisses over the fabric that covered your mound, hooking your legs over his shoulders and trying to grind into him when he tugged at your panties with his teeth and let them snap back into place teasingly. His fingers skimmed up your legs until he could hook them under the band of your panties and drag them off you, sighing heavily when he settled back between your thighs and got a good look at you.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He spread you apart with his fingers and flicked his tongue out to run over your slit softly, moaning when he finally tasted you. 

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You ran your fingers through his hair and beamed at him, rolling your hips against his face when he sucked your pussy lips into his mouth with a low hum.

Colin chuckled into your cunt at that, pressing gentle kisses all over your soft folds before dragging his tongue over you in a heavy stripe. Your body reacted immediately when he reached your clit, your back arching off the bed and your legs curling around his neck as he repeated the same process but at a much slower pace. 

Two of his fingers slid inside you as he wrapped his lips around your clit and you keened, gripping his hair by the roots and tugging hard when he started stretching you open while his lips drove you wild. The rhythm of his suction and release matched the curling of his fingers inside you and made you want to scream, your free hand reaching above your head and digging hard into your pillow as your body tried to rise off the bed when he brought you right to the edge of your peak right away. 

“Col, Colin, oh fuck.” He felt like your thighs were gonna suffocate him but those sounds you were making for him had him past the point of caring about a silly thing like oxygen. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Your whole body seized against his face as you let out a gorgeous fluttering moan, soaking his lips and chin in your release as he hummed with satisfaction into your pussy. He sat up when you finally released him, removing his clothes in a rush as he watched you pant underneath him and run your tongue over your lips. God, you were fucking beautiful, he couldn’t believe he’d waited so long to do this.

Before you had a chance to say anything he was hooking your knee over his elbow and thrusting into you, sheathing himself to the hilt in one smooth motion and releasing his breath in a thin hiss when he felt your satiny walls flutter around him. 

“Ah, fuck, you feel amazing.” He ducked his face to catch your lips with his before pulling back with a groan. “Shit, I forgot a condom. Uh, I’m clean, just got tested last week.”

“God, you’re fine sweetie.” You brought a hand up to cup his jaw and ran a thumb over his cheek in a soothing gesture. “Also clean and I have an IUD, so we’re peachy. I am a little mad at you though.”

“Yeah, why?” He wasn’t too worried, you were still grinning at him as he started moving his hips slowly.

“Well, Jesus, fuck, you’re big.” You almost lost your train of thought when he tilted your hips just a bit and his cock hit you deep. “I usually like to reciprocate oral, sweetie. I barely even got a look at what you’re packing down there.”

“You’ve seen it before.” He groaned when you wrapped your free leg around his hips and rolled your body against his.

“Just glances though.” You gripped his biceps and dug your nails in, biting your lip as he continued dragging his length over every inch of you at an agonizing pace. “And never hard.”

“Honey, there’s no way I’m pulling out for you to take a good look so you’re gonna have to make due.” He teased, grinding against your clit and grinning when your eyes fluttered closed.

“Fine.” You huffed, frowning a little before winking at him. “We’re switching then.”

“What?”

You didn’t answer, just giving him a cocky grin and gripping his hips with your thighs. One quick move and he was under you, a small sound of surprise leaving his lips when you were suddenly straddling his hips and grinning down at him.

“Oh yeah, that’s better.” You placed one palm on the center of his chest and curled your fingers through his chest hair as you rose up on your knees before sinking down again nice and slow, loving the low groan you felt reverberate in his chest when you clenched around him. “Good for you, Col?”

“Yes, yeah, s’ good.” He was completely mesmerized by you, his eyes trailing over your body as you arched your back and continued to ride him. 

The way he was reacting to you was making it hard for you to focus on what you were doing, his eyes soft and relaxed on yours and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he slowly moved his hips to meet your own. You could’ve lost yourself in those eyes if you really wanted to.

Shit, none of that.

His fingers started trailing up your sides when he fucked up into you suddenly and he lost it at the way your tits bounced for him, sitting up with a whine and nuzzling into your chest before wrapping his lips around your nipple as he started bucking wildly.

“Shit, fuck, Colin.” He was hitting your cervix with each punch of his hips and it was taking all your self control to not pass out from how hard he was railing you, wrapping your legs around him and dragging your lips over his jaw. “Baby, you’re gonna make me come again.”

“Yeah? Good.” He cupped your jaw and brought your face back to his, tugging at your lips with his teeth while he gazed into your eyes. “I wanna watch your face while you come.”

You kept your eyes open and trained on his, worrying his bottom lip with your teeth and resting your forehead against his as you felt a warm coil gathering in the pit of your stomach. It was like you were falling into those lust blown pools as he took you apart, your lips crashing against his as the coil snapped and you gasped his name into his mouth. 

The feeling of your entire body fluttering around him was too much, and he followed you with a low growl. He muttered your name under his breath as he spilled his cum inside you, holding you close to his chest and rubbing his nose against yours.

You fell on top of him when he collapsed back against the bed, the two of you laughing breathlessly as you tangled your limbs and molded your lips together before pulling back and gazing at each other some more. Both of you lost yourselves for just a beat, your chests heaving against each other’s before disconnecting and rolling off the bed in two opposite directions as you did your best to compose yourselves.

“I’d say you definitely earned all those screams I’ve heard coming from your apartment, Shea.” You teased, trying your best to lighten the mood and not dwell on the desire you had to ask him to spend the night. 

“Yeah, well I’ve always thought so.” He was avoiding looking at you as much as possible, searching the room for his clothes and fighting the urge to pull you back into the bed and snuggle with you. “Have you seen my converse?”

“Yeah, here.” You shoved his shoes at him after pulling an oversized tee over your head. “Well, I’ve got work in the morning, so…”

“Right, I’ll, um, I’ll talk to you later, I guess.” He shuffled towards your front door and pulled it open before leaning back to look at you one more time. “You can join us for band practice any time, by the way.”

“That would be great.” That smile you were giving him made him feel like his heart was going to break. “I promise not to be sloppy drunk next time.”

“Aww, drunk Y/N was pretty fun, but ok.” He winked at you then left in a hurry, slamming the door behind him. 

You fell back on your bed and ran your hands over your face in frustration, hating yourself for coming up with this stupid idea because now all you wanted was to have breakfast with that beautiful idiot tomorrow after sleeping on top of his chest.

“Goddamn it.”

Colin grabbed himself a beer when he got back to his apartment and chugged it, sinking into one of his barstools and considering the fact that he was absolutely not over his crush after everything the two of you had just done.

“Shit.”

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