#support your local black writers

[cardierreh15]

Annnd we are finished folks! I gots to go in for editing and need some beta reading first but it’s looking good and I think yall gonna like it 🖤

The Lady In Black Dropping Tuesday Jan. 30th, 2024

[tllgrrl]

Annnnd look what finally showed up in my Libby Holds?

It’s been a minute since I read some Horror. The last one I read was because Daniel Jose Older recommended it: Victor Lavalle’s The Ballad of Black Tom, which is SO good.

Looking forward to jumping into this!

[bookblrihardlyknowher]

Library Haul!

i’m impressed i only left with two books!! really working on my self control lmao

to show how INSANE book costs are in Canada, i saved $56.95 by getting them at the library! And these would be considered cheap smh

[madelynraemunson]

— along for the ride ☆

🐃 the tag team (co-writers): @joshlmbrt @swiss-mrs @mediocredreams 🩶

eddie x fem!reader

a/n: reading flight of icarus and finding out eddie is from tennessee REALLY husked my corn 🤠 also, this may or may not have been inspired by the bull fight scene in hoard

cw: daydream p in v sex, riding, eddie gets a hard on watching reader ride, innuendos, play on words

Stamina. Strength. Strategy. Safety. The Four Important S’s when it comes to bull-riding. 

‘Support’ is your unofficial fifth. You’ve generated quite the following after showcasing your riding skills at Whisky Jim’s every Saturday night, the ooohs and aaahs of your spectators filling the air as the spotlight drenches your cute… calculated… perspiring body. 

Bull-riding at the dive bar every weekend has become a favorite hobby of yours. It’s a perfect outlet for all the stress, the rough-and-tough of it all perfectly counterbalancing your slow-as-snails, but somehow busy and draining 9 to 5. Riding gave you something to look forward to.

“Look at her go,” an onlooker coos in admiration. “She’s got life by the goddamn horns.”

You toss your head back, glossy lips parted in excitement as the crowd’s appreciative hoots and whistles filled the air.  You could get used to this. You have gotten used to this.

Even with the world at your feet, things were starting to get boring again. And you are constantly craving something wild, something new. Something or someone that will make like the bull by sweeping you off your feet and taking you out for a spin.

Someone like Eddie Munson, perhaps.

Eddie isn’t sure what drew him… here out of all places. But something about the rowdiness compels him as he climbs out of his van, Halen and into the bar, boots scuffing the hard wooden floor. But the flight-risk metalhead is determined to find out, itching for adventure as he saunters with feigned confidence into the southern saloon. 

He flags down the closest bartender, a country heartthrob of a man with black hair and blue eyes. The Casanaova places a coaster down in front of him as Eddie steps up to the plate. “What’ll ya be havin’?”

“Anything local,” Eddie replies, more of a question, unsure of what exactly is available. “Anything hoppy.”

“Bottle or Tap?” the man follows up after a curt nod, mindlessly running a hand over his thick mustache.

“Tap. Pint, please.”  

The bartender gives another nod before disappearing to fulfill Eddie’s request. Meanwhile, the outcast takes this short window of time to look up and down the bar at the different patrons. 

All from different walks of life. But all here for presumably the same reason.Whisky Jim’s is decently packed, but for the most part, the crowd is congregated either in booths, at tables, or in the middle of the floor.

A glass is placed onto the coaster. The same deep country twang effectively regains Eddie’s attention.

“Wanna start a tab, brother?” The older man asks with a polite grin, eyes crinkling up at the sides as he does. 

Eddie offers a polite smile in return.

“Uh, sure. Thanks.” 

The bartender studies him intently this time, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“First timer?”

 Eddie clears his throat uneasily, kicking at the peanut casings at his feet to avoid contact with the John Wayne of a man that was in front of him.

“Obvious?” 

The man cackles at Eddie, the slight patronization of the old-timer’s demeanor making him want to evaporate. But the amused blue eyes and downturned smile indicates it’s all in good fun, much like his uncle Wayne who always liked giving him a hard time whenever he made himself too small. 

“Son, you couldn’t stick out further if you were a dog’s balls.” 

A fellow bartender laughs at the man’s remark. Then Eddie joins in. It was pretty funny. 

“You just don’t really look like the kind to be into square dancin’, is all,” the bartender remarks as he narrows his eyes at Eddie. Eddie shrugs and takes a sip of his beer, slightly wincing as the first sip hits him.

“Well, you’re not wrong. Just thought I’d explore a bit outside of my usual.” 

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Eddie.”

“Greg.” The bartender gives him his hand to shake. “You from around here or you comin’ from outta town?” 

“Hawkins.” 

“Not too far from home then. And it seems you came on a good night.” 

And as if on cue, the crowd towards the middle of the building erupts in cheers. Eddie briefly glances over his shoulder in the general direction before turning back to Greg with a curious head tilt.

“What’s happening?” 

Greg nods his head over in the direction of the crowd.

“Bull Ridin’ Night.”

Your thighs are wrapped around the firm leather seat as you’re whisked around in one fluid motion. You turn to give your rapt audience a wink. The crowd eats up your presence, evident by the adorn kisses they blow your way. You buy into the theatrics, pretending to catch them before putting them in your back pocket for later. It only riles the audience up more.

“They bring that thing out on Saturdays,” Greg explains. “Between the Karaoke Nights and the Hoedowns, Bull Ridin’ is one of the most popular.”

 Eddie tries another glance in that direction, but due to the crowd, he doesn’t have the best view of who is actually riding.

 “You gon’ give it a try?”

 Eddie’s head whips back around to the older man to find a teasing smirk on his face. Eddie shakes his head.

“I… don’t think so.” He chuckles. “I’m not the most balanced or coordinated person.” He admits that with a grimace and another sip of his Hawkins Pale Ale. 

“I’m just teasin’ ya, boy. HEY!” Greg whistles at the bartender next to him. “Who’s up there now?” 

 The coworker throws a quick glance over their shoulder before replying. There’s a bashful smirk when they reply, 

“Who do you think?” 

The crowd erupts again, cheers and whistles alike. Who else gets this kind of crowd engagement? No one else other than you, of course. 

“Looks like my girl is up there breakin’ hearts again.” Greg lets out a soft laugh. 

Eddie gulps as his breathing shallows. A girl? Up there? On that thing?

Eddie, once again, nearly strains his neck trying to get a glimpse of the rider. When he fails, Eddie turns back to the bar, downing the final quarter of his pint, before looking back at Greg.

“Fetch me a bottle for the road, yeah?”

 Greg issues him a chuckle, grabbing the empty glass and handing him a bottle version of that very ale, while Eddie sets off on his curiosity journey to the middle of the floor.

“Boys will be boys.” Greg’s female coworker remarks with sassy pursed lips.

Eddie closes in on the crowd,  slipping through the few empty spaces between the onlookers with half-assed ‘Excuse me’s. Though no one was paying him any mind. And when he settles by the barrier, just a mere two rows behind, he finally gets the perfect view of you.

Eddie couldn’t fight the grin that spread across his face at the sight of you working the crowd. He watches as you give a practiced flick of your hips to get the crowd going and the enticing jiggle of your breasts under your tight shirt. Drew in Eddie’s eyes like a laser beam. The thin material was stretched taut, giving a hint of the perfect tits underneath as you arched your lower back and thrust your chest forward to keep your balance. 

“Christ,” he exhales sharply, in awe of your natural performance, the boisterous, unpredictable gravity of the machine whirling you around as you wrestle to hold on. 

His eyes drink in the sight of the soft, rounded curve of your ass that peeked out of the bottom of your faded Daisy Duke’s as you lean forward to steady yourself in the saddle.

WHOOSH!

The bull jerks sideways and you flex your thighs and circle your hips in the saddle to keep yourself astride. The plush skin of your upper thighs press tightly against the seat and your upper body sways in rhythm with the bull’s movement. 

You were born to ride.

“That’s how you do it, Indiana!” a spectator hoots in adoration as you cling on for dear life. “That’s how you do it!”

You give a deep roll of your hips to meet the thrust of the machine, causing Eddie to run the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip before sucking in a shaky breath. Your hips… the way they roll… is almost hypnotic, and Eddie’s brown doe eyes can’t help but linger on the sliver of skin that peeks out, black, intricate swirls of cyber-sigilism that tease him slightly. 

Fuck.

“God, she’s so pretty…” he thinks to himself. “And she knows how to ride.”

Eddie’s eyes trail to the white of your knuckles, his own fingers gripping the bottle of his beer when his eyes slide up your arm and land on your face.

The front of his pants start to feel uncomfortably tight. Eddie adjusts himself as discreetly as he could, but even the soft brush of his fingers against the strained denim causes  him to hiss under his breath.

“Ride it, cowgirl!” an audience’s comment centers Eddie once again. “LET ‘EM KNOW!”

The way you matched the bull’s gyrations and anticipated its every move made him weak in the knees, and as he watched you swirl your hips in the saddle like a modern day Annie Oakley he couldn’t help but wish it was him straddled between your shapely thighs instead. 

As Eddie stood there watching, the dull roar of the crowd faded into the background. At that moment it was just you and him. 

In his mind he’s already lassoed you to his bed; and you’re sat astride him like a cowgirl in your saddle, hands splayed on his chest for balance as you lowered yourself onto his throbbing cock. And you’d bite down on your plush lower lip and let out a soft moan as you sank down onto him slowly, taking your time and adjusting to his size. 

“Oh, Eddie,” he could almost hear you purring. “It’s so big.”

And he’d chuckle with false modesty and rub a hand tenderly along your thigh as if to soothe the delicious stretch of his thick girth.Then once you adjusted, you’d move, meeting each unpredictable roll of his hips with your own as you mastered the rhythm of your very own long-haired bucking bronco.

And he’d be gripping you tight with each deep thrust, pistoning, plowing himself into you while watching his cock disappear into your slick pussy over and over with each forceful snap of his hips. And with every strained mewl he milks out of you he’d press you down by the hips and drill into you further, your weak cunt just about ready to tap out on top of him. This handsome bull’s sure a challenge, you’d be thinking to yourself. Eddie is a ride you wouldn’t be able to survive.

———

The crowd disperses when the show is over. Eddie stands a bit straighter when you finally leave the middle of the floor, eyes darting towards the plush smirk that your soft lips create. If it’s even possible, he thinks you look even more heavenly. He’s sure you don’t even realize what you’re doing to him. 

Little does he know that for you, he’s taken that same effect. You’ve grown so accustomed to everyone here that a new face has captured your attention. And you felt him staring at you, with a gaze so impassioned that you just about almost lost your footing up there. But you pulled it off real well, attempting to shake off the redirection in the form of a dramatic bounce of your tits.

It perplexes you. A man making you that nervous? Up until late, it’s become rather unheard of. You want to know this man and see for yourself what his energy is all about.

Eddie finds himself fixing his appearance when he notices your legs striding over, clearing his throat as his palm slides over the stubble that he had been trying to grow. 

“You know it’s kinda rude to stare the way that you do,” you remark.

“How so?” Eddie challenges. “Everyone else is doing it. What makes me different from everybody?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” you smile at him.

Eddie shifts his weight onto the counter, bringing the bottle up to his lips, taking another gulp. His eyes dart everywhere -- the metal buckle of your belt, the skin that was shiny with dried sweat, your hands that tap at the sticky countertop of the bar, the way your lips wrap around the tip of your bottle and the liquid that slips out and down your chin that he greedily wanted to tongue away. 

“Funny,” you observe. “I’m here every Saturday and I’ve never once seen your face.”

He thinks he’s looking over at an angel, really, heart beating faster when he realizes it’s him that you’d made an effort to come up to. Made an effort to get to know.

“Interesting that you saw me.”

“I see everything from up there. And you’re a newcomer, I can tell. Sticking out like a sore thumb in the best way.”

You invite him into your energy, closing up the distance between the two of you with a graceful stride in his direction.

“You were amazing,” Eddie says to you. “Really know how to put on a show, cowgirl.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie insists. “Spotlight loves you. Killer crowd engagement as well.”

“You a performer too?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

“Mmm, I don’t know…” you sigh dreamily. “Just a fellow performer lookin’ for some tips and pointers.”

Not much needs to be said to know that you two ache for each other, judging by how the intimate dive bar grows non-existent for as long as you two are captured in the forcefield of each other. Eddie thinks that there would be absolutely nothing better than giving you some pointers, his hand leaving the bottle, some of the liquid sloshing around the precipitating glass, heart pounding in his ears as he nods quickly. One rowdy night wouldn’t hurt anybody, he thinks to himself. And it’s very apparent that, the stunner that is you, wants take him for a spin.

“So what do you say, cowboy?” you cock an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t we ride off into the sunset, just you and me?”

dividers by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more @saradika @mikeykuns

[justauthoring]

naturally [3].

you fit into their little family perfectly - naturally → in which you meet satoru gojo

a/n: yall this one was a blast to write.

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader, yuji itadori x f!reader (platonic), satosugu as well!

want to support your local writer? send me a coffee!

I won’t be able to pick up Yuji today from daycare, do you mind heading there alone?

No worries at all, Kento. You know I don’t mind. Is everything okay?

Yes. My boss is being particularly pushy about getting this project done by today. I’m sorry to leave you alone.

I’ll be fine. But please don’t push yourself too hard, love. 

Thank you, Y/N. I’ll try not to.

I’ll make your favourite for dinner, okay? Love you.

That would be wonderful, dear. I love you too.

When you’d received the text from Nanami, you hadn’t thought anything of it. This wasn’t the first time he’d asked you to pick up Yuji, and that was way before the two of you ever were in a relationship. It hadn’t been much of a hassle then, given that you lived next door to him but it was even less of a worry now since you’d moved in with Nanami and Yuji into their apartment. Often, the two of you would pick up Yuji together and since you’d started joining Nanami, Yuji had been ecstatic about the whole thing that you made it a goal to go every day.

You’d already been out doing some errands, just about to make your way to the school with the assumption that Nanami would meet you there, when you’d gotten his text. You’d shrugged the whole situation off, mentally thankful you’d gotten all the necessary ingredients for Nanami’s favourite dinner when you’d grabbed groceries with a light frown at the realization of how hard Nanami’s office had been pushing him recently. Luckily it was the end of the week and you could spend the weekend making sure he got the rest he definitely deserved.

Your walk to Yuji’s daycare isn’t long at all and your thoughts are filled with the wonderful and loving family you’ve found yourself. None of it was in your plans for your life but you couldn’t deny how incredibly happy you were. Yuji was an absolute bundle of joy that you loved like your own son, and Nanami was the best boyfriend you could ask for – understanding, loyal, and loving. He checked off any and all boxes that may exist and made you incredibly happy.

You wouldn’t trade any of it.

“Y/N/N!”

You’re pulled from your thoughts at the familiar sound of Yuji’s voice. You blink, not having even realized you’d reached the daycare until a blob of pink comes crashing towards you, slamming right into your legs as Yuji hugs you as best he can with his small arms, peering up at you with bright, shining eyes. You smile at the sight, crouching down to his level as you distantly catch his teacher’s eye and offer a smile when she waves at you, before putting your full attention on Yuji.

“Hi, Yuji-kun,” you giggle, ruffling his hair. You notice his eyes drift past you, and are quick to explain. “Your father is stuck at work for a bit but I was thinking me and you could make his favourite dinner together, how does that sound?” 

Yuji beams; “perfect!”

You let out a laugh, nodding your head. “How was your day?”

“Amazing!” Yuji practically cheers, and you blink slightly at the pure excitement in his voice. Suddenly, he’s letting go of your leg to take your hand in his own, his grip quite tight for such a small child as he starts pulling. “I want you to meet my friend, Y/N/N. His name is Megumi!”

You internally laugh at Yuji’s short-attention span. You’d thought he’d be more disappointed about Nanami not being able to show up, but as usual, the boy was effortlessly positive and didn’t seem to let himself get phased by many things.

That, or he was just happy as long as one of you came.

“Okay–just, slow down a little, Yuji, I–”

“MEGUMI!”

Your lips part as Yuji practically bellows the name, eyes drifting ahead of yourself to the direction Yuji’s yanking you towards. You see a small boy, just slightly taller than Yuji, with black, spiky hair (it’s quite amazing actually), in a similar uniform as Yuji but he looks a lot more neat and put-together than Yuji does–even though every morning, you make sure Yuji leaves with his buttons all done and his collar straight, something or another is amiss every time you come to pick him up.

The boy glances back at the call of his name, seemingly unphased by how loud Yuji was, and it’s then you notice the man standing next to him.

He’s tall. Very tall. He’s got startlingly white hair that falls effortlessly around his head, shaping his face perfectly and he’s wearing a pair of black sunglasses but yet as his eyes drift in the direction of you and Yuji, it still feels like he’s staring directly into you.

“Y/N/N! Y/N/N! This is Megumi,” Yuji tugs at your hands and you pull your eyes away from the man, moving to smile down at Megumi. “Megumi, this is Y/N/N. The one I was talking about.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Megumi,” you offer gently, smiling softly down at the boy.

Meeting your eyes, you’re shocked as Megumi bows, offering a small ‘nice to meet you’. You don’t think you’ve met such a polite young boy, even if he was a little quiet. It’s funny, you think, how Yuji could’ve made such a friend–someone so quiet and calm compared to your loud and boisterous boy. But then again, didn’t they say opposites attract?

“I certainly don’t know where he got that from.”

You glance up as the man with white-hair speaks up, grinning at you as he steps forward, ruffling Megumi’s hair. The boy instantly frowns as he does, batting the man’s hands away as he he grumbles to himself all whilst Yuji giggles, moving to point out Megumi’s frown and the two of them fall into a chatter amongst themselves as the man with white-hair sticks his own out towards you.

“Satoru Gojo,” the man introduces, “and you must be the famous Y/N Yuji keeps telling me about.”

Slowly, you let your hand fall in his, nodding. “Yes, I, um… I’m Kento’s–”

“Wife,” Gojo cuts off, smirking. “Yes, I actually work with your husband.”

Your eyes widen, cheeks burning red; “oh… oh no! We’re just dating, not… we’re not married, Gojo-san.”

“Ah, please, call me Satoru,” he brushes off, “and sorry. I just assumed Nanami would’ve put a ring on you already with the way he talks about you. He’s absolutely smitten.”

Your cheeks stay flushed, glancing at your feet. “Ah, well… you know…” desperate for the conversation to change, you glance back up at him. “Are you Megumi’s father?” You only ask because the two of them don’t really look all that related–of course, that didn’t mean much.

Still, it was a shift in conversation.

“Not biologically, no,” Gojo nods, “but I do take care of him.”

“Barely.” Megumi cuts in, glowering at the man.

You press a hand to your mouth to stifle your laughter–for such a young boy, he was rather quick-witted.

Gojo sticks his tongue out at the boy, and you find yourself unable to stop the giggle that leaves your lips at the sight. They were a rather odd pair, weren’t they? 

Gojo glances at you as you giggle and your eyes widen.

“Oh, my apologies, Satoru-san! It’s just–”

“No need to apologize,” he waves you off, stepping towards you. “Now, where is Nanami?”

“Oh, he had to stay at work to finish something up. Speaking of, Yuji and I should be heading home. We’ve got to start making dinner. But it was lovely–”

A huge gasp cuts you off. You blink, glancing down at Yuji who stares up at you with an expression like he’s come up with the best thing in the entire world.

“Y/N/N! Can Megumi and Gojo-san stay for dinner?”

-

After a long and grueling day, Nanami is more than excited to come home to you and his son and have a nice, quiet, relaxing evening.

At least, that was the plan.

Until he sees Gojo Satoru standing in his living room.

“What the hell are you doing here.”

He ignores his rather sharp language in front of the children. Never, ever has he ever wanted to see Gojo standing in his apartment, in his living room and least of all, has he ever wanted Gojo to be anywhere near you–talking with you, making you laugh, offering to help you with dinner–any of it.

Your wide eyes fall on Nanami the second you hear his voice, and Nanami feels a flash of guilt when he sees the panicked look in your eyes.

Gojo just beams. “Nanami! You’re just in time for dinner.”

Yuji comes bounding towards Nanami, hugging his father tightly and Nanami, despite the annoyance standing in front of him, of course returns the hug to his son, as Yuji beams up at him; “I asked Y/N/N if Megumi and Gojo-san could come for dinner and she said yes!”

Nanami’s eyes drift to you then, noticing the way you step towards him nervously. “I hope that’s okay,” you offer quietly and Nanami frowns at the look in your eyes. You look positively worried, and he curses himself silently when he realizes it’s because you think you’ve upset him. “Satoru-san said he was a friend from work and Yuji seemed super excited, so–”

Stepping towards you, Nanami gently pulls himself from Yuji, wrapping his arm around your waist to lean forward and press a kiss against your forehead. “It’s no worries, love. It’s not you I’m annoyed by,” he assures you, smiling down at you before his gaze hardens and he faces Gojo who continues to stand smugly in the living room. “It’s him.”

It’s then you learn that while Gojo may consider them friends, Nanami certainly doesn’t.

At least, not outwardly. You can tell Gojo definitely annoys your boyfriend, but Nanami still tolerates him nonetheless and it’s proven in the way he doesn’t immediately kick Gojo out. 

You also notice how Nanami is particularly clingy the entire night – he sticks by you, as if attached to your hip, constantly offering to help, barely allowing Gojo to step within a few feet of you. Gojo notices, of course, and he uses it to his advantage to constantly tease Nanami but you find you hardly care – Nanami was hardly ever possessive and it made you feel giddy that he was so desperate to make sure Gojo didn’t flirt with you all whilst making sure not to be too overbearing on you or do anything you weren’t comfortable with.

It was a feeling that had you tingling all night.

“The dinner was fantastic, Y/N/N.”

Nanami grunts at the nickname Gojo had decidedly started calling you halfway through dinner, a name he’d picked up from Yuji, but you just smile at the man. Gojo is standing by the door to the apartment, a passed out Megumi in his hands. Yuji’s already been tucked into bed by Nanami twenty minutes ago when the two boys had promptly passed out on the couch together. Gojo had moved to excuse himself shortly after, of course with slight pressure from Nanami, who continued to have his arm around your waist, you tucked into his side as the both of you stood across from Gojo, seeing him and Megumi off.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you smile, leaning into Nanami. “I’m sorry we kept Megumi up so late.”

Gojo shrugs, “nah, it’s fine. Suguru might be a bit upset, but…”

Your brows furrow, “whose Suguru?”

Gojo grins. “My husband.”

Your eyes widen and Nanami shakes his head from next to you; “yet you continue to flirt with my girlfriend.”

“Kento,” you mumble, turning to him embarrassed.

Gojo just laughs; “your girlfriend is very beautiful,” he grins over at you, and you glance down at your feet in embarrassment. “Besides, Suguru knows I love him.” Gojo rolls his eyes at Nanami, before turning back to you. “He’s actually out on a trip with the girls for the weekend. Left yesterday.”

Your lips part; “girls?”

“Yes, Megumi’s sister, Tsumiko, and two other girls, Mimiko and Nanako that we adopted.”

You let out a gasp, “oh my! That’s so wonderful,” you beam up at the man. “The six of you must be so happy.”

Gojo laughs; “I wonder about Megumi sometimes… He didn’t wanna go on the trip, said it would be boring but I think it was because he didn’t wanna miss seeing Yuji at daycare. The two of them are like two peas in a pod.”

Truly, you feel like your heart could melt. Turning to Nanami, you beam at him; “we’ll have to have Megumi over more often then.” Then, turning back to Gojo, you add; “and of course Suguru-san and the girls!”

Nanami frowns, but you don’t see it as Gojo grins back at you; “I’ll make sure to let Suguru know.” He assures, “now, I should go. I think I might’ve overstayed my welcome.”

You glance over at Nanami at that, noticing the frown on his lips and let out a light giggle as you nod at Gojo. With one final goodbye, Nanami opens the door for him, before shutting it the second he’s sure he’s gone. You watch as the man’s shoulders instantly sag the second Gojo’s gone and tilt your head.

“Do you really not like Satoru-san that much?”

His eyes widened; “no… no, it’s not that. I’ve known Gojo for a long time. He’s annoying, but he’s a… friend.” Then, stepping towards you, he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, love. I’m just tired.”

His hands fall on your waist, tugging you towards him and you fall into him with ease, letting your head fall on his chest as you hum out softly. “I know. Don’t worry about cleaning up, I’ve got it.” Leaning back slightly, you press a kiss to his jaw. “Just get some rest.”

Nanami shakes his head; “no, you already made dinner for me tonight. I can help clean.”

“But–”

“No buts,” he smirks down at you. “I want to help.”

With a moment more of hesitance, you nod. And the two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you work to tidy up from dinner. With the two of you, it’s cleaned a lot faster and before you know it, the two of you are already tucked into bed, kitchen clean, clothes swapped for more comfortable attire and feeling ready to pass out completely.

Just as Nanami presses a final kiss to your cheek, arm wrapped around your waist with your back pressed to his chest, you can't help but ask; “were you really jealous of a married man? Married to another man, no less?”

There’s a pause. Then, “...maybe.”

[brunhielda]

There is so much cool stuff at the library, you don’t even know! Some of the best old black and white films I can’t even find on streaming just EXIST there because some elderly patron left them in their Will.

That’s just how libraries are.

I say as a librarian.

Haven't seen this pointed out yet but do you know what you can do if you run out of shows to watch? Read a book.

Do you know where you can get free books (and movies, audiobooks, and cds)? Public libraries.

Do you know what is currently under attack by many parts of our government and could really use your support? Public libraries.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

When the app tries to make you robo-scab

When we talk about the abusive nature of gig work, there’s some obvious targets, like algorithmic wage discrimination, where two workers are paid different rates for the same job, in order to trick occasional gig-workers to give up their other sources of income and become entirely dependent on the app:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

Then there’s the opacity — imagine if your boss refused to tell you how much you’ll get paid for a job until after you’ve completed it, claimed that this was done in order to “protect privacy” — and then threatened anyone who helped you figure out the true wage on offer:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/07/hr-4193/#boss-app

Opacity is wage theft’s handmaiden: every gig worker producing content for a social media algorithm is subject to having their reach — and hence their pay — cut based on the unaccountable, inscrutable decisions of a content moderation system:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

Making content for an algorithm is like having a boss that docks every paycheck because you broke rules that you are not allowed to know, because if you knew the rules, you’d figure out how to cheat without your boss catching you. Content moderation is the last place where security through obscurity is considered good practice:

https://doctorow.medium.com/como-is-infosec-307f87004563

When workers seize the means of computation, amazing things happen. In Indonesia, gig workers create and trade tuyul apps that let them unilaterally modify the way that their bosses’ systems see them — everything from GPS spoofing to accessibility mods:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/08/tuyul-apps/#gojek

So the tech and labor story isn’t wholly grim: there are lots of ways that tech can enhance labor struggles, letting workers collaborate and coordinate. Without digital systems, we wouldn’t have the Hot Strike Summer:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/02/not-what-it-does/#who-it-does-it-to

As the historic writer/actor strike shows us, the resurgent labor movement and the senescent forces of crapulent capitalism are locked in a death-struggle over not just what digital tools do, but who they do it for and who they do it to:

https://locusmag.com/2022/01/cory-doctorow-science-fiction-is-a-luddite-literature/

When it comes to the epic fight over who technology acts for and against, we need a diversity of tactics, backstopped by tech operated by and for its users — and by laws that protect workers and the public. That dynamic is in sharp focus in UNITE Here Local 11’s strike against Orange County’s Laguna Cliffs Marriott Resort & Spa.

The UNITE Here strike turns on the usual issues like a living wage (hotel staff are paid so little they have to rent rooming-house beds by the shift, paying for the right to sleep in a room for a few hours at a time, without any permanent accommodation). They’re also seeking health-care and pensions, so they can be healthy at work and retire after long service. Finally, they’re seeking their employer’s support for LA’s Responsible Hotels Ordinance, which would levy a tax on hotel rooms to help pay for hotel workers’ housing costs (a hotel worker who can’t afford a bed is the equivalent of a fast food worker who has to apply for food stamps):

https://www.unitehere11.org/responsible-hotels-ordinance/

But the Marriott — which is owned by the University of California and managed by Aimbridge Hospitality — has refused to bargain, walking out negotiations.

But the employer didn’t walk out over wages, benefits or support for a housing subsidy. They walked out when workers demanded that the scabs that the company was trying to hire to break the strike be given full time, union jobs.

These aren’t just any scabs, either. They’re predominantly Black workers who rely on the $700m Instawork app for gigs. These workers are being dispatched to cross the picket line without any warning that they’re being contracted as strikebreakers. When workers refuse the cross the picket and join the strike, Instawork cancels all their shifts and permanently blocks them from new jobs.

This is a new, technologically supercharged form of illegal strikebreaking. It’s one thing for a single boss to punish a worker who refuses to scab, but Instawork acts as a plausible-deniability filter for all the major employers in the region. Like the landlord apps that allow landlords to illegally fix rents by coordinating hikes, Instawork lets bosses illegally collude to rig wages by coordinating a blocklist of workers who refuse to scab:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2022/10/company-that-makes-rent-setting-software-for-landlords-sued-for-collusion/?comments=1

The racial dimension is really important here: the Marriott has a longstanding de facto policy of refusing to hire Black workers, and whenever they are confronted with this, they insist that there are no qualified Black workers in the labor pool. But as soon as the predominantly Latino workforce struck, Marriott discovered a vast Black workforce that it could coerce into scabbing, in collusion with Instawork.

Now, all of this isn’t just sleazy, it’s illegal, a violation of Section 7 of the NLRB Act. Historically, that wouldn’t have mattered, because a string of presidents, R and D, have appointed useless do-nothing ghouls to run the NLRB. But the Biden admin, pushed by the party’s left wing, made a string of historic, excellent appointments, including NLRB General Counsel Jennifer Abruzzo, who has set her sights on punishing gig work companies for flouting labor law:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/10/see-you-in-the-funny-papers/#bidens-legacy

UNITE HERE 11 has brought a case to the NLRB, charging the Instawork, the UC system, Marriott, and Aimbridge with violating labor law by blackmailing gig workers into crossing the picket line. The union is also asking the NLRB to punish the companies for failing to protect workers from violent retaliation from the wealthy hotel guests who have punched them and screamed epithets at them. The hotel has refused to identify these thug guests so that the workers they assaulted can swear out complaints against them.

Writing about the strike for Jacobin, Alex N Press tells the story of Thomas Bradley, a Black worker who was struck off all Instawork shifts for refusing to cross the picket line and joining it instead:

https://jacobin.com/2023/07/southern-california-hotel-workers-strike-automated-management-unite-here

Bradley’s case is exhibit A in the UNITE HERE 11 case before the NLRB. He has a degree in culinary arts, but racial discrimination in the industry has kept him stuck in gig and temp jobs ever since he graduated, nearly a quarter century ago. Bradley lived out of his car, but that was repossessed while he slept in a hotel room that UNITE HERE 11 fundraised for him, leaving him homeless and bereft of all his worldly possessions.

With UNITE HERE 11’s help, Bradley’s secured a job at the downtown LA Westin Bonaventure Hotel & Suites, a hotel that has bargained with the workers. Bradley is using his newfound secure position to campaign among other Instawork workers to convince them not to cross picket lines. In these group chats, Jacobin saw workers worrying “that joining the strike would jeopardize their standing on the app.”

Today (July 30) at 1530h, I’m appearing on a panel at Midsummer Scream in Long Beach, CA, to discuss the wonderful, award-winning “Ghost Post” Haunted Mansion project I worked on for Disney Imagineering.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/30/computer-says-scab/#instawork

[Image ID: An old photo of strikers before a struck factory, with tear-gas plumes rising above them. The image has been modified to add a Marriott sign to the factory, and the menacing red eye of HAL9000 from Stanley Kubrick's '2001: A Space Odyssey' to the sky over the factory. The workers have been colorized to a yellow-green shade and the factory has been colorized to a sepia tone.]

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[jesncin]

seeing a lot of "if you want non Bats or Supes characters to get more comics you have to actually buy the comics to support niche characters" especially in response to supporting Absolute Martian Manhunter (who the team admits has historically been a tough sell).

While I get it, it's also just so overly simplistic to blame consumers to have to work against a broken capitalistic system. It doesn't take into account that publishers don't invest in marketing, that pre-order sales are everything (which relies on readers knowing these titles exist months in advance, pre-ordering it ideally at a local comic book store, if there even is a comic book store nearby, if the title isn't axed due to poor sales, etc) and that sometimes you just don't want to monetarily support a run anymore even if it has your beloved niche character attached to it.

maybe it's because I'm fresh off of Dead In America but I think it's unreasonable to keep insisting fans need to throw money at runs that weren't good or worse yet had horribly offensive depictions of marginalized characters just "to get more Constantine comics!". I get giving writers/artists chances to improve especially how even with all its faults, Hellblazer 2019 was extremely promising so "hopefully the depiction of sign language improves in the next run" is a reasonable thing to believe, but we got to see what a continuation of the run is like. It was a racist + ableist mess that had a Black character constantly brutalized and then had his disability "cured". There's only so much grace readers (especially marginalized readers) can give to a run like that.

So yes, support the comics and characters you want to see with your money. But also, maybe I don't want to use my money to send DC Comics the message "I like that John Jones is white this time" just to see more Martian Manhunter comics. Maybe I subjectively don't like the sound of the pitch, and would rather spend my money on Absolute Wonder Woman.

[cardierreh15]

Not a question but I only read one of your works and fell in love with it! Since I joined the Henry Cavill fandom your work quickly became my top five!! It makes me vision myself with him in reality lol I tried to continue on but I believe the links aren’t working . But anyways I’m definitely a big ass fan of yours now!!

Aw 😭😭😭 why I’m crying in the club rn?! I thank you for your kind words 🥹 I am so sorry about the links! I’m working on that. Can never have shit too organized on this app cause they’ll just screw it up anyway lol give me til sunday babe. It should be fixed then 💕

[silent-sanctum]

"Jotaro as a Father"

Alright, this is another popular discussion about Jotaro's character. It also falls victim to the fandom's tendency to resort to "black and white" thinking, perhaps combined with other minor factors (and another case of me liking to overanalyze my favorite characters because Araki left so much about him vague)

This user has posted this on another "opinions that I will defend until the end of time" and garnered thousands of likes. This was probably the most liked quoted retweet. And it irked me. Am I surprised? Not really. Disappointed? Absolutely. And they are probably the 80% Jotaro fans that don't understand him.

And as your local Jotaro defender and anti-Jotaro mischaracterization person, I am here with another essay exploring more of his mentality. This time, it's about him being a parent, and while he isn't the best father, he isn't that bad either, or at least how the majority of the fandom thinks him to be.

I have made a previous character essay that talked about Jotaro's crippling weaknesses under the facade of strength and competence in detail. If you're interested, I'll leave this sentence linked to the post.

Now keep in mind: This character study is all assumptions and headcanons, BUT they are grounded in canon (e.g., pattern of behavior, general personality, actions he took, etc.) instead of what is popular in fanon interpretations. And much like how I wrote my previous essay (with the CEO and her POV on her emotional reservation), I will be drawing a lot of thematic comparisons with another show I've watched.

Why? Because sometimes, there are patterns on how groups of people can function in life, and it's not just the writer's bias and blind defense of their favorite character.

Second, I need to make this clear also: Jolyne is valid for being mad at her father. I am not invalidating her feelings at all. This essay is about exploring his headspace and what led him to do what he did. That's it.

Okay. Now onto the essay itself.

"Is he a bad father?"

Ehh, I can say that while he isn't good, he isn't bad either. His parenting lands more in the grey area, instead of either end of the spectrum. Because we all know at the surface level that he got married, had a daughter, went AWOL, divorced his wife, and stayed away from his family for their safety.

The action was bad: Neglect is neglect, no matter the excuse, and it can cause the affected people to respond to it negatively in the long term, especially for children with an absent parent.

However, the intention was good: He chose to stay away from his family because he attracted danger to his loved ones, who couldn't see the threat. He's a Stand user who could likely draw in other Stand users. He cared for them, and he wouldn't want to risk their safety by being around them.

It's complicated and nuanced. I feel like it's wrong to just shoehorn him into the "bad father" category, when the generalized view of what a "bad dad" is being abusive or leaving the child with malicious and/or selfish intent. But he doesn't hold up the "good father" title either, when being a "good dad" involves being a constant support for one's child, which he didn't do in Jolyne's late childhood to her teens.

So, he's neither good nor bad. He's a father doing all that he can with his current circumstances.

And yes, while I could leave it at that with the whole "he's neither good nor bad, but somewhere in between", many have placed their arguments about why he's a bad father and the alternatives he could've taken instead of completely choosing the self-isolation route.

The most popular one was this question:

"If he knew he was a danger, why did he have Jolyne? Why did he choose to have a family when he was going to stay away from them in the end?"

Here's the thing though… He didn't.

Jotaro doesn't have the hindsight that the audience has. He couldn't have known until he noticed it later down adulthood, where he grew to become more observant of his surroundings.

And even if he did know, is he not allowed to be human? Do you want him to just be a lonely marine biologist who just does the Speedwagon Foundation's (SWF) Stand work 24/7? Is he not a person who is capable of feeling love for someone else, and has wants for himself outside his job?

Yes, he's diligent. He is capable of self-preservation. He is powerful. But even the strongest individuals have families of their own. They have close bonds with others that they treasure. Why? Because being able to love and feel love is what makes someone "human". Jotaro is a human just like most of us. He isn't a working machine who just does his job.

Let me introduce this show called "Moving." It's a show where basically "superpowered parents who used to be special agents, hide their superpowered children from organizations who wish to exploit or kill them." It's a relevant show to this essay since the protagonist's father behaves similarly to Jotaro.

In the show, this man is the government's best agent with special abilities. He carries out his missions and reports back after completing his task. He does his job seriously and rarely fails an assignment. In isolation, he describes himself to be cold and stoic, who is unable to socialize much due to his role as a special operations agent.

One day, he encounters the protagonist's mother: The organization's top graduate with exceptional marksmanship, who also possesses special abilities.

And despite both of them knowing the risks of getting too personal and intimate, guess what happened?

They both fall in love, even if it means being locked into being exploited by the government. And not only that, guess what else happened.

They have a child together.

Let me remind you: They know they are high-profile agents. The best of the best. They are aware of the risks that come with interpersonal connections, but they had that family anyway. Why? Because they were human. To find normalcy in the midst of their circumstances.

My point is that Jotaro is a person who's allowed to have a life, even if it couldn't be completely normal given his situation. Jonathan got married and had a kid. Joseph got married and had children. What makes Jotaro any different? Because he's workaholic, stoic, and reserved like the dad in the show? That's not a fair assumption if you ask me.

Another thought raised was this:

"Couldn't he just have given and trained Jolyne with her Stand?"

It seems plausible, and it sounds cool. But you have to know how Jotaro operated and why that couldn't be the case. His life after Egypt went down the drain. Heck, you could even say that his life changed when Star Platinum awakened in him. When Stands became a permanent thing in his day-to-day.

No matter how much he likes to focus on his day job as a biologist, he now had to shoulder being the SWF's go-to investigator for the supernatural. Not only did he work hard in his profession, but he had to do the Foundation's tasks as the Joestar bloodline's active patriarch and as the one who slayed DIO.

He couldn't have a normal life anymore. Not with his involvement with the Foundation and the enemies he attracted.

Now answer me this- What parent who loves their child will subject them to a life like theirs?

"Moving's" main premise is the lengths that families will go to protect their children, including from their past. The couple I mentioned raised their superpowered baby in hiding. And here's the kicker: It's the father who chose to suppress his son's abilities so he could live a normal life.

Again, this is the same cold, stoic man whom the organization treats as its best agent. And it's not just this family. There are multiple examples of parents in this show choosing to let their kids hide their powers.

Your daughter has caught the teacher's attention because of her power? Fake her death.

When you see the organization's leader smirk at you after learning that powers are hereditary, and you have a child? Go off the radar and leave everything, but your family, behind.

Jotaro never wanted Jolyne to be involved with Stands. He didn't want her to risk her life fighting a random Stand user when she could live the life of a normal teenager. She didn't have a Stand. Her mother didn't have one either. Why burden his child with the responsibility he had?

And did his isolation work? For the most part, yes. That is, until the incident with Romeo.

But then you ask yourself:

"He could've called her! Texted her! Sent an email- something! It's the 2000s! Technology's a thing by this point!"

Remember what his main character flaw is… Communication. If there's any fault that he has without debate, it's his inability to connect and socialize with others properly, and his poor maintenance of his bonds (as I have stated in my previous essay).

This argument could go in two ways. One is the whole communication issue, and maybe he was either too caught up in his job to update them, or he didn't want to share any details, thinking it's best for them not to know. As flawed as that thought was.

OR we could go the Snipster route, wherein he DID call Jolyne to check in on her, but because he kept making excuses as to why he's not coming home and is always away, she gradually grew to resent and hate him through the years, up until at one point, she yells at him to not call her anymore if he was going to continue being an absent father.

Pick your poison.

This leads to the next argument:

"He's a bad father because he's completely absent from Jolyne's life! He rarely bonded with Jolyne at all!"

Then why does Jolyne have so much anger towards him? If he were a fully absent father (as in I-didn't-know-you-existed type of absent), she shouldn't be holding so much resentment toward Jotaro. So, why is she hateful to him?

Because at one point, he was a present parent in Jolyne's childhood before he left. Yes, he could be busy working, but he could've spent his few moments of respite taking care of his daughter to the best he could as a loving father. She is the child he cherished after all. His weakness.

Not to Jonathan or Joseph levels of "golden retriever" and "grandiose" type of affection, but perhaps in more domestic, quiet ways: Cook her meals, read her books, listen to her talk about her day, help and teach her with homework, etc.

If he were a fully absent father, Jolyne should've felt apathetic and confused when meeting him again, not anger. If he were completely absent, Jolyne wouldn't have engaged in delinquent activity to catch her father's attention.

Again, in Moving, the protagonist is raised by a single mother from his childhood to his teens. He does not know who his father is, because when the dad was present, he was a toddler and therefore couldn't remember him. To him, his father is a stranger.

And how he reacts to the father at the end of the show is him not being upset or mad. It's him being surprised, confused, and neutral toward him. Why? Because he doesn't know him.

I would show the images but there's an image limit and I'm sad

Heck, you can say the same for Josuke and Joseph if you want an in-universe example. Josuke never knew who his dad was and was raised by Tomoko all his life. And when he meets old man Joseph for the first time, he's confused and is generally neutral to him. He's shy even when he helps him after his cane broke.

---

Jotaro leaves a lot to interpretation, and while I see a gem of a post here and there sometimes, I have to trudge through a sludge of mischaracterization and an oversaturation of memes that downplay what's canon in favor of fanon validation.

And I get it. I browse Twitter, check the timeline for updates, and notice that most users are impressionable teenagers who are from the West and go about their days living with Western individualistic values.

Maybe, just maybe, some people will project the "bad father" image to Jotaro as a result of their own daddy issues. Just like how misogynists will project themselves onto a favorite character like Jotaro.

I'm not saying this as a definitive truth, but as a possibility. Jotaro is fictional after all, and people will use fiction as a reprieve from reality.

TL;DR? He isn't a bad father, but he isn't a good one either. He's a father who does what he can to protect his daughter, with all his flawed mentality and caring heart.

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it? 

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Heeeeey, y'all!! I'm so, so, so excited to introduce this new story to everybody! I've been having a (horny) cowboy fixation for THE LONGEST time now after seeing a fanart of cowboy!Geto by the amazingly talented @sanjisblackasswife. Please go support a fellow black woman & go check out her work! I hope y'all enjoy the first two chapters! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Epilogue + Soundtrack.

********

ONE: BUSINESS AS USUAL.

Another day, another face.

Another dance for a man trying to lift your dress up to get to your panties at this trashy saloon in the town of Blackwater. 

You try not to turn around and smack the customer sitting behind you reeking of whiskey and tobacco as he plays with the skirts of your short, short ruffled dress that you only lift up somewhat to show off your nylon stockings and garter belt as you wind your hips to the music playing on the piano downstairs. 

The sounds of the smooth piano tune and the miscellaneous chatter from the saloon are the only things keeping you from losing your cool on the guy who just can’t keep his hands off of you. Touching the dancers is forbidden according to your boss (and boyfriend) who owns the place that so many drunkards, business folk, and locals frequent. 

You would think that he would be less flashy with his whereabouts due to his illegal “side hustles”, but that isn’t any of your concern. If anything, it makes your life a lot easier. You look at the timer beside you on the nightstand near a bottle of empty moonshine and immediately stop your lapdance when it dings.

“Time’s up, sir!” you more than happily announce. 

The man, older with meaty hands and bad teeth, makes a sour face under his low-brim hat. “Damn, already?” he whines. “Ya can’t do that thing ya did with your hips just one more time, darlin’?” He gives you a sheepish smile that nearly makes you laugh. Is this guy serious? 

You shake your head, playing the part of the sweet but professional Southern gal just trying to make a dime. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got other customers waitin’ on me.” You put out a hand to him for your coin. “That’ll be $15, please.” 

Since you danced clothed, it is much cheaper than a lingerie dance which is $25 while a naked dance is $30. Many of the high rollers who come in here are able to afford the lingerie and naked dances, mostly to jerk off to the dancers as they watch them. You’ve had a few do so to you, but your boyfriend doesn’t mind as long as there is cash flow. 

But your customer doesn’t hand it over right away which is another normal occurrence here: bums who can’t pay or want to finesse you for a free dance…if not get you to have sex with them. You can already tell this one is looking for more than just a dance judging by the lecherous look he gives you.

“That was some dance, y’know,” he dreamily says. “I bet you’ve got all kinds of moves in the bedroom, dontcha, darlin’?” 

You do your best to resist the urge to roll your eyes from under your long lashes and instead perse your red lips at him that match your short red dress with its low bodice that shows off your cleavage and the slit at the thigh. “None of which you’ll be findin’ out about,” you firmly say. “Now please, sir, just give me the–” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he chuckles, putting up his meaty hands in mock defense. “Ain’t no need to get defensive…but unless you’re offerin’, I could give you way more than just $50 if you show me how good of a little dancer you can be on top of me.” He gives you a wink and you damn near vomit. You need to get out of here before you let the chopper sing. 

“Have a good night, sir,” you say, appalled, and turn on your heel to leave, but his hand on your wrist stops you. “What the hell are you doin’, you creep?” you snap.

The man yanks you back by your arm, trying to get you to come onto the bed with him. “C’mon, baby, don’t be like that,” he cackles, pawing at your wais. “Just gimme what I’m askin’ for and we can–” 

“Get the fuck offa me!” you yelp, immediately snatching the bottle off of the nightstand and smacking him upside the head with it.

The man lets out an “oof” as the bottle smacks against his skull, bursting into pieces of glass that you jump away from to avoid getting cut. You watch as he falls off the bed and smacks facefirst onto the floor with a thud that will no doubt alarm the saloon. 

And it does. The door barrels open and in runs Todo, the big, buff guard that your boyfriend put in charge of keeping the saloon safe. “Get your hands off of…” His rage subsides when he looks down and finds the man at your feet. “Her,” he finishes. His eyes tick up to you worriedly. “You’re okay?” 

“Yeah, now I am,” you huff. You bend down to check the man’s pulse, finding it pumping. “He ain’t dead––just unconscious.” Todo looks like he wants to ask you what went down, but the sound of boots stomping up the wooden steps stops him. Your boyfriend and boss stand in the doorway, shoving Todo out of the way despite him looking like an ant compared to the guard. 

Kenzo, the owner of the Blackwater Saloon, is an older, lean man with cropped, black hair, a beautiful face, and a goatee that only makes him prettier…except for his anger. “What the fuck is goin’ on up here?!” he hollers. “I’m tryin’ run a business here! Why am I hearin’ all this noise?”

Todo nods at you while shuffling into the room, acting as a wall between you and Yuri. “Why don’t you ask her?” he suggests. 

Though you appreciate Todo’s protection, you know that there isn’t anything Kenzo can do to hurt you…not unless you want him to turn him in to the sheriff and his men that are for sure sniffing around for him. “What the fuck, Y/N?!” he hollers. “You killin’ my customers now?!” 

“He ain’t dead, Kenzo,” you sigh. “He’s just unconscious and drunk. He tried puttin’ your girl on the bed and usin’ this bed for more than just sleepin’.” You give a Todo a subtle nod to leave and he does though he doesn’t look happy to do so. 

Kenzo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Babe,” he groans, frustrated, “this is the second time you got into it with a customer. The last one nearly got us sued!” You gape at him, pissed that he still blames you for that. “I didn’t even touch him,” you argue. “All I did was bump him when he kept gettin’ in my way and tried to corner me for a blowjob!” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “Or would you rather I had done it for more business?” you hiss. Kenzo looks at you with those unnaturally blue eyes, the contacts he wears allowing him to conceal with natural eye color. “Baby, come on,” he whines, moving toward you. “You know that ain’t what I meant.” 

He puts his hands on your shoulders, willing you to look at him. “You just could’ve done it in another way,” he says. “All my other dancers don’t do shit like this.” You glare up at him, even more irked. “That’s because they’re afraid of gettin’ fired,” you snap. “Kenzo, the guy tried to force himself on me. What else was I supposed to do?” 

But Kenzo doesn’t look the least bit concerned with that, as usual, only thinking of himself. “Just call me or Todo next time, alright?” he sighs. “Besides, isn’t this a nicer job than workin’ at that whorehouse I found you in?” He smiles at you but it’s sharp and has a deeper meaning to it. 

You resist the urge to sock him. He knows damn well he wouldn’t fire you is the fact that you not only give him pussy but you also bring in the most business because of your pretty face, “exotic” skin, and body. He cozies up to you, taking your chin into his hand.  “Ain’tcha my girl?” he whispers. It is what he always asks you when you fight; something he thinks gets your panties wet when all it does is make you want to barf. 

But you bite your tongue and look up at him with a smile. “Yes,” you sigh. “I’m your girl.” He smiles too, showing you all of his gold teeth, and plans a wet, tobacco-flavored kiss on your lips that makes you sick. “Good girl,” he hums. “Now back to work you go. No bein’ mean now.” 

You do as he says and leave, earning a hard smack on the ass as you walk past him. You giggle fakely as you exit, finally losing your smile when you walk down the wooden steps in your black pumps to the saloon drenched in cigar smoke, whiskey, rum, and sex. Music and laughter explode from the crowded bar as you make your way to the bar where Shoko, your bartending friend, and Yuki, one of the other dancers, sit conversing.

You sit down on the stool next to Yuki with her long, blonde hair pinned up to elongate her gorgeous face and seductive eyes. “Handsy customer?” she says from behind her fan. 

You nod, huffing. “Shoko!” you yell, slapping the bar. “Gimme a shot.”

The bob-haired woman with the cigarette dangling from her lips nods, bumping Choso, one of the cuties Yuri hired a month ago that Yuki has got her eye on, out of the way. 

Once finished, she passes a whiskey smash–a cocktail with whiskey, mint, and plenty of cherries–to you. “Here ya go, missy,” she says and giggles when you down it. “Looks like you needed that…someone else too.”

She juts her chin at Kenzo hunkering down the steps, hollering at Maki and Mai, the dancing sister duo that the men adore so much, to end their break and get to work. 

“You know, the boss has been a bit on edge lately,” Yuki says, blocking her mouth with her fan to avoid anyone eavesdropping. “I wonder if he’s havin’ money issues still. Y’know, the word is that he can’t pay for this place anymore.” 

You and Shoko share a look. ‘Yeah,’ you think. ‘That’s why he’s got all these side hustles.’ Money laundering. Prostitution. Trafficking alcohol. Kenzo does it all. Hold habits die hard, you suppose. You’re the only one who knows who your boss really is. 

You’re the only one who knows that he escaped prison a year before he met you and invited you to join his saloon he only opened five months ago after hiding out last year. 

You’re the only one who knows that he only opened this saloon as a way to lay low from law enforcement. 

You’re also the only one who knows that he pulled off one of the biggest heists ever with the help of a certain gunslinging duo that you know will show up here one of these days to collect their coin. 

“Well, he gets enough business here,” you say, playing the role of the clueless girlfriend and employee. “I can’t understand why he wouldn’t have the money.” Yuki looks like she wants to respond, but a high roller sitting down next to her, much to Choso’s dismay, stops her short and she puts on the charm. 

Shoko leans across the bar to you, pretending to wipe the surface down with a rag. “I can’t understand why you don’t just take the money you made and leave like you planned,” she whispers. “You’ve been at this for five months, Y/N. You’ve gotta be sick of it.” 

You shake your head, passing her your shot glass for another hit. The whiskey has left a warm feeling in your gut and a buzz that you need more of. “No,” you firmly say. “Not yet.” 

Shoko only thinks you want to leave this dead-end job and Blackwater for a life somewhere else. She doesn’t know your real plan or why you’ve chosen to stay for so long. ‘And it’s only a matter of time until they get here,’ you think to yourself. 

That’s the only reason you decided to wait to kill Kenzo: to get to Geto and Gojo the Gunslingers. The duo that everyone across the wild, wild West seems to know and is afraid of. And you know that it is only a matter of time until they show up looking for your boyfriend who you’ll serve on a silver platter. Anything to have Geto and Gojo finally within your grasp. 

And when the doors to the saloon suddenly open with a loud slam that emits startled gasps from the saloon’s customers and employees, including you, you know that they have arrived: your targets.

[allwaswell16]

A One Direction fic rec of hurt/comfort fics as requested in this ask. This rec is a part 2, you can find part 1 here. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

❤️‍🩹 This Multiplicity of Powers by @helloamhere

(E, 149k, superheroes) Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside. But this isn’t that universe. //an X-Men AU.

❤️‍🩹 another dream but always you by you_explode / @nobodymoves

(M, 66k, famous/not famous) Harry is a Dreamwalker; he has the ability to visit people in their dreams and help put them on the right path. He's assigned to Louis, who's struggling after the break-up of his band.

❤️‍🩹 saw some things on the other side by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 61k, time travel) Louis’ plan doesn’t take into account the fact that instead of writing murder mysteries, he will find himself in one.

❤️‍🩹 Chasing, Searching, Dreaming by @parmahamlarrie

(E, 46k, soulmates) Harry has known who his soulmate is since he was twenty years old, and ever since, he has been waiting for Louis to be ready for him. 

❤️‍🩹 Train Tracks and Porcelain by @jaerie

(E, 41k, historical circus au) Shadows were forming into people and things and, there in the middle of it, Louis watched the humongous head of an elephant emerge from a box car right in front of his eyes. Or a Water For Elephants inspired AU

❤️‍🩹 Caves End by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 39k, farm) the one where Harry has lost his future, Louis has lost his past, but maybe together, they can find a way through the dark.

❤️‍🩹 My Other Half Was You by @lululawrence

(NR, 35k, acrobat Louis) By the age of 30, Louis' entire life trajectory had changed from what he'd thought it would be. He moved back to the town he grew up in and did his best to pull himself and his life back together again.

❤️‍🩹 All Out of Love by SunTomato / @sun-tomato

(G, 32k, cupid au) While on a mission to match Liam and Zayn, the distraction comes in the shape of Louis Tomlinson – an overworked and underloved man trying way too hard to do everything himself.

❤️‍🩹 Until the Pearls Get Lost by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(M, 25k, omegaverse) Liam’s childhood friend Louis is about to become the talk of the city; left at the altar because the mating bond was rejected, Louis will spend the rest of his life in an institution unless Liam can find someone to take him in and care for him as he recovers.

❤️‍🩹 Scarred by @allwaswell16

(E, 23k, omegaverse) As a male omega, Louis has learned to live with disappointment and rejection, but he dreams of the day he finds his soulmate. When Harry inadvertently rejects him as his soulmate, Harry has no idea he's doomed Louis to a slow, painful death.

❤️‍🩹 what's left of my halo's black by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(E, 22k, fwb) A year after a devastating breakup, Louis is still trying to put himself back together - but getting over a breakup is hard when you work as a wedding planner. Thankfully, his coworker Harry is the most supportive friend Louis could ask for.

❤️‍🩹 some evening in springtime by delsicle / @eeveedel

(M, 20k, age difference) Fresh out of veterinary school, Louis moves to a sleepy small town in Texas to take over the local animal clinic. But his new life is quickly interrupted by a middle aged rancher with a bad leg and a mysterious past, who really needs Louis's yoga skills.

❤️‍🩹 Safe place to hide us away by @lunarheslwt

(T, 12k, omegaverse) weighed down by everyday stress, alpha Harry takes up nesting in secret. It takes a load of missing clothes and unravelling lies for him to realise that his omega would love and accept him no matter what.

❤️‍🩹 Close Enough to Touch by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(M, 11k, tour au) Louis definitely did not need a masseuse on tour. Not even if that masseuse turned out to be gorgeous, kind, and lovely.

❤️‍🩹 I Kinda Need A Hero (Is It You) by @fallinglikethis

(NR, 5k, flower shop) Louis is a barista who’s had his heart broken. Harry is the boy who wants to put the pieces back together.

❤️‍🩹 Together We're the Greatest by @hellolovers13

(E, 4k, exes) It's not the first time Louis has to stitch Harry back together, but Louis will make sure it is the last.

❤️‍🩹 The Cowboy In Us All by @taggiecb

(G, 3k, famous/famous) When the real pain of trouble in their relationship gets to be too much they turn to the one thing that they can control; the messages in the songs they sing onstage.

❤️‍🩹 Remember Me (When I'm With You) by liberty_barnes / @liberty-barnes

(T, 1k, fallen angel Louis) the one where Louis was cast out and Harry just wants him to be happy.

- Rare Pairs -

❤️‍🩹 your crimes are quiet, my love by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic

(E, 97k, Zayn/Liam) A darker Miss Congeniality AU that follows Zayn and Liam, MI5 agents, partners since training and best friends, as they race to stop a serial killer. 

❤️‍🩹 a little tenderness by @disgruntledkittenface

(NR, 10k, Niall/Harry) Harry’s never been around an omega in depri as bad off as Niall looks; most of the time, there’s an alpha friend or family member who can help out with scenting and physical contact.

[moondal514]

hi! do you have any fic recs for the aftg fandom? ideally AUs but where the characters aren’t ooc

Anon you have no idea what kind of blank check you’ve given me with this ask 😂. For the sake of my own sanity I have limited myself to only listing 10 fic recs but please know that there are literally 100s of fics I could rec within these parameters 😂.

the opposite of hunger by constelationprize/ @constelationprize

One would think that, being a necromancer, Kevin Day would be more excited at the prospect of immortality. And maybe he was, once, before he had actually sat foot inside Canaan House.

...

Based on prompt #1, or: "the locked tomb au where kevin and riko are necromancers and jean is their cavalier. they are invited to canaan house by the emperor to achieve lyctorhood, but kevin refuses to perform the lyctoral theorem on jean. riko, on the other hand, has no qualms about it. "

The Locked Tomb au. This fic is just insanely good and highlights how well Perfect Court dynamics work for the Third House and it just blows my mind honestly

if i die young by animediac, dayurno/ @jaywalkers, @dayurno

Kevin Day is sixteen with eyes too human, a gift no one should ever have, and blood Andrew thinks would spill out black over the snow outside. He is standing in the school hallway with a dead boy at his feet, and he is going to die by Andrew Minyard’s hands.

He must. He will.

Kevin Day, singer of bodies. Harbringer of death.

Teen Wolf au. A collaboration between 2 amazing writers in this fandom and responsible for converting me to Kandreil

vengeance and death by cthulu_sun

legend says you have wax-dipped wings and golden fingernails and knives made of the blood you have spilled. legend says you are not merciful.

-

in which renee is a tired guardian angel, finds the foxes, and falls in love.

Guardian angel au. This is one of my favorite Renison fics because it’s such a cool universe written in a beautiful and unique style and I just think it’s one of the most underrated fics in the fandom

Hush, Don't Say a Word by waterwings/ @amywaterwings

Excerpt from local newspaper, January 10, 2016

A Killer Is on the Loose at Palmetto State. Are You Safe?

For a detailed re-telling of the gruesome events that gripped the Palmetto State campus over the past eight months, please see the pages below. But I beg you, dear reader, tread lightly. You don’t know what’s waiting for you, out there in the dark.

~Katelyn Golightly, Student Journalist

Murder mystery au. One of my favorite fics of all time ever across any fandom because the writing is visceral and gut-wrenching, the kind that has you holding your breath and on the edge of your seat as you read it, and by the end of the fic it’s broken your brain in the best way possible

We Can Live Forever by mostly_maudlin/ @mostlymaudlin

PALMETTO HIGH SCHOOL ATHLETIC FUNDRAISER

WINTER SERENADES - $5 EACH

On sale Dec. 15-17 during lunch blocks. Support our teams, and let them show your friends how much you care through choreographed song and dance!

-

Participation in the fundraiser is mandatory for all student-athletes. Maybe none of this would have happened if they weren't pushed out of their comfort zones. (But honestly, maybe it was always going to end this way.)

A story about the joys of competition, the people in your corner, and, of course, the misfortune of being a teenager in love with your best friend.

High school au. My favorite high school au in the fandom because it just makes me so so so happy and I always read it when I need a pick me up

The Real Folk Blues by moonix/ @annawrites

Captain David Wymack and the bounty hunter crew of the Bebop spaceship might be a little out of their depths chasing down the infamous hacker and notorious runaway Neil Wesninski, whose bounty exceeds even Kevin's wildest dreams. Worst of all, Andrew might actually enjoy it.

Cowboy Bebop au. Super fun au featuring the Foxes as space cowboys and copious amounts of weird Andreil flirting

Under A Sea of Mist by puddlejumper99/ @writingpuddle

For a thousand years the Lord Ruler has reigned over the Final Empire. Ash falls from the sky and strange mists shroud the night. The skaa labour in the fields and the nobility dance in their Keeps, their glittering lights blinding them to the cruelty in their hearts.

The skaa rebellion is a fantasy and Neil knows it. The Lord Ruler is immortal; there's no overthrowing him. It's as much a surprise to him as anyone else when he gets recruited. But as he gets drawn deeper into the plot, he starts to discover things that will change their understanding of magic forever.

There's always another secret.

Mistborn au. A fic whose existence still feels incredibly self-indulgent to me because it’s a mashup of 2 series I really love and an au plucked from my wildest dreams

The Sphynx and the Hare by darkbluebox/ @darkblueboxs

Neil knows he should burn Wymack's contract and run until his legs can no longer carry him. His daemon, the mouthpiece to his soul, says otherwise. He's ignored her for far too long; it's time to follow his heart, be it to dream or damnation.

Daemon au. Theeee daemon au of all time, I’ve yet to see any other daemon au in this fandom where I agreed with the choices of animals for daemons this hard

the bittersweet between my teeth by alaynes/ @nicolos

In which Neil Josten is a Time Jumper, and everywhere he goes he keeps seeing one man.

-

Neil's throat dried; the sound of keys rang in his ears, but so did his voice.

Andrew Minyard stared back at him, expression inscrutable.

Time travel/reincarnation au. Time travel au’s are always tragic on some level but this one really takes it to the next level with the way it explores Andreil existing outside of time the way they do; my go-to fic when I need to experience an Emotion™️

The Last Warm Hand To Hold You by sambutwithbooks

When Kevin Day warns him that the Moriyamas will send a monster to collect their star investment, Andrew expects something beastly.

-

Five Times Andrew Asks Neil To Bite Him and One Time He Finally Does

Vampire au. This is to me the vampire fic of all time; idk something about it is ridiculously romantic in a way I can’t help but love

-

Hope you enjoy these anon!

[optimistpax]

Comics by Black Cartoonists

It's Black History Month y'all! Go support your local (and international!) Black cartoonists because they're out here making fantastic work.

This is by no means a comprehensive list, but here is a list of some of my favourite comics by Black cartoonists, artists, and/or writers:

Clock Striker by Fredrick L. Jones and Issaka Galadima (Steampunk/Fantasy)

Barda by Ngozi Ukazu (Sci-fi/Romance)

Brooms by Jasmin Walls and Teo DuVall (Fantasy/Sports)

Bunt! by Ngozi Ukazu and Mad Rupert (Sports/Slice of Life)

The Unlikely Story of Felix and Macabber by Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou and Juni Ba (Fantasy/Sports(?))

The Last Session by Jasmin Walls and Dozerdraws (Slice of Life)

Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur by Amy Reeder, Brandon Montclare, and Natacha Bustos (Superhero/Fantasy)

CHEW by John Layman and Rob Guillory (Fantasy/Mystery/Horror)

Far Sector by NK Jemisin and Jamal Campbell (Superhero/Sci-fi)

Bitch Planet by Kelly Sue DeConnick and Valentine De Landro (Dystopian)

Artie and the Wolf Moon by Olivia Stephens (Fantasy)

Check, Please! by Ngozi Ukazu (Sports/Slice of Life/Romance)

[justauthoring]

redamancy [2/3]

*redamancy: the act of loving in return.

a/n: guess what olivia’s updating a year laterrrrrrr

word count: 2,878

warnings: honestly, this is basically yandere bakugou... heavy dubious content, implied sexual content, restraints, violence towards reader, bakugou is mean :(, villain!bakugou

part one!

want to support your local writer? send me a coffee!

You wake with a headache.

Your vision is blurred, the sudden bright light you find yourself faced with makes the headache worse as you try to adjust. First instinct is to sit up, a groan leaving your lips as you do, only then noticing just how soft whatever you’re on is. Your body sinks into it with every movement, and part of you doesn’t even want to get up.

Besides the headache, you’re not sure you’ve ever been this comfortable.

I didn’t want it to be this way.

But then you remember and everything snaps with a start.

You sit up straight, eyes cracking open with a gasp of fear as a flash of Bakugou flickers into your mind and you’re reminded of what had happened. Of how you’d seen Bakugou for the first time in years, how he’d apparently been waiting for you for all those years, and most importantly how he’d knocked you out and basically kidnapped you.

With a quick glance around, you realize you must be in his bedroom. It was painfully plain in decoration but completely clean; not a single thing misplaced or a spec to be seen. The sight almost brings a smile to your lips, remembering how you used to tease him back in your Academy days how he refused to ever leave his room a mess. It brings you back to simpler times, a wishful memory that you wish you could slip into if anything just to escape from this.

From what’s happened.

Shoto. That’s right. You’d tried to call him right before Bakugou slipped the clothe over your mouth. A quick glance around you tells you your phone isn’t anywhere near you, and it isn’t in your robe that you’d been left in.

Of course he wouldn’t leave your phone with you.

It probably wouldn’t work either—he’d smashed it right before you’d fallen unconscious.

Slipping your legs over, there’s an odd weight attached to your ankle, something black crossing your vision briefly before you blink, focusing on your left ankle. 

“What the—!”

Reaching forward, your eyes practically bulge out of your head at the large, clunky cuff around your ankle. It swallows it completely, and having worked in the hero industry for a few years now, you knew exactly what that cuff meant. Quirk-cancelling. Clearly, Bakugou didn’t trust you not to not try and escape (which, to his defense, you obviously would) and had taken the necessary precautions to eliminate that risk.

The same thing you’ve done with villains plenty of times.

Bending your knee, you pull your ankle towards you, pushing your fingers against the cuff and in between your leg, despite how it strains uncomfortably, trying to use what strength you had to pry the cuff off. It was useless, and of course you knew that—they were designed to not be able to be broken off so easily.

(Given that it would be a huge product malfunction if the villains you caught could easily just... break through them.)

“Asshole,” you hiss under your breath. It wasn’t just the fact that this meant your chances of escaping (which were already limited) were ten times harder, but the fact that this left you (also) ten times more vulnerable.

There had been a point in your life, depsite his loud and rash behaviour, you’d been certain Bakugou would never hurt you. Even when he yelled and got angry, he never got angry at you. Maybe it was the soulmate thing, or maybe it was more, you weren’t sure. You’d just known that no matter what, Bakugou would never hurt you.

And up until now, you’ve never doubted that.

But now?

Now you weren’t sure.

You haven’t seen Bakugou in three years, and the weeks before his disappearance had been weird and strained.

You had no idea who Bakugou was now, and with the ever-present factor that he was a villain? Well, that left you even more unsure. Not to mention, he’d kidnapped you! Put quirk-cancelling cuffs on you so you wouldn’t be able to fight back...

It was a sense of vulnerability you’ve not experienced. Even if you’d known Bakugou was stronger, you’ve faced strong villains before and came out the other side—why? Because you had your quirk. Because you were a hero. 

Now... Now you were no different than the civilians that fell prey to evil villains.

Letting out a light curse, you let your leg fall, taking in what you’re wearing. With a fearful swallow, you realize it isn’t what you’d been wearing when Bakugou had taken you. The silk robe you’d covered yourself in was gone and the cute pajama set of shorts and button up is replaced by a thin nightgown. The whole dress is held up by thin straps, that purposefully hang low, and the dress ends short, reaching just below your bum.

It wasn’t like before everything Bakugou hadn’t seen you. Hadn’t been with you. You both were young and inexperienced, but you’d once dressed yourself up in clothes just like this for him because you’d known he’d liked the sight.

Three years of being apart that and the fact that he’s a villain leaves you more than uncomfortable in such vulnerable clothing.

Not to mention he must’ve undressed you himself and put this on—an extreme invasion of privacy and a purposeful act to have you wearing something demure and delicant... all for him.

The sound of a door slamming shut pulls you from your thoughts and you leap to your feet, fear racing through your entire body. Your eyes snap towards the door to the bedroom door, hearing footsteps grow closer and closer. It was no doubt Bakugou. For all the information you had managed to gather on him, you knew he was working solo.

Bakugou wasn’t the type to take help from others. Being a villain didn’t change that.

As the footsteps grow closer, you’re hit with a sudden realization—where can you hide?

Your eyes snap around the room, peeling for any sort of hiding spot or escape, but you come up empty. It seems Bakugou very meticulously thought out your capture. There was a closet but the doors had been taken off, and the only other piece of furniture you could hide in was the bed, but that wouldn’t get your very far.

You opt for placing yourself as far away from the door as possible, curled into the corner with the lamp you’d found on the nightstand held protectively before you.

A second later, the door is opening.

Bakugou’s head peers in first, eyes glancing from corner to corner until they settle on your own. You force back the whimper that threatens to escape. No. You had to be strong.

As strong as you could be.

He steps into the room, letting the door shut behind him and you don’t miss the way his fingers work quick to lock the door behind him. (Shit.) The second the lock clicks, his eyes fall on back on you, smirking.

“You do realize that won’t do much, right?” He asks, hand loosely gesturing towards the lamp in your hands. Your knuckles are white with how tightly you’re holding it, but your hands also violently shake, flinching when he even just takes a step towards you. “I’m the world’s strongest villain and you think a lamp is gonna hurt?”

It hurts the way he sounds so proud.

“Ba-Bakugou—!”

He’s in front of you in a flash. You blink and he’s there, imposing and intimidating, simply pulling the lamp from your hands and setting it down beside him all without looking away or giving you any space. 

He’s closer than he’s been in years (or, at least, since he kidnapped you—) and it physically hurts. Your heart still yearns for him and your body reacts without your consent, aching for him and his touch despite how much you want to pull away.

Despite how much your mind screams at you not to.

His hand reaches forward, and you flinch, but then he’s grabbing you by the chin and tilting your gaze up to his.

“Katsuki.” He whispers, voice husky. “That’s my name.”

You shake your head still in his grasp.

He leans close, and Bakugou’s always been naturally warm so you feel it envelope you like a hug. Your body reacts, shivers running down your back, feeling exposed and practically naked as he presses his lips to the edge of your jaw.

“Katsuki,” he repeats, voice a mere murmur. “Say it.”

You let out a dejected whine; “...no.”

His free hand falls on you, grasping at your waist, eliciting a gasp from your lips as your entire body tightens, tensing underneath his familiar touch.

“Say it.” He growls, voice harsher than it had been before.

You want to give in. Your heart and your body and you ache for him... You have for three years. Dreamt about him, thought about him... wanted him. He was your soulmate, your other half—the one you were intended to spend the rest of your life with.

But—but...

“They say he killed... just under twenty civilians in his last raid. Brutally murdered them. Some of the bodies are still beind identified. Y/N... Bakugou isn’t who you think he is anymore.”

“—no!” 

The element of surprise allows you to successfull shove Bakugou off of you, chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath, a wild, panicked look in your eyes as you stare back at him. To your credit, he looks shocked even if briefly, before his faze hardens.

He moves towards you, “Y/N—”

But you step away, almost tripping over your own feet as you push yourself off the wall and try to create more distance between the both of you.

“No,” you repeat, desperate. “No... You kidnapped me! Put a quirk-cancelling cuff on me...” Feeling your eyes water, you find your grip on your strength wavering as all of it comes rushing to you, making you feel sick, making you feel like you can’t breathe. “You’ve killed and hurt so many people! Countless of innocents. You... You left me!”

“Y/N—!”

“I hate you!”

That gets him to stop. He halts, suddenly, body turning rigid and you blink, not realizing until a second later just what you said.

There’s a brief moment of complete silence. Neither of you say or do anything, just meeting each other’s gaze from across the room, your words hanging tensely in the air.

And then your feet move before you even realize, body turning sharply as you practically leap towards the door, hands reaching for the lock to the try to get the door open. Hands wrap around you just as the tips of your fingers reach the doorknob, a cry leaving your lips as you’re tugged back, lifted off your feet and then you’re thrown, weightless in the air before your back hits the bed, body bouncing in response.

You don’t have time to get up because Bakugou is faster.

It’s a wrestle of strength that you have no hope of winning as Bakugou grabs both of your wrists, pulling them up and over your head before pressing them against the bed. You can’t see what he’s doing, his chest in front of your face while his legs keep you pinned to the bed and then there’s something cold wrapping around both of your wrists and the distinct sound of something clicking echoes into the silence.

Bakugou pulls back but continues to straddle you, as you glance up, tugging on your arms when you realize he’s cuffed your wrists to the headboard of the bed.

“Wha—!”

Your chin is grabbed, head yanked until you’re facing Bakugou once again who leans over you. 

“You can’t hate me,” he hisses, and you try to ignore the fear at the sound of his barely concealed threat. “I’m your soulmate.”

“Ba—... Katsuki,” you whisper, afraid. Terrified, even. “I... please, don’t do this.”

“This is your fault,” he huffs, letting go of your face. “I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt twice but you’ve forced my hand. This is your life now. You’re mine... so you better get used to it.”

You inhale sharply. “I wanted to be with you! Don’t you understand that!”

Bakugou blinks, lips parting. 

“I was ready to give up everything for you! You left!” You’re inconsolable. Terrified, sobs wretching from your as you lay beneath Bakugou, restrained and helpless. “I searched for you everyday for the past three years! But you never let me find you... I wanted—I want to be with you but you’ve... hurt so many people.”

Bakugou leans forward again, but this time he’s gentle. His hands cup your cheeks, touch light as he shakes his head. “I did it all for you...” He whispers, eyes pleading for you to understand. “I did it so we could be together.”

You swallow thickly, shaking. “We were together...”

“You don’t understand,” he begs. “That... Deku... all of them! They wanted to keep us apart...”

Eyes widening, you pause.

“That’s what I was fighting with Deku about that day when I left... He wanted to keep us apart... said that he and shitty-hair and icy-hot—all of them would never let me be near you again.” He’s caressing your cheek, brushing back hair that had fallen in your face in the midst of everything. “So I had to leave... I didn’t want to leave you but I had to get stronger... So that one day we could be together and no one could keep us apart.”

Your lips part, trying to find your voice. That... That doesn’t make sense.

“But they... Why would they?”

“Have they left your side since that day?” Bakugou asks, shaking his head. “Have they surrounded you? I’ve seen you... with them. Together. All the time...”

“But... But it was never like tha—“

“Here. I’ll walk you home. It’s not safe for you alone out at night and I wouldn’t be much a man if I let such a pretty lady like you walk home alone.”

“Y/N-chan! Let’s have lunch together, my treat.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it for you, okay? You don’t even have to lift a finger.”

But...But—

All the touches, all the smiles and the help and...

Oh... Oh God...

Blinking, you turn to Bakguou. He’s watching you, closely, eyes never faltering, watching as the realization sinks in.

“But the... don’t they have a soul—“

“It’s just us, baby,” Bakugou whispers, voice gentle, warm. “Have you ever seen a name on them? Anywhere?”

You pause, thinking. And the answer comes quick. No.

You shake your head.

“You and me are special,” he explains, and you instinctively lean into his touch, unaware. “We’re made for each other. The only two in the whole world, you see? Just you and me. You’re mine and they tried to take you from me.”

“I...” Your voice fades, confused and baffled. 

But Bakugou’s never lied to you before and you don’t think just being a villain changes that... And he was right. Izuku, Shoto and Kirishima have hardly left you alone in the past three years, one of them was always by your side. Sometimes it was just to talk or help or do things for you... You’d always thought it was just friendly, but when you really thought about it...

It couldn’t be, could it?

That was... those were things Bakugou had done for you. Thing you’d wanted him to do for you.

“I didn’t know.”

Bakugou shushes, brushing away the tears you barely realized where still falling. “It’s okay,” he soothes, “you couldn’t have. They made you confused and tried to take you from me. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you but I had to get stronger, you see, so I can protect you. Protect us.”

You meet his eyes and you realize the look in his eyes is the looking you’ve been yearning for for the past three years.

None of what Izuku, Shoto and Kirishima did for you had mattered because they weren’t Bakugou. They weren’t who you wanted. They weren’t your soulmate.

You nod, smiling a little. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice shaking slightly. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he eases away your worries. 

You nudge at his hand, trying to lean up towards him. “I missed you so much, Katsuki...” You whisper, voice a whine. “I wanted you so bad... I missed your touch and your warmth and the way you made me feel...”

Bakugou oblidges, leaning towards you. “Me too, baby. So much.”

You instinctively move to touch him, only to be held back. “Ugh... Katsuki, I want to touch you.”

His hands move to your waist, keeping you pinned to the spot. “Not yet, baby. Your mind is still a jumbled mess. I’ll let you go but I have to make sure, okay?” You whine, moving to shake your hand but his grip pinches and your eyes fly to his, seeing the hardened look in his eyes.

Slowly, you nod; “okay...”

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, Katsuki,” you smile, “but... but please... I need you.”

And he smiles, wide and grinning, and you’re too dazed to notice the sinister look in his eyes as he laughs lightly; “oh, don’t worry, I plan to, baby.”

[petercapaldi-press]

THE TELEGRAPH

Peter Capaldi interview: ‘The default Doctor Who now is a kind of cosmic imp’

INTERVIEW

The actor talks about playing the Time Lord, never doing Shakespeare and releasing his debut album at the age of 63

Neil McCormick

12 November 2021 5:00am GMT

Before Peter Capaldi was an actor; long before he became celebrated as fierce civil servant Malcolm Tucker in The Thick of It or a daunting and strange Doctor in Doctor Who, he played guitar and sang in obscure Scottish punk band B-----ds from Hell. Now, at 63, Capaldi is finally about to release his debut album. “I’m not setting out to make a career change or chase my cousin Lewis up the charts,” he insists. “I’m an enthusiastic amateur having a go.”

St Christopher is a strange and beguiling piece of work, a complex slice of baroque pop-rock and ornate singer-songwriting, its widescreen productions decorated with poetic lyrics delivered with downbeat theatrical flair. “It’s largely the same stuff that was floating round my head post art school, Glasgow, circa 1979, set in neon and rain. Except I’m 40 years older.”

Sitting in a north London café, Capaldi stirs an “extra hot” latte. He’s wearing a sleek black coat over a white T-shirt, his face lean, eyes sparkling, mouth playing with a perpetual half-smile. He draws movie-star attention but blanks it out as he discusses his passion project.

“There’s a tyranny of logic about acting. Your job is to tell the story through the medium of your part as effectively as possible. But it’s somebody else’s story. I enjoy the freedom of music, you can respond to a sound or a tone or a chord and try to construct something that goes with that or against it.” Capaldi’s lyrics playfully grapple with grand themes, from the interconnectedness of everything on Atlanta Vacant Lot to the ephemeral illusions of deluded youth, on the slyly mocking Beautiful and Weird.

As a working-class child (his parents ran an ice-cream business) growing up in Glasgow in the 1960s, Capaldi was drawn to acting but didn’t feel equipped. “You go to an audition and they ask ‘what’s your Shakespearean piece?’ I’d never seen a Shakespeare play. So you’re hopeless, because there’s no uncle in the RSC [Royal Shakespeare Company], you’re not part of that world, you have nothing except a desire to have a go. So I did apply to drama school but I didn’t get in.”

A teacher encouraged him to apply to Glasgow Art School, where “music swept me away”. The B-----ds turned into the Dreamboys, with future comedian Craig Ferguson on drums. “As we were slightly pretentious art school kids, we were trying to evoke a kind of Dr Caligari dreamscape, but we just sounded like a junior branch of the Chippendales male strippers.” They soldiered on in obscurity for years. Then, while touring as support to Scottish new-wave pop band Altered Images, Capaldi was spotted by director Bill Forsyth. At 24, he found himself making his film debut opposite Burt Lancaster in Local Hero. “He [Lancaster] was fabulous. He said: ‘Kid, your instincts are terrific! Terrific! But I can’t understand a f---ing word you’re saying.’”

Capaldi with Burt Lancaster in Local Hero (1983) Credit: Alamy Stock Photo

Capaldi had a long career as, effectively, an interesting supporting actor. “You look back and go ‘Well, that was a good choice, that was a bad choice’, but really there were no choices. I had a baby and a wife and a mortgage. You’ve got to do whatever comes up.” He won an Oscar in 1995 as writer and director of the short film Franz Kafka’s It’s a Wonderful Life, but subsequent projects collapsed. “It’s a tough business. I had a very bleak period where whatever initial success I’d had had long failed. There was no work, no money coming in, Oscars had come and gone, Local Hero had come and gone, youth had come and gone. And I didn’t know how to get it back on track.”  Then, out of the blue, fellow Glaswegian Armando Iannucci asked him to be in his new sitcom, The Thick of It. “The big lesson I learnt was that you can’t control it, so stop angsting over it. But that’s easy to say now. It wasn’t easy stalking about with no money for a cup of coffee.”

It wasn’t until he was in his fifties and cast as the 12th Doctor that he achieved household-name fame. “My job was to go into work in the morning and battle Daleks. It was fabulous. You get to inhabit the skin of this charismatic, magical creature. Kids look at you and you can see their jaws drop. That’s an extraordinary position to be in.”

Yet he admits to finding the pressure of being recognised on the street quite daunting. “You have to always be positive and good-hearted. My default position is probably a bit more melancholic and reflective, but nobody wants to hear about that stuff when you’re the Doctor. I wanted to be a more distant and alien Doctor. Because that’s how I remember [first Doctor] William Hartnell, being a kid in Glasgow on dark winter nights when this strange figure with the white hair and slightly irate voice could open this portal to a magical world. The default now is a kind of cosmic imp. Which is great. But I wanted to touch the dark winter nights. I’m not sure whether the brand supports that any more, but that’s what I was interested in.”

The reign of his successor Jodie Whittaker ends next year, but Capaldi expresses no opinions on who should follow. “One of the great things about doing Doctor Who is it kind of cures you, in the nicest possible way. So I think they’re all great and I wish everybody well, but I’m done,” he laughs almost gleefully.

Capaldi as the 12th incarnation of Doctor Who Credit: BBC

The revival of his long-dormant musical career is the tale of two doctors, when Doctor Who met Dr Robert (AKA songwriter and producer Robert Howard, frontman of vintage art rockers the Blow Monkeys). The two would play guitar together at parties, and Capaldi became a fascinated observer of Dr Robert’s studio work.  Meanwhile, Capaldi’s young second cousin, Lewis Capaldi, was rising to fame as the UK’s favourite singer-songwriter. “Lewis is a proper musician, a really gifted songwriter. He’s been doing that since he was like, 11 or something. I’m very proud of him, even if I don’t really know him.”

Capaldi, who will soon be seen in the Terence Davies film Benediction, about Siegfried Sassoon, jokingly admits he still doesn’t have “a Shakespeare piece” for auditions. “Shakespearean companies have never troubled me with their interest. I know in my heart of hearts, I can act it. But once you get into a production, you are going to be up against people who have been practising the iambic pentameter for the last 30 years.” He shakes his head. “Ach, I could do it! But, you know, it’s such a palaver, they last so long, they’re always like three-and-a half hours long. I’m not bothered.”

His advice for young actors is simple. “Number one, and most important of all, learn your lines. Because if you learn your lines, you have the freedom to tell the story using everything God’s given you. Number two, hang on in there. Because the stars align, sometimes. Look at me. Sometimes you get lucky.”

Peter Capaldi’s St Christopher is out next Friday on Monks Road Records