#that’s it that’s the most I’ve gotten

[fastandcarlos]

Save The Day : ̗̀➛ Carlos Sainz

summary: your shopping trip couldn't have gotten much worse, until a stranger approaches and swoops in to save the day

“Excuse me, is everything alright? You look in need of some help.” 

Your eyes flickered up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, noticing a man stood just beside you. You were walking all over the place as you tried to push your daughter’s pram, balancing your shopping bags in both of your hands, barely able to walk in a straight line as things stopped to drop out onto the floor. 

You smiled shyly across at the man as he picked the bits that you had dropped off of the floor. Once he’d put them in a bag he took the bags from both of your hands, walking by your side. Walking immediately felt easier as you focused on pushing the pram out of the store and over to where your car was parked. 

The man carried your bags with ease, the strength easily defined in his arms as he walked at your pace. You didn’t quite know where to look as you walked, feeling his eyes watching over you. 

“Where’s your car?” He asked you, watching you point to your small car that was hidden by a much fancier looking vehicle, a car far too expensive for the area where you lived. 

There was a shade of embarrassment in your cheeks as you walked, feeling slightly humiliated that you weren’t able to carry your bags. Trying to balance all the weight was hard, but you were stubborn, and liked to think that you could take on the world all by yourself. 

“I’m just here,” you told him, reaching into your bag for your keys. 

You opened up the boot, going to take the bags, only for the man to swerve you. “Allow me,” he grinned, easily lifting the bags and placing them in the back of your car. 

You stepped back as he did so, watching as he carefully let go of them. “Thank you, you didn’t have to do that for me, most people just walk straight on by.” 

“Well, I’m not most people,” he told you, a wide smile on his face. “Most people are assholes, it’s human nature to help someone when you see them struggling, or in my eyes at least.” 

You offered him a grin as you unbuckled your daughter’s pram to start getting her into the car. “Saying thank you doesn’t really feel like enough, there’s got to be something that I can do for you.” 

His head shook, taking a step back and watching as you took your daughter into your arms, hearing her let go of a squirm. You hated taking her out when she was asleep, but at this point you couldn’t wait to get home and forget about your struggle. 

“She’s beautiful,” the man whispered behind you, leaning across and tickling against her tummy, bringing a smile to her face again. “I bet your mummy and daddy feel like they won the lottery with you,” he added, only to watch your smile drop, eyes landing on the ground. 

“I-it’s just me,” you stuttered, immediately hearing the man mumble several apologies beside you. “Don’t be sorry, I’m used to it by now. Most of the time I’m alright, the two of us make quite the team,” you smiled, not wanting him to feel bad for you. 

It didn’t stop the man feeling guilty for making his assumptions, sensing that you found things harder than you were letting on to him. 

As the two of you fell silent, your daughter soon began to get quite unsettled in your hold. You quickly tried to settle her, bouncing her in your arms, but as a gust of wind blew through the car park, your eyes soon darted onto the sight of her pram beginning to blow away from you. 

“I got it!” The man shouted, running down the car park and quickly grabbing onto it. 

“You really are saving the day for me today, aren’t you?” You smiled. 

He looked around and found the brakes of the pram, quickly putting them on. Before you knew it, he had managed to collapse it down, placing it into the back of your car too, making sure not to squash any of your shopping. 

“You must have had some practice doing that before.” 

“No,” he smiled back across at you, “but I assumed it can’t be too hard to figure out. I’ve not really got any experiences with babies, although I’d like to,” he carried on, surprising himself that he suddenly decided to confess such a thing to someone that he barely knew. 

You didn’t quite know what to say as he spoke, offering him a sympathetic smile. You weren’t expecting him to be so open with you, leaving you a little loss for words. You almost felt bad for standing in front of him with your daughter in your arms, as if you were showing off that you had something that he seemed to want.  

“Does your partner not want children?” 

His eyes widened at your question, unaware that you had dropped yourself in it almost as much as he had done with you only a few moments earlier, feeling bad when his head shook at you. 

“I don’t have a partner,” he told you, scratching nervously over the top of his head. “I’m going through life on my own currently, that’s why I have so much time to help other people when they’re in a mess.” 

“Well, you definitely saved me from one today.” 

He was glad to have been able to help you out, but now he found himself unable to take his eyes off of your daughter. There was something about him that seemed to be drawing her to him too, her eyes watching him closely every time he moved or spoke. 

“I didn’t even get the chance to introduce myself, I’m Carlos by the way.” 

“I’m Y/N,” you smiled back across at him. 

“And who’s your little one?” He asked, poking your daughter’s tummy again. 

A giggle came from her that left you both grinning. “This is Luna,” you told him, “although I think you might be able to call her your biggest fan judging from the smile on her face.” 

“Well, I like to keep my fans happy, so do you think Luna would like to hang out again sometime?” Carlos offered, “I mean, only if that’s something that her mummy would like to do too.” 

“I think she would,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “and I don’t think her mummy would mind either if she got the chance to see you again, maybe coffee sometime?” 

Carlos nodded in reply to your offer. “I’d love to grab a coffee with you, well, the both of you. How about I give you my number and you can let me know a time that works best for the two of you?” 

“Yeah, that would be good,” you told him, walking across to place your daughter into her car seat so that you could take Carlos’ phone from him. 

His smile was wide as he passed it across, “make sure you text yourself from my phone so you have my number too. You can save my number as the guy who saved the day.” 

“You’re a bit of a hero, aren’t you?” You smiled. 

“Well, I certainly try my best.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER NINE

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @patscorner @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l

kalena speakss 🪽! chapter in honor of game day! but it’s not looking too good for our faves i fear.

June 2025 — Los Angeles, California

“Can you open the door?”

“In a second, K! Be patient!”

“We need to talk, open this door!” Kaylee yells, her fist pounding against the door.

I groan, tugging on some sweatpants and a shirt over my recently moisturized body. I had just gotten back from my pilates class, fresh out of a shower when she called and told me she’d be visiting.

I throw open the door, stumbling over my pant leg. “What?”

“We need to talk about your birthday show.”

The show is something we’ve been planning all year, music is what I love and I wanted to spend my birthday doing what I loved. But still, this show has been finalized for weeks, so I huff at Kaylee irritatedly. She dragged me out of the shower and banged on my door to talk about this?

“What about it, K?”

“So Summer backed out.” She starts, walking into my condo and dropping her bag on the table. She stands in my kitchen, pulling her work phone out of her pocket and setting the other on the counter. “Something came up, but I got KWN to take her spot.”

“That all could’ve been a text message. Or a phone call.” I laugh, pulling my hair over my shoulder so it would stop dripping down my back. “Why are you here?”

“What, you don’t want me here? Julian around or something?”

My eyes can’t help but roll at the mention. Not because of him, but because of the serious beef between the two.

“No he’s at a conference in Philly— are you guys ever gonna figure out your problems, by the way?” I question with a giggle. I turn around, my back facing Kaylee as I walk into my living room allowing her to make herself at home.

It’s quiet for a moment, no words spoken between me or herself even though I’m waiting for a response. When I look up from my spot on the couch her eyes are small, squinting at me. Kaylee is chewing on her bottom lip as she approaches me, gears turning in her head.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about the cameras last night.” She says. “You sure you didn’t mess with it?”

I try to avoid looking at her. I’m a good liar, but Kaylee has known me since I was 18, I can’t lie to her anymore. She’s suspicious, and though I don’t know of what it’s still incredibly nerve wracking.

“Yeah. Not at all.” Which technically isn’t a lie, I never touched that button, Paige did.

Kaylee nods, her head tilting back and forth like she’s weighing odds in her head. “And what’s his name is in Philly, yes?”

“Yes. Kaylee, what’s up with all the—”

The way she slouches on the couch next to me is exaggerated, a small thump when she cuts me off. “So then who gave you that hickey, Raye? Or all of them.”

In all honesty, I could’ve kept the lie going. I should’ve kept it going. I could act clueless, or tell her it was a bug bite, or that Julian left it a while ago. So many things I could’ve said but I chose to sit there quietly. The words piling on my tongue and dying there.

“Raye, I’m not gonna be mad. Just let me know now, so I can handle it if I need to.” She reassures me.

“No, no, you’re definitely gonna be mad.”

“Was it Paige?” I open my mouth to speak before kissing my teeth. When I make eye contact with her, she’s covering her mouth incredulously. “Raye, no.” She whines.

“I’m sorry!” I start apologizing, but in my heart I know I don’t regret anything.

“You’re gay?”

“I don’t think that’s the most important topic at hand.”

“Right, sorry.” She laughs, covering her mouth and brushing it off.

Even though I can feel her eyes burning holes in the side of my neck, I should feel embarrassed but all I can think about in my head is the manner in which the blonde left those marks on my neck.

I keep replaying that moment when I got home. Heavily buzzed and exhausted, standing in front of the mirror with my hand running across the tender skin. And the moment immediately following when Paige filled my phone with more teasing texts messages.

I remember even before then, when she was laying me down and feeling me up. Being so fucking vulgar in my ears as she told me what she wanted to do to me. So forward and nasty towards me.

The marks on my neck were a bright red last night that transformed into a deep purple when I woke up this morning. It was obvious that Paige was awfully proud of her work and how flustered she got me. After Kaylee walked in and we sat there on the couch, that smirk never seemed to leave her face.

“Those pictures. Were you guys—”

“No, we weren’t doing anything then. I promise.” I reassured. Kaylee isn’t even angry when she looks at me, but her eyes are disappointed; I’ve known her long enough to know that look. “I dunno, she just makes me feel different.”

I don’t know why I feel the need to explain myself. Kaylee simply wouldn’t understand why I chose to cheat on my pretty decent human being of a boyfriend, for a girl I’ve known for a month and a half. There really isn’t an explanation or excuse to be given. I made a mistake. A really bad one, but even then it doesn’t feel like it.

Paige doesn’t feel like a mistake, I couldn’t ever classify her as one.

The woman next to me straightens up, her elbows resting on her knees. She puts her head in her hands, thinking of what to say to me. “Different? You have feelings for her? Or are you guys just hooking up?”

“We haven’t slept together, K.”

She raises her head gingerly. “Wait so...” Kaylee begins. Her body turns to face me, suddenly I’m even more aware of the bruises on my neck. “You’re telling me, you and her have been kissing and hanging out or whatever. Telling me that you’re just friends, when you’re not. But you haven’t slept with her and might have feelings for her?”

“It’s complicated, Kaylee. I—”

“It’s messy, Raye, that’s what it is!” She runs her fingers through her short brunette hair. “You can’t be putting yourself in scandals like this. What if Julian finds out and runs to the blogs? Or if Paige outs your little affair to someone.”

I don’t hesitate to defend Paige with my first breath. “She wouldn’t do something like that.”

“You don’t know that! Y’think she can’t be pillow talking someone else right now?”

I haven’t even thought about the possibility of Paige doing all this with someone else. She isn’t like that, right? Rumors supporting that idea exist, sure, but that isn’t who she is.

“You’re still with Julian while messing with her. You think she isn’t messing with someone else either?” Kaylee practically digs the knife in deeper. “You’re thinking with your heart, not your head, Raye you know better than that.”

I do know better. I’ve always put my career first, but all it took was some icy blue eyes and blond hair to make me lose all my common sense.

I tear my eyes away from her, staring down at my hands. It feels like the weight of the world was sitting on my chest. “Fucking hell.” I mumble under my breath.

“You need to make a choice, babe. It can’t be both, you know that.”

I let out a loud groan, being forced to come to terms with all of this. “Yeah, I know.” I huff. I deserve this, I made this mess, let Paige get this close when I knew I shouldn’t have.

She was always there, everything I ever went through with Julian, Paige was the ear I needed. And because of that she weaved her way into my life and threaded a giant knot that I was left to untangle.

Then there’s Julian. Who even passed all the yelling is still the sweetheart I fell for in the first place. Lifting me up, and supporting me through it all. Yet, I still went out of my way to hurt him over and over again.

I’m fucking screwed.

—

marayemusic

liked by paigebueckers, julianbaker_, and 2,307 others

marayemusic music video coming soon 🕯️?

view all comments | 2 minutes ago

—

June 2025 — Malibu, California

“Two minutes is crazy, P.”

“Shut up. Quit being nosy.” I responded.

We played the Storm at home tonight, adding another much needed win to our season. As a result, Nika sits across from me at our table at Nobu, a much needed catch up with my good friend.

“I’m not! I wanted to talk to you about it anyway.” Nika hums. She’s smirking at me by the time I pocket my phone in my brown pants. “Those photos look like you got a lil girlfriend.”

“Definitely not a girlfriend. It’s complicated, Nik.” I answer, reaching for my passion fruit drink and taking a sip. “She got a boyfriend.”

Nika’s jaw drops as she looks at me. Maraye and Julian’s relationship is still surprisingly kept out of the public eye. I had to applaud her for it, I didn’t think she would be able to pull it off with how much Julian had been nagging her.

“Are you being serious.” Nika asks me. Our server comes back to the table with our food. I smile, muttering a thank you and taking my plate of Wagyu salad.

“Oh yeah. Deadass serious.”

“Paige.”

“I swear it’s not my fault.” I shake my head in defense. “She just— it’s literally impossible to stay away from her, bro.”

Nika doesn’t even try to stop the cackle that leaves her throat, ridiculing me and I can’t help but laugh with her. If I wasn’t in this position, I probably would’ve been laughing at myself too. Down bad over a girl who’s in a relationship, and allegedly straight. It’s truly comical.

“Oh my God, you’re pussy whipped!”

“Chill!” I scold, kicking her leg under the table in an attempt to quiet her down from yelling obscenities in this nice ass restaurant. “I haven’t even had sex with her, Nik. This ain’t what you think it is.”

She feeds a piece of sushi into her mouth. “You know what this reminds me of?” Nika asks, tapping her chopstick against the ceramic plate. “This reminds me of Nyla.”

I stop digging into my salad and roll my eyes at the mention of her name. The mention of the girl who I had been seeing for a large part of my college career. We’d slept together for a while, then I caught feelings and made it complicated. In all honesty you could blame Nyla for my lack of dating, but this wasn’t that.

Maraye wasn’t anything like Nyla whatsoever. I truly believed that.

“There’s been many other girls since Nyla, y’know that right?” I explain, my lips moving into a tight line.

“Ew, I don’t need to know about your slut activities, P.” She brushes me off.

“You asked!” I counter.

“My point is, you’re letting yourself get in too deep again.” She tells me and I turn my attention back to my food. “I’m not your mom. Explore, get to know people, I don’t care. But exploring with the straight girl, with a man is gonna get you hurt, P.”

My leg bounces soundly under the table. It’s a weird feeling, because in my heart I know Maraye is nothing like Nyla. But at the same time, we’re doing all that we’re doing while she goes back home to Julian.

“I can never figure her out.” I start, catching Nika slightly off guard. “I dunno if she likes me, or if she just wants sex, or if I’m jus’ a distraction for him.”

“You caught feelings for her, didn’t you.”

I hate that word. Feelings. I hate admitting them, I hate feeling them.

I think I do have feelings for Raye. She’s all I ever seem to be thinking about nowadays. I’m searching for her in everyone else. When someone laughs I’m thinking that it doesn’t sound like hers, or how someone’s perfume doesn’t smell as good as her’s does.

“I feel something for her, that’s for damn sure.” I shrug, mouth full of some fancy steak. “I needa clear my head, I’m never thinking straight when it comes to her.”

Nika stifles a giggle, covering her mouth with her palm.

“What?” I ask.

“Not thinking straight. Get it.”

I stare blankly before shaking my head. This was the person who I was trusting to give me advice. “Ha ha, dyke joke. Real funny Nik.”

“You said it, not me!” The giggles some more before finally pulling herself together. “All I’m saying, is that you don’t deserve to get hurt again. Take some time, figure it all out, and then be honest with her.”

I nod, taking it all in. Maraye is amazing in all ways possible, and I shamelessly want her to myself. But unfortunately that just isn’t the case. She isn’t my own, she belongs to someone else. I keep telling myself that I have to respect that, but it just becomes harder and harder every damn day.

I don’t know how to be second best. I’ve never been second best or allowed myself to be that. Whether it’s basketball or anything else in life, I’d rather be dead last than second best.

So to know that Julian is Maraye’s first choice, and I’m forced to be second is fucking unbearable.

Maybe I do need space. Figure out what it is I want from her and move forward from there. I don’t know how to do that though. I was fucking miserable that week where she wasn’t texting me, now I need space. Funny how that works.

“P?”

“Hmm?”

“You good?” Nika asks, spicy mayo at the corner of her lips.

I nod, feeling my mood slightly diminish just thinking about all this. “Yeah, fine. How’s recovery goin’?” I ask, changing the subject and moving the spotlight off of myself.

[yourwhumppromptoftheday]

Hello! My whumper is a demon king named castor, and my whumpee is named Quinn, although they aren’t truly mine so I won’t be doing the whumpee part

1. Acquiring whumpee-oh, it was quite easy. I put a tracker on a rebel and watched them go to their little base. We had a little raid, and I took them.

2. Choosing whumpee-It was clear they were the leader. Everyone panicked when I grabbed them, so I knew they were valuable.

3. Keeping whumpee-I know that they’re strong, and I can use that. I give them freedom but I can’t let them go until they tell me where my son is. I must find him.

4. Legality-Ahahhhaa! I make the laws, I can’t break them. The authorities have no right to stop me. If you’re concerned, however, section 3 paragraph 24 clause eight says that rebels do not have the right to try and stop any punishment. I’m fine

5. Open-ness-Well, I don’t parade them around, but a few of my advisors know that they exist.

6. Quinn has a very comfortable room in the castle, they’ve progressed enough to move out the cell. Even if the room locks on the outside

7. The entire castle is my “workplace” but I don’t bring them to most important decisions.

8. Quinn is quite confusing. They’re a rebel, and a terrible liar.

9. While I certainly don’t think of Quinn that way..their hair is nice. If I were ever going to kill them, I’d scalp them and keep it as a wig.

10. Quinn is mostly obedient, and they’ve come a long way. They used to spit on me and just spout insults all day.

11. I don’t have many rules. Dont leave, dont attack the guards, and dont roam without Alex, me, or a guard.

12. Oh, I bring out the good-ol whip. Always works.

13. I’ve tortured many people before. I won’t say that I’ve tortured Quinn. I’m just conditioning them. With others, I don’t let them rest. I’m being quite nice to Quinn here, they haven’t gotten their limbs removed in weeks!

14. Oh, I’d have to say I love skinning. My healer, Alex, is wonderful at fastly healing someone so I can do it all over again! It’s quite effective.

15. Quinns treats is being able to see their family, having a beautiful room, and being let outside. They’ve behaved enough to deserve these:

16. Possessive? I don’t care. Although I wouldn’t like anyone trying to take them..

17. A few pathetic escape attempts were made when they first got here. You know, darting through doors and sprinting down halls. I just drag them back.

18. Oh, when I got their family involved they certainly broke. They pretended to not care until I brought their little brother up. Oh, how they cried!

19. Their mine now. My soldier. They don’t belong to anyone else.

20. They can move about the castle and very soon, outside, as long as they have a chaperone.

21. Of course I’m doing the right thing! They’re a fucking rebel, what am I supposed to do, give them a cookie? I’ve never felt remorse.

22. I’d have them executed.

23. Alex, my medic, checks up on Quinn often. Healthy as a horse.

24. You have to find out what they care about. What they love. Then you exploit that.

25. I’ve certainly helped them learn that nobody is on their side. Nobody has tried to save them, and I make sure to let them know.

26. My guards are allowed to handle Quinn, and so is Alex. That’s about it.

27. Well, of course I allow them to talk. It helps me get information. Anyone can talk to them.

28. Boundaries are for nerds.

29. I’ve only known of Quinn through rumors before I got them.

30. Quinn gets quite good meals. When they first came here, I did “starve” them, but I never actually do it. I need them in top shape. I only give them the sensation of starving. It wasn’t effective, so I stopped.

31. I use them for information. As the rebel leader, they are also quite effective propaganda.

32. My ownership of Quinn shows the rebels that nobody is safe. That I am coming.

33. I don’t feel anything when I hurt Quinn. I get satisfaction when they tell me what I need to know, and that’s it.

34. Skip!

35. I used to have to restrain them as they got quite violent, but I don’t anymore. Locking them up in a room is enough. They do try and kill themself, but it’s not often enough I have to worry.

36. They’re just..so stubborn. Thats one thing I’ve tried to beat out of them.

37. They wear whatever’s in their wardrobe. I don’t stock it, I don’t know or care.

38. I have nothing to be punished for. I will remain as I am for centuries to come.

39. I believe in me. I am a god.

40. People don’t usually say anything about Quinn. I asked Alex and she said “..Quinn’s nice.” So, vague much?

41. I don’t use a collar. My command is enough to keep them “leashed”

42. No, they aren’t marked. They don’t have to be.

43. Release them? Hell no! They’ll run right back to their rebels with dozens of secrets.

44. Whenever I appear with them, I keep a firm grasp on them. Their propaganda; like I said.

45. I’ve sedated them when I needed to move them or if they need to calm down. I’ve drugged them to have horrible nightmares, because those will become reality if they don’t listen to what I say.

46. I’ve certainly never seen anyone try and rescue them. Or if they did, it was a pathetic enough attempt I never noticed them.

47. I put a roof over their head. I give them clothes, a comfy bed, luxury food, books to read.

48. Hm. I can’t say I remember doing it, but I probably have.

49. Only if it’s important, okay?

50. Haha! You can try but you’ll lose a few fingers

💫Whump ask game!💫

🔸Most suitable for non-BBU pet whump but can be used for whatever

🔸Anyone can use and reblog, nsfwhumpers included :)

🔸We're bringing tumblr ask culture back and ensuring no one is left excluded - sending an ask to the blog y'all reblogged it from is highly encouraged! I'll send an ask too! :)

🔸A little inspired by a wonderful ask post I wasn't able to reblog or visit that person's tumblr. Y'all hear me out. No block can stop me from playing whump ask games.

🔥For Whumper🔥

1) How did you acquire your whumpee? How hard it was?

2) From all the possibilities, why did you pick your whumpee rather than anyone else?

3) Why do you keep your whumpee captive? Why won't you let them go?

4) Is everything you do to your whumpee legal? Do you have to hide it from the authorities?

5) How open are you about keeping your whumpee?

6) Where does your whumpee live?

7) Do you bring your whumpee to your workplace? How about bringing them to your social activities?

8) How would you describe your whumpee?

9) Tell me about your whumpee's prettiest features!

10) How does your whumpee behave around you? How much did it change from the moment of capture?

11) What rules do you have for your whumpee?

12) What do you do if your whumpee misbehaves?

13) Have you ever tortured anyone aside from your whumpee? If so, what's the difference between your torture techniques for your whumpee and for others?

14) Your favorite torture method?

15) Do you give your whumpee any gifts, rewards or treats? If so, what are they? If you don't, why?

16) How possessive you are about your whumpee?

17) Has your whumpee ever tried to run away from you? What would you do/have done in that case?

18) Did you finally break your whumpee? How hard it is/was?

19) Does your whumpee fully belong to you? If not, why?

20) Is your whumpee allowed to move freely? How much?

21) Do you believe you're doing the right thing? Have you ever felt guilty about what you do to your whumpee?

22) What would you do if someone tried to take your whumpee from you?

23) Does your whumpee receive any medical care or health checks? If so, where?

24) Any advice on brainwashing or conditioning?

25) Have you made your whumpee learn something aside from rules and behavior lessons?

26) Do your friends/teammates/coworkers help you to tame your whumpee? Do you allow anyone to handle them?

27) Do you allow anyone else to talk to your whumpee?

28) Do you respect your whumpee's boundaries?

29) Did you know your whumpee before capturing them?

30) How often do you feed your whumpee? Have you ever used food as punishment?

31) What do you use your whumpee for?

32) Does your ownership of whumpee mean anything symbolic for you? Do you make any sort of statement by keeping them?

33) How would you describe the feelings you ger from owning/hurting your whumpee?

34) Have you trained your whumpee to obey your commands? How so?

35) Do you need to restrain your whumpee often? How and why so?

36) What do you dislike about your whumpee?

37) Do you decide on your whumpee's clothes? If so, what do you usually make them wear?

38) Do you ever believe you could be punished for your deeds, whether in your lifetime or after?

39) Could you tell me a bit about your values? How would you describe what you believe in?

40) What do other people usually say about your whumpee?

41) Do you use a collar or a leash on your whumpee? Do they have to wear it everyday, or only on special occasions?

42) Is your whumpee marked as your captive/possession in any way? How so?

43) Have you ever considered returning or releasing your whumpee?

44) Do you ever appear with your whumpee in public? If so, how do you make sure they won't run away?

45) Have you ever drugged or sedated your whumpee? Why?

46) Has anyone ever tried to search for your whumpee or rescue them? How do you prevent them from succeeding?

47) Which aspects of comfort do you allow your whumpee to have, if you do so?

48) Do you ever discipline/torture your whumpee when they didn't do anything wrong? For maintenance, for showing off, just because you felt like it?

49) Would you mind me to see your whumpee? Could you bring or call them to come here?

50) Your whumpee is so pretty! Can i pet them? Please :)

🌼For Whumpee🌼

1) When did you meet your whumper for the first time? How was it like?

2) What were you doing before capture? What could you tell about your life back then?

3) How were you captured?

4) Were you taken specifically for whumper from the start, or there was another reason at first?

5) Have you ever been interrogated? For what reason? Were you tortured there?

6) Do your friends or family know you're here? Do you think they miss you?

7) Have you ever planned your escape? If so, do you think it's gonna work? (We won't tell anyone)

8) How would you describe your whumper?

9) How strict your whumper has been with you?

10) At which points are you most scared of your whumper?

11) What are your thoughts on why is your whumper keeping you there?

12) Which of your whumper's rules you find harder to obey?

13) How much time are you forced to spend by your whumper's side?

14) Do you think anyone would be able to find or rescue you?

15) Have you ever tried asking anyone for help? If so, how did they react?

16) Do you hide from your whumper? Does it help? How long it takes for them to find you?

17) How often do you fight or resist your whumper? How do they react?

18) Does your whumper make you sleep in their bed?

19) Does your whumper take you outside? For walks, for any interesting places, for visiting their friends?

20) Do you have a comfort thing to feel better/safer? Does your whumper know about it?

21) Does your whumper provide you with any things of entertainment to do in your spare time?

22) Does your whumper try to brainwash you?

23) Do you have anyone to talk to aside from your whumper?

24) How often does your whumper punish you? Why?

25) Which punishment method do you hate the most?

26) Do you like it when your whumper holds or touches you? How often would they do that?

27) Has your whumper ever made you wear something you hate?

28) What do you prefer to do to comfort yourself when you've been hurt or feeling sad?

29) Do you remember how long you've been captive?

30) Does your whumper use any pet names for you? What are their favorite? Do you like them as well?

31) How much privacy do you have?

32) Where do you feel safer - with lots of people in the room or with your whumper alone?

33) How do your whumper's friends/coworkers treat you? Do they pay attention to you?

34) Did your whumper ever threaten to hurt your family or friends? Have they actually done that?

35) If you were given an opportunity to escape, what would you do? Where would you run to?

36) What does your whumper usually force you to do? Which of these things do you hate the most?

37) How often do you get sick? Do you get someone to take care of you in that case?

38) Have you ever been afraid to fall asleep? Why so?

39) What does your whumper usually say to you? Does he give more threats or compliments?

40) Does your whumper listen to your pleads, complaints or requests? What would you never ask them for even if you absolutely needed?

41) How does your whumper usually act around his friends or coworkers? Does he try to be a good person for them?

42) How much do you miss your past life, if you do so? Which aspects of it do you miss the most?

43) Are you afraid to die?

44) If you knew you'd end up like that, what would you do differently in your life?

45) Is there anything you said or did that could've led to your capture? If so, do you regret it?

46) If you could become an animal, which one would you choose? Why?

47) How much have you changed since the first day in captivity?

48) Do you have any plans or hopes for the future now?

49) Tell everything you've ever wanted to say to your whumper (we won't tell anyone!)

50) Share one of your happiest moment of freedom for us!

[bubblergoespop]

Damien quotes that make me wish he was a real world leader

“There’s no place for that kind of abuse anywhere, least of all in a place of education, one that acts as the arbiter of attaining certifications that dictate the course of the rest of your life!”

“Those are antiquated bullshit regulations that come from a time when you could handwave acts of assault with the magical equivalent of “boys will be boys”, and it’s wrong, and it needs to change. Now.”

“it’s easy to think that a place is inclusive when you’re already in the served majority. It’s easy to think that a system is responsive when it’s responsive to your concerns and needs. I don’t fault people for not seeing the cracks in the system at first glance. But I do fault them for willfully continuing to ignore them when they’re brought up just because those cracks are too small for them to fall through.”

“I want to get enough power to make this place listen to the people they don’t want to hear. I want to make a space to elevate those people so that they’ll be heard and their concerns will be addressed.”

“If the rules state that that’s all that can be done… then that has to be enough. Until the rules can be changed.”

“I’m not gonna rest on my laurels and say “well at least I started a petition, claps for me” and move about my day. That’s performative and it’s bullshit.”

“This is wrong. And there’s a lot of shit in this world that’s wrong that we can’t do much about, but this literally goes against the codes of conduct that this place loves to wave like some flag of superiority while they preach about tolerance. We can do something about this. We need to. It’s wrong. We’ll run it up as high as it needs to go to get something done—“

“I’ve railed against this Academy’s bullshit since damn near the day I stepped foot on campus. I know it’s fucking exhausting. And draining. And most of the time it feels like you’re screaming at a wall. But I’ve gotten pretty good at screaming at walls.”

[littlereddream]

Of Whiskey and Venom

A/n: cowboy Jason Todd x Reader, f!reader, there will be multiple parts to this because I can’t help myself.

Owing debts to outlaws means playing dangerous games. You know that, well and true. When Carmine Falcone finds out that you don’t have the money to pay him back, he offers you one final method of payment. Your debt would be forgiven in its entirety, so long as you walk yourself to the notorious Red Hood’s camp and surrender yourself with the claim that you’re part of the Falcone’s.

In Gotham, big of a town as it is, word gets around to people fast. Whether it was through gossip or the newspaper boys hard at work, most things never stayed secret.

Usually, it was annoying. Last year, some nosy neighbor had discovered that you’d managed to get your hands on some quality eggs, courtesy of a friend of yours down South. Within the week, almost half of your neighbors had collected at your door at some point or another to ask for some. Would be a shame not to share, they’d said.

Usually, the knowledge of any of your personal business getting out would set you on edge. It’s never been any good to you, only ever causing trouble.

Today, you find cause to be grateful for the quickly spread word. If not for Gotham’s tendency to whisper in each other’s ears, your neighbor would never have come to knock on your front door that morning, all out of breath with urgency all over her.

“You’ve gotta get out of here,” she’d panted. “Run. Run and don’t come back!”

You’d quickly invited her inside, checking outside left and right before shutting the door.

“Mary, the hell’s gotten into you?”

But all she’d done is deliver a soft smack across your shoulder.

“Take this seriously! Darlin, it’s Falcone.” You still remember the ice that had trailed its way down your spine. “My husband, Rupert, told me that he’d overheard some of his boys talking about it. He’s lookin for you.”

You forced yourself to shake your head, pushing back the instinct to freeze up entirely.

“Mary, it just ain’t possible. Falcone and I, we- all of my business with him has been settled.”

“Yes, well, he doesn’t seem to agree. Now, go on! Pack your things. I’ve taken a horse from the stable for you. She’s a fast girl, just old. Won’t nobody come looking for either of you.”

In the end, you’d had enough sense to listen to her, but there was no packing your bags fast enough to escape Falcone. Midway through packing food for your trip, long after Mary had left, you’d heard a different kind of knock at your door. Demanding. Angry.

That whole interaction felt like ages ago to you now, including the conversation you’d had with the man. He’d explained it to you simply, tone so light you’d hardly believe the weight of the words he cracked into your skin, like a cane to a horse.

Apparently, all that time ago when you’d paid back your debt to the man who’d come to collect it from you, there had been a breach in loyalty within Falcone’s gang. Your debt collector had taken the liberty of deciding his own pay, stealing nearly half of the money you’d paid for himself rather than handing over the full amount.

Despite it being an error within his own system, Falcone refused to hear your bargaining. You’d even gone so far as to promise him that money again, all you’d need was a month.

He’d shut you down quicker than you could finish making the offer.

Instead, Falcone offered you a counter proposal.

It’s that counter proposal that has you currently making the solo hike to the Red Hood camp, handcuffs digging uncomfortably into your wrists set in front of you.

What Falcone offered to you went as such: After one of Falcone’s newer men went out and shot a man from the Red Hoods, Hood demanded to be delivered one of Falcone’s own as a leveling of justice and show of goodwill. A gesture to calm the waters between them, since the last thing anybody in town wanted was for the two most dangerous gangs to have it out for each other.

Your job is to be that token of goodwill, to march your way into that camp and declare yourself as a surrender member of the Falcone’s to fulfill their demands.

Do so, and he’d make the kind decision not to take the life of the neighbors that tried to aid in your attempted escape.

The camp is far into the woods, well outside Gotham itself, causing your dress to catch in every grown out bush and twig. Your feet ache from walking so long in the wrong shoes, while your hands haven’t stopped shaking since you were forced to leave home.

There is no getting out of this, you know that. If you run away now, if Falcone finds out that you didn’t settle this debt for him, there would be no corner of the earth far enough for you to hide. It’s either he kills you, or you take your chances with a gang so successfully underground, not even law enforcement knows the real name of its leader. Doesn’t mean they’re any less brutal, though.

You’re going to die, all because Falcone’s men can’t do their jobs, whether that be collecting debts or not shooting the wrong damn people.

There’s a point where the path you walk narrows out, becomes thin and difficult to follow. At some point, you can hardly tell which direction you’re supposed to head, saved only by the spots of recent horseshoe markings in the dirt.

It feels like any second, you’ll be surrounded by people with rifles pointed right at your head. With each step, your breathing further shallows into something unintentionally quieter. A bush rustles to your right, and you feel like an idiot for flinching back when a rabbit runs right out and past you.

After so long walking, you’re starting to think that Falcone could’ve been wrong about the location of the camp. After all, this part of the woods look completely wild, utterly untouched if not for the occasional broken twig or trail marking.

“Who’s there?” A voice shouts out.

Then there’s a gun being pointed to the side of your head. Well, at least you know that if there’s ever an award for jinxing yourself, you’d win it. Or maybe not, considering you’re very likely to be killed within the next few minutes.

“Carmine Falcone’s debt,” you say simply, proud that you’d managed to keep the waiver out of your voice.

There’s a pause in the air, before you can see the man’s mouth pull into a grimace out of the corner of your eye. “That so?” He mutters. “Right. Well, you’re going the wrong way. Come on.”

The redhead, whoever he is, takes great care not to spook you. His rifle, attached to a belt over his shoulder, is exchanged for a single handgun, one just within reach tucked into a holster. The hold he has on your forearm is surprisingly careful, less there to keep you from running and more to guide you through the confusing twists and turns of the woods.

“Watch your step,” he warns. “Hood is gonna be pissed.”

“Why?” You risk asking.

So long as the debt is settled, it seems to you that Hood would be getting everything he specified in his deal. You’re the one being screwed over here.

“Cause, it looks to me like Falcone sent over somebody he doesn’t mind losing instead of an honorable trade.”

You raise a brow. “Who says I ain’t a high value exchange?”

The redhead snorts. “Are you kiddin? You don’t got a single gun-wielding callus on you. We lost one of our best that day, and Falcone sent us you.”

A pause.

“No offense.”

“None taken,” you grumble, bitter for reasons you don’t even know yourself. Maybe it’s because you’re being completely screwed over here, but who’s to say?

It’s not long before the overgrown woods level out into a large clearing, the man weaving you past hitched horses to reveal a large camp. It’s nothing like what you’d expected, hearing what you have about the Red Hoods. Vile, vicious, and mean.

Come to find out their camp looks like an isolated meadow, sun shining down on their colorful tents. From where you’re standing, you can see a young child playing with an even younger puppy. Just past that, there’s a table of people gathered around two women who look to be playing five finger fillet.

The redhead calls out to an older woman to your left who you hadn’t even noticed, sitting quietly as she polished a hunting knife on her pants. What you’d do to be wearing pants instead of a dress right now.

“Ma Gunn,” he greets. “Got a moment?”

“Depends, Roy. More of your trouble?” She says pointedly, but Roy only laughs.

“Not this time. Just got some business to discuss with Hood. Mind keeping the young lady here some company?”

Ma Gunn waves Roy off with a free hand, sheathing the knife and standing.

“Go.”

And then you’re alone with her. Ma Gunn’s eyes are fixed on the metal binding your hands together.

“In some trouble with the law, dear?” She raises a brow. You’re not quite sure what to say to deny it, but some part of your face must look panicked because she breaks out into a quiet laugh. “Relax. We’re hardly the kind of people to judge you for having lawmen after you, not that we’d have any right to.”

Right. Outlaws.

“Besides, you don’t seem like the gunslinging type.”

“Roy said the same,” you tell her.

She snorts. “Course he did. How’d you end up here anyway? Tell me you’re not thinking of joining in. I’m telling you, it might seem nice at first, but it’s nothin worth putting up with Bizarro’s cooking.”

“No, not joining in. I’ve got a debt to settle between Mr. Falcone and Hood.”

It’s within an instant that the woman’s face changes, much more grim than just a moment ago. She looks at you like you’ve already been damned, no shot at survival left to you.

Roy’s back already, tipping his hat in thanks towards Ma Gunn, whose eyes still haven’t left your cuffed wrists.

“Hood wants to see you. Come on, I’ll take you over.” Roy doesn’t touch you this time, just hovers his hand over his lower back like he can force you to move telepathically. You do.

Together, you’re approaching one of the biggest tents in the camp, far in the back. Entirely red, though what else did you expect?

You stop in front of the fabric curtains.

“I think it’s best if you head in alone. Good luck.”

Right. With a final deep breath, you duck into the tent. It feels like stepping into your own casket.

You find that the inside looks bigger than the outside, complete with a large cot, a table surrounded by chairs, and a small bookshelf. At the table sits a man you can only assume is Hood himself, feet resting on the wood as he leans back in his seat. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, gambler hat set on the edge of the table just by his boots.

He’s surprisingly handsome, sharply contrasting all the stories people tend to spread about him. When he’s not wearing a bandana, he’s said to be grotesquely scarred, some even say to the point of deformity. The man is front of you is very much not that, all sharp features with the only visible scars on his face being one over his lower lip and the other down across his brow.

You step forward into the tent, and the wood beneath your feet creaks. Quick as gunfire, narrowed green eyes level with yours. There’s a hint of disbelief in them, like he can’t quite believe his eyes.

“By Gotham, that fool was telling the truth.” You hear him say, gruff and mumbled.

It takes more effort than you’d ever admit to speak without breaking down right there. You’re practically speaking to your executioner right now.

“Hood, right? Carmine Falcone sent me to-“

“Yeah, yeah, I know why he sent you.” Hood drags a hand down his face. “Well, isn’t this just a mess.”

With a tired sigh, Hood calls you forward with a beck of his fingers. Once you’re at the other end of the table, he motions for you to take a seat. You do, albeit on unstable legs. It’s a miracle your knees don’t just buckle when you move to sit.

“So, tell me. This Carmine’s idea of a joke?”

“No, I-“

“He think it’s funny to send me a girl he picked up from who knows where? Send her to her death just to get off clean?”

“If you’d just-“

“Come on, doll. I wanna know. Why the hell is Falcone sending me you instead of what I asked for?”

Hood’s eyes are cold as steel, but you’ve got the strange feeling that his anger isn’t entirely directed at you. Still, better not to assume.

“I am what you asked for. You weren’t cheated.”

Hood snorts, entirely humorless. “You? Now, forgive me for my doubts, but I’m having a hard time-“

This time, you’re cutting him off. “I am,” you insist.

Hood pauses to look at you. Really look at you. There’s an amusement settling in his posture that you don’t like, one that promises nothing good for you.

“Right. Well, who am I to tell you what you are or aren’t? Far be it from me.”

He’s reaching for his hip, unholstering the revolver strapped there and setting it down on the table. You watch the motion as he does it, staring down the weapon between the two of you like it could shoot you without its handler ever touching it.

“This gun here? This is one of my most prized possessions. If this whole tent were to catch fire right now, everything I hold dear tucked inside, this gun would be the only thing I’d bother savin.”

He’s watching your reactions carefully, so you're just as careful to keep your expression back. You’re not sure what he’s looking for, so better he not find anything at all.

“Now, I personally believe actions speak much louder than words. I won’t sit here and call you a liar for telling me you’re a gunslinging outlaw straight from Falcone’s best, but I will tell you to prove it to me.”

Hood nudges the gun closer to where you’re sitting. “So go on and prove it. Take my own gun and shoot me. Eliminate any threat I pose to you within seconds, selfish and brutal.”

You can do nothing but sit there in stunned silence, hands tightly gripping the fabric over your lap. “Hood, I don’t-“

“I insist.”

Your hands shake when you bring them up with a sheepish grin. “Can’t exactly do that with cuffed hands, mister.”

Hood waves you off. “I’ve done worse things than shoot a man with my hands cuffed. Come on, Miss, prove it to me. Unless you can’t.” He tilts his head at the end.

To kill a man, to take a life. You can’t just do that. As is sensing your inner turmoil, Hood offers you a sarcastic pout.

“Weighing on your conscience, is it? Well, if it helps you any, it wouldn’t be a good man you’re killing. I’ve committed too many crimes to be clean of anything. All you’ve gotta do is put a bullet between the eyes of a man who might just kill you unless you do. Not so much of a choice, is there. I sure know what I’d do, if I was you.”

Hood is egging you on, pushing you to prove him wrong. He wants you to do this, wants you to pick up that gun and send a bullet straight through him. He wants you to because he knows you won’t.

The worst part is that he’s right.

You turn your head away from the gun, away from him. It’s answer enough.

You see Hood nod slowly out of the corner of your eye, reaching for his gun to holster it with a rustle and a click. He sets his feet back down to the ground, crossing his arms over the table to lean forward.

“Alright. So tell me again now. Why did Falcone send you?”

The change in tone has you thrown for a loop. Within seconds, the pressing intimidation from before is gone, now much softer in comparison.

So you tell him everything. From your neighbor at your door, from your debt to Falcone, the threats he’d made, all the way to the present moment. This time, Hood doesn’t interrupt you once. He listens carefully, nodding at all of the right places to each relevant point. When you finish, he simply asks you if there’s anything else worth mentioning. At the shake of your head, Hood stands.

“I’ll have someone let Falcone know that his exchange has been well received. So long as he thinks you’re with us now, no one you know will be bothered. As for you, you’ll be free to do whatever you want with your days, just as long as you’re here during the nights. How’s that work for you?”

For a moment, all you can do is stare. Then, ever so cautiously, you dare to ask, “you’re not gonna kill me?”

Hood shrugs. “I have no reason to. This way, you’ll be safe and I won't be bothered by Falcone trying to buy back my truce.”

“But what about your whole…you know.”

Hood raises a brow at you, urging you to continue.

“You know. The whole ‘eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth’ thing.”

Hood grins, toothy and predatory. “Trust me, doll, I’ll still be getting something back from Falcone. I tend not to forgive easy. Hands out for me.”

Quicker than you can process his intentions past putting out your hands, Jason is drawing out his revolver and shooting the chain between your cuffs quicker than you can flinch. He ignores your stunned expression, clipping his weapon back to himself.

“I’ll ask the girls to get you some decent clothes and set you up a tent. Pleasure meeting you.”

Without another word, he’s exiting the tent and leaving you to stare at the chain that used to link your wrists, now scattered into tiny pieces of metal across wood.

[greeniegaes]

Thinking about Omega SQQ again sigh

Okay. So warning this is a male lactation AU so if you don’t like that don’t read, nothing explicit happens tho, just a guy and his pups

I imagine when he first goes into his body everything feels like he’s in haywire, constantly on edge and ready for a fight. Once he’s gotten the hang of things he uses his cultivation to try and simmer down his hormones.

Only to realize it was his cultivation preventing hormones that was making him feel like shit all the time.

So eventually he sighs and stops doing that. The first few days are bad, cramps and sickness and a general feeling of wanting to claw everyone’s eyes out. He gets through that though.

Then his breasts start to come in.

He knew PIDW has its weirder parts of omegaverse so he knew that this would happen. At first he starts binding his chest but that hurts SO SO SO much that he collapses on like the third day (he was also doing it improperly because it’s him, yk) and gets stuffed into Qian Cao

MQF: I was not aware shixiong was an omega

SQQ: I’ve only recently decided to stop holding myself back

MQF: it is recommended that you form a small pack of your disciples to help with your instincts and… that *waving at SQQs chest.*

SQQ: *screams internally.* Okay :)

At this point after like a week of just draining himself and going insane he finally gives up. LBH has already started living in the bamboo hut so he’s kinda the best option so he sits the boy down.

SQQ: Binghe, I hope you know this isn’t going to change anything but

LBH, thinking: oh my god no please don’t kick me out

SQQ: since this master has allowed his omega side back out he’s been struggling with his urges about thinking of his disciples like pups. If it’s not an offense to your character can I take some of it out on you

LBH, internally: YES YES YES PLEASE OH GOD YES I NEED IT

LBH, externally: If that would please shizun then sure :]

So they start a twice daily thing of in the morning and night LBH goes into SQQs room and his nest and gets feed. Apparently milk is hella good for the skin and shit because after a few weeks he starts to look flawless somehow.

And SQQ really wants to see his other kids- DISCIPLES flourish like that. He extends the offer to a close few and some look like they going to cry at the honor of their teacher wanting to take care of them.

LBH is still the main drinker and always wants to huff when he has to share, but he does it none the less. His Shizun gets really cute during feeding sessions, purring and chirping at them, fixing their hair and playing with it, scratching their scalp, the whole nine yards.

So LBH repays it by feeding SQQ more, which also makes him have more milk in turn. He huffs and complains at his body’s need to produce so much, his chest wayyy too heavy in the middle of the day to be comfortable, leaking and wasting everything.

He ignored that though, even if LBH and his other pups- disciples offer to help him.

Eventually after the Abyss his body is still making big amounts of milk because that’s what it was used to. Most of the time he just gets it out himself and pours it into the grass, often now also starting his other feedings.

Everything starts to get to him and he’s decided that staying on the mountain is no good. So he sneaks out, by himself, in search of something to heal his heart.

All the peak lords and disciples are going crazy, nobody can find him and nobody knows where he could’ve gone. Eventually while LQG is talking to a random villager out in a border town of their territory he sees SQQ again, arms filled with two pudgy babies and looking ever so pleased.

SQQ: Oh! Hi Shidi

SQQ internally: OH FUCK I FORGOT ABOUT THE SECT

LQG: where have you been???

SQQ: sorry sorry babies are hard work I didn’t want to travel alone with them

LQG, wanting to have an aneurysm but can’t: let me just help you home

On one hand the entire sect is so relieved that SQQ didn’t die of heartbreak over losing his favorite pup or get kidnapped. On the other hand SQQ??? Where’d you’d acquire those babies?? They aren’t yours, it’s only been 6 months!!

Anyways after SQQ is safely back in the sect he doesn’t see a point in leaving. I mean! Look! Look at his pups! So cute and round! One of them has little dimples!

The other peak lords carefully go to see what was going on, YQY opening the door to the bamboo house after being told to come in and all of them are just smacked with happy omega pheromones, SQQ gently cradling them both in his arms as he rocks in a chair.

At that point all of the peak lords decide that yk, maybe it doesn’t matter how the children were acquired. They were well feed and cared for and obviously SQQ was happy again.

(He got the children from a working in the WRP, she had wanted babies and all her sisters were supportive but then she realized she didn’t like being a parent but you also can’t morally just… dispose of a child. SQQ visited there once in his depression stoop and stayed for a few days after falling in love with the kiddos. Then he just went on an adventure with his babies and got distracted by the cool world building.)

[calmlb]

what if i want to get you started on the symbolism of dazais coat

(the neurodivergency does not allow me to understand the symbolism of dazais coat.)

(from the 'chuuyas not in the dark era' post)

NEURODIVERGENTS UNITE 🤝🏻

well i was actually referring to Chuuya’s coat in that post, but it’s relevant to both to them!

i’ve noticed a trend with harukawa & coats… when someone is where they’re supposed to be, they usually wear their coat properly (arms in the sleeves instead of it resting on their shoulders)

Dazai never wore the oversized, black coat that Mori gave him properly… as if to symbolize that he’d never belonged in the mafia. once he decided to try living in the light, he got his tan coat, which fits him perfectly :’)

beast Dazai does wear the black coat correctly, bc the mafia is where he chose to be in that universe

then we have Chuuya. he had his jacket in the sheep, but until sometime pre-dark era/post dragon head conflict, he didn’t have a coat— as if he was still trying to find his place in the mafia

i have a hc/theory according to my analysis that something happened post DHC that made skk much closer. if that’s true, it would make sense why we finally see Chuuya wearing a coat— & not only that, he has it halfway on

bc his partnership with Dazai solidified his place in the mafia, & assuming that Dazai would be there indefinitely, Chuuya was probably (subconsciously) starting to solidify the mafia as where he’s supposed to be

but then Dazai left. and the next time we see Chuuya, he’s still wearing his coat (he did decide that the mafia is his family, after all) but he’s not wearing it properly, it hangs off of his shoulders

this could symbolize that the mafia isn’t where Chuuya is meant to be— that maybe in the future, he’ll leave & find His Place (or perhaps he’ll wander & never find it)

only time will tell…

but that’s my version of The Coats Theory :’)

(ps: notice how Chuuya wears a jacket that fits him when he works with Dazai in the meursault arc… 👀 we’ll have to wait & see if this means anything)

honorable mention for Akutagawa who also properly wears his coat— symbolizing that the mafia is most likely where he’s supposed to be. however the fact that he’s no longer wearing his coat in chapter 120 (having gotten a new outfit) shows us that he’s having an important moment in his character arc :’)

[s0uth3park]

Random SP headcanons pt2

Pt 1

Tweek tried to, but ultimately will never, learn how to drive with heavy advice from his loved ones (Craig). It’s too stressful. It’s dangerous because of his anxiety and tics for others and himself. No driving for Tweek. Please.

Cartman doesn’t make fun of Craig for being “half ginger” because he’s a little scared of him… kind of.

Speaking of, Cartman showed Craig his own wiener (as per TxC) of his own volition.

Fat fucking crush on Kyle btw.

If Stan hates that he looks like his dad then he hates that Kyle looks like his mom btw. Because… alcoholic x radical canadaphobe?? Fuck knows.

Stan shakes on weed (no projection here). He can’t feel it though.

Speaking of, Tweek can’t feel his own shaking.

Cartman wishes that Kenny would act how he would / seeks Kenny’s validation, hence his criticism of Kenny of the most menial of things (ie. holding a candle in Put It Down).

If there was money for it, Karen would own a lot of stuffed animals.

Kevin and Karen do not carry the gene for red hair. Or blond/blonde hair.

Cartman loves his fucking grandma. (No projection I swear)

Jimbo holds some affection for Liane but is just a gay old fuck. Jimned 4eva

Did I mention in my last post I think, despite Mrs Valmer’s canon design, that Mrs Tweak has the biggest tits? I’m saying it again if so

SHE AND RICHARD SCREW SO BAD I KNOW I SAID BUT PLEASE UNDERSTAND–

I know I said last post that I didn’t know how Tweek and Butters would be cousins but now I’ve decided… people can think differently because anything goes but for me it’s through both fathers. Tweak Bros. originates from Mrs. Tweak’s father and to earn the right to marry her he had to win him over and show his dedication to the profession

Richard and Stephen got grounded a LOT

Linda and Sheila’s hair always smells incredible (so much product)

Sheila is the type of grandma to give out stale sweeties

The Marsh name ends with Stanley. The bloodline ends with both him and Shelley

Heidi is the mother of Kyle’s kids (coping)

Cartman only became homeless after his mother died

He never worked ever (garageman future aside)

Clyde got vaccinated guys we can all rest now (the bad future self came back to tell him to never do it but once the good future is put into play he gets vaccinated because there was no bad future to come back to tell him)

Clyde is very girldad coded, soz

Bebe’s dad is a bit younger than her mom (he is the ultimate girldad… Mr. Stevens I wish I knew your name)

Clyde gets more insecure about his weight / appearance as he gets older. For now he is young however so let him live (his pudge is the pudge ever and he is sonboy if not a carnal dream and a half… latter only in pcov ofc)

Mr. Stevens helps Bebe with her homework a fuckton (particularly maths)

Butters bites his nails

Butters (after growing up) loves strong women. Look at his Pcov design and tell me he doesn’t want / have / respect a buff wife.

If Butters wasn’t grounded as much as a kid he wouldn’t have a fear of expectations as much as he does, meaning he would have probably gotten a better job than working in Dennybees or whatever it was called. Bro could have been a multi billionaire girlboss

I just want someone to hear this it’s not really a headcanon but BHLK Queen Thistle? LINDA STOTCH? Same character different nationalities istg

Kyle plays chaperone a fair bit to the guys

Kyle, Tolkien and Craig are the most sensible drivers out of All The Boys (Tolkien behind Craig and Kyle if I’m being honest)

Kenny and Bebe (Bebe isn’t a boy but YKWIM) are the fucking fastest / most reckless

Clyde and Stan are sort of not great but not bad drivers

Jimmy is rather close to Tolkien in terms of driving skill yk

Butters, Cartman, Tweek don’t drive – Cartman out of laziness / expectation of chaperones, and Butters and Tweek out of stress… Tweek tried to learn though

Craig in later years drives Tweek everywhere

Tweek and Cartman have experienced heart attacks (in later years) but for different reasons to the other. Clyde has come very close. So has Craig, though not as close.

Tweek dies before Craig.

Stan dies before Kyle.

Butters dies before Kenny (ironically).

Craig visits Tweek’s grave with flowers every week??

Craig, as an old man, where’s a lot of fucking cardigans. Grandpa shirts too (the things without the collars).

Tweek and Craig have matching anythings. Typically slippers.

Bebe is very handsy and sometimes possessive. Clyde thinks it’s “sweet”. (The dudebro sweet not the romantic sweet through the possessiveness originates from romanticism).

In Pcov Clyde is a delivery man, actually

Out of all the couples, it would always be Clybe to cause the most hickeys

Bebe has a flatter ass than brilliant boobs (opposite for Wendy, though Wendy isn’t flat chested)

Nichole bleaches her skin in the future (it’s sad but look at her design. Out of everything else it’s the most unrecognisable and it’s awful)

Nichole loves 60s/70s paraphernalia and fashion (the ultimate flower power child)

Wendy and Cartman fuck at least once in their lifetimes. They take it to the grave, but because of this Cartman doesn’t die a fucking virgin

That sounds so damn harsh wth but it’s true (I think Cartman doesn’t really have any labels moreso is just attached to certain people when it’s not just himself *cough cough* Kyle and Wendy *cough cough*)

Jimmy can see perfectly fine out of both eyes until he reaches teenhood

Jimmy has two brown haired alleles

Cartman doesn’t make fun of Kenny or Craig for having a ginger / red haired parent because he thinks they’re pretty cool. He lowkey ships them / wants to be them.

Cartman has the gene for ginger hair.

[bufomancer]

A few months ago I made a reel on instagram ranking every small mammal species I’ve kept or long term fostered from favorite to least favorite. It all of a sudden blew up and I’ve gotten a few genuinely angry comments and then a lot of people politely shocked by my rankings:

Degus, gerbils, mice, dwarf hamsters, guinea pigs, african soft furs, syrian hamsters, chinchillas, rats, and lastly sugar gliders.

People cannot believe I would rank rats so low and rank dwarf hamsters above syrians. Don’t I know dwarf hamsters are often bitey? Dont I know rats are like little dogs?

I guess I’m an outlier because temperament isn’t my chief concern for which critters I like and frequently I prefer the less friendly ones 💀😂 Rats are the most dog-like of the rodents…. But I don’t want a dog!

I actually like and appreciate every species on that list. They’re just not all well suited to my home. If I had actual AC and not just window units I’d probably rank chinchillas somewhat higher. If african soft furs didn’t develop papillomas all the time I might rank them higher. If my gerbils wanted to come out every day for multiple hours to run around and play with me they might rank lower.

Anyways, how would YOU rank the rodents you’ve owned by preference? Can tumblr be more normal about rats not being my favorite than instagram?

[drafty-castle]

My wife just got her SSDI accepted in October. She has been assessed at “nursing home level of care”.

I have been payed by her state insurance for five months to be her full time care giver - after three years of just us emptying out our savings so I could take care of her. It is cheaper for them to pay me than for her to go into a nursing facility - not that I would allow that, ever.

Before she got the Medicare associated with SSDI, DHHS were fighting to take away her state insurance because we were make too much money for it. You know, the money I make that they, themselves, pay me. It lead to a viscous cycle of we make too much money so she’s kicked off… so we make little enough money to apply again and I get my income again… so we make too much money so she’s kicked off…

And now that she has the SSDI, they’re taking half of it in Medicare part B-Z fees because our “income” means she’s not eligible for assistance. We’re fighting to keep her on an -aid supplement but the Bitch who is in charge of the application process is demanding ridiculous and non-applicable to the current situation things “to process the application”. Things like all of my wife’s bank statements from as far back as 2018.

We can’t get those! We can’t because A) one of her old banks has straight up purged all information on closed accounts after 3 years, B) there is a paywall at another bank of $5 per statement leading to hundreds of dollars of fees, , C) they’re all in banks across the country and her name has changed to they’re reasonably questioning her identity, and most importantly, D) she held those accounts with an ex-husband whom she has a restraining order on and can’t access them because he still has them open. The Bitch’s response to this? Well, we need those statements. And, what kind of domestic abuse did you experience? (That’s none of their gods damned business!) And then, oh, by the way! We also want a copy of the check you used to buy your house three years ago. The Bitch is refusing to talk to her case worker, is demanding to talk to her while she’s in therapy appointments, and sending her into a full mental breakdown at this point.

Does this make any gods damned sense? No. Of course not. But that’s not the point, is it? The point is to put up barriers. To make it so hard we just give up. The point is eugenics.

Thankfully, her (wonderful but way overworked) caseworker is not letting the Bitch talk to my wife without her ever again (and neither am I), I’ve gotten a number for the ombudsman for that department, and I’m also planning to call the Bitch’s supervisor and present a proctology report.

Oh, by the way? Turns out through out the months we’ve been fighting with them on this, they were never supposed to be counting my income to begin with because I am literally payed by the state insurance itself! Yet despite this, there will likely be several more weeks that I won’t get paid as we figure this shit out.

Incompetence! Incompetence everywhere!

And yet all this might become moot under our Commander in Shit’s reign of terror.

I am so tired.

Yeah, I really am worried about the future my SSDI, and people are telling me it'll be fine.

[messydepressy95]

Here's some really good emotional Joel & Ellie fics I've got in my bookmarks. You may have already most of of these, my apologies if that's the case.

Circle of Fifths, by marchflower. Ellie navigates the break down of her first relationship and all the shit that comes with it. (Really, just read anything by marchflower and you're golden)

but tonight i'll need you to stay by captainredspade. In Jackson, Ellie struggles and Joel worries. They figure it out eventually.

a safe place to land by two_birds_alone_together. Joel Miller owns The Back Shelf, a bookstore located in Back Bay. He has no idea that his life is going to change when a girl walks into the store on an oppressively hot Boston day. MODERN AU. (This is the first part of an amazing series. Very intense at times. Very sweet and cute at others)

bright spots by sixhours. Ellie & Joel make it to the hospital and the Fireflies don't immediately try to take out her brain (because c'mon! Where's the fun in that?) Here's what happens next. WIP. (This one starts out very cute and playful and has gradually gotten a little more intense. I'm in love with this portrayel of Joel and Ellie)

this is me trying (at least i'm trying) by BarlowGirl. Ellie adjusts to living in Jackson.

you and me on the rock by marchflower. Just Ellie and Joel doing what they do best: pissing each other off and patching each other up.

never go back again by flannelfeelings. Joel gets hurt in Jackson, Ellie remembers the last time he was badly hurt.

I appreciate this so much.

Never worry about recommending a Fic you think I’ve already read, I am a chronic re-reader and tend to forget the names of Fics that I’ve read and loved.

Especially since I didn’t have an AO3 account until this year and was reading on that platform for years prior, meaning no bookmarks 🙃

Im a late bloomer🥴 (I used fanfiction.net for far longer than I’m willing to admit.)

I’m going to be an absolute potato today and read through some of these, thank you.

*also if anyone new to the fandom ever sees this, the authors on this list are top tier, these suggestions are fucking great.

[buckysfaveplum]

doomsday

summary: missions don't always go according to plan, sometimes you lose people- that's the job. bucky told you that himself.

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 3k

warnings: violence, character death, um yea this one's sad. OH and Steve is dead in this (I mean he was like 90 something in endgame...)

a/n: GUYS omg i missed youuu i hope you remember me. its been like almost two years? i moved to ireland and started grad school! things are different. buttt here’s a new fic cause i’m back!!! ANGST omg im sorryyyy.... idk I wanted to right something that hurt okay okay bye (:

masterlist | send requests

You hated funerals. 

The suffocating smell of formaldehyde and roses wafted through the wake hall. The sounds of distant friends and relatives feigning grief, playing up small interactions with the deceased as more than just pleasantries while siblings and best friends' voices seem to be gone with a lack of words to express their suffering. The stale cookies and donuts in the hall, as if someone’s lover isn’t lying in a casket 50 feet away. All wrapped up in black dresses, suits, and handkerchiefs.

You hated funerals.

Today was no exception. An agent lost on a routine mission in Guam, taking out an arms dealer terrorizing a village. There were loose connections to Hydra, but just petty violence and shootouts for nothing. It shouldn’t have resulted in the loss of an agent. But sometimes things go wrong. A gun barrel stalls, someone trips, a civilian happens to be in the way. Sometimes people die. That’s how you ended up here.

Sarah was a good agent, a great one. She was top of her class at Westpoint, went straight to the FBI, and was recruited into SHIELD- all before 30. She was good- too good for a slip-up like this.

As speeches wrapped up, family and friends began to say their goodbyes. A line formed at the casket as people poured their hearts out for the redhead you once called a friend. You waited patiently at the back, making sure you were one of the last. You always did. Maybe out of respect, perhaps guilt? Who knows. You always felt guilt, even if there was nothing to be done. There was guilt.

Finally, as the small crowd left the room, flooding into the hall outside, you made your way to the front. Laid out before you, Sarah’s curly and wild hair was in two thick braids on each side of her head, a blue dress covering her as well as a soft cream cardigan. She looked beautiful and peaceful. But she was dead. Your friend was dead. No makeup or pretty clothes would lessen that blow. The plush velvet of the casket seemed to soften the prison that her body would rest in. At every funeral, you were reminded of how you wished to be cremated.

“I’ve never seen her hair so flat,” you turned to see Bucky standing beside you.

“You know, even wet her hair always seemed to spring up. Had a mind of its own,” you said, your gaze resting on him.

He was clad in a simple black suit, an older set you’d gotten him at a vintage shop. Something familiar. A simple cream button-down, no tie. It was simple, but that was him. What was most striking though was his serene demeanor. It never seemed to settle with you how unaffected by death he was. How easily he was able to gather himself and keep going. You couldn’t blame him though, 90 years of pain, death, torture, and violence will do that to you. You’d only seen him torn up once. And it was beyond devastating. Steve. “You okay, kid?” he asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. 

He was your partner, in every sense of the word. In the field, as a friend, in life. He was everything. Your taut shoulders melted under the firm comfort of his vibranium arm. You could rest in its embrace a thousand times and never cease to crave its solace when away. He was your rock through every debriefing, call to family, black dress, and smeared mascara. Who knows what you would be without him?

You rested your head on his chest, breathing in the potent smell of his old cologne and something that was distinctly Bucky. 

“I hate funerals.”

——

“Do you ever think about dying?”

Bucky’s grip on you tightened slightly at your words. Wrapped in the soft linen of your duvet and the sunlight streaming in through your windows, his body lay around yours. His short choppy locks were tousled fresh from his slumber. The previous night’s sleep had yet to let go of his consciousness fully, still cozy and relaxed in your shared bed. His vibranium fingers continued to play with your hair as he considered your question.

“Not anymore,” he said.

Your face scrunched in confusion at his words. Your fingers traced gently over the thick scars on his left shoulder. They mangled and twisted, sprouting in angry red from the line where his skin met vibranium. Shuri had done her best to soften the tissue when replacing his arm, but only so much could be done.

“I did a lot when I was first drafted. I was scared of it then. And in those early days under Hydra. It was all-consuming. But at some point, I wasn’t scared of it, I embraced it- prayed for it,” your fingers froze at his words. It was nothing new to you, you had spent countless late nights and early mornings recounting the abuse of his days as the Winter Soldier. But hearing him say flat out how he wished to die. That was jarring. “After the Blip, I’ve just become a bit numb to it. I don’t really think about it if that makes sense. It could always happen.”

His hands danced down your spine as if his words were simple.

“You expect it?” You asked, propping yourself up on your elbow.

“It’s the job, Y/N. It comes with the territory. Sometimes you lose people. And it could always be you,” he said, giving you a soft look. “You know that, doll”.

“I just, I don’t expect it in the field you know?” you relaxed a bit, regretting the subject you forced upon him.

“Hey, maybe that wasn’t the best way to put it,” he said, giving you a ginger smile as he leaned close and cupped your cheeks in his hands. “Death has just followed me for a long time, doll. I mean I’m a 106. I’m just not scared of it anymore.”

You tucked yourself into his chest, his words soothing the fears swirling in your mind. You knew the job was dangerous. That any mission could be the last. You just hoped it would never be him.

“Why do you always pick the heaviest topics of discussion early in the morning?” he asked, his voice still groggy from sleep. He smiled as you chuckled against his chest. 

“Probably cause I’m hungry, Plum,” you said, turning to lay on your back as you smiled up at him. 

“Yea? What could we do about that, huh?” that devilish smirk of his could stop your heart anytime and you’d be grateful. “Pancakes? Clinton St?” 

You nodded eagerly at his suggestion before taking his hand and slipping from the bed.

——

The rumbling of the quinjet shot up your spine. Sam and Bucky’s relentless bickering filled the steel jet as you came closer to your destination. Your gloved hands worked at strapping your knives to your thighs as they quarreled over how best to stain wooden beams in Sam’s living room during your and Bucky’s next trip down to Louisiana.

“No! NO! Buck, that stain doesn’t go with the accent wood in the kitchen! I already told you,” Sam said as he fixed his shield to his back. You chuckled as you walked over to them. Your backup squad, full of agents fresh from SWORD’s training academy, snickered at the two men as Bucky rolled his eyes.

“The beams are in your living room, what does it matter?” He said. 

“I wouldn’t take any interior design advice from him, he wanted a purple couch in our living room,” you said, wrapping your arms around Bucky’s waist. Sam laughed as he turned to grab the mission report. The jet was drawing close, entering stealth mode and preparing for landing.

“It was a plum color,” Bucky grumbled, nuzzling his face into your hair. 

“Okay team, huddle up!” Sam said. “This is just a simple in and out. We gotta get these hostages out safely so no risky moves- I’m lookin’ at you, Buck.”

Bucky threw his hand up in defeat, scoffing jokingly under his breath. 

“I’ll swoop through and scout entrances, Squad Two you’ll be with me for direct combat. We’re clearing out the building. Squad One, you’ll be with Y/N and Bucky, you’re getting those hostages out. You bring them straight back here, got it? There’s four so it shouldn’t be too strenuous,” he said, closing up his report before slipping on his cowl. “Alright team, let’s show ‘em what we got.”

——

Fluorescent red light filtered across your face as you slipped through the hallways. Half the squad led ahead of you, banging on doors in search of the hostages. Bucky hung close behind you, the rest of your squad keeping your entrance open for your escape. His hand rested on the gun strapped to his hip as he kept an eye on your blind spots.

Watching your back on the field was second nature to him. Protecting you, be it on the subway or in an active battle zone, was something he felt born to do. A reason to survive all those years under Hydra.

After several doors, your team stopped; having heard the pleas for help on the other end of the steel doors, they backed up to allow room for an agent to blast the lock. You stumbled back into Bucky, tripping on your own feet. His arms caught you before you could even glance at the floor. You felt his fingers gripping your hips and fidgeting with the straps on your thighs as you straighten.

“Some reflexes you got,” you whispered to him.

“Can’t let my babydoll fall,” he said, kissing the back of your head before his focus shifted back to the lock, now falling to the floor.

The agents flooded into the room, pulling hostages out and bringing them back into the hall. As they streamed out, you realized something was wrong. You only counted 3.

“Where’s the fourth hostage?” you asked. 

Bucky commed Sam, hoping he’d scanned the place and found a lead. As he spoke, you gathered the agents, giving them an order. Lead them through the building, get out to the other half of the squad, and get them into the jet. You’d meet them on the other side. You and Bucky would find the last hostage. The agents fled, leaving you and Bucky alone in the dark hallway. 

“Where are they?” you asked. Bucky sighed, as he grabbed a knife from his hip.

“In the lab in the basement, must’ve been the first to get taken,” he said.

The hostages weren’t nobodies. Prisoners were taken from SWORD on a mission to squash a newly established radical group. A group that seemed to resonate with the ideas of Hydra. This mission was all too familiar to Bucky, and all the more upsetting. You gave his free hand a firm squeeze before you turned and bolted to the lab.

You could feel the heaviness of the lab as soon as you entered the basement. The looming presence of the sterile room filled the hallways as you stalked toward it. Bucky was unusually quiet as he covered you from behind. You knew this was triggering, it had to be. He would always tell you he was beyond triggered episodes, having gotten a firm grasp on his PTSD. But you knew better. The subtle tremor in his brow told you so.

As you reached the eerie room, you stilled. Bucky came up behind you, resting a hand on your waist as you assessed the space. Metal shelves lined the walls full of jars, syringes, and test tubes. Sleek steel tables with rags soaked in blood, white grimy cabinets full of scalpels and needles, and an operating table at the center. The floors were coated in grot, each crack in the tile stained brown. Your mind couldn’t help but wonder if this condition was what Bucky was used to for all those decades.

Realizing the area was clear, you entered. Quickly, you spotted the hostage. Strapped to a chair in the corner with an IV jabbed into his arm. Bucky squeezed your arm as he headed over, slipping his knife back on his hip. 

You felt a pit growing in your stomach. You pulled your gun gently. This hostage didn’t look familiar, you thought Sam said he was a brunette, not blonde.

Bucky began to break the straps holding the man down. Slipping the IV gently from his arms, Bucky eased him up into a sitting position. He spoke to the man calmly, explaining to him who you were and that he was here to get him out. He seemed off, but Bucky just assumed it was the experimentation. He was wrong.

“Do you know who we are?” Bucky asked, helping the man up.

“I know who you are, Soldat,” the man said.

A chill ran through your legs, almost toppling you over. You reached for your gun, but the man was quicker. He was able to log four bullets into Bucky’s chest before you could get one in his skull. 

Shots rang out in the room, flooding your ears. As soon as you pulled the trigger, the man fell to the ground. Your bullet nestled into the side of his head. Your hands were shaky as the gun fell from your grasp, clattering across the floor and sending echoes through the rotting room. Of course it was a trap. The rubber of your boots squeaked as you sprinted your way over to your lover. He stumbled back against the filthy wall, his hands pressing firmly on the holes scattered across his chest.

As soon as you reached him, his legs seemed to give out. Everything in you tried to keep him up, your hands gripping the straps of his suit to keep him from surrendering to the floor. But he was too heavy. You followed him down, gathering him in your arms and holding him close. His breathing was labored and rough. Squeaks and coughs escaping from his punctured lungs haunted your ears, taunting you as you desperately tried to get him to stand.

“Baby, baby come on… you gotta get up, love,” you said, pulling him as you tried to get his attention.

His eyes were fixed on the mess in his chest. Blood bloomed across the fabric of his blue suit like a watercolor painting. His hands slipped from their place over the wounds and grasped yours. 

“Y/N…” he said. You froze at his voice. It was weak and unsteady. His grip on your hand was tight, too tight. He was always so gentle with you. As if you were glass under his hands and he was afraid you cracked. Now, he gripped you so hard you were afraid your bones would fracture.

“Bucky, you gotta get up. You’re gonna be okay,” you said as you tried to stay calm, but your voice failed you. You commed Sam, “Sam, Sam! Bucky’s down, I need help please!” 

You tried your best to stop the bleeding, tearing fabric from your pants to stuff the wound and slow the blood. But it didn’t seem to help. Bucky’s vibranium hand rose to your cheek, holding you steady. You mumbled to yourself, beginning to panic as blood spilled onto your hand; it stained the groves in your knuckles and cakes in your fingertips. Bucky’s coughing finally brought you out of your spiral. Blood began to trickle from his mouth.

“Doll…I can’t- I can’t breathe,” he said, his voice hoarse from the blood filling his throat.

“Bucky, hang on for me okay, please,” you said, your hands grasping his face and pulling yourself closer. You pressed a firm kiss to his forehead. When you pulled back, you could see it in his eyes.

“Y/N, I’m scared…” you felt bile rise in your throat at his words. The reality of the situation began to set in. Sam’s glitchy voice rang through your coms but you barely registered it.

“You’re okay, plum. It’s okay, I’m here. You’re gonna be okay,” you said. Your voice was frantic and distraught. The need to reassure him he would make it was overwhelming. But was it for him or you? Perhaps if you kept repeating it, doomsday would stay at bay.

His hands returned to yours, grabbing them and pulling you close as another cough racked his body. Blood speckled across your hands. You were white in the face, all the color drained.

“I…I love you, kid,” he said, his grip loosening. 

“No, baby, you’re gonna be okay. Sam’s on the way, it’s-”

“Y/N, I love you,” your hands gripped his tighter, wishing the firm hold he had minutes ago would return as his hands became limp in yours.

“… I love you, Buck,” you said softly, resting your forehead on his.

You pulled him close, kissing his lips one last time. You felt his breathing slow, his lips still. You didn’t pull back, you couldn’t. You knew what would await. A thick sob slipped through your chest. 

You tucked yourself further into his body, pulling him close and wrapping your arms around him. His head rested tucked into the crook of your neck, your hand tangled into his hair. You closed your eyes as you pressed your face into his hair, your free hand stroking his back and you rocked his now limp body. And you waited for Sam.

——

The smell of formaldehyde was the same, but no roses- Bucky preferred lilacs. You didn’t want the standard service, but SWORD insisted. No speeches, except for the pastor leading the service. You didn’t want any speeches, you knew Bucky would agree. 

You sat in the back, behind the small crowd of agents, friends, and the team you had come to consider family. Sam kept looking over his shoulder, keeping an arm behind him and resting on your knee. Perhaps he was trying to stop its shaking through the service or just to bring you comfort.

The service was simple, it was quiet. It was small. But it didn’t change anything. 

You hated funerals.

**taglist has been reset! let me know if you'd like to be added**

[bengiyo]

Love in the Big City Eps 5 & 6: That Apartment Was Too Small

I’m late this week to write this post. Despite everything going on in the world and in my life, I have struggled with how similar episodes 5 and 6 played like Part 3 of the book. When I read over my reaction post for Part 3, I felt like I could post it with a few edits as a reaction to these two episodes. I’ve also read so many great posts about this section, so I’ll throw some quick thoughts down on some of the things that stood out in this section.

The T-aras Continue to Be a Great Change

Presenting the drama in a more linear format required baton passes between the sections that the book didn’t require, and I really loved having the T-aras as pallbearers who also took care of Yeong when he wanted to go out the night of his mom’s funeral. I love how they also feel like they’ve matured as they’ve gotten older.

Making us love the T-aras so much makes their flippancy about being around someone they know, or suspect, is positive hit like a ton of bricks in the flashback. What’s so sad about this is it puts this wall up inside of Yeong that keeps him from ever telling them about his situation with Kylie. We know the T-aras love him dearly, and I think they would have adapted quickly to take care of their friend. I couldn’t help but think about the hospital scene from Part 2 and wonder how uncertainties Yeong felt about them complicated that moment for him.

I also love that they’re the ones who got to meet and approve of Gyu-ho, and that they suggested Yeong take him on a trip to help rekindle the romance. Yeong not being completely alone has been one of my favorite changes, because few of us are ever as alone as we think we are.

Gyu-ho Feels so Alive

We see so much of Gyu-ho from Young’s perspective in the book, and I loved seeing him come alive and share space with Yeong in the drama. I loved seeing the mundanity of their relationship. I loved seeing Yeong consolidate and clean up the room to make it livable for Gyu-ho just as much as I loved seeing them struggle with their living habits. I loved seeing them fight over little things, and then seeing Gyu-ho adapt to that and cover annoyances (especially with the water bottles).

Unfortunately, Kylie ruins so much of Yeong’s ability to commit to this relationship, and I think it’s why staying in Mi Ae’s apartment might be one of my favorite choices of the drama. When we read Part 3, I kept thinking about how small Young’s apartment was, and how it didn’t seem right for the two of them to stay there. Here in the drama, we see that Yeong’s mom made sure to take care of her affairs, and I wondered at how much Yeong had stashed away from that, but also figured he wouldn’t want to stay in the home his mom had.

I think, for Yeong, Gyu-ho is just so radiant and beautiful a person that Yeong is worried he’ll infect with HIV and make “dirty.” He brings that word up a lot, and it made me so, so sad. Kylie is everywhere in their relationship. It’s in Yeong’s need to fake a blood test to get a decent job he hates. It’s in his inability to pursue work opportunities in other countries. It’s in their inability to have unprotected sex without worries. All of this culminates to make Yeong feel like he’s ruined Gyu-ho’s future for just being with him.

Conversely, it’s so frustrating to watch Gyu-ho from this perspective doing everything he can to make Yeong feel loved and valued. I felt so much for Gyu-ho when he got a solid job as a nurse and wanted them to get a bigger place together. I also felt for Gyu-ho searching for potential new partners on the apps. It sucked in the book and it sucks here when Yeong tries to shove Gyu-ho to go have sex with someone else when that’s not what Gyu-ho wants at all; he’s a romantic.

As such, they could not make this relationship work. Gyu-ho is probably the one person in the series we’ve seen Yeong trust to the most. The T-aras prickled his shame. Mi Ae outed him. Yeong Su turned out to be gross. Nam Gyu died.  I believe Yeong when he said he was writing as hard as he could to build a future where he was independently wealthy enough to take care of himself and Gyu-ho, and it was so sad to see him completely lose the love he found in the present for that.

Onto the Finale

That’s all I’ve got this week. I find myself looking forward to this section because I’m so excited to see what Habibi turns into with this version. I’ve meditated on the fallout of the Gyu-ho breakup, and I’m excited to see what the drama does with that.  

[toasttt11]

apologies

July 30, 2021

Matt walked into the lake house with Hayden after spending most of the day sitting outside with Hayden reading as the rest of the boys went out on the boat and the boys had just gotten back from being out on the year before they are all going to head out to dinner.

Hayden squeezed Matt’s arm as she saw Matt looking at the kitchen where Ryan was and knew he wanted to talk to Ryan and walked away to her room to get ready for dinner.

Matt took a deep breath and knew he needed to apologize because while he hasn’t been rude to Ryan he has not been nice and welcoming and that isn’t him. He doesn’t want to be on bad terms with someone who is so important to Hayden.

“Hey.” Matt said as he walked into the kitchen where Ryan was.

Ryan looked up slightly surprised to see Matt talking to him, “Hey man.” Ryan spoke back.

“Look i wanted to apologize,” Matt started and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “I’m sorry i haven’t being very kind the past few days, that isn’t me and i’ve just been in my head over somethings so i apologize.” Matt sincerely apologized.

Ryan smiled slightly titling his head. He knows Matt is nicer than he has been the last few days because Hayden is always talking about Matt and Hayden so a good judge of character.

He also has seen during the past few days just how soft and kind Matt is to Hayden and more specifically the look of love Matt has always around Hayden or even speaking about Hayden.

“It’s all good.” Ryan reassured him and smiled at Matt’s disbelieving face, “Really i get it. You were jealous because how close i am to Hayden.” Ryan said calmly, “Because you’re in love with her.” Ryan added nonchalantly making Matt freeze in shock.

Matt opened and closed his mouth before clearing his throat, “You figured that out quickly.” He knew there was no point denying it.

“Dude you are not hiding it.” Ryan laughed shaking his head, it was so obvious how in love Matt is with Hayden and the only one who doesn’t know that is Hayden.

Matt shrugged, “I don’t care who knows.” Matt honestly told him, he really doesn’t care who knows he is in love with Hayden he’s not trying to hide it and he would never hide his love for Hayden even if she doesn’t know of his feelings.

Ryan nodded glad that it is Matt in love with Hayden knowing he would treat her good, “Good.” Ryan agreed with Matt’s words. They started talking more about Hayden.

Hayden walked into the kitchen a few minutes with jean shorts, a blue cropped tank top and a white button long sleeve shirt that was unbuttoned and was wearing sandals not converse for once and her hair was actually down for once too.

“Are you going to get ready?” Hayden teased them both as she leaned against the kitchen counter and smiled slightly seeing the two get along easily.

Matt froze slightly as he looked at Hayden , he has always loved when she wear she hair down buy he shook his head trying to not get distracted by how beautiful she looks.

Ryan and Matt both nodded but Ryan left first heading to the guest room to get ready.

Hayden rested her hand on Matt’s arm squeezing softy, “Thank you.” Hayden gave Matt an appreciating look from apologizing.

“Of course.” Matt knew Ryan deserved an apology for how he acted the past few days.

“Now go get ready.” Hayden playfully shoved Matt’s arm.

Matt smiled fondly and looked at Hayden and took a deep breath, “You look beautiful.” Matt told her honestly before he walked out of the kitchen.

Hayden froze slightly as her eyes followed Matt as he walked away, she swallowed feeling confused why his words affected her so much.

[asquared-ohgodnotthehorrors]

Actually hang on, while there aren’t explicit mechanical rules that really propel the idea of a Queer Narrative (mainly because the narrative rules are quite light), there are a lot of elements within the Lancer setting that permit queer narratives.

Like it’s a setting where all kinds of diversity exists and thereby pretty much anything goes, right? People who defy the norm can exist safely in the setting, and therefore there’s no conflict that simulates a queer narrative? On a broad scale, you’d be right!

But then you start going into the specifics. The weird outliers, because at the end of the day, Lancer emphasizes again and again that the universe is massive.

I’d actually like to pick an example from a third party module: Calliope and Nestor from In Golden Flame. Mostly because I think it’s a fantastic example of what can be done within the setting, partially because it’s the one I’m most familiar with.

Nestor is a world that was cut off from Humanity for a long time, and regressed to its worst roots. There was classism, racism, homophobia, transphobia, bigotry, all kinds of horrible things happened there. Then Union made recontact, and Nestorians risked their lives to tell Union the planet was irrefutably corrupt, that it was against their Utopian ideals to the Utmost degree.

Ya wanna know what Union did?

Wait and deliberate. The quickest they could’ve gotten there was in a decade, and they decided “no, Nestor isn’t a priority.”

This ultimately led to the situation escalating and getting worse, turning it into a multi year conflict that prey to much destroyed Nestor. Iirc, it’s uninhabitable now.

Queer people calling for the assistance of those who are supposed to help them, and being told they’re not a priority, that they should wait, that it isn’t urgent? Wonder where I’ve heard that before.

Meanwhile, Calliope. By all accounts, Calliope shouldn’t be colonized. It’s a star system with nearly nothing in it, and a spelling error made it so now millions of people are stuck in it.

It’s infested with pirates and a billionaire who idolizes the tyrants of Nestor, it’s out of reach of Union by several light years, no one goes there and everyone suffers under those who believe might makes right, and that everyone beneath them should starve. Where resources are already scarce and you have tyrants horde them anyway. Where a Cult that includes many survivors of Nestor is trying to end the universe because they believe that the suffering within it proves that it is unloved and should be removed to make way for the new one.

And Union tells them “it’s your fault you’re there. You should really leave if you wanna survive.” And then they provide the bare minimum, and neglect it for centuries.

That sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

Now, if this was just In Golden Flame, that would be something else. It’s Third Party, why would that accurately encapsulate the setting?

But the thing is, these examples are paragons of the types of people that fall through the cracks in humanities so called Utopia. Where they suffer from the past of Second Committee, whose anthrochauvanism embodied a “might makes right” mentality, and all of humanities worst qualities came to light. That kind of millennia history isn’t erased in a couple years. That culture doesn’t just evaporate, especially when there are colonies established by them that haven’t even heard Second Committee has fallen.

I can name more examples. The Constellar Worlds of Smith-Shimano, Free Sanjak in the Baronies, the Purview of Harrison Armory, Hercynia, the Long Rim, all of the people trapped under tyrants who have fallen to the wayside and had their Utopia stolen from them.

Maybe Lancer isn’t entirely about Queer Narratives. But it is about revolutions, about bringing about a better future, about protecting those who have fallen between the cracks of the system and been forgotten by those meant to help them, about killing oppression, fascism, anthrochauvanism, and turning the tools that were meant to drive those demons forward against them. It’s about hope.

Is that not Queer?

One thing that keeps coming back to haunt me about my "D&D isn't an inherently queer game" post is people mentioning Lancer as a counterexample of a queer game which, I don't know, feels very much like missing the point. Like modern D&D, Lancer very much seems to be a game made by LGBTQ-inclusive folks where characters are allowed to be queer but at least based on the couple of times I've read it cursorily it doesn't exactly strike me as a queer text. Idk, maybe I just don't get it and it's more just a "we have claimed this game because we like the big robots" kind of thing

[cambria-writes]

Watching other people talk about how miserable fandom has become in the past few years meanwhile I’m sat in my little corner away from everyone like