#there are SO many more but i can't think of them right now

[rivertalesien]

A lot of ideas can co-exist.

There are activists on Tumblr. Some have been "activated" online. They've grown up on Tumblr. Tumblr is a default location for so many to try and urge others to act on their own best interests. There's no better way to use Tumblr than through fandoms.

That means the bad faith operators use them, too.

We've seen radicalizing in fandoms for years. Terfs do it, fascists do it.

One of the ways they have been particularly effective is in shutting down any conversation they don't want people to have. And it has worked. There are outcroppings in every social media sphere where people are: NO POLITICS. NO LGBTQ TALK. NO GENOCIDE TALK. NO BAD STUFF. PERIOD. No one wants to go through the drama of sorting it all out. It's been traumatizing for a lot of people. Cutting everything potentially problematic back is one way of dealing with the problem and making sure nothing toxic starts to take hold again.

There's upsides to that and some downsides: how people have been radicalized says a lot. I know some folks just want to get the revolution started and think banging heads together out here will do it.

So there's folks who have grown up here to reject that, fight against it and try to push others toward "action" without ever really being able to define what that "action" should be. There's folks who don't even realize they're desperation for "action" turns them off the folks who do not want anymore trauma. When you're deep in that mindset, you're not much better than a troll, really, and about as effective.

Yes, mental health/physical trauma is a real and valid reason some folks will not engage with political content of any kind.

Want to be an effective activist?

Online is never where it is at. You are simply not going to move people here. It won't happen. The need for the protective bubble is just too strong. You can use your platform to spread information, activist activities that are happening offline or specific ways people can help themselves and others, which people can then choose to participate in by sharing with their circles. That's it. That's what you can do here. If something goes viral here, it won't be because you pushed it on folks, judged them. Made them feel bad. People have to walk by themselves. They can't be forced along.

If you really need to feel some movement in the world, get involved locally. Join a school board. Library board. Volunteer at food banks, community gardens. Setup a booth at the mall or other community location and learn how to engage with people directly. More people will just walk on by, but once in a while, someone will come up to you and really want to know what's up. It doesn't feel rewarding or cinematically revolutionary, but that's how it's done. You can't start with a massive audience from day one. It's one to one to one to one until there are ten. Until there are twenty. Until there are a hundred.

If you need to go a step further, help a labor union. Join the picket lines. Encourage others to join unions. That's big right now and an effective way forward.

And don't forget that a huge part of what is going on in this world is a lack of compassion. A lack of humanity toward others. Everyone needs it. We need love and gentleness and kindness. If your activism doesn't start there, it won't end there. You may not believe it because you live in your own bubble of Rightness. If you think other people's suffering justifies you being a dick, you're not helping them. Donate to their GFMs. Encourage others to. Kindly. *That* helps.

Online is where we archive. Where we keep track. Where people find solidarity in the things that keep them going. That keep our humanity intact. That's the best of it. The worst is when we stomp around on it and tell others how they should feel and how they should live. That's not activism. That's policing. If there's one thing activism should never involve, it's policing others.

I'm a good twenty-odd years in this game now. I work in my community and my state and I'm telling you: you're not going to change the world online. The movements you have seen that seem to arise and build awareness? Online was incidental. It wasn't what made it happen. Bitching at people for "not caring enough" not sharing enough trauma posts or what not, is not what makes change happen. Nobody knows you. You're a stranger who walked into their house and told them YOU'RE DOING IT ALL WRONG and only added to their own trauma. It's not helping anyone at all.

PS: people talk politics all the time. They just might not be talking about it with you. For a very good reason.

Humble yourself a little. It won't hurt.

We need all of us in this time. Set a better example. Let people come to you. Go out and meet your neighbors. People need connection, not judgement. That's how this works.

I am actually begging some people to just let some spaces exist untouched by real-world issues and horrors.

Like I've lost count of the amount of times peaceful game or fandom servers have been ruined by people stampeding in with political rants, bitching about world issues, demanding internal activism, demanding vent channels so they can whine about their shitty parents, ect.

Like. Respectfully. Not every single space has to be inclusive of and welcoming of outside topics. The real world sucks. We don't needed to be reminded of that absolutely everywhere.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Hey. Hi. Hello. Today I learned about the existence of 15th century Welsh poet Gwerful Mechain and that she apparently has a surviving work of erotic poems.

Please. For Christmas. For Yule. Please tell me more because I can't read Welsh.

Heh heh. Oh, Gwerful Mechain is the absolute best.

(Quick housekeeping to keep the post manageable - I previously wrote about things like cynghanedd and cywydds and englyns and such here, so check that if you need an explanation.)

What's fun is that we don't know a ton about her, because not a lot got written down about people in her time. Her surviving work covers a 40ish year span at the end of the 1400s to just into the 1500s, but we don't know when she was born or died or anything like that. We know her parents' names? And that she was from Mechain, hence the bardic name. And that she married a guy and had a daughter, something which actually does mark out her body of work as different from her contemporaries; being a wife and mother, she couldn't do the usual bardic role of travelling the country to spread news and play at courts. This means she doesn't have any of the praise poetry that a lot of male bards produced about the lords that hosted them.

But, there's stuff we can piece together about her. For one thing, she was not just literate (not a universal skill for anyone at that point, but especially for women), but she was astonishingly well-read and had what appears to be a classical education, given her poetic references and traditional Welsh meters. For another, her work often had recurring themes of religion, sex, and women's rights, sometimes all at the same time.

At the point Gwerful was active, Welsh bardic culture heavily featured ymrysonau. An ymryson is like... well, I hesitate to say "sort of like a rap battle" after the way everyone and their dog now thinks that's what the Mari Lwyd does, but they were like a cross between a rap battle and the publication war between two rival academics. A bard would write an englyn and publish it in the local parish newsletter. Another bard would see this, and write their own englyn about how stupid the first bard's englyn was, and publish it in the same newsletter. The first bard would see this and retaliate. The second bard would retaliate to that. And on and on it would go, like a printed tennis match for all the parishioners to enjoy, until someone wrote a conclusive verse OR until someone went "Lol, you got me good there" and bowed out with dignity. Sometimes, these things were fucking vicious; but other times, they were just banter between two bards who knew each other and were enjoying the chance to keep their poetic skills in tip top condition.

Now, Gwerful was an active and enthusiastic participant in ymrysonau. We have many examples of her work from these. There are two of particular note that I'll list here, each against a different bard:

Dafydd Llwyd o Fathafarn. Mathafarn and Mechain are not so distant from one another, so no real surprise that these two locked horns a lot, but the impression I always got from their ymrysonau is that they were good mates, actually. These fell into the 'banter' category more often than not. Dafydd was a Welsh Nationalist who was hoping for a Welshman to rise up and throw off the yoke of English oppression, and most of his work is about that, but he turned up the filthy erotic shit for any ymryson with Gwerful because BOY HOWDY was that her specialty. IIRC she did occasionally poke fun at his Welsh Nash leanings, especially his obsession with Mab Darogan (OLD Welsh idea that translates to the Son of Prophesy - the Arthur-style figure that will one day drive out the English overlords), but mostly their ymrysonau were incredibly beautifully-written odes that could be summed up as "Dafydd, my man, my good friend, I mean this sincerely: suck my entire clit".

She often won.

Ieuan Dyfi. God, what a fucking asshole. This one was not banter. Gwerful played for blood with this prick.

We actually would know nothing about Ieuan Dyfi if not for Gwerful Mechain, because it was her poetic response to him that meant his only surviving poems made it to the modern day; that, and the record of him being brought before a church court where he admitted adultery with Anni Goch, a married woman. Oh, and the record of him being brought before the law courts at Liverpool, accused of domestic abuse and gambling? If I remember right?

Two things to know that set the scene for what came next:

One of Gwerful Mechain's surviving poems is an englyn considered to be possibly the oldest extant poem about domestic violence written by a woman: I’w gŵr am ei churo (To the husband who beats her)

Dager drwy goler dy galon - ar osgo I asgwrn dy ddwyfron; Dy lin a dyr, dy law’n don, A’th gleddau i’th goluddion.

There are a lot of translations for this one to try to keep its poeticness, but this one is pretty good:

Through your heart’s lining let there be pressed, slanting down, A dagger to the bone in your chest. Your knee smashed, your hand crushed, may the rest Be gutted by the sword you possessed.

She has others, too, that deal with sexual assault, and something scholars often note about Gwerful is her remarkable knowledge of the law as it pertained to women's issues. So she was not, you see, a woman with a high view of a man accused of domestic violence anyway.

But then Ieuan Dyfi wrote five poems about Anni Goch, the married woman he'd fucked, each more "Wow dude, she said no" than the last, culminating in I Anni Goch; a full cywydd of misogynistic Medieval-incel bullshit about how false and evil women are, which listed all the false and evil women of history including classical and mythological figures.

And. Well. Gwerful had some views.

Her responding cywydd - I ateb Ieuan Dyfi am gywydd Anni Goch - basically blasted the guy back into his own impact crater and disintegrated him. What she did with it, essentially, was to mirror his cywydd. Where he'd gone "Isn't it so true how great men throughout history have always been brought low by women, amirite lads? Here's examples", Gwerful went "Isn't it so true how 'great men' throughout history have behaved appallingly and fucked up through their own actions and then somehow managed to blame women, amirite lads? Here's examples." Where his examples had been historical figures, so were hers. Where his had been classical, so were hers. Where he went Biblical, so did she.

And what's so interesting about that last one is how pointed she was with it - for some reason, in his big list of evil women, Ieuan Dyfi did not go for the most obvious and low-hanging of fruit (no pun intended) - he doesn't cite Eve. In response, Gwerful also sidesteps the most obvious and low hanging of fruit - she doesn't cite Mary. In so doing, she makes it clear that she doesn't even need to.

There is no record of him responding to her. IIRC, there is a record of him doing three years in prison.

But! Outside of all of that, the big thing Gwerful was known for was her erotic poetry. You'll be unsurprised to hear that it wasn't written for shits and giggles - much like today, women of the time were told that most of their value was in their looks, and they had plentiful insecurities about their bodies. Gwerful wrote her erotic stuff to confront those insecurities and shine a light on the issue. There are so many examples of this, but far and away the most famous is definitely Cywydd y Cedor - roughly translated, 'Ode to the Vulva'. Though I have also seen it titled Cywydd y Gont - Ode to the Cunt. It's such a shame that the English language is literally, physically not capable of cynghanedd, because it means unless you learn Welsh you will never understand the beauty and the lyricism of the piece, and how it elevates and undercuts the content at the same time; but it's a joyful, masterful, irreverent work that uses the fancy language male poets were forever dedicating to the rest of a woman's body and applies it squarely to the vulva. In fact it basically opens with "Men are cowards, describe more cunts or gtfo" before launching into its main subject matter. The last line is pro-pubic hair, too, like I really must stress how much Gwerful Mechain would have to offer Tumblr if you could speak Welsh. This is probably her most widely translated piece, though, you can definitely find English versions. Although you can tell how blushing and reticent the translator is - and therefore how sanitised their translation is - by whether they've called it Ode to the Vulva/Cunt, or Ode to the Pubic Hair.

Needless to say, the original is not sanitised.

(Actually, I should also say - this one is also a response piece, probably, but in this case to a bard who lived a century earlier - Dafydd ap Gwilym, the absolutely legendary and uncontested king of Welsh romance poetry. He wrote a poem called Cywydd y Gal - Ode to the Penis. I have only just put two and two together on that.)

As a final note, I should say that my personal favourite Gwerful Mechain poem on this subject, mind, is actually I'w morwyn wrth gachu - to the maiden who is shitting. It's an englyn written in Gwerful's customary high poetic form, but it is what it says - it describes a woman taking a shit, and farting as she does. Beautiful and magical and disgusting and banal, all in one go:

Crwciodd lle dihangodd ei dŵr - ’n grychiast O grochan ei llawdwr; Ei deudwll oedd yn dadwr’, Baw a ddaeth, a bwa o ddŵr

Funnily enough, it's hard to find a good translation for this one lol.

My attempt:

She crouched where her water escaped - creased From the cauldron of her heat; Her two holes were arguing, Shit came, and a bow of water

Eh. It's so bland in English. Honestly, if you could read Welsh...

Anyway, if anyone reading this can read Welsh and wants to read some of Gwerful Mechain's stuff - including some of the pieces she was responding to in the ymrysonau - you can find a load here. Otherwise, I hope you enjoyed!

[human-monokuma]

"Hear it form him you shall." *With a playful tap on the nose, Mikado started seeing and hearing things from Celestia's perspective. it was her memory of her conversation with Monokuma.*

Monokuma: "So what did you want to talk about?"

Celestia: "Your rewards for your selflessness and bravery in the face of despair and disaster. Such as this." *She covers Monokuma Ina bright light, changing his form into living human form.* "With this, you shall be able to traverse the living realm as anyone else that is alive."

"Traverse? Ma'am, in case you haven't noticed, I'm already dead and I'm sort of tied to Hell. Because sinner, you know?"

Celestia: "Fufufufu~. Atomata of Despair, I bestow upon you a special gift." *A small light hovers over to Monokuma's hand, attaching itself to the back of his hand.*

Celestia: "This is a Warp Crystal, which will allow you to teleport between realms and teleport to any location you desire. From Earth, to Heaven, to any ring in Hell without any kind of restriction. With this, you will be able to return home and live out the rest of your days with your family until it is their time as well."

"........Why would you do this for me?"

Celestia: "You've fought hard for your happiness and for the happiness and well-being of others. I say it's only fair to reward you properly with something that will please you and your loved ones. Is that not it?"

"it's not that. It's just...I don't know. Doesn't feel right. Like, I've done so many bad things to other people. No way I can just return to a normal life after everything."

Celestia: "You know Makoto will tell them everything."

"That's not going to change anything. The people up there won't ever forgive me. Not after after Future foundation and hope's peak. Worse case scenario, they'll accuse Makoto as a fraud and start treating him like an enemy too. or worse. Don't get me wrong. I do want to be with everyone again. With my friends. my family. Mikado and Lucky, my brothers. But...what if I land them in trouble again? I....I don't know."

Celestia: "Your loved ones are willing to carry you along with your sins. Surely you're not going to disregard their feelings, are you?"

"You're not helping, you know. Like, what am I supposed to do? I'm already dead and me going back to Earth isn't going to make life easier for anyone. As long as they know that I'm still alive, then they're just going to keep bothering me and my friends just to get to me." *...........DING*

"wait a minute. 'As long as they know'? Or rather....It's 'if they know'. If they know that I'm back on Earth alive......But if they think I'm permanently dead....Yeah. Yeah, that can work. Maybe I can make this work. As long as the world thinks I'm dead, then they won't come after my family nor my friends. That way, even if I do return to earth, it should be fine if I'm hidden well enough. Yeah."

"Yeah! Hahahaha! Maybe I'll be able to return home after all! Hey, mind if I stay here a bit longer to work out the finer details?"

Celestia: "Of course. be my guess." *Monokuma its there and starts thinking things over. After a while, he nods to himself.*

"Ok. I think I got a decent idea of what to do now. First, I need to make sure that Makoto informs the world of my death and my involvement with the demon tree. I'm sure Monodam, a witness, will be able to make the story more convincing. or maybe I should ask one of the reapers. or that weird Sparkle chick. And now for Mikado....Hmm...."

Celestia: "While you're thinking about this I should inform you that you are not allow to tell anyone I granted you these rewards. They could try to take advantage of you in some ways."

"Well I am in Hell and this place is fully of scumbags, for the most part. Sooooooooo.....Yeah. Can't really tell anyone out in the open. Though, I don't want to leave Mikado in the dark. But I also can't tell him about my plan out of fear of being leaked. if that happens, I don't think I can return to Earth period and then there's what could happen to my family and friends....Yeah. I'm going to have to talk to Mikado about me staying in Hell for the long term. I just hope I can get through to him and make him understand. I would ask him to stay, but I don't want him to waste his life like that. Maybe I can ask Makoto to hire Mikado to give him proper protection from those Kisaragi jerks. Knowing him, he probably could allow Mikado a way in. The last thing I want to happen is for anyone I care about fighting or killing on my behalf. I want them to live their lives happy and free of worry and stress if possible. No more need to spilling the blood of innocence and junk like that....Sigh. This is going to be tough." *The memory comes to an end as Celestia takes her finger off Mikado's forehead.*

"I hope that cleared things up for you, Mikado. I understand your worries and concerns for your friend, which are indeed valid and he understands it too. He just needs to make sure that things will be alright enough for him to return so that no more tragedy comes your way."

*Achlys knocks on Husk's tent, trying to get his attention.*

"Hey. Husk, was it? I need you help with something. Something that's really important." @nastrond-and-valhalla

Husk looked to see Achlys. "Oh, hey Achlys. Sup? How can i help?"

[4milly]

mws - jey uso.

parings: jey uso x black!reader

warnings: smut, cursing, arguing, use of n word, car sex, unprotected sex, my man, my girl, but not my man or my girl trope, praise kink, talking you through it lawd,

the message made you roll your eyes so hard you thought they might've got stuck.

“this man really called me a crybaby,” you muttered under your breath, already feeling your annoyance bubbling up.

from the day he set foot into your life, all he did was keep up with the dramatics. being extra and shit about any ole thing. this time? he was irritated about you still following your ex on instagram. fed up with the conversation, you blocked him. he could send novels to your messages by himself.

mind you, it was jey who decided not to be official yet. he was a busy man, and you respected that. being on the road damn near everyday out the year was taxing; trying to be in a relationship wouldn't work. but he couldn't let go of you.

you sighed so deep you swore your soul left your body for a hot minute. this man really had the audacity to pull up unannounced, acting like you were the problem. you peeped out the window and sure enough, there was his black range rover parked across the street, engine still running.

"lord give me strength," you mumbled, huffing and flopping on the couch. slipping on your hot pink ugg slides and grabbing your keys. just as you were about to close your eyes and pretend you ain't see shit, jey layed on his horn.

you weren't about to let the neighbors get a show, so you stepped outside, locking the door behind you. you knew how exaggerated jey could be; if he didn't get his way, no doubt he'd blow his horn all night to get your attention. and at this time of night? you'd be out by morning.

the passenger seat of jey's car flung open before you could hit the side walk. you quickly got in, slamming the door behind you, "how many times did your mama drop you as a fucking baby? are you crazy? blowing your horn and shit? what if someone called the po—"

"mane, ion give one fuck 'bout that shit. you got me fucked up." he seethed throwing his hands in the air.

you rolled your eyes again, matching his frustration,"I got you fucked up? Nah, you got me fucked up. you really pulled up to my place at 2am over what? some likes?"

jey's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white, "so you fuckin' him again? thats whatchu' on now, mama? fuck outta here 'bout some likes and shit. how you think i feel? seein' another motherfucka all under yo pictures leaving heart eyes?"

your head snapped backwards in disbelief, "that's rich coming from you! how many bitches under your pictures, jey? where's my phone at? let me go count em'."

"i aint responding back with no fuckin' hearts and shit tho! thats the shit im talkin' bout!"

the tension in the car was thick enough to cut with a knife. jey's eyes were fixed on the road ahead, but you could see the storm brewing behind them. you knew this man well enough to know his blood was boiling.

your jaw dropped, heat rising to your cheeks. "excuse me? y'know what? you wanna talk about crybaby shit? how about you mad as fuck right now going through my page to find something? you're throwing a whole ass tantrum over a follow!"

"and you blocked me right? but, you can't block that motherfucka tho? thats some bullshit and you know it!" jey spat, his jaw clenched. honestly? he didn't even know what he was more mad it. you blocking him, still following your ex, liking each other's post, or you coming out the house in those little ass shorts.

was he terrible for being upset at all 4?

it irked something inside of him. you weren't his girl...yet. but still, it's a respect issue. he knew he was yours, and unless you forgot, you knew you were his. there wasn't room for anybody else no matter what you thought.

"oh, so now you wanna act brand new? like you ain't been doing the same shit?" you snapped, pulling out your phone. "let's see…tiffany, amber, and how many other people—all up in your comments 'lord he could get it.' 'till the room stinks.' 'till the earth-fuckin'-quakes.' but I'm the problem?"

jey snatched the phone from your hand, tossing it in the backseat. "don't flip this stupid shit on me. so thats what this is? yo crybaby ass wanted to get back at me, so you followed his ass again? all up in his business for what? ian texting you back fast enough or sum?"

you were fuming, everything about him grating on your nerves. you were so over it, over him acting like you were the one causing problems when he was just as messy.

part of jey knew he was being petty, but it didn’t stop the heat rising in his veins. he hated seeing you follow your ex, hated the way you acted like he was the only one with a damn problem.

"i ain't competing with nobody, especially not for a man who can't even claim me. you think you deserve me why?"

"you want me to claim you? ight. c'mere." jey growled before crashing his lips into yours.

your protest was muffled against jey's lips as he kissed you fiercely, one hand gripping the back of your neck and the other gripping the front. his tongue demanded entry. the kiss was everything the argument was. rough and fiery.

"get inna back," he growled, breaking the kiss to undo his belt buckle, "you ain't hear me? now."

you hesitated for a moment, torn between desire and indecisiveness. part of you wanted to get out the car and leave him here, but the smoldering look in his eyes made the decision for you. you scrambled over the center console, your shorts riding up as you climbed into the backseat.

jey followed, his muscular frame towering over you. "been turnt wit' my ass all fuckin' morning. yo crybaby ass. you wanted this shit too. and you better take it all, none of that runnin' shit."

his large hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide. he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, yanking them down along with your panties in one swift motion.

he tossed your shorts in the front, before shoving your panties into your mouth, "pretty ass. just wanted to get yo pussy ate didn't you, mama."

he slid down your body, kissing his way across your chest to your stomach until he rested between your thighs.

his large hands gripped your plush thighs, pulling you towards his mouth. he instantly sucked your throbbing bud into his mouth. you let out a muffled gasp before arching your back upwards.

"you taste so fuckin' good, mama. love tastin' her ass. wish you stop talkin' so damn much," he groaned out into the air.

his tongue worked magic, flicking and swirling around your most sensitive spots. you squirmed against the leather seats, muffled moans escaping around the fabric in your mouth.

the noises you made as his tongue swirled your swollen clit, locking your fingers into his thick hair, wanting to grind against his hot tongue but he was a step ahead—pinning you down with his arms.

jey alternated between long, slow licks and quick flicks of his tongue, building you higher and higher. just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he slid two thick fingers inside you, curling them to hit that spongy spot inside of you.

he doubled his efforts, sucking hard on your clit as his fingers pumped relentlessly. the dual sensation was overwhelming, and within moments you were trembling on the edge of release.

his wet muscle sliding into your awaiting hole, fucking you with it was enough to send you over. you came with a muffled scream, your body shaking as waves of ecstasy crashed over you.

your body thrashed around the seats to escape from his mouth, "let me goooo," you let out a muffle whine, barely even comprehensive.

you pushed at his arms around your waist. jey had an end goal; he wasn't going to let you leave that damn car till his point was proven. you were his.

his girl.

that instagram following shit? it was over tonight. and he was gonna make the clear anyway he could...or had to.

he licked your pussy clean as more juices erupted from your pussy, giving him something to drink on. you were going crazy. you couldn't thrashing away from him, unable to remain still as pleasure hit your body in waves. your lower half worked against the strokes of his fingers; riding them into oblivion. your juices continuously flowing down into his mouth like a waterfall.

but with his dick getting hard? watching you attempt to push him away with tears in your eyes? no-one was leaving this car anytime soon.

you came with a muffled scream, your body shaking as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, "lil’ angry ass...get it all out, baby," he pressed his tongue flat against your pussy causing your body to shutter and gush into his mouth.

"c'mere. crybaby ass just needed some dick, so move it. lemme see how much you want it," he laid against the seat, pulling your arms to move you on-top of him.

his strong hands gripped your hips, positioning you over his thick length. you could feel the heat radiating off him, his dick twitching against your inner thigh. jey's eyes locked with yours, intense and hungry, "take whatchu' need from me, baby."

you reached between you, taking his girth into your small hand. you positioned him at your entrance and slowly eased down onto him. a small whimper left your throat as he pushed his dick into your warm heat in a swift movement.

"ride me, mama. show me how much you want this dick," he encouraged before locking his arms around your waist. the burn of his dick stretching your walls long gone by now.

no-one was stupid. had any of your neighbors looked out the window, they knew exactly what was going on. the car rocking up and down, from him slamming your hips onto him, and the fog clouding the windows. you could draw your name on it.

"faster, baby." he demanded, bucking his hips up to meet yours. tears pooled at your eyes even though you obliged, picking up the pace. the car filled with the sounds of your moans and the slap of skin on skin. jey's hands slid down to grip your ass, helping you bounce on him.

your thighs burned as you rode him harder, desperate for release. jey's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass, guiding your movements. the car rocked with each thrust, the windows completely fogged over now. his dick kissing your cervix with each thrust. your wetness drenched his dick, making him slide in and out so easy.

your pussy started to twitch, as his dick massaged your walls, continuously bouncing in his lap, making his dick kiss your cervix, and making note to squeeze when you reached his tip.

suddenly, he wrapped his arms around your waist, locking you in place. "my turn," he growled before locking his arms around your lower back stilling your movements.

tears began to stain your cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure. with your bodies pressed together, jey began to ride you from the bottom. your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your pussy fluttered around him. a smirk plastered across his face, he felt your pussy clenching around him. he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

"so damn pretty on top of me. you mines, right?," he cooed, his hips never stopping their relentless pace. he reached up to pull your panties from your mouth. you through your head back, letting out a loud cry to the roof of the car, "you mines, ain't you? say it."

you could barely form words, lost in the sensation of him riding you from the bottom. "i-i'm yours," you managed to gasp out between thrusts.

the sight of jey's dick coated in a white sheer layer made his head spin, "say that shit louder, baby. let everyone know who fuckin' you right now."

"i'm yours!" you moaned out. a smirk plastered over his face before pulling you to him by the back of your neck into a searing kiss, "i'm yours, too."

he was losing himself under you, his strokes were becoming erratic. the sensation sending the coil in your belly overboard. you creamed all over his thickness, clamping down on him. the move triggering his own release.

he gripped your ass, his hips bucking upwards, emptying ropes and ropes of his cum deep inside of you—filling you to the brim with his seed. you both swallowed each other's moans. the moment was...new. you had an unanswered question in the air.

but either way? you both knew you only had eachother.

ᰔ:

@caramelcleopatraa @harmshake @msbigredmachine @luvrsluxe @uceyliyahh @angiedawn02 @amandairene88 @cyberdejos2 @queeny23 @empressdede @trentybenty @heauxvibez @whatdoeseverybodywant @shes2real @romansthrone @acknowledge-reigns @southerngirl41 @prettyfilmz @jaza23

don’t forget to like and reblog! leave me a comment also. i love reading those. xoxo, cleo🩷.

[mari-lair]

Between TeruAoi, Terukane and Aoikane which one do u think has the most chance of becoming canon with the story rn? I saw a lot of people on twt saying that Terukane has the most chance right now with the new timeline but I don't fully get why

Aoikane was confirmed canon in the old timeline, and it still has the most chance of being canon in the new timeline.

Just look at these panel. These aren't small implications, these are loud "HEY, AOI AND AKANE STILL LIKE EACH OTHER!!" panels.

Terukane has no chance of being canon, at least, not in an endgame way, the most I can see it happening is Teru having a one-sided crush on Akane. And even that isn't as likely as the overall fandom want people to believe, cause we have gotten a lot of teruaoi hints.

HOWEVER, while unlikely I am not dismissing the possibility of one-sided terukane, cause aidairo has put a lot of effort into keeping Teru's crush ambiguous (like teru not telling his crush's gender when rejecting someone in chapter 1). So there is no way to disprove for sure that Teru doesn't like Akane.

The thing is that teruaoi also can't be disproven unless people go out of their way to have the most uncharitable view possible on the ship build ups. Teru has had so many vague build ups that tiptoe between 'platonic' and 'romantic' with both Aois, to the point even something as impossible as 'Teru like both aois' cannot be explicitly shut down. Not yet. So one-sided terukane wouldn't surprise me if it was canon or if it wasn't.

Now enjoying terukane is one thing, is a good ship with a really awesome and complex dynamic, but the people who genuinely believe they are being written to be canon and that making them canon was always the intention bother me, cause they aren't analyzing the manga, they just... see what they want to see.

I haven't been on twitter in a while but I don't have to be there to know that most terukane shippers there will see the newest chapter and zoom in on this scene to go "LOOK HOW MUCH AKANE CARES!! THIS IS ANOTHER PROOF TERUKANE RELATIONSHIP IS EVOLVING AND WILL BE CANON"

but they will pretend this part doesn't exist.

so at least to me, these 'analysis' read less like people that genuinely love the manga and enjoy analyzing every detail to try to foreshadow the relationships that will be explored, and more like people in denial trying to insert their headcanons and preferences into canon " I WANT terukane to be Endgame so I will ONLY see the terukane parts cause that's what matters, everything else in this manga is a mistake so it shouldn't be considered."

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Floyd Leech - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Interior Hallway]

Floyd: Oh, it's Sea Slug-senpai. Fancy runnin' into you here.

Floyd: So, hey, how 'bout you hear me out?

Malleus: I'll admit I was not expecting that to be the first thing out of your mouth during this encounter… Fascinating, is there some request you have of me?

Malleus: I suppose I'll allow it, Leech. Tell me what you desire.

Floyd: I mean, it ain't nothing that crazy.

Floyd: Tomorrow's my birthday, see? Soooo… Can'tcha get me a present?

Malleus: A present?

Malleus: Unfortunately, I know nothing of your hobbies or preferences. Even if I were to gift you with something, I'm sure it would be lacking.

Floyd: So what you're sayin' is… You'd do it if I tell you what I like 'n stuff?

Floyd: Recently, I've been real into the fashion here on land. Specifically, I'm all about shoes, but…

Floyd: I bet you'd come up with somethin' real interesting, though. Can'tcha think of anything? I like weird or unique things.

Malleus: Hm… So you're looking for something unique. Understood, I'll keep it in mind.

Floyd: Seriously? Now I'm super lookin' forward to it. See you tomorrow, Sea Slug-senpai

[Octavinelle Dorm – Floyd's Room]

Floyd: I hate doin' all the closing clean-up. It's not like I have to be the one to clean up the kitchen, right?

Floyd: Guess I'll just go hop in the shower. I bet it's completely empty in there, since I slipped out while everyone else was workin'.

Floyd: I'll bring this and this and this… And uhhhh, where'd I put that one top?

[toss, toss, toss]

Floyd: Huh? Can't find it anywhere. The heck?

Floyd: Things shouldn't be just disappearin' on their own! Ugh, I'm tired of lookin' for it, so I guess I'll just go with just my pants on～ …Hm?

Floyd: Found it. Totally thought it was a textbook or somethin', since it was folded all neat and stuff.

Floyd: Bet it was Jade… Wait, no, I think I actually got in the mood to start putting up my clothes the other day.

Floyd: Though, I still got bored of it halfway through. Anyway, shower time, shower time!

Floyd: Whew, toasty. My hair'll dry if I just leave it, so... I think I'll skip using a dryer today.

[Octavinelle Dorm – Floyd's Room]

Floyd: Now that I'm outta the shower, I think I'll just lay around a bit. Guess I'll clear off my bed first…

[thud, thud, thud]

Floyd: Eh? What's this crumpled up piece of paper? "Return Date Notice"…?

Floyd: Ohh, right, there was that time I just randomly checked out a book from the library. Ack, looks like it's overdue already.

Floyd: I think the book should be around… Here it is. I read about half of it, yeah. I think it was about…

[door opens]

Floyd: Hey, Jade. Welcome back～

[Jade speaks]

Floyd: Eh? The kitchen was in disarray just 'cause I left early?

Floyd: No waaay. Even you made it back to the room earlier than usual.

[Jade speaks]

Floyd: …You "kindly spoke with them"? Aha, niiice. I can totally picture all those little minnows shakin' in their boots.

Floyd: …'Kay, and there goes Jade to take his shower. Guess I'll read that book from earlier.

Floyd: I wonder if I got any snacks I can munch on while I read. I think I threw some in my bag earlier… Hm? What's this paper?

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Floyd: Ugh, surveys are a paaaain. 'Sides, I got way too many things I'd like to see changed.

Floyd: Like for example, if we had more floorspace, I wouldn't need to keep things on my bed.

Floyd: 'Cause it's not like we can just leave it wherever and it'll float like it does when I'm undersea… The floor's the only place to put anythin'.

Floyd: Oh, yeah. Guess I'll add in there that sometimes my roommate can get  annoyin' when things get thrown everywhere, too. 'Kay, no more survey.

Floyd: Found my snacks, and as for what to drink… I guess this is fine. Cool, ready to go. Time to read on my bed.

Floyd: Pretty sure I read up to the line "And so the adventurer was approaching the verge of starvation. Then…" on page 127.

Floyd: …Here it is. 'Kay, let's see what's next…

Floyd: Maan. That's enough of the caramel flavor. It was tasty at first, but I got bored of it in just 3 bites.

Floyd: I still got some of that curry-flavored snack and cheese-flavored snack… But I'm not feelin' like either of 'em～

Floyd: Guess I'll just bust open a new back of sea salt-flavored ones!

Floyd: Delish! Salty snacks are the best～! Ah. But now I'm starting to crave something chocolate.

Floyd: Oh, and looks like the book's about to change tracks so...

Floyd: …Hm? Wait, I don't think I saw that coming…!

Floyd: …......

Floyd: Aaaaah～ That was great. I remember when I read it last time, I started wanting to eat the food that came up in the book…

Floyd: I went to the kitchens to make it, and just completely forgot about it after that. They should say something at the beginning if it's that good of a read.

Floyd: I totally wasn't expecting that minor character from the beginning of the book to make a comeback right when it counted. I wonder if this book has a sequel or somethin'.

Floyd: Hey, Jade… Oh what, he's sleeping? I was so into it, I didn't even notice.

Floyd: Guess a ton of time passed without me realizin' it. It ain't even just the middle of the night, it's basically dawn already.

Floyd: I'm feelin' like I'm not gonna wanna wake up tomorrow… But hey, if I sleep in, I'll deal with it then.

[Octavinelle Dorm – Floyd's Room]

[brrrrrrinnnnnggggg…]

Floyd: …Nnnrgn～～ Yaaaawn～

Floyd: What time's it? Jade…? Oh, he's gone already.

Floyd: Man, that guy's always been a morning person. As soon as he opens his eyes, he's on the move…

Floyd: Mmm～ I wanna go back to sleep… But since it's my birthday, I kinda feel like gettin' "that" out.

[rustle, rustle]

Floyd: Here it isss. I'm gonna polish these shoes today. First, I just gotta lightly brush it all over…

Floyd: Then, I'll use the cleaner to wipe off the cream I applied first. …Nice, that looks good.

Floyd: Next I'll gently apply some shoe cream to the toe and heel.

Floyd: When I first bought shoes like this, I had no idea I'd have to take care of 'em like this…

Floyd: It'd get these weird wrinkles, or cracks all over the surface and just bummed me way out.

Floyd: There's been times I've thought that it's a pain to take care of 'em every time I wanna wear 'em…

Floyd: But I guess it's actually kinda fun to remember where each scratch came from, or notice how certain parts get worn down while I clean 'em

Floyd: …Mm, it's lookin' good. I'll let 'em sit for about 5 minutes, then apply some cream 2 or 3 more times.

Floyd: I guess that's the shoes ready, then. I'm feelin' more awake, so I guess I'll go wash my hands and finish getting ready in the washroom.

[Octavinelle Dorm – Washroom]

Floyd: I'll just use a bit of wax on my hair… Done. The tips of my hair should look… There we go, that's good.

Floyd: The eye makeup's annoying to think about, so I'll just do whatever～ I think I'll use this six-color palette today.

Floyd: I'll take the color in the top left and apply it all the way around my eyes, then add the middle color to it and blend it a bit…

Floyd: Then, I'll take this darker color and apply it to the crease above my eyes… Huh? Why's it feelin' kinda boring?

Floyd: Naaah, time to do it all over again～ This purple one is lookin' way cooler.

Floyd: Mmm～ …Nah, I'm feeling meh about this one too… Should I maybe add lame to the corners?

Floyd: Nothin's really popping at all! I'm starting to get tired of applying this stuff, so I think I'll just skip the eye stuff.

[wipe, wipe]

Floyd: This'll work. If I jump into my uniform now and head towards campus… I should probably make it on time for class.

[Main Street]

Malleus: I finally found you, Leech.

Floyd: Oh hey, Sea Slug-senpai. Whatcha doin'?

Malleus: After our classes end, I will be taking you to some ruins I know of.

Malleus: It is located in such an inaccessible place that you would be incapable of reaching it without my bringing you. What do you think, is that unique enough for you?

Floyd: Some ruins? Unique enough? …Ah, my present! Riiight, I did ask for something yesterday, yeah.

Malleus: Had you forgotten? You had requested for something unique, so I thought you were testing me to see the extent of my abilities…

Floyd: Yup, completely forgot about it. But those ruins sound like they'd be super thrilling and fun.

Floyd: Thanks, Sea Slug-senpai～ Can't wait for school to let out now.

Requested by @thelonepearl and @sakurakudo.

[loveisallyouneed1125]

I can't say it enough. I AM OBESESSD WITH THIS STORY, LITERALLY OBESESSED WITH IT!!!!!!!!!

Sensing his awful vibes towards her and the constant suspicion he thinks of her with, she decides she likes sitting outside his room at the early hours of the morning and screaming for him to open up.

Lol Alpine exist now only to piss Bucky off

But the second he makes a turn on the street corner, the same black van pulls right up to him, not leavning even two feet of space between it and him.

Bucky I'm sure won't admit it, but at this very moment he was scared, he was shaking in his boots 😆

"Get in loser, we’re going out,” you call from the driver’s seat.

He growls, letting the handle go. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

I can't stop laughing. I had to pause and re-read so many times cause I couldn't stop laughing. Picturing Bucky so pissed off

Bucky immediately grabs at the handle, but the locks immediately click into place and you step on the pedal and send the van flying down the road before he has a chance to throw himself out.

It was at this moment that Bucky knew he had fucked up 🤣 he's going to have so many trust issues by the end of this series

“This is Bucky, by the way,” you introduce before beckoning to the man who had refused to move all this while.

“Come on, babygirl.”

Bucky does not look wowed with the theatrics as he stands there, arms folded tight across his magnificent chest.

Jason looks at you. “Is babygirl coming?”

Bucky inhales sharply while you stifle a laugh. “Do not call me that.”

^how y/n looked at the camera when Jason called Bucky babygirl. She knows it's going viral as soon as it's posted.

“You have a crush on me,” you sing, “why else are you going around asking your friends about me? Do you want them to put in a good word? You gonna ask them to deliver your handwritten note to me?”

“Fuck right off, and then fuck off some more,” he barks, grabbing a beer from the front of the line.

Y/n is making sure Bucky has not even a second of rest and I'm here for it

unsolved (vi)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, mentions of hauntings and the paranormal.

A/N: i need to start editing beforehand this series honestly takes to long to edit omg this was supposed to come out 2 hours ago. also thanks so much to @ginevranights for the one tweet in here, and @thebisexual-disaster for calling bucky babygirl because it was incredibly funny to me

Previous part || Series masterlist

Everyone is besotted with the cat.

It makes sense– everyone hates Bucky and will dance with glee upon his downfall. This is all his opinion, of course. The truth is that it is a cat and exists and everyone is thrilled. 

Sensing his awful vibes towards her and the constant suspicion he thinks of her with, she decides she likes sitting outside his room at the early hours of the morning and screaming for him to open up.

Once he does, she strolls in leisurely, takes a look around and then strolls back out. Everyday. On the clock. An alarm clock that will cough up a hairball in front of his door should he not open it to her. 

Also turns out she doesn’t have brown spots, the cat was just dirty. She’s pure white and you’ve taken to calling her something to do with snow or blizzards or something. 

She is his mortal enemy. Bucky doesn’t stop to think that his biggest problem being a feud with a cat is possibly an indication that his life has gotten significantly better. 

As with every week, you bang on his door on Friday morning.

Bucky, who's just fallen asleep after the stupid cat ceremoniously woke him up that morning, does not find this ritual as entertaining as you do, but his opinion has rarely held weightage in matters such as his sanity or his sleep schedule. 

He does considr for a whole day that you and the cat are in cahoots to ensure he is as miserable as possible. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility– Sam talked to birds or and Clint talked to lizards or whatever.

You yell something incomprehensible to him. Bucky yells something back. The world keeps spinning, nothing changes.

Other than the sinking feeling on his chest, that was a bit more pronounced than usual, to the point where it’s a bit hard to breathe.

He pries open one eye, ready to name five things he sees, four things he hears, three things he touches.

The stupid cat smacks him in the face. 

He shoves her off his torso, and along with her, the sinking feeling also reduces. 

After a very useful day of staying in bed no less than three attempts to get back to sleep, Bucky sneaks out of the tower when dusk begins to fall to hopefully get some rest on the park’s grass.  

It’s a nice evening out, the sky was painted a burnt orange, and the air wasn’t too chilly. He could even stop for a burger on the way back to top off a lovely nap. 

But even a gorgeous sunset is not enough to distract him from his heightene awareness going off.

From the corner of his eye, he sees a black van trailing slowly behind him.

He picks up the pace, jogging past a street food vendor and a newspaper stand, and the van only speeds up to keep up.

Soon enough, Bucky breaks into a sprint, ducking into an alleyway and waiting until the van drives past him before stalking back out, eyes vigilant.

Whatever. Stalker be damned, he was going to go to the fucking park. And get a burger. 

But the second he makes a turn on the street corner, the same black van pulls right up to him, not leavning even two feet of space between it and him.

Bucky, annoyed and with 80 years worth of boredom with this schtick, scowls as he yanks open the damn door, ready to just punch and move on with his day.

“Get in loser, we’re going out,” you call from the driver’s seat.

He growls, letting the handle go. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? I literally told you in the afternoon that I’m picking you up and you starting running from me, you baboon,” you exclaim. “Is that what you’re wearing in this video? Did you not do your laundry?”

Alright, so maybe it was on him to figure out what you actually yelled at him through the door earlier in the day. That doesn’t stop him.

Nostrils flaring, he continues to ignore you. “Who the fuck does this? Why do you have a van?”

“Style,” you insist. “We’re gonna be late, now come on. We’re leaving.”

Sensing that this conversation had reached a standstill, Bucky employs his next best technique.

“Where?” he demands.

“You’ll find out when we get there. Now get in,” you pat the spot next to you before pulling up your phone. “We’ll get there in about an hour–”

“No.”

Your neck cranes slowly to look at him incredulously. “The fuck you mean ‘no’?”

“You could be kidnapping me.” He stands with his arms crossed, tone defiant. 

“Right,” you snort. “You seen yourself? Food laws say I need a cooling truck to transport that much beef around.”

Bucky feels his mouth opening and shutting almost immediately, a strange feeling creeping into the tips of his ears.   

He clears his throat. “I’m not getting in the car unless you tell me where we’re going.”

“I’m not fuckin’ kidnapping you Bucky,” you say, loudly. “And even if I wanted to do it– which I don’t, because you can be so annoying sometimes– you’d never see it coming.” 

“How would I know?” He’s offended that you only think he’s annoying sometimes when he’s been working very hard to make sure it’s a constant feature of his. “Who’s to say there’s not some guy in there with a gun–”

“A gun wouldn’t do shit when you’re so thick in the head–”

“And then SHIELD’s gonna have to shell out the ransom–”

“SHIELD would pay them to keep you.” 

“Oh, so you are kidn–”

“Get in the car,” you say loudly before sitting upright, and turning your attention to the windshield again. “Or don’t. I don’t give a shit.”

He narrows his eyes at you grabbing the steering wheel, while your telekinesis moves to close the door on him.  

Bucky sticks his metal hand between the door and the car, and pries it back open before climbing in. 

“Now what,” he mumbles, arms still crossed over his chest like he’s throwing a tantrum. He even refuses to put the seatbelt. Rebellion. 

You don’t answer, and the car doesn’t move.

When he looks over at you, you have a triumphant, smug smile on your face.  

“What,” he bites. 

You tsk. “Reverse psychology. Always works with children.”

Bucky immediately grabs at the handle, but the locks immediately click into place and you step on the pedal and send the van flying down the road before he has a chance to throw himself out. 

The car pulls up to a mansion. 

All the windows are closed and covered in newspaper, giving him no indication as to what was inside. The lawn was mostly brown, with weeds taking up more space than grass and dead flowers lining the fence. 

“There’s gotta be like 5 bedrooms in that thing,” you note, as you both make your way towards it. “How many ghosts do you think are in there?”

“Zero,” Bucky states plainly. 

You continue to talk like he doesn’t exist. “A house that big, there’s gotta be a ghost butler in there. Maybe a ghost maid.”

“None.”

“Five ghost maids, one for every room, and maybe a cook–”

Bucky starts speed walking, leaving you behind to admire the structure looming over the both of you, only illuminated by the streetlights outside.  

Bucky knocks hard on the door, annoyed that it was getting colder and that he was stuck in his stupid running shorts in a house that definitely had no heating for the evening. 

Eventually, you end up beside him, talking as he keeps his sight fixed right ahead. 

Checking your phone to confirm the address, you mumble absentmindedly to him, “This kid tweeted us like fifteen times in the last week, this is gonna be a sick surprise. I love meeting my fa–”

“A surprise?” Bucky jerks his head towards you. “You didn’t tell him we’re coming?”

“Well no,” you lower your phone, “because that would give the ghosts some warning and we–”

His eyes nearly bug out of his head. “We can’t just go into some random kid’s house and film–”

“He’s hardly random, he’s been bombarding our inbox–”

Your defence is cut off when the door creaks open painfully, slowly, like it was letting out its last dying breath.

“Woah,” you whisper, eyes wide. “Ghost door.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bucky mumbles.

“Hello?” you call out.

When no one replies immediately, Bucky shoves his hands into his pockets, ready to leave. 

Instead, you shove him to the side, taking his pace in front of the house. He offers no resistance, only a growl in annoyance. 

You clear your throat, before calling loudly, “Hewwo–”

A dark hooded figure springs out at breakneck speed from behind the door, arms raised high, legs wide. 

You don’t look fazed at all, staying entirely still, only with one eyebrow raised.

“Right,” you say. “You must be Jason.”   

“Yuh,” he answers.  

“Where are your parents?” Bucky demands immediately, choosing to ignore the full body cringe his own words give him. 

“Indianna or something, man. I dunno?” The door trembles open a bit more, giving you a clearer look at the guy. “Do you guys wanna come in? It’s cold.”

You take a step inside the huge foyer, almost steretoypically complete with a cascading staircase and big paintings of people on horses and stuff.

 Jason eventually peels the hoodie away from his face, shoving his arms inside the sleeves and spinning it around so he was wearing it the right way. 

“This is Bucky, by the way,” you introduce before beckoning to the man who had refused to move all this while. “Come on, babygirl.”

Bucky does not look wowed with the theatrics as he stands there, arms folded tight across his magnificent chest. 

Jason looks at you. “Is babygirl coming?”

Bucky inhales sharply while you stifle a laugh. “Do not call me that.”

“Oh, he loves it when people call him that, he’s just super pissy because he didn’t get enough attention today,” you coo. “Get in here Bucky.” 

He glares at you with enough intensity to set the house on fire.   

The kid looks like he’s in his early twenties, with shaggy brown hair that hides sleepy eyes, bad posture and a clean shaven face.. His hoodie is paired with grey sweatpants and yellow flip flops that were about one size too small for him. 

“Why’d you tweet at us?” Bucky questions, wondering what he had to do with anything.  

Jason juts his chin up contemplatively. “What do you guys do again?”

You stare at him to avoid how Bucky was staring at you. 

“We hunt ghosts and help old ladies cross the street.” You flash him a smile. 

“Cool.” Jason nods appreciatively. “I don’t have an old lady here.” 

Your eyebrow twitches. Bucky would have taken great joy in your awkwardness had he not felt entirely exasperated by the whole exchange. 

“Well, Jason, you DM’d us about the ghost in the house,” you communicate even slower. “The one that was being rude?”

“Oh, right,” he drags out. “You’re the people from YouTube. Avengers. I didn't think y’all were real, lol.”

“What the fuck.” Bucky mumbles to himself, because there was no way this guy said ‘LOL’ out loud.  “Did you just invite us inside your house without knowing who we are–”  

“Yes, we’re those people,” you interrupt, pulling out a card from your fucking sleeve. “The Graveyard Shift crew, ready and at your service.”

“Since when do we have business cards?” Bucky presses.

“Ignore him, he’s an intern.” You drop the card onto Jason’s hand. “Anyway, we’re the best rated ghost hunters within a twenty yard radius. Maybe even thirty, but I don't wanna get too ahead of myself.”

“Radical.” He flips the card back and forth without actually reading anything. Bucky wonders if he was looking for pictures. “Aren’t you supposed to have like, tech and people and stuff?”

“Some of us have performance anxiety–” you give Bucky a side eye and he rightfully looks absolutely incensed. “So, I’ve got a camera following us at all times and I’ve got all the tech we need.”

Bucky suddenly feels very aware of something hovering behind him, and it takes an incredible amount of self-restraint to not instinctually slap it out of existence.

He whips around to find a camera floating mid air, aimed directly at him almost like it is waiting for a reaction. While weird, it was still better than the stupid GoPro on his head that elongated his forehead to a sixhead.

“And I’ve got a REM Pod, a spirit box to pick up sounds when they talk to us, a water gun full of assorted waters from different beliefs for one gigantic spirit burning milkshake–” you list rapidly and Bucky cannot even tell where the fuck you’re pulling these things out from. “So, we should be good to go.”

Jason doesn’t look bothered at all, as he drags out, “Cool, lol.”

Bucky almost feels offended on your behalf by the little twerp. 

“Hold this,” you instruct, pressing the spirit box into Bucky's chest without giving him a choice. “Ready whenever you are, but before we start I just wanted to ask– why’d you come to us for help? I’m sure you have plenty of options.”

“Oh,” the guy says, wiping his hands down the side of his sweatpants. “You guys are Avengers and stuff…”

He doesn’t add anything else, watching you both like it was obvious. 

When neither of you offer an answer, he continues “I mean, no one else seemed to like, know kickboxing and shi–”

“I’m sorry– kickboxing?”

“Or like, karate.” He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. “Whatever you guys are into, I don’t really care what style of combat it is.”

When it finally clicks, Bucky snorts. “You want us to fuckin’ fight your ghost?”

“Yeah, like a punch or something, I guess.” Jason looks too serious. “He’s being a real bitch dick.”

You exhale steadily. “First of all, how do you know it’s a ‘he’?”

Jason shakes his head, and his hair falls directly into his one eye, leaving you to only look at the other. “I’m pretty sure it’s my uncle.”

“Your uncle?” 

“Well yeah,” the guy responds, “this is his house. He built it and decorated it and shit.” 

You stare at him in disbelief. “You didn’t mention that in the brief.”

Bucky looks at you. “You got a brief?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s my uncle’s house, I guess,” Jason continues when you wave Bucky off. “He, like, kicked the bucket a few years ago. Like, totally died off.”

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together. 

“We weren’t, like, close or anything but I guess he didn’t have any other relatives which figures, because he’s a pain in the ass, but I’m the next male heir or whatever, so I got it.”

“Male heir,” Bucky repeats slowly, wondering which fucking TV show he’s walked into.

“A 6BHK in this economy is a fuckin’ castle,” you shush him, turning to Jason again. “Didn’t you bother renovating or anything?”

“Clearly not,” Bucky mumbles, because he may have only known Jason for a grand total of a few minutes, but he really doubts that it was he who picked out redwood furniture and gold trimmings. 

“Nah, I don’t care. I usually spend all day doing gigs at my friend’s house but he told me I can’t keep throwing ragers there every night so I wanna do that here but he’s just being a big baby about it,” he explains all in one breath.

“What gigs?” Bucky asks curiously.

“I’m a DJ who specialises in acoustic EDM,” he says, chest puffing in pride. 

“Of course.” Bucky nods in return. 

Jason turns to you. “Didn’t think you guys were coming, not gonna lie.”

“You just do that whole door opening show to everyone?” you ask, amused.

“Uh, no, I just heard you guys arguing outside and thought it’d be funny,” he says. “I got you guys good, lol.” 

“Well, not me,” you counter, “but Bucky, for sure, pissed his pants a litt–”

“Anyway, here’s the keys. I’m out,” Jason cuts in. “It’s my last three performances at Rick’s house.” 

He tosses the key at babygirl’s Bucky’s chest, who instinctively catches it with ease.  

“You’re just giving us the house for the night?” Bucky stares at him incredulously. 

“Yuh. There’s, like, beer in the fridge if you want. No one delivers here ‘cause someone snitched that this place is haunted, which was kinda fucked. So there’s ramen in the fridge too if you’re hungry.”

“Why is there ramen in–”

“See y’all later, lol,” he takes off without another word. 

Bucky’s left staring after the guy who just strolls down the garden and out the gate without a second look.

“I think I want to adopt him.” Your gaze trails after him, before you crack your knuckles. “Alright. Let’s get this guy’s bitch dick uncle.”

The longer Bucky spends in the house, he can tell with absolute certainty that someone loved this place deeply. It is styled and decorated with the flair of a passion project, even though it currently looked like it dreamed of being a landfill when it grew up. There were cobwebs everywhere and several dust bunnies in every corner, and also many crushed cans of beer all around the floor. 

The previous owner had taste for sure. Bucky’s not sure if he’d appreciate Jason turning it into the newest hotspot for his ragers. Whatever that meant. 

“How long are we going to be here?” he asks, swiping a finger across the table. 

“Why, you got something to do?” you pause before adding, “Or someone to do?”

He sends you a jaded glance. “None of your business.”

“You literally called me the love of your life.” You scoff from your corner of the room. 

“You called yourself that,” Bucky reminds monotonously. 

“And you have never denied it.”

“I’m denying it right no-”

“Bzzt, too late. Anyway,” you announce. “Your hot date will have to be postponed, I fear. We are not leaving until we get some sort of proof.”

“Two hours.” Bucky holds up two dust coated fingers.

“I’ll buy you a pretzel.”

“Three hours.” His middle finger goes up in solidarity. 

You grin. “More than enough. We’re gonna make you a believer, babygirl.”

True, and surprisingly enough, an hour later, his whole life changes. 

“Holy shit,” Bucky can’t quite believe his eyes either, stomach turning. 

“What?” You’re somewhere behind, stupid machine held up as you spin around like a ballerina waiting for something to do something and make a noise or some shit. He doesn’t know. 

Bucky has tucked the spirit box behind his ear like a pencil, arms gripping the doors.

“What the hell,” he trails off slowly, eyes glued to the sight in front of him, hypnotising.

“Did you find something?” you whisper-yell, and the camera whizzes past you into his line of sight.

Bucky swallows the bile in his throat. 

“When he said ramen’s in the fridge, I didn’t think he meant he boiled a fuckin’ bucket full of noodles and just left it in there. What the fuck.” He grabs the aforementioned bucket and lifts it into the air. “Who does this? What the fuck?”

You let out a huff, lightly stomping yor foot. “Be so serious right now.”

“Are you crazy? Look at this.” Bucky spins it around to look at it from every angle. “It’s got ‘Jason’s ramen’ written on it. Who the fuck else’s would this be?”

“You’re supposed to be looking for ghosts,” you insist. “That is demonic behaviour. It’s not the same.”

“I’m lookin’ for snacks,” Bucky puts the damn bucket back and ignores it to look through the rest of the fridge. “There’s nothing here. What does that kid eat?”

“If you’re looking for snacks, you gotta look in the mirror,” you hum hopefully. 

“Hilarious.” Bucky’s voice comes back muddled from the several bottles of beer in the fridge. 

“I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s not useful.” you correct, “You said you’re looking for snacks, not a whole meal.”

He stops briefly. Bucky’s not sure what to do with all this strange attention you give him. It makes him feel all sorts of ways and he doesn’t like it one bit. 

“Whatever,” he mutters, continuing to scavenge. 

“Woah, calm down there, Prince Charming.” You snicker. “Give a person a warning before pulling out all your best lines on me like that.”

“You’re supposed to be working, not flirting,” Bucky responds, feeling the same burn at the tip of his ears from that evening. 

“When I was in the events business, multitasking was considered a valuable and necessary skill.”

Bucky stands up so fast he nearly hits his head on the fridge.

“What’s with all these random jobs you keep saying you’ve done?” he questions. “They told me you went on the run a long time ago and that’s where you met Nat.”

Your face changes, features becoming more solemn. He doesn’t know what’s going on, because he’s never seen you this serious before, not even when you guys were hanging out in the library. 

“Bucky,” your voice drops a few octaves, straight and steady. “Answer me this honestly.”

He feels a bit defensive because it almost feels like he’s fucked up somehow.

“What?” he questions. 

You watch him for another second before taking a step toward him, observing him closely.

“Did you really ask people about me?” 

He straightens up ever so slightly. “Why?”

You look at him gravely. “I got one more question.”

You take another step, reducing the space btween you to almost a ciminally low amount. Bucky’s sure he can hear your heartbeat. 

You watch his eyes look into yours intently, a flciker or doubt there.

You open your mouth, voice low and strong, “When will you admit to yourself you’re obsessed with me?”

It takes a second for it to register, and almost instantly he shoves you away, only to have you break into a laugh. 

“You’re so fucking annoying.”

“You have a crush on me,” you sing, “why else are you going around asking your friends about me? Do you want them to put in a good word? You gonna ask them to deliver your handwritten note to me?”

“Fuck right off, and then fuck off some more,” he barks, grabbing a beer from the front of the line. 

“Don’t worry, Buck, I think you’re the cutest guy in our whole grade, no competition,” you drawl, grinning at the pissed expression on his face. 

Bucky swerves around you to beeline to the kitchen island to drink his stupid beer in peace. He thinks that his retirement age is actually nearing. 

A house like this, with a room for Steve and another guest room for whoever wanted to visit. Possibly a dog. There wasn’t musch left in life to do, so he may as well spend the rest of it out in the suburbs in quiet. 

A few seconds later, you break the silence with, “But to answer your question: I did go on the run. I just did all those jobs while I was running.”

He turns to you, noting that while your face was light, it seemed like there was sincerity and truth in what you were saying. 

“Why?” he asks, voice gruff.

You shrug, half a smile on your face. “Why not? I met Nat when she broke down the door of my accountancy office on one of her missions. I threw some staplers and hit a guy with a printer, and from then on, whenever I needed help or she needed my freaky little powers, we’d reach out. Years later, she asked if I wanted to come join, I was bored and now here we are. I’m a nepo baby, if you kinda think about it.” 

Bucky looks at you, but says nothing. 

“Anyway, brief history aside, I’m going upstairs. There’s nothing here other than your bitchy aura and bucket ramen.” The camera spins around to follow you.

Bucky simply ignores you as he swipes all the garbage off the counter and onto the ground so he can lean against it, alone with his beer and new information to process.

However, a loud creek, unmistakable and intense, comes from the floor above. 

You look at Bucky. He doesn’t look the least bit bothered, instead using his metal hand to pop open a beer he fished out of the damn fridge. 

“Can you shut up,” you hiss when he drinks a little too loud for your liking. 

“What,” he asks through a mouthful of beer as he drops the bottle cap onto the counter.

Another creek reverberates loudly through the house.

You make a face at him, somewhere in a mix between excitement and anticipation. 

“Is that supposed to mean something?” he inquires.

“Two creeks in the last minute,” you insist, like he’s stupid. 

He scoffs. “So? It’s an old house, if you breathe too hard the floor’s gonna fall off.”

“It is literally not that old. And second, it’s too much of a coincidence.” You make way towards the stairs, beckoning for him to follow. “And take the spirit box out of your hair, we need to catch if it’s saying something.”

“You're not gonna catch anything because it’s not going to speak because ghosts are not real.” He takes a large swig. 

You ignore him, leaving in search of the sound.

Bucky takes a second before following you anyway, bored out of his mind and with nothing really to do.

“You comin’ in?” he asks from inside the spacious room, beer in hand. 

“I didn’t even buy you dinner yet and you’re already inviting me into your bedroom.”

“Jesus Christ. Stay outside then.”

The room has a strange, musty smell. Bucky, sick and tired of the ebay this kid has been living, drags open the window to let some fresh air in, going so far as to tear a large hole through the newspaper to let the moonlight into the room. 

“Someone keeps moving the furniture back and forth, there’s scratches all over the floor,” you observe, pointing to the ground near the table and the bed. 

“Uh huh,” he says, tossing the spirit box onto the table before taking another swig, ducking out of the way of the camera. 

You scan every corner with the machine in your hand. Bucky wanders around aimlessly for a second before usefully sitting on the bed, leaning against the pillows. 

“You gonna take your shirt off next?” you question. 

Bucky rolls his eyes, taking another sip from his bottle. “Pay attention. Your demons are trying to talk t-.” 

The bed immediately lurches from underneath him, scraping loudly against the wood. 

“What the fuck–” he exclaims, getting right back up, heart in his throat for a damn second. 

You stifle a laugh.

“I’ve had enough of you today.” He puts the damn bottle down on the nightstand. “I’m leaving.” 

“We didn’t even light the candles yet, you can’t–”

The bed scrapes back into place again, but this time Bucky is prepared and done. 

“Stop doing that,” he snaps, “you’re ruining the flo–”

“I didn’t do that,” you tell him, eyebrows and hands raised, “That definitely wasn’t me.”

“Hardy har har. You didn’t push the bed, you didn’t climb the tree in the cemetery, you didn’t conjure up hallucinations of my–” He stops himself abruptly.

It’s too late, though. You very much caught it. 

The look you give him is peculiar. “Hallucinations of your what?” 

“Nothing,” he utters. “Got my wires crossed. Nothing to do with you.”

“Okay,” you drag out, giving him one more uncanny look before turning your attention to the bedpost. “Anyway, I promise you the second one was definitely not me. There’s something else going on here.”

Bucky is starkly sent back to fifteen minutes ago and his thoughts of retirement as he watches you crouch by the floor.

He was too old for this. He was not right for this. The three second glance at his dead sister and his entire life had gone lopsided. Honestly, he could probably handle like two or three more episodes of this nonsense before tapping out completely. 

“I can sense something,” you announce.

“I can sense something too,” he murmurs absentmindedly to himself. “It’s called bullshi–”

“Be quiet, I want to see if we can talk to the guy in the room.” You hold your hand up. “Hey Jason’s uncle. You here?”

He watches, unamused, as nothing changes. No machine beeps, nothing creeks.

“Bucky, you scared him away.” You turn to him, hands on your hips. “You used your big bitch face and you scared away th–”

He launches a pillow at you. It lowers to the ground without ever touching you. 

“Go eat some bucket ramen and maybe you’ll be less bitchy.” Your face lights up, and he can tell you’ve gotten another stupid idea. “Jason’s uncle, are you hungry? Do you want something to eat? Human blood? Metal arm?”

Silence.

“No pretzels for you,” you tsk, but let go of the idea anyway. 

“Maybe your ghost boyfriend likes them, why don’t you ask him?” He pulls out his phone to book himself an Uber. “And since he literally doesn’t talk and you don’t shut up, it’d be a great ma–”

The same pillow he launched at you gets thrown back at him. He simply ducks out of the way, and it hits the nightstand, toppling the bottle over.

“Now look at what you did,” you accuse, pointing at the bottle with the camera following suit. 

“The fuck? I didn't do shit–” Bucky stops speaking when something nudges his leg. 

The bottle that initially had clattered to the ground quite a feet away from him was now by his foot.

“Interesting,” you muse.

“What?” he questions immediately. “That a bottle rolled? It’s a bottle. They do that.”

“Uh huh. Come stand here then.” You jut your thumb out to a few paces away. 

He rolls his eyes but takes a large stride towards you.  

Annoyingly, the bottle rolls right along with him and lands up at his feet.

“Ghost,” you nod along certainly. 

“Why isn't it doing that then?” he argues on instinct, and then his mind catches up, forcing him to take a step back and wonder why the fuck he was still in the house. 

Once again, he genuinely believes that this should be enough. Ghost hunted for a few episodes, read a few stories. He thinks his numbers should be up and that would be convincing enough for Maya to let him get away from the series, especially if he played his 80-years-of-imprisonment card right.  

“You're right.” You peer at him before turning your head up to the ceiling. “Please, ghost man. Please, I’m begging you, hit this man. Plea–”

Bucky feels something smack lightly against the back of his head before falling to the ground.

A second later you erupt into cheers and he turns around to look at the culprit.

A crumpled up piece of paper.  He bends down to pick it up, finding nothing special about it other than some random scribbles. Probably some more of Jason's junk. 

“Ghosts are real and they hate Bucky Barnes, baby!,” you cheer. “Ohh, I’m gonna make so much money. Babygirl, you are a poltergeist magnet. ”

“It’s a piece of paper and the window is open,” he groans, tossing it back onto the ground, where it dances around, proving his point. “The wind carried it over and it touched my head.”

“Right. The wind.” You roll your eyes. “You’re like, fifteen feet tall, only God can see the top of your head.”

“That doesn’t mean any–”

“Hush, I’m thinking. Quiet, human Burj Khalifa.” You hold your hand up. “Let’s see. The ghost knocks on furniture when we were downstairs. It shoves the bed and rolls a bottle around on the ground when we’re arguing and right when you’re leaving, it throws a piece of paper at you. What could it all mean?”

“I got it.” BUccky straightens up. “Holy shit, I think I know what it means.”

“What?” you ask, wonder and mystery. “What does it mean?”

“It means that my Uber’s here,” Bucky replies in the same tone and mystery. “You’re insane. I’m leaving. Bye.”

“Ugh, you’re such a loser. If I turn up dead, you’ll have been the last person to see me alive.”

“I’ll see you at home.” He shoves his hands into the pocket of his shorts before turning on his heel.��

“I do not have a home.” you say, reaching to grab the piece of paper he discarded and shoving it into your bag; 

“Okay, see you on the news, then.” He kicks the damn bottle out of the way before heading out the door. “I’ll make sure they use a real nice picture of you.”

“Bitch–” you begin, when something catches your attention

The bed creeks loudly, reflexes instantly sending him into fight or flight. 

Bucky turns to you to cuss you out again for the nth time that evening, but you’ve also got a look of confusion painted all over you. 

“Hold on,” you say strangely, voice thick with theorising, “I think I actually figured it out.”

When Jason finally makes his way back to the house two hours later, his hair is littered with stray bits of confetti and his eyes are smudged with eyeliner. He’s got a smoothie cup full of glittery red liquid and a straw, and what looks like little bits of fruit floating around in there. 

“Looks like the gig was a rager,” you comment. 

“Nah this wasn’t from the gig. I got lost,” he dismisses, and then refuses to expand further. “Anyway, you kicked his ass, right?”

You look at Bucky, who is standing with his arms crossed over his chest, bitch face on full blast as he looks pissed in the corner.

“Your uncle– he decorated this house himself, right?” you prompt. 

“Yeah.” Jason says, taking a sip from his unidentified liquid. “He got a bunch of shit custom made.” 

“Right.” You nod. “And when you came in here, did you shift the furniture around?”

“Yeah, lol, it was mad ugly,” Jason divulges, taking one large last sip before dropping his cup onto the ground. “Mine’s way better.” 

“Have you considered that maybe… your uncle doesn’t like that?” you try gently, eyes following the cup as it clatters gracefully onto the ground. 

Bucky talks to himself under his breath, the same as when you told him that the only time spooky shit had happened was when he dropped bottle caps, shifted beds out of their original places, left behind bottles and other paper. But he doesn’t contradict you. 

“I see,” Jason says. “What’s wrong with moving furniture again?”

Bucky wonders how the guy made it to this age. “Maybe he just doesn’t like you moving his shit around. Not that there’s a ghost at all.” 

“Hmm,” he says, following along. “So I stop moving the bed and other stuff, and he’ll stop being such a bitch?”

“And maybe he doesn’t like you leaving trash around the place?” you eye the cup, completely understanding where the uncle was coming from. 

“Okay,” Jason says again. 

“So you’ll stop?” you proposition slowly.

He shrugs. “Nah, I like it better this way.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky exhales.

You hold back an audible groan. 

“You could, like, punch him to get him off my back. Like, all the way off my back,” the guy suggests instead. “Like, sucks for him that he’s dead, I guess, but it’s like, my house now.”

You stay quiet and wait. 

Sure enough, the cup from earlier bumps into his leg in silent fury.

He stares down at it, giving it a kick. It rolls away before rolling right back with malice. Bucky narrows his eyes at it, too tired at this point to even complain. 

“This house is weird, man,” Jason declares after fifteen rounds of kicking it and watching it roll back. 

“Look–” you sigh. “You could just stop littering, and he’ll stop messing with your layout.”

“And take out the trash more than once a month,” Bucky adds from under his breath. 

“Life’s all about compromises. You get his house for free and he gets a clean house to spend his afterlife in.”

“No such thing,” Bucky adds.

You send a glare his way.

“I see,” Jason contemplates, as if it’s the toughest decision on earth to pick up his crushed soda cans. “Yeah, okay.”

A second later, the cup finally stops trying to assault his now pink flip flops. and comes to a standstill. 

The both of you peer at him.

“What?” he asks. 

Your gaze drifts down.

It takes a very long second for it to click.

“Oh ‘Kay,” he says, bending over to pick it up and place it back on his table, looking at you for confirmation, to which you nod. 

It stays in its place. 

“Radical,” he says. 

No one says anything further. The bed doesn’t make a noise either. The air is almost dropping with awkwardness. 

You clear your throat. “Well, that concludes it then. Pleasure meeting ya.”

“You too.” Jason gives you a thumbs up, following it with a peace sign. 

“Bye,” Bucky says curtly, turning to walk out the room.

“Oh! Here’s our business card, in case you or anyone else you–”

Bucky spins you around by your shoulders and drags you out of the room with him. 

On the way back, you sort through all the footage from the evening while Bucky drives the van back. 

Thankfully, it has been relatively quiet the entire time, except for the soft sounds of the radio and the buzz of the heater. Bucky tunes out for most of the ride, one hand on the wheel and the other propping up his head.  

“Huh,” you comment out of the blue. “That’s fun.”

“What?” he asks inattentively . 

“I guess his uncle really was hungry,” you consider. 

Bucky simply keeps quiet and waits for you to go on if you choose to.

“Piece of paper that he threw at you–”

“Piece of paper that the wind picked up,” even his entertaining of you has a limit, but he isn’t paying much attention. 

“It’s got letters on it,” you shove the sheet in front of his eyes, forcing him to swerve on the road in an instant. 

“I’m driving,” he hisses, shoving it aside swiftly. “Do you want us to die?” 

“Yeah, yeah, but look at it,” you insist, only to hold it close to his face again. “Does this mean anything to you? It did hit you across the head.”

He refuses to believe you at first, but the second he glances at it, it’s unmistakable.

‘PB&J’ written messily across the page, small letters, lines jagged like someone was struggling to write with their non-dominant hand.

“That’s nothing,” he dismisses quietly, “He’s a college kid. They live on that shit.” 

“Or maybe someone in the afterworld really misses their PB&J,” you hum. 

Bucky doesn't answer, because the alternative is worse. The alternative means something is going very, very wrong. 

 But you don't seem to pay him any heed, going right back to sorting through footage. 

It’s probably why you don’t notice that his one handed grip on the steering wheel gets tighter, and his face quietly drains of colour. 

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[bigfan-fanfic]

Some Type of Way (Male!Reader x Joel Miller)

Sarah smirks at her father as the man helps her gather her overnight bag for the sleepover.

"Wipe that look off your face it or it'll stay like that." Joel nudges her shoulder playfully. "What are you even smirking about?"

"Someone has a daaaaaaa-aaaaate."

"Smart mouth."

"Buy my silence."

"I'm letting you go on this sleepover, aren't I?"

"Yeah, cause you have a daaaaaa-"

He tugs her out of the kitchen by her backpack. "All right, I have a date. Happy?"

When she finally gets to plant her feet, she looks up at him. "Are you? I mean... how many dates is this? Have you two-"

Joel raises an eyebrow. "Do you really wanna ask that question, baby girl?"

"Ew. No, never mind." she shudders. "But still... you like him a lot."

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Dad?"

The car pulls up. She has to go, but he can tell this is important. "Yeah, baby girl?"

"I like him too." she says softly.

Joel hugs her tight for a moment and they share it together. All the things they don't say, all the hopes they have. Then she smirks again.

"Say hi to him for me."

"Will do. Now you call me if anything happens. I got you that dang cell phone for emergencies."

"Yeah, Dad!"

She breezes off, and Joel stands on the porch, distracted, until you pull up.

He holds you tight when you hurl yourself into his arms, pulling you inside, closing the door on the world so he can just experience you.

Joel's life is pretty stressful. Being a single dad, dealing with his less-than-steady carpenter work, and trying to muddle through. But you are always his oasis, it seems.

He wants to give the people he loves everything, and he hates that he sometimes can't give them all he thinks they deserve.

But you don't ask for much, really. No matter how many "stay-in" dates with crappy spaghetti with store-bought sauce he makes, you don't ask to go out for fancier meals. Sometimes you even take him out.

Sarah likes you too - you relate to her well, even if you try to not get involved in her raising, knowing Joel might take offense.

He feels some type of way about you. And though you both know he's head over heels for you, you've never rushed him to say it.

Joel has always been uneasy about owing people. But with you, the emotion of gratitude is something powerful.

"I thought we would cook together this time, so I brought some stuff." you grin, and he kisses the top of your head.

"And here I thought I'd be your personal chef tonight. What, you don't like my spaghetti?"

You wink. "I love your spaghetti. But I think you'll love my garlic bread more."

When you first started dating, Joel was rigid in trying to maintain the role he thought he had to play. Provider and rock, masculine and constantly steady.

But your ease and the comfort you bring to him has allowed him to soften, to show you his true self, the one that usually only comes out around Sarah.

He's a jokester, with a wry and sarcastic wit, but also happy to follow along and find something to enjoy or find something humorous in any situation.

He puts on some music from an old CD and you two dance with each other as you cook and bake the garlic bread.

"I'll handle the cleanup. So we don't have to worry about it in the morning." you offer, and Joel winks.

"You mean I ain't kicking you out right after tonight?" he teases, and you smack him in the gut. "Fine, fine, but you let me cook breakfast for you."

"Oh, you drive a hard bargain, sir. But I guess I'll allow it. Besides, I got the whole weekend off, so I can stay over if you want."

Joel comes over, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the back of your neck. "Do you have to leave?"

He's asked things like this before, flirting and romantic, but you sense something... more, this time.

"Well... my lease will be up in a couple of months."

He stiffens, recognizing the unsaid offer, and then he hugs you closer. "I'll have to talk to Sarah about it, but... how would you feel about moving in here?"

"Are you sure, Joel? I know you're starting to save up for your startup and-"

"I want this. You. I want to wake up with you and take you to bed. I think I wanna share my life with you. Fully."

There's a moment you turn and kiss him where he knows he should say it, but he just can't, yet. He's far too cynical and far too wounded to say it without knowing for sure.

But ironically, the fact that you don't push is bringing him to that conclusion anyway. "You make me feel some type of way, Joel Miller."

He kisses you back, barely resisting the urge to pick you up and carry you off right then. "So do you, babe. So do you."

He'll tell you. Soon enough. After all, you two will have all the time in the world...

[gabessquishytum]

Hullo! I just saw a video today from Dancing with the Stars about mango or two men dancing the tango and immediately thought Yesss Dreamling! I was rambling about it with friends and thought of sharing some ideas here too. @yamru who's from Argentina, also let me know that tango was originally danced by male partners!

This clip particularly reminded me of two alphas from extremely wealthy but rival families, who think they can't be together because societal norms say they have to be with an omega to continue the family line. In fact, initially they hate each other! But after a lot of meet ugly moments, angst, UST, these two fall head over heels in love with each other. Now this dance happens at a party where they are still in their enemies phase, but insanely attracted to each other, and they are developing feelings as they dance. After the party they cannot stop thinking about each other and how it will feel to be together. They torture themselves about the logistics of it and concerns of how to continue the family line. But eventually when they get together, all rules fly out the window. They also realize that being together is more than just resolving physical tension. Their culture requires them to be macho alphas but what they both truly crave is just being pampered by each other. But because they are idiot alphas, they don't tell each other how they really feel. When one of them, maybe Dream, is forced to marry an omega suitor, say Alex or Calliope, Hob comes to the wedding at the right time to profess his love and that he doesn't care about these social norms. And Dream, who was waiting to hear these lines, flies to Hob's arms! The family and guests are scandalized but Dream and Hob don't mind what others might say anymore. I'm not sure how to resolve the baby business. Maybe lucienne is a doctor who tells them about scientific advancements about how alphas can carry a child. Or use a surrogate. Anyway everyone kinda resigns to the fact Hob and Dream are a couple now. They are both still every bit ruthless alphas but also indulgent softies for each other. When they finally get married, of course they dance the tango again at their wedding!

MANGO. MAN TANGO. I love it.

I really lean towards the idea of Dream and Hob being business rivals - maybe not rivals, necessarily, but they're both big-shot CEOS. Dream has that inherited wealth and Hob is more of a self-made man. They know each other from conferences, galas, and society in general. Both are considered VERY eligible alpha bachelors. And they're kind of frenemies. Who obviously want to fuck.

Hob is always teasing Dream by flirting with him, and it annoys Dream because it really turns him on. So at this party he tries to teach Hob a lesson by being receptive to his flirting, and dancing with him. Turns out, Hob wasn't teasing though - he's totally sincere in his advances and spends much of the dance whispering filthy things in Dream’s ear, until Dream drags him out to a secluded spot and shuts him up. With many, many kisses.

They spend the night together and it's like paradise, but of course it can't last...... Dream swears Hob to secrecy, Hob is kindof offended that Dream would be so ashamed of him. But he also understands. He's an alpha with his own reputation to uphold, too.

(If Dream’s intended omega bride is Calliope, she knows exactly what's going on and spends the entire betrothal trying to subtly encourage Dream to follow his heart. Dream is too stubborn to listen.)

Hob is fortunately brave enough to make a stand and declare his love for Dream. He doesn't want to live without the man he loves, and doesn't see why it matters that they both have knots! Hob wants to build a life with Dream and do cute domestic things like baking and flower arranging, and he also wants to fuck Dream face down on the living room carpet. He wants to merge their companies and be ruthless in board meetings together. Isn't that what life's all about?

Even if they can't legally marry, Dream decides that he'll put a ring on Hob’s finger anyway. He's not letting him go. So, Calliope happily marries someone else, perhaps one of Dream’s siblings. After a few years she offers to be a surrogate for her favourite pair of alphas. And a few years after that, laws are changed and Hob and Dream finally tie the knot (hahaha).

They are very very good tangueros, and have learned to seamlessly swap the lead/follower roles... although other dancers have to beware. There's no telling whether they might actually start fucking on the dancefloor...

[paperyowl]

Okay, I really need to make this into an actual story, but let me just write this idea down before I forget: Imagine Annie walking into S.W.A.T. headquarters, with all of the 20-squat (and the 50-squat) already knowing about the divorce Deacon and her are getting, but before anyone knowing about Rocker.

The team is surprised to see her - Luca even calls out a greeting which she ignores completely - and even more surprised when she walks right past them and up to Rocker, who's working on a screen in the corner - he turns to her when he sees her approach, not saying anything.

When Annie gets close enough, she slaps Rocker across the face hard enough for his head to snap to the side. Shock ripples through the room, and no one moves for long moments, too stunned to do anything.

Rocker hardly even reacts, standing very still and keeping his face blank even as he looks back at her. That only makes her angry - she moves as if to slap him again, but Deacon catches her wrist with a furious glance - he all but drags her to the break room.

He kind of hears Rocker respond to Luca behind him, "It's all good. I'm going to get cleaned up", but the flat tone makes Deacon's heart clench and something furious roars in his chest.

Annie stumbles behind him. He only lets Annie go when the door closes behind them. Annie has tears in her eyes.

"Him?" she asks, voice small. "Why him?"

And Deacon has so many responses for that, but all he can think about is how she just went and assaulted Rocker, how they are both so far off the rails now - and when did this happen?

He still loves her. He does.

But this.

"Leave him out of this."

"How can I, when-"

"Annie, "the shape of her name was sharp in his mouth. Cutting. "Do you understand what you just did? "

"I slapped the man who-"

"You attacked an officer. "

Annie stilled for a moment. "I didn't. "

"Yes, you did. Do you understand that he can get you arrested for that? "

She splutters, and then her face does something complicated—and Annie is just so hurt after everything, and maybe Deacon should have tried harder. Except he'd tried so hard—for so long—Rocker hadn't been the reason for his decision—not by a long shot.

But he's all the reason that Deacon aches now, and he desperately needs to check on him.

"Stay here. Please, "Deacon pleads with Annie. "I'll be right back. "

And there is love between them still because Annie nodded and looked almost ashamed about the whole thing. She apologizes, and even if it means nothing to Deacon right then, he nods (if she's slapped him, that would have been understandable- but Rocker doesn't deserve this.)

When he walks out, Deacon passes Hondo but no one else, and thank god for that everyone else is back at work. Hondo points him down the hall to the bathroom in the back. Deacon thanks him and goes before Hondo can say anything else - but Deacon is sure he hasn't heard the last of that.

When he steps into the bathroom, Rocker looks up, meeting Deacon's eyes in the mirror. Deacon can't read the first expression on his face, but it melts away too quickly for him to focus on it.

What he can focus on is the way that Rocker looks: His cheek is red, and there is a line of split skin just below his eye like a nail had caught him. When Rocker spits into the sink, it is bloody. That fact startles Deacon, but it's not a lot - it's more spit than blood, even if there should be none at all.

"Oh good, "Luca says - because they wouldn't leave Rocker alone, so Luca followed him - leaning against the wall. Descon jumps a little. He hadn't even seen him there.

"Will you finally leave now?" Rocker snarks at Luca - but Luca barely acknowledges his tone.

"Higgs told him to get cleaned up and go home, "Luca tells Deacon. "Hondo told me to let you know you're off for the rest of the day, too. So unless Rocker wants to put in a formal complaint-"

"oh my god, how often do I have to say it? I won't, " Rocker gripes. "and don't talk about me like I'm not right here."

"I wouldn't if you would actually talk to me," Luca tells him, and towards Descon, he says: "Where's Annie? I'll take her home if you take care of this one. "

"I'm fine-"

"Break room. I will. Thank you, Luca. "

Luca nods and pats Descons shoulder on his way out.

"Did you tell him? "Rocker asks when Luca is out of earshot. There is such tension between them now because this is not a great situation for either of them.

"No. But he's Swat, he can connect the dots. "

Rocker breathes and spits into the sink again.

"Are you-"

"Bit my cheek. I'm fine." and after a beat, "She didn't get my eyes or anything. Didn't even hit that hard."

Deacon is certain that Rocker doesn't notice what his words just gave away, what they implied. But he wasn't going to comment on it right then.

Deacon moves to cross the distance between them. When he put a hand on Rocker's shoulder, he tensed him.

"Let me get you cleaned up. I'll take you home. "

Rocker shakes his head.

"‚No' to getting cleaned up? Or to go home? Or both? "

There is a moment of silence - and then Rocker finally turns, looking at Deacon. There is something in his eyes that makes Deacon feel cold all over. But he can't quite understand it.

"Can you leave?" Rocker asks, voice thin. "I'm really okay. I need a minute."

(Because, really, how does Rocker explain this to anyone?)

He doesn't sound okay.

Deacon hesitates by the door. Rocker sighs. And it is funny because it seems that for all his closed-mouth approach to so many things in his life, everything hidden behind that boisterous exterior, it is actually Rocker who found the compromise for them here.

(An awful compromise, but still, he isn't sending Deacon away for good, only for the moment.)

"Give me two hours to get my second briefed, go home and take a shower. Come over sometime after 5?"

"I'll be there at 5."

"Yeah, alright."

[bfdreaming]

So I've been playing another one of those idle cultivation games and since I can't not think about svsss, I started thinking about what a PIDW idle cultivation game would look like. It turned into something that would be better than the actual PIDW AND other games in the genre, possibly because it caught a very reliable whale early on... *cough*

You create your own character, but the default name and appearance is LBH, and it's LBH that appears in illustrations.

You start in Cang Qiong, on Qing Jing. You have been there for a few miserable years, your only friend being Ning Yingying. One day you happen to notice her standard cultivation manual is very different from yours despite having the same cover. You manage to steal a proper manual of your own so that your cultivation journey can finally begin!

Here we get a tutorial alongside the story. Basic systems are introduced one by one, like cultivation, cooking, combat, missions, pills, and equipment. You can access the love interest page, but it only has Ning Yingying on it for now, affection points already maxed. It explains that you can marry someone with max affection, but only if you have somewhere for them to live. All you can do here for now is talk to Ning Yingying.

At some point, the sect is invaded by SHL, and you get a portable grandpa out of it. He tells you about your likely demon heritage and gradually takes over the tutorial from Ning Yingying, who didn't know much more than you to start with. However, your demonic qi is currently inaccessible due to a seal and you're in the human realm, so there's a limit to how much he can help. If you seek him out on his own screen, he'll comment on whatever's going on, offer hints on what to do next, and if you ask for it specifically, dump lore. There is a hidden score that affects what he says. The more you consult him, the more he has to say. Most players don't trigger it to a noticeable extent because they aren't interested in reading through his lore dumps, but a certain whale did, and dutifully documented everything on the wiki.

Just when you've gotten into the swing of things, the Immortal Alliance Conference happens, and we all know how that goes. Your teacher's sudden but inevitable betrayal leads to another tutorial, this time in the abyss. It covers your demonic cultivation system, exploration, hunting, mount taming, and relics. Ning Yingying's portait is grayed out. (There is no Xin Mo.) You cannot progress your human cultivation at all.

Eventually, you escape into the demon realm, and Meng Mo leads you to the palace of the former demon emperor. It's keyed to heavenly demon blood, and keeps out anyone else unless you let them in. You're the only heavenly demon left that Meng Mo knows of, so it's safe, but dilapidated. Cue the home tutorial. With the right resources, you can fix it up one section at a time. Once a section is renovated, it can be decorated for some stat boosts. (After fixing up the first room, you MUST fix the kitchen and add the necessary basic furnishings. LBH does not give you any choice in the matter until the kitchen is useable.) Later, you can start adding rooms for wives. You can only have as many wives as you have rooms for.

With most tutorials out of the way, the game becomes less linear. You begin conquering your way through the demon realm, and there's both an official suggested route and some fan guides. However, once you've conquered a few regions, Meng Mo warns you that your demon side is threatening to overwhelm your human side, and if it gets much worse, it will be very messy. He can't help you with that, so he advises you to head back to the human realm and find another sect.

You're quickly found and taken in by Huan Hua Palace (and the game is linear again while you're here), where you can resume cultivating, and add the Little Palace Mistress and the Qin sisters to your wife candidate page. Once you've completed optional questlines for them, you can start raising their affection. However, you can't marry them yet because your home is in the demon realm and you don't want to out yourself.

The main Huan Hua questline is not optional, however, and it mostly consists of discovering what the Old Palace Master did to your birth parents. You end up outing yourself as a half demon (OPM already knew but now the rest of the sect does too) and have to leave. Luckily, Meng Mo has some kind of technique that will keep most of them from thinking about you too much when you're not in front of them, so no one will try to hunt you down or warn the other sects.

You still have to keep improving both sides of your cultivation, though, so you do have to find another sect. Thus begins a major gameplay loop: join a sect, meet the potential wives there, follow the sect questline as you advance, get found out as a half demon and have to leave, rinse, repeat. Meanwhile, you're conquering the demon realm. LBH apparently gets up very early in the morning. Don't worry about it.

A few sects in, you'll join Qiu Haitang's sect. Her own quest is locked at first, but the plot has you two getting somewhat close. Once you're revealed as a half demon, you tell her about how Shen Qingqiu was a huge jerk and tried to kill you once or twice. She seeks you out afterward, tells you her own story, and asks you to kill SQQ. She will begin travelling with you at this pint, but only for stuff related to this questline, which you don't have to do right away, or ever. Don't worry about it.

You can't just waltz into Cang Qiong, though, since SQQ knows you're a half demon. So you'll have to sneak in, but that means getting through the wards undetected. There are two ways to do this. The first, suggested by Meng Mo, is to recruit Sha Hualing, who broke in before. Recruiting her involves a pretty long questline but you can probably start it right away at this point. The second can be discovered by accident by recruiting Mobei-Jun, which involves a single difficult fight. (You'll probably end up recruiting them both anyway.)

Once you and Haitang are in, before you can get to SQQ, you're caught by NYY. After talking to her, she begs you not to go through with it. She knows he's been terrible to you, and she really doesn't know anything about the Qiu massacre, but he's like a father to her.

If you want to kill him anyway, you have to fight her to stop her from sounding the alarm. Once you kill SQQ, Haitang will be willing to marry you. NYY remains grayed out forever, her fate ambiguous. (Players suspect you killed her.)

Most players don't want to hurt NYY, and had perhaps been expecting to marry her, so most players agree to spare SQQ. Upon doing so, Liu Mingyan appears and reveals herself to have been listening in, and says you should kill him anyway because he killed her brother. (You may remember something about this from before.)

NYY protests that this is just a stupid rumor. SQQ gained nothing from LQG's death. He had no motive.

LMY says that SQQ hated LQG.

NYY says that he hates a lot of people but doesn't try to kill them about it.

You cough.

NYY amends that he doesn't usually try to kill them about it. At any rate, if he did try to kill someone, he would definitely not do it in a manner than would inevitably and obviously paint him as the only suspect.

LMY concedes that this is strange, and you mention an artifact you aquired in the Huan Hua plotline that allows you to speak with the dead if you go to where they died. So you all sneak into Lingshi Caves. (Haitang can't sneak out without you, so she comes too.)

Once there, your artifact picks up on a ghost in a chamber before the one LQG died in. You speak to a teenage boy who is frantic to save Xiao Jiu. Haitang says that this is what SQQ used to be called, and asks what he needs to be saved from. The ghost says he needs to be saved from the Qiu family, that everyone knows the older brother is cruel. Haitang is taken aback, and starts to protest, but the ghost is getting increasingly upset. You cut in to tell him that Xiao Jiu made it to Cang Qiong safely and became a disciple, and the ghost settles, remembering that he'd seen an older Xiao Jiu come to meditate. (That particular chamber has really awful vibes for anyone except SQQ.)

The ghost disappears, and you continue on to speak to LQG. He reveals that SQQ tried to save him, but was failing. LQG had a moment of clarity and realized that he was about to kill a guy that was trying to save him, so he killed himself instead. He apologizes to Mingyan before fading.

Now we can finally leave Cang Qiong. LMY will be willing to marry you IF your character is a woman. (Some players keep asking the devs to fix this glitch.) QHT expresses her frustration at her inability to get justice for her brother and the guards and servants. NYY, recalling that the teenage ghost claimed to be older than Xiao Jiu, asks how old he was at the time of the massacre. Haitang distractedly says they were both 14. NYY presses, did this young servant with no martial training single handedly take down all your family's guards?

QHT pauses, and confesses that she agrees it sounds odd, but that's definitely what she saw. She then asks you to come to the ruins of her estate and investigate with her. You automatically agree, and NYY tags along. (LMY left without saying anything while you were talking. Rude?)

Long story short, the locals and the ghosts confirm that QJL was a big jerk. The ghost of QJL starts ranting, saying all sorts of awful things wrt Xiao Jiu until he spots QHT, who has been crying silently. He tries to backtrack, but she asks you to disable the artifact. She's heard enough, and can't bare to look at her brother anymore.

Meanwhile, NYY has been putting together what the ghosts described, and thinks it sounds like a qi deviation, but that can't be right. You point out that QJL said he'd somehow killed a horse with a trick that sounded a lot like SQQ's signature move. QHT shakily admits that Xiao Jiu seemed to snap out of it when he saw her, and she'd been told he had carried her out of the fire, but she didn't believe it until now.

NYY sees that QHT's on the edge of a breakdown, and tells you she'll take it from here, gently shooing you away so she can tend to Haitang. NYY and QHT will be willing to marry you after this.

The quest self updates, prompting you to investigate other rumors about SQQ. Once you've done so, you get a quest update prompting you to talk to SQQ. You return to Qing Jing to confront him.

Though your protagonist has been relatively quiet thus far, most responses impersonal, LBH now has a lot to say, without your input.

"You" tell SQQ what you've learned, how there was a valid explanation behind every major complaint you've heard about him. How he isn't just a simple scum, how he's gone through a lot, how he still shows care for people, often in roundabout ways. So surely, surely he has a reason for how he treated you? Did he know you were a demon? Was he just trying to get you to leave on your own before you were found out? Did he throw you into the abyss because a heavenly demon could survive it, but could be trapped by cultivators? Was he actually trying to help?

SQQ laughs bitterly. No, he was legitimately trying to kill you, because he's an asshole. Maybe your investigations turned up some of the rare times he's been soft--mistakes, he assures you--but he really is an asshole. He's rotten and he always has been, and you're a fool to suspect otherwise. What are you going to do about it? Will you kill him?

You won't kill him, though. You already promised NYY, and you care about her more than you hate him.

You start to leave, then suddenly remember the ghost in the cave. You turn to mention it to SQQ, because if you had a dear friend die trying to save you, you'd want to know about it. But SQQ only looks confused.

You ask if someone did indeed promise to save him in the past. He says someone did, but he's not- he didn't- but he's right- Actually, SQQ just remembered there's something he has to do right now immediately, so get off his mountain already.

As you're leaving, you see him flying towards Qiong Ding.

[zombyjuice]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐒𝐓 —- 🍽️🍧episode one. lucy's first day back | next episode

IN WHICH- Lucy Cameron is finally back, and she has no idea what the Pouge's and their new addition going through and what adventure lies ahead of her. Theres people to choose from, gold to chase, love to run away from. what will she do?

Its already halfway through summer and you are just now coming back to outer banks for the first time in a year busy at the school your dad got you in that is specifically aimed towards animals, you being in the marine department.

You didn't except anything big not many people paid any mind to you thinking your strange for a kook, but first day back so many people were making uncomfortable small talk and giving gifts you'll probably throw in a corner of your room. You didn't even think your family would care that much, but I guess a year is a long while.

You and the family are now on the way to the midsummers ready for the party, you in the backseat having a short and concerning conversation with your brother.

Your eyes shoot everywhere trying to see if what your brother said so loudly caught the attention of your family in the car, but everyone seemed to be in their own world, and Sarah out of everyone was acting stranger than usual typing fast on her phone, not being very interactive, remembering her tell you about not liking topper anymore, which wasn't surprising just, interesting.

Your eyes widen and your face shoots right back to your older brother "you're doing what?!" a sharp whisper spills out my mouth "crack...? what never heard of it? I'm surprised. you know, usually people with holes," he stops waving his hands around and he points and pokes at your lip and nose piercing "in there face, knows what that is... crackheads"

---

As the Cameron family enter the decorated backyard everyone claps and cheers happy and big smiles. Lucy, had a long white cotton dress on with flowers embroided in it, once curly green hair now straightened  falling to the deep curve of her waist with a golden flower crown that matches her sisters green one and dewy glittery makeup to pull the look together, she awkwardly smiles and waves with Sarah, noticing her get pulled away by her boyfriend and you just followed behind your parents till you saw Pope and Kiara, she was staring at you with what seemed to be a distasteful look but once you looked her way her eyes shot somewhere else. This was confusing knowing where they last left off on, very close friends. Lucy, Sarah, and Kie they know everything about each other lucy and Kie being way closer having similar views on things Sarah always being the more out of touch one but that didn't take away from the fact you all loved each other.

So she's goes up to them.

"Heyy pope, hey Kie, haven't seen you guys in forever!" pope cheerfully smiles and hugs you tightly "Hi lucy man we've missed you," he looks to Kiara who looks like she wants to die, eyes staring everywhere else and lip curling "right Kie?" he nudges, lucys heart dropped and the air shifts feeling now tense and awkward a scoff slips from Kiara's lips, and she rolls her eyes "I'm leaving" not forgetting to roughly push past your shoulder, you scoff and move next to pope watching her walk away "is she being for real right now? like what the hell" pope sighs "you've missed a lot, her and Sarah are on sum rocky waters" he pats your back "but hey, try this, its fire." you turn and pope gets ready and tosses the shrimp thinking you'd open your mouth but it only slapped your straight face "rocky waters?"

--

"Can you believe this Midsummer shit, man?" john be sighs "Of course I can. Happens every year. No matter how screwed up the rest of us are." jj scoffs and shrugs "So, like, what's the plan, exactly?" they begin there walk towards the party "Okay, look I need you to get this to Sarah." John passes a note towards JJ as he tries to speed up, "oo! can I read it?" "No, you can't read it." "who's Vlad?" "God, do you ever listen?" "Hold up. are you macking Sarah Cameron? "Dude, would you shut up, shut up!" "Your macking Sarah Cameron!" "All right man! I'm doin it for everybody, all right?"

JJ goes quiet a devilish smirk raising "what!" he shakes his head "nothin. Thanks for bein a team player, bro. hey, hey! maybe i should mack on sum lucy juicy, you know, for us" he starts to laugh "whats funny is that you havent seen or spoken to the girl in a year" "yeah man, whatever, don't be mad when you see me posted up with her... whenever she gets back. you know that shits not funny! Shes a sensitive topic" john b scoffs "yeah yeah now would you stay still" he begins to help jj with his disguise.

---

"what are you doing out front, your parents are in there kid" one of the security guards say looking at me with a look of concern but doesn't leave his place on the stairs "oh nothing, I don't feel like being in there it's not what I expected" a sigh leaving my lips and I melt in my chair usually id enjoy going to a party with my friends at least, like a Keiger but I haven't been to one in a while, or to any party matter of fact the marine nerds aren't really party people. I feel like I poke out like a sore thumb in obx, now more than ever, and the one person I was excited to see somehow hates me, it's embarrassing honestly.

So i just settle with playing with my drink and looking inside the house watching everyone interact.

"I keep finding glasses way down the beach" like a dog my ears perk up and my back straightens to the familiar voice, but I don't act on it, I keep my head turned and just listen if its the voice i think it is i might just cry "Do me a favor. Try to keep 'em corralled, will ya? I thought you were security" the voice scoffs and you giggle to yourself, turning your head around as he turns the corner and go to follow him shortly behind.

From where your standing you can see him converse with pope and you can see how distress pope was you could tell something was wrong as the wheels start to turn in your head and the dots almost connect themselves you can now see his face, its beaten, and your heart skips an unwanted beat as you see him walk up to Sarah, you know why she doesn't like toper anymore and you know why everyone has been acting weird there's something going on with all of them but you don't know what or who.

You watch them interact closely and a smile you can't even tell is very apparent on your face. He's such a doofus. He shuffles around Sarah passing her a note, it must be from john b, wheezy told me about him and Sarah "flirting on the boat" but you didn't take it seriously. you watch as your crazy brother walk up to him and start to say something shoving him a bit and backing him u- Oh shit... your crazy brother.

"Well, here are the hors d'oeuvres. oh shit. lucy?"

TAGLIST!

@mariamadison6-blog

[velvetvexations]

incredible, i just saw a reblog of that "transfem headcanons are always better and sometimes transmasc headcanons actively make the text worse and more hateful" by someone i followed. funny to see discussions arguing against the post before seeing the post itself, otherwise i would have unthinkingly internalized it and felt like shit without knowing why. anyway, i unfollowed that person now. to make it worse, op tore into someone for claiming that chihiro from danganronpa is an exception and better read as transmasc... the irony is insane. yet another example besides miquella that would make the story more boring and maybe worse if transfem.

it's so disgustingly petty lmao

a lot of transfem headcanons are reaches, often "this is literally a man magically trapped in the body of a woman and he hates it and desperately keeps trying to go back to being a man" and it's FINE to headcanon characters however you want but since some people can't conceptualize being a woman as anything other than something they wish would happen to them they take characters like that and hiss if you go near them

i get the sense that there's a very specific, narrow demographic of transfems who used to buy into that reddit guy "being a hot 22-year-old girl must be like having 10 billion dollars" attitude and never really let it go. thus the fixation on "AFAB privilege". isee a similar mix of resentment and attraction from lesbian TERFs, though it comes from a different origin. and it's an attitude that can slide easily into TERFism even for cis men--just look at tatsuya ishida!

If anything the idealization of femininity a small minority of transfems exhibit when they complain endlessly about how good trans people AFAB have it would come more from dysphoria and the grass being greener on the other side. "An AFAB trans person will immediately revert to being an innocent little girl to hurl sexual assault accusations at trans women," however, is really concerning!

Regarding whether "binary privilege" exists, i am once again on my hands and knees begging people to actually look at the statistics. The US Transgender Survey and Cohnting Ourselves (from Aotearoa) are right there. And they both show that all trans people are about as badly off as each other regardless of their specific gender. Yes, there are some ways in which being nonbinary is particularly hard, such as not having a social role to fit into, I'm not denying any of that, but if you're going to call being binary a "privilege" then there needs to be a visible whole-group effect for binary people compared to nonbinary people. And there isn't one when you look at the numbers.

It's not really about non-binary people having it flat worse, more just situational complexities.

The thing about even discussing privilege (binary privilege in this case) is that so many people talk as if to have privilege means to inherently have privilege Over someone else. Like is it an advantage for me to be vaguely binary alligned enough sometimes to have a legal gender marker that is moderately less dysphoria inducing when some people are equally harmed by either? (Tbf I live in a state where x is an option, I simply do not feel safe with that 😵‍💫 (tho that does not help when nothing else other than state id accepts it)) like yeah it's a privilege but it's not privilege Over someone. It does not make me an oppressor or mean I am causing harm, which is a thing many people seem to believe, about various forms of privilege

That's a very good point, anon.

I suppose this isn’t how others I’ve seen think about it but. I’ve always just understood that you can be oppressed for being trans without your gender being affirmed. Like. The bigots understand you’re trans but that doesn’t make them think of you as your gender it makes them think of you as trans. Misgendering is such a huge part of what transphobes do and I’ve never once assumed they were like. Lying about seeing trans people that way. I don’t get acting like transphobes can see our, as you put it, soul gender.

It makes people feel better.

[linnetagain]

I'm still not sure if this is the right thing to do, but I also feel like I have to say something. It's going to be a little truncated because I haven't heard from some of the people I've reached out to and therefore don't have their permission to explain their role in this, but I'm going to do my best.

A few days ago, just after Christmas, I finished a temp work contract. In doing so, I had more time than I'd had in a while, and wanted to reach out to some friends that I hadn't heard from in a while, to thank them for being part of my year and hoping that they were having a lovely holiday season.

That was all the inkling I had that something was going on. People had been quieter than usual, I missed them, I hoped they were okay and we'd speak more in 2025.

The following days were... Not fun. At first I saw lots of accusations, lacking detail and evidence, and I couldn't make heads nor tails of what was going on.

I have since found out. I have been very close friends with MJ for nearly a year. He's been a beta for Season and a sensitivity reader, but more than that, he's been someone I leaned on and who leaned on me in return. He was one of my best friends. He has helped shape who I have been, this past year. And he lied to me. Based on those lies I made decisions I now regret, and caused harm to people who no longer want to speak to me, which I understand. There's nothing I can do to change that. I acted to protect my friends and myself, but I was acting on flawed information. I didn't think to question it. If you can't trust your friends, who can you trust?

I've spent the past few days trying to come to terms with what's happened. I've lost one of my closest friends and many more people I loved, respected and valued. I have had my trust absolutely shattered. Outside of MJ, there are other people I trusted and respected who have behaved in ways that have left me feeling unsafe in spaces that previously felt like home and were a precious community to me. That's why I'm still not sure if this is the right thing to do; I'm hurt, I'm sad and angry, and I can't fully explain everything that happened without breaking the trust of more people and potentially doing more damage. But I also feel like I have to say something, because there's so many unanswered questions hanging around right now, and this is going to be a moment that I step back from. I'm not the most active in the fandom at the best of times, but right now I need to take some space. Especially from Season, which was something that MJ was so much a part of, and which I now no longer know how to continue with. I want to, but I've also felt much more like an author and a bargaining chip in some kind of trade war these last few days than a person. I need to spend time in my life outside of fandom, which has been neglected these past few days especially. I need to spend time with my partner, my friends, and focus on my work and my studies.

Thank you to everyone who's sent messages of kindness and support. To those who've sent me messages of hate, I would ask you to reconsider calling someone who's just discovered they were manipulated by someone they trusted 'stupid' and 'shallow'. This isn't about my ego or my work. It's about people who were endangered, a supposedly 'safe' space that wasn't, and people that I thought were my friends who didn't feel they could trust me.

I'm not okay right now, but I'm not in any active danger, from myself or others. I will be okay. I just need time, and space, and I ask for your compassion if you're willing to extend it and the respect of your silence if you're not.

[zeebee3]

Mother!! Your last fic slapped so hard? Omg. You're genius.

I wanted to ask you for some recommendations.👀 I love everything you've ever written, so I'm sure I'll love what you've enjoyed reading too.

If/when you have time, of course.💙

Ahhhhh okay this is going to be a long list, I can already tell 😂 I've tried to limit myself but there are SO MANY fics out there that I eat up again and again, and there will never be a comprehensive list of stuff I've enjoyed because so far, it's truly endless.

That said, here are the first handful that jumped to mind which I've read at least twice (that's got to be a metric of something, right?). I'm going to do the absolute barest summary for them because really, the author's summary and tags do more good than I ever will.

It also goes without saying that every fic by any of these writers is a 10/10 slam dunk, so make a cup of tea and scroll their work lists for more gems. I hope you enjoy!

Note: all of them are rated E

In no particular order...

Dramione

While They Were Sleeping by Dizzle00. The sexual tension in this one!!!!!! pls. I die, even on rereads. Mind the tags as it's an infidelity fic (dating not married).

Full Tilt by Khakis. BDD and a Hermione who is determined to take it. You're welcome in advance.

I Won't Kiss a Death Eater by Orolin. Wartime, forbidden love, clandestine meetings, THE SPICE, the moody vibes!! The podfic of this (linked at the bottom) is also insanely good.

A Healer's Guide to Mating with a Werewolf by sad_millennial. The build up and storytelling is so wonderful, it's truly mind boggling that this clocks in under 8k words for how rich and full of life it is!

The Horny Virgin Chronicles by SilverDragonGemini. 8th year, Hermione asks Draco to help her learn what she likes in bed. Every chapter is amazing, I read it in a single sitting and will be rereading for sure!

Serpents & Skulls by Wanderingfair. Muggle uni AU, secret society, mystery and romance! The moody, dark academia vibes are exceptional.

horny devil by SultryNuns. Draco grows horns, and they are sensitive. I know, I know--say less.

Mount by molivier. Brazilian Ju Jitsu as foreplay. AGAIN, say less.

I was just thinking about it, I'm not gonna do it by malfoyesque. Draco pulls out every time...until now. This is the Draco POV of our dreams.

The Wandmaker by Charingfae. Draco makes magical sex toys; Hermione buys one 🙃

A Marriage of Inconvenience by Beforetherealbook. The title says it all--add in virgin!Draco, pining!Draco, and baby we're cookin'

The Summer After by youhavemyswordandbow. Set in the summer before 8th year, Draco is sent to live with the Grangers. I have a crush on this whole story.

Triads

The Cock Tongue Incident by neilistic. (Hermione/Draco/Astoria). Hermione is summoned to Draco and Astoria's home to help with something. I'm full-on on my knees for this Astoria, and the premise is so unique and so so well done!

Tarnished by westxnorthwest. (Draco/Theo/Hermione). 8th year, the start of a triad, no prior Dreo (which is very very fun to see bloom).

Drarry

Only for October by DodgerKedavra. Every chapter is written based on the 2023 HP Cocktober prompt. Every chapter is also FANTASTIC 🫠

Former Things Come to Mind by DodgerKedavra. Okay I'm cheating on my self-imposed "one fic per author" rule but I simply can't not suggest everyone read this one. The prose. THE CHARACTERIZATIONS. I tear up every reread.

That Old Black Magic by bixgirl1. God-tier marriage law fic. This is the one that got me into that trope to begin with. PHEW.

Lumos by birdsofshore. Another classic Drarry but hey, if you haven't read it, let this be your cue!

OKAY that's it for now, but I am curating a list of my favorite other/rare pair fics as well so once I get that together, I'll do a follow up post.

Annddddd now I want to go reread half of these AGAIN 😅

[dunkledog]

another gabriel post

this is him around when he finished combat training. He was officially contracted around mid-1959, but spent six months in combat and field medicine training by choice. (Usually they give former civilian newbies a lot less than that, but he insisted for as long as they would let him. Procrastinators, am I right?) He started actually fighting in 1960. Oh, also for reference this is pre-medi gun. I think in this little world I mess with that won't be created until 5-8 years later. I have not decided.

didn't go so well.

1960 really wasn't his year, because not long after he settled into his first team, he witnessed his first respawn failure. I like to call it "The Incident." (Gets a little prose-y and descriptive beyond this point, so I'll add a cut to keep the post neat.)

[TW for graphic descriptions of body horror.]

[also just a little emetophobia warning.]

His team was wiped by the enemy; all got sent to respawn at around the same time. For reference, it was a full team of 12 counting Gabriel. The only reason he survived was because the RED soldier that had him cornered felt bad about killing doctors, and let him go. He ran back to the base in hopes that at least one of them was back by now. The shutter to respawn seemed to be stuck, but there was banging on the other side. Gabriel slid his fingers beneath the inch of it that was jammed open and pulled. What came out was not his teammates. You ever see the circus clown chymus from Mystery Flesh Pit National Park? The fusion experiments from Steven Universe? Sorta like both those things. Their bodies, or at this point body, was one but incompletely printed. They leaked fluids from partial veins, bled all over from every orifice. They struggled to support their weight even on all those limbs and lumbered for the team's only doctor, who at this point was still very alive and anything but well. Many hands came toward him, begging and pleading without any words to be helped. To be healed. I'm imagining the layout as like if you tried to make the body plan of a starfish, but with human spines and ribs as the armature. Ribs are fused together, and can't hold the organs in. I've tried to draw it before, but nothing looks quite like what I'm thinking. I'll get around to it one day. By the time Gabriel snapped out of the initial freeze response, they were basically on top of him and there wasn't much else he could do but scream his head off, apologize, and try to get the hands away. He might've drowned in the blood and vomit if that enemy soldier from earlier hadn't followed him and shot them off. The blast burst an exposed stomach and splashed Gabriel's leg with the acid. He still has trouble with the skin on his knee being tight.

In the aftermath, there was an armistice in the local area in case other units were affected. The eleven who suffered the failure had to have their corrupted 'profiles' deleted (as is typical with a disaster of this magnitude) and were officially lost forever. The body was dissected in a bi-faction investigation under the supervision of Hoch (RED) and Greybeard (BLU.) Which was... certainly something, to say the least. Greybeard wanted to keep it a BLU-only affair, but upper managements with more power than he insisted that Hoch be involved as the machine's other developer. Hoch also insisted to be involved.

Gabriel was interviewed about what he saw, which is likely a long tape of him sitting there, staring a thousand yards into the distance and saying nothing in response to various questions. Regardless, Greybeard decided to invite him to the dissection. Which, he actually attended, though he still couldn't say anything, and wasn't exactly... there. Greybeard wanted him there to make diagrams. Gabriel didn't go there to draw pictures for himself. He felt some responsibility to be there. For his teammates, as their former doctor. Out of guilt for being unable to help them. To appreciate their contribution to this... horrific branch of medicine. Maybe just for closure. To say goodbye. Or, to ensure himself that they were, in fact, dead.

Anyway he's just more haunted than he began with. So that's... cool. I guess.