#this feels a lot more crude than my usual stuff…

[weeklylilia]

047

[obitos-whore]

Hii!! can you do some n(sfw) headcanons for our boy obito🩷🙏

Your wish is my command, nonnie. I hope you like 'em <3

18+ Minors, do not interact

────────────────────────────────────

SFW

Obito is fiercely protective of his partner and would let the whole world burn and turn to ash for the sake of his darling's safety and comfort

Can't keep his hands off you for too long and will always seek out even the tiniest bit of physical contact

Despite his rather rugged/intimidating appearance, he is a total sweetheart for you and a hopeless romantic too

He is not afraid of showing his love and devotion through gifts or all sorts of favours, no matter how big or small they are. And if someone pokes fun at him for being "soft", "mushy" or, Jashin forbid, "a total simp", he will just get snarky with them and very crudely remind them of the fact that he is at least loved by someone

Before he asked you out, Obito always behaved a bit awkward around you to try and get your attention. He would brag about this super-duper, top secret and incredibly hard to master jutsu he was currently learning. Or he would try to show off his strength and skills in hand-to-hand combat with Kakashi (who was dragged into this whole stuff against his will)

Other things he did include: Sneaking glances at you and smiling subconsciously whenever you weren't looking. (Or he at least thought you weren't paying attention.). Always offering to help you with things, such as your studies or carrying your groceries home for you. Bringing you little trinkets from his missions he thought you might like or that reminded him of you. Paying very close attention to things you did/ate/say and taking mental notes of every. single. thing that could help him with courting you

During the first two to three months of your relationship, Obito was still very shy and hesitant to go further than holding hands and kissing/cuddling

Full on make-out sessions, with some groping here and there, were the spiciest he was willing to do. But even then, he always asked if you were comfortable with it, if he was too rough, etc.

It wasn't until you two had your first time together that he discovered the joys of sex and the seemingly endless opportunities to enjoy each other, whether by doing it in different positions, using toys or even roleplaying (A different turning point for the one-eyed Uchiha if you will)

King of aftercare. He will shower you with praises and lots of kisses and cuddles after every session, no matter if it was vanilla or not. Makes sure you're properly hydrated and fed, as well as thoroughly cleaned before and especially afterwards

NSFW

As a busy shinobi, he often has to ignore his needs for the sake of his missions. Which often leads to a lot of pent up sexual frustration. And when I say "a lot", I mean a lot!

He will take you every opportunity he gets and he won't necessarily be gentle either. At least not always

Sometimes he just needs to fuck. Screw the whole "sweet and passionate lovemaking" shit he's usually up for. There is nothing sweet or tender about the way he'll be ravaging you

Will hiss the dirtiest things in your ear while he ruts into you like a man possessed. His hands all over you, gripping your throat, tugging at your hair, spanking you or pinning your arms above your head so tightly, you'll be wearing the imprints of his fingers around your wrists for days

He does not limit himself to your bedroom. Every place with a surface to bend you over at or push you against will make do

Will make you suck him off while he goes over important documents or writes a report, and stroke your head every now and then and call you all sorts of pet names, such as "Love", "Sweetheart" or "Baby"

But on days where he feels very dominant, his nicknames will be less adoring and a bit more degrading. Something along the lines of "Pet" or "Plaything"

On those days, he also makes you call him "Sir", "Hokage-sama", or basically anything that suggests that he's the one in control

If he's away on a mission and his need for you gets too unbearable, Obito will either wait until it's late at night, or excuse himself for a couple of minutes, and straight up Kamui back home and drain his balls into you in a messy quickie

He's a total switch who enjoys receiving as much as he enjoys giving and trusts his partner completely when it comes to using toys on him

A sucker for getting praised. Just tell him he's being such a good boy while pleasuring you and watch him become putty in your hands and redouble his efforts just to hear you say that again

He is very open to trying new things with you, but he does not share his darling with anyone! No matter if it's a man/woman or someone who doesn't identify as either of those. You are his. His dick is the only thing that you need and get (with the exception of toys ofc) and he will make sure you'll remember that

Big fan of both orgasm denial and post orgasm torture. Hearing you whimper and plead him to let you cum/stop making you cum over and over again as you writhe below him is like music to his ears

[hungermakesmonsters]

Devotion & Desire

Chapter Four

Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?

Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Explicit smut and omega heat stuff. All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 6.2k

A/N : 😅 still trying to walk the fine line between plot and smut

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

MASTER LIST

Chapter Four

It felt like a fever dream, like some terrible nightmare that started to fade from memory the moment your eyes opened. Only, it wasn’t. It had happened.

Bucky had -

No.

No. 

You didn’t even want to think about it. Regardless of how much it had helped, and how much you might have needed it at the time, you felt nothing but regret. Closing your eyes, you were assaulted by vivid memories of the way he’d touched you, the way you’d moaned for him, and perhaps worst of all, the way you’d kissed him.

Hours later, his scent still lingered in the room, mixed with yours, making you feel dizzy, giddy.

Somehow, you managed to pull yourself from the crude little nest you’d throw together with little more than sheets, sofa cushions and a couple of towels.

Everything ached and just the exertion of standing up and pulling on your leggings had your skin coated in a layer of sweat. You felt awful. And, as you took a step away from the bed, you felt like you were going to fall down. But you couldn’t stop. You needed to find Bucky. You needed him to know that it had been a mistake.

Staggering, you made your way to the door, weakly pulling it open and almost falling through it. But then another scent assaulted your senses; another alpha, someone you didn’t recognise.

He looked up at you, an easy smile pulling on his lips and, for a second, there was a faint hint of recognition. You thought you recognised him. But you couldn’t place how or where from. Your mind was a haze, the fog of your heat making it difficult for you to think straight.

“Hey, I’m Sam,” he said, clearly noticing your confusion. “I’m a friend of Bucky’s.”

“Where is he?” You asked, gripping the doorframe for support.

“He needed to go out, didn’t tell me where. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but he’s not exactly an open book,” Sam answered, letting out a warm sort of laugh that told you he and Bucky were close. “He asked me to keep an eye on you, in case you needed anything.”

Your eyes widened, thoughts heading in an unsettling direction. He’d asked another alpha to take care of you?

“Not like that,” Sam quickly clarified, holding up his hands, wanting to make sure there was no confusion. “I brought you some things.”

He gave a nod of his head towards two bags on the floor, a backpack, and a shopping bag filled with womens clothes.

“There’s some of my sister's clothes in there, she’s a beta and a bit bigger than you, but they should be alright,” he explained and you offered a muttered thank you.

You decided to keep your distance, clinging to the door frame while your legs trembled beneath you. Your eyes dropped for a moment, struggling with a strange mixture of feelings welling up inside you.

You felt abandoned by Bucky, even though you didn’t want him around in the first place. And you longed for him, despite hating him. Shaking your head, you tried to clear your mind and stop all the racing thoughts and unsettling feelings. It was just your heat making you feel things that you knew weren’t real, your biology trying to make you into a good omega for an alpha you had the misfortune of craving.

Looking at Sam again, you realised he was watching you, and recognition finally sparked within you.

“Wait... you’re the Falcon... or is it Captain America now?” The confusion was clear in your voice, only sounding half convinced that he was who you believed him to be.

“Just Sam is fine,” he replied with that easy smile.

You weren’t sure what it was about him, but he felt safe, like he was the sort of guy to wear his heart on his sleeve, unlike Bucky who was gruff and guarded. How the two of them could be friends, you couldn’t even begin to understand. So, you asked.

“Why is Captain America helping the Winter Soldier?” 

“Because Bucky isn’t the Winter Soldier anymore,” Sam answered. Clearly the look on your face gave away that you didn’t believe him so, a moment later, Sam continued; “he told me what happened to you - to your brother - but you have to understand that while it might have been him, it wasn’t Bucky.”

“You think just because he was under mind control that he’s any less to blame?” You answered back, unintentionally allowing some of your anger to slip into your tone.

“Do you maybe want to take a second to think about what you just said?” Sam asked, his voice still calm and friendly. Your gaze dropped, hating that some part of you knew he was right to call you out. “I know it doesn’t change how you feel and it won’t bring your brother back, but if you think for a moment that it doesn’t hurt him almost as much as it hurts you, then -”

The sound of the door had him falling quiet. For whatever reason, he didn’t want Bucky to know that he’d just been defending him to you.

Stepping into the apartment, Bucky looked at Sam before noticing you standing in the doorway to the bedroom.

“Are you okay?” He asked. “Should you be up?”

“We were just getting to know each other,” Sam decided to answer before you got the chance.

Bucky grimaced. “What did you tell her?”

For a moment he looked at you, seeming so genuinely concerned that his friend might have told you something terrible, and you wondered if that was just how their friendship was or if Bucky was so unsure of himself that all he could do was jump to the worst conclusion.

“He didn’t say anything I don’t already know,” you answered.

It earned a surprised look from Sam, and it was as close as you’d ever get to actually agreeing with what he’d told you. But agreement and acceptance were two different things, and you still hated the Winter Soldier and, by extension, Bucky.

“Where have you been?” You dared to ask Bucky, realising that he was carrying a familiar looking box in his hands.

“I was in the neighbourhood, so I stopped at Gracie’s for a pie,” Bucky said, finally stepping further into the apartment.

“You’ve got ex-Hydra agents looking for you and you stopped for a pie?” Sam asked, like it was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“It’s - it’s really good pie,” you said, your grip tightening on the doorframe, as a wave of cramping hit.

“Did you ask her about Rumlow yet?” Sam asked, seemingly from nowhere. 

Your legs almost gave in beneath you at the sound of his name. Pressing yourself against the doorframe was the only thing that stopped you from falling. 

Bucky was in front of you in an instant, before Sam was even half out of his seat. He reached for you to steady you, but you did everything you could to pull away and remain standing under your own steam. 

“How do you know about Rumlow?” You asked, eyes moving between the two alphas.

“The guys that tried to take you, they used to work with him. We thought Rumlow died in Lagos years ago, but -” Sam explained, stopping when you shook your head.

“No... he’s alive,” you said.

“How does Rumlow fit into any of this?” Sam asked. “How do you know him?”

Your eyes drifted to Bucky, an uncomfortable feeling twisting your guts.

“He promised to help me track down and kill the Winter Soldier but he - he lied to me,” you explained without explaining, not wanting to say anything more than that.

“Why would he be after you now?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t -” a sudden surge of pain cut you off and almost had you doubling over.

Before you could even think to try and stop him, Bucky had hold of you, sweeping you off your feet with ease and carrying you back to bed. Moments later, he was gently placing you back down in your nest.

“You need to rest,” he told you softly, his fingers tenderly brushing your hair away from your face.

You struggled to keep your eyes open and Bucky took that as a sign to leave you. But, when he started to turn, you reached for him, weakly grasping his sleeve.

“We need to talk,” you told him, and watched as he glanced to the door making sure Sam wasn’t listening in. When you were both satisfied that you wouldn’t be overheard, you spoke. “Don’t go getting any ideas about last night. It - it shouldn’t’ve happened, it was just -”

“I get it,” he cut in. “I’m an alpha, you’re an omega. It’s just biology. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Good ��cause it can't happen again,” you said, barely able to even look him in the eye as you spoke.

His jaw clenched and, for a moment it almost seemed like he was angry - or maybe he was disappointed. It was hard to tell. Either way, it seemed like your words had more of an effect than you’d anticipated.

“Fair enough,” he said, his tone quickly becoming more distant, somehow colder. “I was just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help.”

It was a stupid thing to say because you both knew it was entirely untrue but, at that exact moment, you believed your own bullshit.

“Clearly,” he remarked sarcastically, “you seem to be doing great on your own.”

When you didn’t seem to have a witty response for him, Bucky pulled away from you, breaking your hold on him, and you watched as he left the room, pulling the door shut behind him. All you could do for a few minutes was stare at the door, wondering if you’d somehow managed to hurt his feelings. “She seems -”

“She’s a pain in the ass,” Bucky finished the thought for Sam, stalking away from the closed door. Sam just watched Bucky for a moment as he grabbed the box with the pie and headed towards the kitchen. He waited a beat before following after, watching Bucky as he removed the pie from the box and cut himself a large slice without offering any to Sam.

“Okay, this is passive aggressive even for you,” Sam remarked, nodding at the pie, indicating he wanted a slice.

Bucky huffed before cutting his friend a slice significantly smaller than his own and stalking back into the den, taking a seat on the sofa to eat.

“Listen, if this is getting to you, I can watch her and you can go do... whatever it is you do when you go off on your own,” Sam offered cautiously as he took a seat.

Sam was too busy breaking off his first bite of pie with his fork to notice the way Bucky was glaring at him but, the moment he looked up, he had his answer.

“Okay,” Sam said, deciding it wasn’t worth starting an argument over, so he changed the subject. “Torres got back to me, he says he still hasn’t found any trace of her or who he really is, but he found out about Berlin...”

The statement was allowed to hang in the air between them, not speaking until Bucky gave some indication that he wanted to hear it and, even when he received that slight nod, Sam hesitated for a moment more.

He pulled out his phone and opened the file that Torres had sent him.

“It was in February, 2009. There was a tech conference in Berlin - but not for your run-of-the-mill iPhones and games consoles. It was all military grade tech,” Sam explained, watching Bucky for any negative reactions or flickers of recollection. “We’re talking big like Stark Tech, Hammer Industries, A.I.M. -”

“I get the picture,” Bucky interrupted.

“Well, there were rumours about some new satellite tech, something that would have allowed whoever had control of it to spy on anyone, to break into any system, to watch anyone they wanted. It was years ahead of its time. From what we can tell it was the sort of thing that a group like Hydra wouldn’t want falling into the wrong hands.”

“So they sent me,” Bucky sighed. “What else did you find out?”

Again, Sam hesitated for a few seconds.

“The crime scene report from the hotel; it says her brother checked in under a false name, assumed to be travelling alone, and the crime scene photos... they show that he put up a fight...” Instead of explaining it, Sam handed his phone to Bucky, watching as he took in the crime scene photos and the evidence list before going very quiet and very still. He let a minute pass in silent contemplation before he spoke again.

“He was hiding something,” he sighed, his eyes closing for a moment and his head hanging forward, the memories flooding back to him. “I was sent to get everything he had. I got the drive with the schematics but I - I thought he was holding something back. And he was. He was protecting his sister while she hid. I tortured him and he refused to give her up...”

Putting Sam’s phone down, he stood, his slice of pie forgotten and abandoned. 

Sam didn’t say anything as Bucky walked towards the window, putting his back to his friend, not wanting Sam to see the pain and self-loathing on his face. But Sam wasn’t prepared to let him wallow.

“So, what now?” Sam asked.

“What do you mean ‘what now’?” 

“What comes next, Buck? You know why she tried to kill you, now how are you going to make amends?”

“Don’t start with the therapy-talk, Sam. I’m not in the mood,” Bucky snapped.

“Well you better get in the mood, because there’s a person in that room who needs your help, and if you’re not willing to look after her -” 

“I never said that.” Bucky turned back to face Sam, conviction clear in his voice. “Of course I’ll look after her.

------------

You lost track of time the moment you were placed back in bed. You thought that you could hear their voices through the door but maybe it was just delirium from the fever playing tricks on you. Everything hurt. Your muscles ached and your joints felt stiff, and your temperature continued to climb.

Turning this way and that, you tried to get comfortable, tried to find just the right angle to lay at to make the pain stop. 

It wasn’t long before there was something else beneath the pain, that desperate longing that you couldn’t control, that need that had your hand pawing at your thighs, desperate to touch yourself but knowing that, once you started, you wouldn’t be able to stop.

The more you denied yourself, the more it hurt, until it felt like your insides were burning.

You reached for the water bottle on the nightstand, only to clumsily knock it onto the floor and, when you leaned down to try and retrieve it, your vision started to swim. 

The next thing you knew, you were on the floor. There was no telling if it was the sound of the bottle falling or your knees hitting the floor that alerted Bucky, but he was at your side in seconds, swearing and placing his hand on your forehead to feel how hot your fever was running.

“You should’ve told me it had gotten this bad,” he muttered as he scooped you off the floor and started to carry you through the apartment.

“Where are you taking me?” You asked, the words feeling heavy on your tongue.

Bucky didn’t answer, but it soon became clear. 

He took you into the bathroom, carrying you into the shower and quickly started up the cold water.

A relieved gasp left your lips at the feel of the cold water on your skin, soaking into your sweat-drenched clothes. Your head dropped onto his shoulder, letting him hold you under the water for what felt like hours. You tried to mutter something, an awkward thank you, but the words came out as little more than incomprehensible babble. Bucky simply shushed you, his arms holding you a little tighter.

It didn’t even cross your mind that you were both still dressed or that the cold must have been uncomfortable for Bucky. It finally felt like you could breathe again, like you weren’t being smothered by the fever. Your eyes closed and you relaxed in his arms, coming to the uncomfortable realisation that moments like this were why omegas needed alphas.

You shifted, moving your head, barely even noticing that you were doing it until your nose was pressed to his gland and every breath you took was him.

Somehow you managed to fall asleep in his arms, and you had no idea how long he held you under the water before drying you off as best he could and returning you to bed.

But you didn’t sleep for long and, when your eyes opened again, you found him sitting on the floor beside your bed, glancing over his shoulder at you as you reached for the fresh, cold bottle of water he’d left on the nightstand for you.

“I remember,” he told you cryptically, looking forward again, facing away from you.

“What?”

“Your brother. That night in Berlin… everything I did...”

There was something in his voice, in the slump of his shoulders, that had you remembering Sam’s words to you, and it made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry,” he added a moment later. “I understand why you hate me so much now.”

It sounded genuine, it sounded like he really was sorry, like the memory of what he’d done was causing him as much pain as it did you. And you didn’t want to hear it. You weren’t prepared for any of this; after years of seeing him as a monster, having your brother’s brutal murder as your only frame of reference, you found that this contrite, apologetic Bucky didn’t fit the role of the man you wanted to blame.

And it left you annoyed. It left you feeling like all the time you’d spent, the years of your life you’d wasted and the terrible things you’d endured to get to him, to make him suffer, had all been for nothing.

How could you hurt this man who seemed so pained by his own existence?

An awkward, uncomfortable sound escaped you as you laid back, your frustration bubbling over and leaving you at a total loss.

Bucky had no idea what was going through your head, he could only assume that you were still in pain.

“It’s going to get worse, isn’t it?” He asked with a noticeable hesitation. “It gets worse after the halfway point, right?”

“Have you been Googling heats?” At any other time you would have taken a mocking tone, but you were too exhausted and overwhelmed to even think about it.

With Bucky so close, you found it harder to control your baser desires, the omega part of you that craved an alpha, that craved him. But Bucky didn’t even seem to notice.

“Yeah, I -” he let out an awkward sigh, “- I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before and I know last night wasn’t... I mean, I know you didn’t...”

Not wanting to watch him struggle, you decided to put him out of his misery and move the conversation along, if only because talking was better than thinking and you needed something to keep your mind from straying too far.

“You’ve never had an omega before?” You asked.

“Not... not like this,” he said but didn’t go into any detail about what that meant. “In the decades that I was with Hydra, they mostly kept me on ice, and I didn’t exactly get to meet anyone.”

Silence fell and he moved, lifting himself onto his knees and turning to face you. Before you could ask what he was doing, you saw him reaching for the bowl of water and the washcloth. He gently pressed it to your burning cheeks and, for a few minutes he seemed content to remain silent, but it didn’t last.

“It’s because of the suppressants, isn’t it? That’s why it’s so bad,” he asked, and you confirmed his suspicions with little more than a glance. “Why did you take them for so long?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“Because being an omega fucking sucks,” you said with a sigh. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to feel weak and helpless all the time? To have people look at you like you only exist for a single purpose?”

He took an awkward breath, then answered. “More than you know.”

For a moment you considered his words, considered the implications. He’d been a killer, Hydra’s attack dog, only ever let off-leash when he was needed to kill someone. It had been his life, his purpose. The sense of understanding you felt was uncomfortable, further confusing how you felt about him. And you hated it. You didn’t want to feel sorry for him, you didn’t want to feel anything at all. 

“At least you’re an alpha,” you said grimly, “you get to fuck instead of being fucked.”

“It still doesn't explain the suppressants.”

“I started taking them because I didn’t want to get stuck being some alpha’s omega again...”

“Wait...” it took a second but he finally seemed to start putting it together. “You and Rumlow?”

You gave only the slightest of nods. Bucky didn’t say anything, but his silence made it obvious that he wanted you to explain.

“I was trying to track you down the Winter Soldier. I didn’t realise he was Hydra when I tried  to buy information from him.” You couldn’t look at Bucky as you spoke, as the anger started to slip into your voice. “He promised he would help me, he took me in and - I was young and stupid, and by the time I realised I was trapped, it was too late. He wanted to claim me, but I rejected him, so he did the next best thing and kept me...”

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of his vibranium hand curling into a tight fist.

“He disappeared in the blip and I got away. Since then I’ve done everything I can to present as a beta.”

“Why is he after you now?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t know. I guess when you were looking into me, it must have flagged something somewhere, and he came looking,” you answered, feeling your stomach knot at the thought. “Brock, he - he doesn’t like to lose and he doesn’t like to be told no. He thinks I’m his...”

“Well, he’s not getting you back,” Bucky stated with an angry certainty that you didn’t understand.

You looked at him, not sure you wanted to ask and, by the time you’d decided that you probably should, it was too late. He got to his feet and headed for the door, telling you to shout if you needed anything.

For a time you just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything that had happened, everything that was still happening.

You had wanted Bucky to suffer for killing your brother, but you wanted to be the cause of that suffering, not his own remorse over his actions. And, again, you found yourself thinking back to your conversation with Sam, the way you’d had to concede that it hadn’t even been Bucky who killed your brother.

Round and round, there was no escaping all the thoughts and questions in your head, all the things that made you angry and the things you couldn’t control.

And, soon enough, it became hard to think about anything but the torture your own body was putting you through. Your temperature started to rise again and you squirmed awkwardly, pressing your thighs together, slick starting to soak through your underwear.

Then you remembered the bags by the bedroom door, the clean clothes Sam had brought for you.

On shaky legs you made your way out of the bedroom, expecting to find Bucky on the sofa but, instead, you could hear the shower running again - why was he showering again? The thought quickly left your mind as you started rummaging through the bags. One bag was filled with womens clothes and the other -

Fuck.

The backpack was basically a bio-weapon, filled with Bucky’s clothes, shirts and sweatpants that hadn’t been laundered. And, before you knew what you were doing, you’d taken one of his shirts and were heading back to your nest with it, not thinking to close the bedroom door behind you, suddenly consumed by your baser urges.

Falling onto the bed, you pressed his shirt to your nose and inhaled his scent.

You hated yourself for how much you craved him, how much you wanted to be wrapped up in his scent, in him. You twitched and squirmed, that awful, longing ache burning through you again. It wasn’t long before your hand was reaching between your thighs and soft whines started to escape you.

At some point the shower stopped, and your eyes opened to find Bucky in the doorway, wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his waist, his eyes fixed on you. Just the sight of his exposed chest and abs, still damp from the shower, was enough to cause a dramatic spike in your arousal.

Despite your embarrassment, your hand kept moving, fingers strumming your clit through your slick-soaked panties while you held his shirt to your nose. And Bucky watched.

“Bucky...”

That moan was all the invitation he needed to cross the room. Even as he came to stand over you, your fingers didn’t stop, in fact they got faster, desperate. More little whimpers and moans escaped you, but he didn’t touch you, didn’t attempt to give you what you needed, what you craved. He just watched and his gaze alone was all it took to break your resolve.

“Please?” You finally begged.

“You sure you want my help again, little mouse?”

You nodded. Despite everything you’d told him after the last time, you nodded. Desperately. Enthusiastically. 

Bucky didn’t need any more than that, climbing onto the bed and kneeling between your legs. His hands felt cold as they slipped up your thighs to pull away your wet panties. (Somewhere in the back of your mind you realised he’d been having a cold shower, but in your needy, muddled state, you couldn’t understand why.)

Without hesitation or ceremony, a cold metal finger ran through your folds before sinking inside you, moving slowly, as if he thought you needed warming up.

Your head dropped back on the pillow and your hips started to move against his hand, desperate for more. You were so caught up in the feeling, in the need for more, for everything, that you didn’t realise he’d lowered his head until you felt his heavy breath against your inner thigh and you felt the slow drag of his tongue over your thigh gland.

A desperate moan tore from your lips, your eyes opened and you looked down to see him between your legs. The sight alone was enough to cause you to clench around his finger and leave you on the precipice of orgasm. 

Without thinking, your hand reached for him, tangling in his hair. His eyes stayed fixed on yours as his tongue ran along your gland again, this time licking higher, groaning against your skin, letting out sounds that made it seem like he was the one in need instead of you.

You jolted, back arching the moment his tongue found your clit. His free hand pressed on your stomach, pinning you down while his vibranium hand continued to slowly fuck you with a deliberately teasing pace. His tongue moved just as slowly, causing you to whimper and keen, your fingers tightening in his hair, trying to pull him closer.

The pressure built up in you slowly and the sounds you were making got more desperate and eager. 

You just about screamed when he started to suck your clit and bent his finger inside you, finding that sensitive spot, causing you to come almost instantly. As you trembled and shuddered, your hand reached for his hand on your stomach and pulled it upwards, pushing up your baggy tee-shirt and placing it on your breast. Your other hand remained in his hair, holding tight, ensuring that his head stayed between your thighs.

He stilled for a few moments, letting you ride out one orgasm before starting to lead you towards the next. A second cold, metal finger slid inside you with ease, your back arching a little, your own fingers twisting in his hair and tugging harder.

You’d told him never again, but after the second orgasm pulled from you by his fingers and his tongue, some part of you knew you wouldn’t survive if you never got to experience this bliss again.

After the third orgasm, he finally lifted his head and slowly started to move up your body, and you let him. No, you encouraged him, tugging on his hair until his face was only inches from yours. You both hesitated as he looked down at you, his fingers still fucking you at that delicious pace.

“It’s just biology,” he muttered softly, as if he was giving both of you permission to give in to each other.

Finally, you lifted your head, your lips clumsily crashing into his and igniting a desperate kiss that seemed to go on and on, until a final fourth orgasm was pulled from you. Even then, as his fingers stilled and finally slipped from your trembling body, his lips lingered against yours, and your fingers remained tangled in his hair

When your body slumped back, exhausted, Bucky remained above you for a few moments more before finally withdrawing, getting up and leaving the room, and leaving you more confused than ever. But at least some of the pain had subsided. He wasn’t gone for long.

After a few minutes he returned fully dressed and with two plates, each with a slice of pie. 

He placed one on the bed beside you before sitting back down on the floor next to your bed. Despite what you’d just done, now that it was over, he seemed to want to maintain a polite distance.

“Gracie’s apple pie?” You muttered, tired but definitely hungry enough to eat. 

Bucky gave a hum of acknowledgement. “She said it was your favourite.”

You fell silent, staring at the pie, thinking about the life you could have had; the murder plot aside, you’d liked working at Gracie’s and you liked the friends you’d made. But it was all gone now. You couldn’t go back and tell them you’d been lying to them about who you were just to get close to Bucky.

You were going to be alone again.

And that thought hurt.

“At least I get to have it one last time,” you muttered as you sat back against the headboard and started to eat.

“Last time?” He repeated, confused.

“It’s not like I can go back after... y’know all the lies and everything,” you said.

“I think they’d be a lot more understanding than you think,” he offered through a mouthful of pie.

“Right, I’ll just come out and tell them that the sweet little omega act was all a lie, and I was only being nice to them so I could get close enough to kill you,” you retorted.

Honestly, you might have laughed if it hadn’t made you feel so pathetic and alone.

“Sometimes people are willing to forgive a lot if you apologise,” Bucky shrugged.

You weren’t sure if he was suggesting that you should forgive him or trying to let you know that he’d already forgiven you. You didn’t ask. Both of you fell silent while you ate. And, not long after finishing, you managed to fall asleep again.

------------

The sound of muttering woke you up. You quickly realised that it was Bucky. He was laid  on the floor in his boxers with nothing but a pillow for comfort, thrashing and grumbling in his sleep, obviously having a nightmare. He must have decided to sleep on the floor to be close in case you needed him in the night and - fuck, you didn’t even want to think about how that made you feel.

All you knew for certain - all you were willing to admit - was that you hated seeing him like that. As someone who knew what it was like to be plagued by nightmares, you wouldn’t have wished it on your worst enemy. 

You half-fell out of bed, landing on your hands and knees, before slumping down beside him. Moving closer, you pressed yourself into his side and draped your arm over his body, your face against his neck, nose inches from his gland. 

He quickly stilled and you heard a sharp inhale as he woke up.

“What -” he started, sounding exhausted and confused.

“Shut up,” you half-demanded, half-begged, not wanting to explain it to him.

He didn’t say anything else. A moment later, his arm was around you, pulling you closer. Instinctively, your leg moved over his thigh, tangling your bodies together. His hand pressed against your cheek for a moment before brushing your hair away from your face.

“You’re burning up,” Bucky muttered, “do you need -”

“No, just - just don’t move,” you whined, wanting to hold him, wanting to feel safe in his arms even though you knew it was the most dangerous place for you. “Just... please don’t move.”

“Okay, mouse...” he muttered softly, shifting just a fraction so you could share his pillow.

Slowly but surely, you felt him relax and, as he did, you did too, shifting closer so his thigh was pressed between yours. Right then, you didn’t need or want more than that, you were content just feeling his body against yours.

But, like every other still moment that you’d managed to find during your heat so far, it didn’t last.

After a few hours you woke to that awful, cramping sensation in your stomach. He was still sleeping, still holding you so tight, and you didn’t want to wake him but his thigh between yours became impossible to ignore. You started to move slowly, grinding yourself against him, slick quickly soaking your panties and his thigh. At first you tried to be gentle, but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t what you needed.

Bucky woke to find you desperately grinding against his thigh like a feral, horny animal. If you hadn’t felt so desperate, you would have felt your cheeks burning with shame. But you were desperate and you needed something to stop the pain. You needed him.

He didn’t speak, didn’t ask what you were doing, he just pressed his thigh against you and turned his head toward yours. As your head fell back, his lips pressed to your throat, kissing, licking and sucking their way towards your gland, and causing you to let out a desperate moan.

You pressed closer still, until the only way you could get close enough was to straddle his lap. You weren’t shocked to find that he was hard - it barely even crossed your mind, too deep in your own desperate needs to think straight anymore. His hips lifted, pressing against you as you both started to move, each of you seeking something from the other as you slick quickly soaked through your panties and began to wet his boxers.

Leaning back, you pulled off your top and led his vibranium hand to your breast, moaning as a cold metal thumb brushed against your nipple. You kept him trapped beneath you, your hands on his chest, holding him down, as if you really thought that you could restrain him. But Bucky let you, he stayed exactly where you wanted him, letting you take what you needed from him.

Your moans got wilder and more desperate, his name slipping from your lips over and over again as you neared orgasm. His flesh hand gripped your hip as he continued to grind up against you, letting out little grunt and groans of his own as he stared up at you through the gloom.

As you came you felt his cock twitch between your thighs and heard his own gasped moan, and you realised that he’d come too.

You collapsed on top of him, your body trembling from your release, slick now coating your thighs and his, and something else, something soaking through Bucky’s boxers. Sprawled against his chest, you buried your face against his neck, breathing in his scent, and clinging to him, not willing to let go. Bucky’s arms wrapped tight around you, holding you as you shook and shivered, and finally fell asleep again.

End Note : Anyone who doesn't read my Billy Russo fics, and didn't see me mention it there, I just want to give a heads up that I broke a key off my laptop (the T key for anyone interested) so I'm having to use a laggy bluetooth keyboard to write atm. Sorry if any weird typos have slipped through, it's probably because of the keyboard. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter!!

And thanks so much for the likes/comments/reblogs on the last chapter, it really means a lot to me!

If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, let me know!

Tag List : @greatenthusiasttidalwave @bighappypiels @maddiedrmr @dreadfulxives18 @scott-loki-barnes

@thecraziestcrayon @silas-aeiou @danzer8705 @notpotatocap

[bluedalahorse]

Earlier today I alluded to the fact that Young Royals has some interesting stuff to say about heterosexuality. Let me elaborate.

One of the many intriguing moments in Young Royals season 2 (in my mind, anyway) is the phone call where Jan-Olof asks August a lot of questions and ends with the question “Are you heterosexual?” To which August replies that he is. It’s only ever been girls! (I think that’s how the line goes, anyway.)

What intrigues me about this is the way it puts the emphasis on heterosexuality as a label—or, to put it more colloquially, on the idea of being heterosexual as a “thing.” After all, the whole notion of being straight or hetero is a fairly recent one in human history. The word heterosexual hasn’t been around too long, first appearing in German in 1869 after being coined (along with the word homosexual) by Karl Maria Kertbeny. In the late 19th century, western culture saw a shift in how people understood sexuality, and people started describing sexual orientation as more of an identity thing (who you are) than a behavior thing (what you do.) If Wilhelm’s family has been on the throne at least as long as the IRL Swedish monarchs, then the current Swedish monarchy in Young Royals predates the ideas of heterosexuality and homosexuality. The Swedish monarchy as an overall institution definitely predates heterosexuality as a concept. Social constructs, baby!

That said, Jan-Olof, the show’s keeper of tradition, still asks August if he’s straight. What he’s really asking, given the uncomfortable reproductive subtext of the conversation, is whether August is willing to produce a legitimate heir to keep the monarchy going. This is interesting because of the way it conflates heterosexual identity with reproduction. We know there are plenty of straight people who choose not to have kids and use various contraception methods to prevent pregnancies from happening or being carried to term. (Heck, August and Sara themselves have a whole conversation about condoms.) We also know that there are plenty of non-straight people who have biological kids. Ultimately, straightness doesn’t matter for that kind of thing! And yet, by including a question about heterosexuality in a series of questions that’s really about reproduction, wrapped in an even longer list of questions about fitness for the throne, this conversation is putting forward the notion that heterosexuality isn’t just about sex and romance. It’s also a political stance.

And that’s… that’s kind of fascinating. Usually it’s queer people who are said to be inherently “political.” Straightness, of course, is just as political. It’s just that no one calls it that. So I’m struck by the reversal of that dynamic in the show.

I’m also struck by how August’s heterosexuality is a matter of attraction, performance, and labeling, and each of these is addressed separately and a little bit differently by the writing. We know he has heterosexual attraction toward Sara (and possibly Felice, depending on how you read that relationship) based on the fact that he has ~those kinda feelings.~ But there’s also the public performance of heterosexuality, where we see August hitting on Felice in a very overt and aggressive way. In those moments, August’s performance of heterosexuality becomes an expression of power and privilege. This is further reinforced by some of the crude sexual jokes he makes about women. Even the softer stuff toward Sara puts him in a protector role that lines up with gender roles by the end of s2. If the performance of heterosexuality is an attempt to claim power, then what does claiming the label of heterosexual mean? I think perhaps we’re supposed to see it as August declaring his alleged right to power, within this particular social system where heterosexuality means something specific.

Labels can confer power on a person by giving them the power to define themself, but labels can also be limiting, in a way. August is, for the most part, straight in terms of his identity, behavior, and personal politics. He’s willing to claim the power and privilege that straightness gives him. However, there are times where his heterosexuality gets a bit fuzzy around the edges. That time where he’s (fakely) singing Simon’s praises and out of nowhere kisses him on the forehead comes to mind as kind of a weird moment. Like, where did that come from, August? The fact that August has watched the video of Wilhelm and Simon a few too many times also hasn’t escaped fandom’s notice. Finally, the fact that August labels himself as hetero in a scene where he’s lying through his teeth about other things, and when the palace is trying to fabricate a perfect princely persona for him, really shows how much of a social construct sexual orientation labels are. They describe something real, but they can’t describe all the nuances of it.

My point here is not that August is some sort of hidden bisexual representation sleeper agent—he really isn’t! (Like I said he is functionally straight, and also these moments above still involve him behaving in aggressive and dysfunctional ways.) Rather, I’m more interested in the way August ignores his own fuzziness-of-orientation (however minute) when claiming the strict heterosexuality label, and therefore cuts himself off from the possibility of empathy for Wilhelm and Simon, as well as enlisting himself in a system where he wouldn’t really thrive. Sure, there’s lots of other aspects of his personality that play a role in this as well. But I wanted to talk about this one today, so I did.

Anyway, binaries are harmful and divisive and reinforce weird power structures. Regardless of our orientations, we would all do better if we all embraced a degree of queerness in the world and in ourselves, don’t you think?

(Hey, are there other characters in the series where you want me to talk about their relationships to heterosexuality? Let me know with an ask or something; I’d be happy to ramble.)

[r-aindr0p]

I am language DISinclined as much as I WANT to learn a language. I’m so interested in languages that I have an English BA and I’ve considered going for a MA in linguistics because etymology is 🤩

But I can’t for the life of me learn a full language. That being said, I pick up random words in different languages all over the freaking place.

French? Yup. Italian? Check. Russian. Mmhmm. German. Yes. Sign language? Odd one out but yep. Spanish? Who doesn’t know a few odd words when you live in the US.

I DONT GET HOW PEOPLE CAN FULLY LEARN OTHER LANGUAGES WHEN MY BRAIN IS JUST LIKE “I like these words. Yeah. These are good. That’s it though. :)”

Helppppppppp I love language but language only wants a friends-with-benefits relationshippppppp

Oh I totally get it honestly, language learning is not that easy usually especially when it comes to grammar which feels like a hellhole whatever the language you try to learn ! I did learn german at school and all I remember are a few sentences and christmas songs but the grammar is all forgotten already ugh.. Tried to learn japanese and grammar lost me again. As for finnish I just randomly say stuff and pray it is understandable, not an ounce of knowledge on it’s grammar.

The best way imo is to listen to other people speak the language more than try to learn the basics via grammar, sure it is important but getting the hang of a language by hearing it helps a lot !

Oh and I know a good online site I use as a French to English and vice versa dictionnary ! It’s called Wordreference it helps me quite a lot whenever I have doubts on some word’s meanings or when I remember a word in english but not in my own language…

And yeah, I gave a weird grammatical exception up here in french, that’s partially why hearing a language helps better than trying to understand the grammar first… We also have lots of words with a silent "t" at the end like "chat" (cat) which you pronounce "sha" or "rat" (rat) pronounced "rat" and then you have a few exceptions where the t is not silent all of a sudden like "brut" (crude/variety of champagne/brute)

And why ?? Well because that’s it, no real explanation sometimes….

[bryce-bucher]

.50 Caliber 3D Platformer Post #5

(Flashing Lights Warning near the bottom of the post)

UI UI UI UI UI:

I've been working on UI mostly the past couple of weeks. It has been, as usual, both very cool & fun but also hell and evil. To be more specific, I really like designing the visual aspect of UI, but implementing it is always so horribly tedious and boring that it is really hard for me to focus on doing it. Without fail, I always end up getting UI done very slowly because of this. I am really happy with what I've got so far though, and it has brought me one step closer to getting to the point where I can just start hashing out levels.

Making the Health UI:

The health UI was something I was extremely excited about implementing, so I eagerly decided to decide that it was time to make it. Let me step u through the process 4 fun.

For me, it always starts with sketching out something crudely in pen. I've had this sketch done for months now, so it was p cool to see it finally come to life in game.

Next I hopped into blender and began trying to make some kind of cool y2k-era greebled out shape, but making detailed machinery (or details in general) is not my strongsuit, so I ended up with this kinda neat smooth shape that I wasn't entirely happy with. It looked cool, but I really wanted to challenge myself to make something closer to the windows media player skins I was inspired by.

More Specifically, I referenced this Half-Life 2 windows media player skin heavily, and started with a ring that I could build little pieces and wires off of. I hope u can forgive me if I maybe made it too similar lol, but I tried to get creative and put my own spin on it. I think the shapes on the top left are the most similar to my reference, and those are not-so-coincidentally the first bits that I modeled. This is my first time modeling something in this style, and I suspect that I'll get better at it if & when I do it again.

Finally, I slapped some materials on, made a texture for one of the faces I had sketched out, and rendered out a few frames of it gently(ish) flashing. I then went into affinity photo and made little speedometer components to slot into the small circle in the top right and programmed some functionality to it. The plan is to have the face represent the player's current health, so I am going to need to make a few more and then animate it rotating into a different face. But yeah, I am super happy with it, and I think it is lookin p sick!

Other Stuff What I Made:

Other than the health UI, I also added in functionality and UI for completing a level and selecting a level.

I was very much inspired by killer7 for the sequence that plays when you shoot your target, and I am addicted to intense flashing lights, so I included a lot of that. There are already accessibility options to turn that off, so if it's something that could harm u or if you just hate it (coward????!!!11) you can disable them. I've always found intense effects like that very cathartic, so I'm probably gonna include similar visuals in a few different things I make. That being said, I do also always want to make the alternative visuals (when the accessibility options are enabled) to also be cool af and get the point across. The level select screen was also really fun to make, I basically just slapped together some textures of warn-out paper into a little files situation and placed that on top of an abstract background that I made in jwildfire.

Conclusion:

I have honestly really loved working on this so far, but there has been a lot of anxiety about money in my life lately, so I really do hope to get this out in a reasonable time. I feel like I say that a lot about this game, but it is because it's always on my mind unfortunately. I don't want to make it sound like I am making this game entirely for money or w/e though, it is definitely a labor of love. Anyways, I hope to get to a point where I can get some environment art done soon, and I cannot wait to show off whatever this game is gonna look like. Have a nice day every1!

[writer-darling]

Are You Ever Dreaming of Me?

Chapter 4: Invisible String | Read Chapter 3: Love Story!

I NEVER USE Y/N OR ANYTHING LIKE IT THANK YOU SO MUCH :)

Rating: M - MATURE (for now, but there WILL BE explicit stuff later sooo (18+ MINORS DNI)

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect, 2018) x F!Reader

Warnings: Good old enemies-to-lovers trope. age gap (10 years). Nothing super descriptive for Reader but they are described as having hair. Tension, ofc, especially sexual tension out the wahzoo. Adult language. Alotta feelings and things of that nature. Banter. Fighting. Insults, Flirting. It’s E-to-L, you know where this is going. Feral Ezra (he starts at a 60.6% but ends up at about a 72.8% in this chapter). A bit of violence (in defense of another). A little existentialism. Some crude language. Good ol' sexism (and sl*t-shaming). If there are any that I missed, please inbox me to let me know and I will add them in :)

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary!: A reclusive Ezra decides to take matters into his own hands; he wants a clean slate.

A/N: REWRITTEN AND REFORMATTED ON: 12/27/23

******

“Were there clues I didn't see?

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some invisible string tying you to me?”

It’s a couple of days later before things go back to normal. Well… semi-normal. Ezra seems even more pensive and reclusive than before. His stares continue, but his chattiness is almost kaput, making you wonder what’s going on with him. 

You’re out on the digs when your radio dings before a voice comes over the signal. You pause and switch channels, finding the right signal after some fiddling.

“Colt, good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, sir?” You say, confusion in your voice. He rarely, if ever, used his private channel, preferring to speak to any and all crew members through the group’s shared Channel 5 if you all were using your radios.

“We’ve got one man down. You haven’t seen Ezra today, have you?” You’re a little surprised at his question. Why would he ask you of all people?

“Uh, no sir I have not. I haven’t seen him since last night at dinnertime.” You realize. He makes a nonchalant hum in response.

“Would you mind heading out to look for him? Tell him to get his ass back out here for his shift or he’s not keeping his earnings for the day. I’ve been monitoring him the last few days and he seems… distracted. I need someone to get him to focus.” It’s not a question. You try your best not to sigh and instead press your lips into a thin line for a second.

“....Yes, sir.” With that, you turn towards the tents. You remove your helmet to get some fresh air as you walk, the smell of wet earth still present in the air even though the rain finally stopped the morning before last.

You find Ezra easily, sitting outside the dining tent, under the nearest tree. He’s in his uniform, his helmet beside him, one of his legs is straight out in front of him while the other is bent at the knee, his elbow resting on it as he seems to just be watching the forest, but his gaze is far away.

“Hey,” You say, as you walk up to him. “The boss asked me to come find you. Everyone’s been wondering why you didn’t show up for the morning shift.” You say. One corner of his mouth quirks up into a semi-apologetic smile.

“Figured that was gonna happen.” He says. “I was hopin’ I would hold out ‘til lunchtime, though.”

“Yeah well, everyone’s been missing your cunning wit lately.” You try to sound sarcastic as usual, but it feels more hollow than it usually does. You expect him to smile or at the very least smirk, but his eyes stay on the forest ahead. He grabs a cigarette from his breast pocket, quickly lighting it and then taking a long drag before he finally answers,

“Ya know, rook, over the last few days, I have spent a lot of time thinkin’ about my place in Kevva’s grand scheme.” He says pensively. You raise an eyebrow silently and now he smirks, just for a quick moment. “That ol’ ‘what’s the point of all this?’, ‘what’s my place in the universe?’, etc.” He takes another drag.

“Is this your way of ignoring the subject at hand?” You ask him, as calmly as possible as you lean against the nearest tree, holding your helmet at your hip.

He pauses at your question, his expression blank and for a moment it seems he’s going to argue with you. But, then for several moments, he says nothing, just stares at you in complete silence. "You are correct," he finally says, rising to his feet. "I did not mean to avoid that, my apologies." He says before he smiles a bit. "You have a great way of seein’ to the root of the matter, rook."

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose for a moment.

“What’s going on with you, Ezra?” You ask him. “The boss has been keeping a close eye on you and he says you’ve been out of it. I know we had our… confrontation the other day but that doesn’t mean that you should be so distracted… it’s not like you.” You say, frowning slightly. You’re trying your best to be as neutral as possible.

Ezra takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His brow furrows slightly and he looks at you for one more long moment before speaking as he inhales another bout of smoke.

"I have been... tryin’ to unravel things. The past is a web, rookie. And it is difficult to extricate myself from it. But I must." He says. "There are forces at work that I do not fully understand, and I am tryin’ to grasp them and comprehend why things have occurred as they have." He says, closing his eyes for a moment. "Do you believe me?"

“Forces at work?” You ask. 

He shrugs lightly, “Somethin’ akin to fate or destiny. Maybe divine intervention. One thing I have found is that even the most fated and preordained among us can deviate from their paths. We are not puppets on strings. We are the authors of our own story." Ezra says. "And I am goin’ to write my next chapter."

Your frown deepens slightly. “Ok… well, what does your next chapter include then?”

Ezra's face softens slightly, "Well that is the hard part," he says. "I cannot know, not completely. A writer sets out with a beginning, a middle, and an end. But along the way, things happen, and they change their stories accordingly, yes?” You nod silently and he continues. “Well, perhaps we change the endin’ to accommodate the unexpected. I am simply tryin’ to be the writer of my life." He gives you a light chuckle.

“And… What was it that changed your story?” You ask him.

“You,” Ezra says simply. He gives you a long, hard stare as if trying to see into your heart. After an awkward moment of silence, he finally speaks again. “I have had time to think. To reflect on things I did and said. To put it frankly: I was a fool. The other day at the pool, I asked you why you could not be vulnerable with me. After some necessary self-reflection, I realized how hypocritical and insensitive a question that was. I asked you to be open with me when I have not even offered the same in return.” He smiles a little but it’s a wry and embarrassed smirk before he sombers again. “I wanted to apologize for that.” He says.

“It’s ok.” You say simply. You’re a little shocked that he’s being so open with you like this. This is a side of him you haven’t seen yet. A side you’re not well-equipped to handle. You know arrogant Ezra, you know talkative Ezra, hell you even know angry Ezra. But vulnerable Ezra is a whole other beast. And that makes you feel vulnerable. Because you know damn well no one else on this crew’s ever met this Ezra yet.

Your alarms go off, Denver calling you two back to work and you sigh. “Look, we’ll talk about this later alright? We really should get back to the site.” You say quietly and there’s a hint of regret in your tone. You were genuinely wondering where this conversation was headed

"Yes," Ezra says, "We should." He pauses, takes a deep breath, and turns to face you again. His expression softens, and he speaks. "What we have..." he says, gesturing between the two of you, "...is rare. And it is worth fightin’ for. Never forget that, rook."

With that he turns and walks toward the dig site with you, his head held high, but with a certain softness in the set of his shoulders and the swing of his steps.

When you two return to the site, the stares are obvious. It seems like lately, this is becoming more of a common occurrence. Good to know gossip is genderless and nosy people have seemingly zero limitations. You sigh and begin to work, watching as Ezra goes over to a spot between two prospectors, his expression a little bit lighter than it was when you found him. This time, you’re the one sneaking subtle glances at him and the energy between you two feels different once again. A little calmer but also a little… anticipatory. 

By the end of his shift, Ezra’s made up his mind. He’s going to do something stupid, something that will either make him the happiest he’s been in a while, or that will end in the deepest possible humiliation. He’s going to make an honest plea. He just hopes it’ll be enough.

The day's ending when you go to the dining tent to grab some food. As you enter, you spot Ezra sitting at a table in the corner but you don’t approach him. As you make your way silently to the buffet line, you can feel his eyes on you again but you do your best to just trudge on. You can hear the prospectors mumbling about you and Ezra and the situation earlier, glancing between you both. You roll your eyes at their behavior and get behind two men who keep glancing back at you with interest.

Ezra sighs as he watches you pass him by, not even giving him a second glance. He knows that this isn't exactly the best way to win you over, but he's not sure what else to do. He takes a deep breath, trying to summon up the courage to approach you. Finally, he pushes himself to his feet and starts towards you, not caring what anyone thinks anymore. He's going to tell you exactly how he feels, and hope for the best. But before he can make his plea:

"You think he's banged her, yet?" One prospector asks the other, grinning. The second one looks over at you and looks you up and down. 

"If he hasn't yet, probably one of us will." Your entire face feels like it’s on fire now as red-hot anger goes through you. Your hand is already reaching for your thrower when a movement catches your eye, stopping you.

Ezra stops in his tracks for only a moment at the prospector's crude remark, a burning rage quickly filling his chest. He doesn't even think twice about it, he just marches up to the two men, not even bothering to say anything. He grabs them both by their collars and slams them into the nearest wall, glaring at them with utter contempt. 

Denver stands up to see who’s involved in the commotion but when he sees that it’s Ezra, then his eyes shift to you, he sits back down, though his eyes narrow inquisitively as he watches everything unfold. 

"That's enough," Ezra growls, bringing your attention back to him. "I won't have you talkin’ ‘bout her like that," he says, his voice filled with a fury like you’ve never seen before.

You freeze at Ezra's sudden outburst and a shocked silence fills the dining hall. The two men in front of you go slamming into the wall and they're completely dumbfounded by his reaction too. Ezra's grip tightens around the men's collars, the fury in his eyes burning hot. 

"You'll leave her alone," he says, his tone menacing. "Or I'll break your arms." He slams them into the wall again, this time a little harder, just to put the emphasis on his threat. The two men glance at each other, trying to decide what to do. Finally, one of them nods and lets out a gulp. 

"We didn't mean nothing by it, sir, it was just-" the man tries to explain, but Ezra doesn't give him a chance. He shoves them away and turns, walking straight toward you with a purpose.

You watch him approach and you can't even move, just completely taken aback as he makes his way over to you. Ezra comes to a stop only inches away, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to slow his breathing. He meets your gaze, his face unreadable. Finally, he takes a deep breath, trying to steel himself for what he's about to say. "Rookie," he says as if testing the word. Just hearing your familiar term on his lips sends a wave of emotions through him. "I- I need to talk to you if you will listen..." He trails off, the words seeming to struggle to leave him. Despite his anger from moments before, his tone is gentle, almost timid. He’s not forcing you.

You want to say no and just leave, but he just stuck his neck out for you. You owe him. You see the prospectors all watching you now and you clear your throat uncomfortably. "Fine… but not here." You say and leave your tray on the line. You grab his gloved hand in your own, pulling him out of the tent and away from the crew.

Ezra's hand slips into yours surprisingly easily, and he lets you lead him away from the tent and away from the prying eyes of the prospectors. He follows you in silence, his footsteps quick and steady behind you as his heart feels like it's beating out of his chest. When you two find a more secluded spot, he stops and turns to look at you, taking a deep breath before he begins to speak, the words all tumbling out of his mouth now like water from a broken dam. 

"Look, I know we haven't always gotten along. Hell, I don't even know if you can stand to be around me anymore. But I have somethin’ I-" He stops as the words seem to catch in his throat, just staring at you in silence as he tries to find a way to say what he needs to.

"Wait," You say, taking advantage of his pause as you have a sneaking suspicion where this conversation is going. "Before you go on: thank you." You say simply, seriously. "Thank you for sticking up for me back there."

Ezra pauses, surprised at your gratitude. He had half-expected you to get mad at him, tell him to mind his own business or something. But instead, you thank him. It takes a few seconds for that to fully sink in before he just nods. "Of course," he says, a small smile coming to his face. "You didn't deserve to hear that kind of talk." He shakes his head, as if still disgusted at what the prospectors had said. "No one does."

"Still, you went out of your way to stand up for me, when you didn't have to. That took guts, I respect that." You say firmly, nodding at him

Ezra's smile grows bigger as you compliment him. "Honestly, I was just... pissed off," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've heard these men talk about other women like that, and I know how disgustin’ it can be. I knew I'd regret it if I didn't say somethin’." He sighs, running a hand through his hair, before finally looking back up at you. This is it, he thinks. He can't stall any longer. "Look, I've had my eye on you... for a while now," he says, surprising himself with the confession. "A long while."

You almost laugh, but he's serious. "You're kidding." You say, and it's not a question.

Ezra chuckles a bit, a nervous sound escaping him as he takes a step closer. "No, I don't usually kid about stuff like this," he says sincerely, a soft smile on his face as he stares into your eyes. "I know we've had our problems. Hell, I've probably caused most of ‘em. But... there's somethin’ between us. I know you feel it too. Don't deny it." His look turns more passionate as he waits for your response, just staring into your eyes.

"Ezra, there's no way." You say chuckling now and shaking your head. You drop your arms. "There's just no way."

Ezra's face falls as you laugh, a deep sense of disappointment washing over him. He knew this was a long shot, but he thought - maybe, just maybe - if he laid his heart out, you might... you might just understand. But he was wrong. "Why not?" he asks softly, the hurt apparent in his voice. "Don't you feel anythin’ at all for me? Not even a little?"

"Oh, I feel something alright:" You say, beginning to pace back and forth in front of him. "You annoy me, exasperate me, you frustrate me. Blessed Kevva, you damn near drive me insane!" You say with an incredulous laugh.

He watches as you pace, listening intently to your words. He's taken aback by the intensity of your emotions, but he tries to hide it. "Those aren't exactly the things I was hopin’ to hear," he says, another small chuckle escaping him, this one more morose than the last. "I guess I kind of set my expectations a little too high," he shrugs. "I'm not denyin’ the frustration, though. Blessed Mother knows we've had our fair share. But... that's part of it, isn't it? We've always been complete opposites, and well... I've always thought that was part of the allure."

You shake your head. "Actually, it’s the opposite: we’re too alike. We’re both stubborn, argumentative, quick-tempered.” You're correct, and he smirks in agreement. You keep talking, “And well, while it's true that I had feelings for you once, maybe, I quickly got over that." You say and almost regret admitting it. But if he's laying it all out on the table then so should you.

Ezra is stunned by the confession. He never expected to hear anything like that out of you, and for a moment, he just stares at you. Finally, he takes a breath and tries to gather his thoughts. "Is that so?" he asks, his voice a little more hopeful - his demeanor clearly changed. "I don't suppose you wanna... I don't know, elaborate on that?" His tone is a tad more cautious now.

You sigh and run a hand through your own hair. "I joined this crew five months ago, right?" You ask rhetorically. "I'm the only woman on this team and, and you were the first person I bumped into. Literally. I was going into the dining tent and you were coming out of it at that same moment. There had been some sort of scuffle with you and some other members of the crew and you were so caught up in that, we bumped into each other. But, even though you were upset, you still apologized and briefly smiled at me before you stormed off. And... I remember being... attracted to you… briefly." You trail off for the moment, meeting his eyes for only a microsecond before the embarrassment makes you look away.

"Wow," Ezra mutters, his eyes fixed on you. "That's certainly a more interestin’ story than I remember it." He says in a teasing tone, though he can't hide the surprise in his voice. He stares at you, suddenly finding his words caught in his throat. For a moment, all he can do is think back to that first encounter. He can picture you so clearly, the sunlight streaming through your hair as you stumbled into the dining tent and right into him. He had immediately been drawn to the color of your eyes as they had widened in shock, the shape of your mouth as your lips slightly parted in surprise. But he’d been too flustered and upset to do more than offer a dismissive apology and leave. He shakes his head, still amazed that that little accident led to this.

"Shut up." You mumble with a half-amused smile. "Anyway, I was happy, ya know? I figured I had made a friend, at the very least someone I could talk to while I got settled into this Boys' Club... But then I tried to talk to you a couple of times after that and you just... brushed me off." You say, your eyes accusatory. "It felt like you didn't even care that I existed like you didn't even know I was there! So, I gave up. Found it easier to pretend I hated you until eventually, I did." You finish, sighing with a soft shrug.

Ezra nods as you speak, listening intently as you share your side of the story. He can see the pain in your eyes, and he's filled with regret at the thought that his neglect might have pushed you away for good. But he can also feel a sense of hope, knowing that you once felt something for him. He takes a step forward, closing the distance between you two until you're only inches apart. "Rook, listen to me," he says, seriously now. "I was wrong, okay? I should have paid you more attention, and you deserve better. But that doesn't mean I ever stopped carin’."

"How the hell was I supposed to know that??" You ask. "You annoyed me every hour of the day, you never once talked to me unless it was to make some snarky remark, and you could never look me in the eye unless you were teasing me."

Ezra takes a deep breath, trying to keep his emotions in check. "I should've been better, okay?" he says, meeting your gaze. "I should've let the jokes and sarcasm go for a while. I just didn't realize... well, just how much I was hurtin’ you. I'm sorry. Just... just let me start over again. I'll do better, yeah? Just give me a chance." He says earnestly now, his voice sincere. The ball’s in your court now.

"You want to start over?" You ask him, raising an eyebrow.

He nods, taking your question seriously. "Yes, I do. I wanna start over, from scratch. No sarcasm, no jokes, no nicknames. Just..." He trails off, searching for the right word. "Just honesty," he says. "I promise to be open with you and to be better. To do things right. All I ask is for one chance, and I swear I'll do it right this time. I'll show you that I can be better."

You let his words linger between you two, mulling it over as your eyes glance up at the stars above you. You take a deep breath in and out, feeling conflicted. This could be either the best or the worst thing you've ever agreed to. "Alright... fine." You say after a few tense moments, looking back down and meeting his eyes. "One chance. But that's it. You screw this up and I'll really hate you." You say and even though your tone is lighter, you're being serious.

Ezra breathes a sigh of relief, his whole body relaxing when you finally agree to give him another chance. He can see the trepidation in your eyes, and he knows he needs to tread carefully. But he's willing to do anything to win you over again, and he's fully committed to making this work. "Deal," he says, a smile forming on his face. He extends a hand, looking into your eyes earnestly. 

You hesitate for only a second before you grab his gloved hand in your own, shaking it in agreement. "Deal." You say and offer him a small smile, the most sincere one he's ever garnered from you.

"Good," Ezra says, his smile growing bigger as he shakes your hand firmly. "I promise, I'll do everythin’ in my power to make this work. To make you happy." He says, his tone earnest. "And this time, no more jokes. No more sarcasm. Just two people... tryin’ to make a connection. Just... two friends." He says, hoping that you'll appreciate the sentiment.

You nod and feel a little hopeful and even kind of excited at the idea of this fresh start. "Friends." You say with a soft nod.

Ezra's smile broadens as he hears your response. "Friends," he repeats, his voice full of warmth. He pauses, thinking for a moment. "So then, what do friends do?" He asks, half-joking. "We talk, right?"

"Yeah," You say with a soft laugh. "Though I didn't get a chance to eat, those two jerks at the dining tent ruined my appetite and now I'm too embarrassed to go back in there." You admit.

Ezra's expression softens at that, and he gives you a small smile. "Why don't we go get food somewhere else?" He suggests making a mental note to make sure those two jerks don't mess with you again. "My treat. Just... no talkin’ about work, no sarcasm, no jokes, okay? Just... just two friends, enjoyin’ a meal together." He says. His tone is sincere, but there's also a bit of light teasing in his voice. He wants to make this as easy and comfortable for you as possible.

You raise your brows at him. "Where would we go? We're in the middle of nowhere." You say

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong," Ezra says with a smile, raising a finger in the air. "I know of a special place, just a short walk from here. There's a little spot by the river, perfect for a private, quiet meal. What do you say?"

You mull it over but the idea of a nice quiet place where you two can just talk and set everything from the past aside sounds... really nice. "Ok, lead the way I guess."

******

Ok soooo please ignore the fact that it's been a month since I last updated ok thank you so muuuuuch. I've been crazy busy with grad school stuff and also been traveling quite a bit so I just haven't had the time to edit and post. Whoops. But I'm making up for it - hopefully - by posting this chapter and the previous one all at once! Anyway, that’s it, thanks a million, hope you all enjoyed, and see you in the next one!

Tag List: @pedrocentric @luz-introvertida @castleamc @moralesfish @klara-luise18 @supernaturalgirl89 @december-gal1 @pbeatriz @castleamcc @hillarymurray4 @supernaturalgirl @supernaturalgirl20 @sherala007 @littlemisspascal @practicalghost @donnaa @scorpio-marionette @kayleezra @amandanik23 @maxpbxtch97 @mandy-sings @lowlights @shadesofnerdlygrace @harriedandharassed @carefulnowprincess @amneris21 @horton-hears-a-honk @xdaddysprincessxx @trickstersp8 @mswarriorbabe80 @permanentlydizzy @teddy2510 @bitchwitch1981 @jedi-in-crocs (hope it’s ok that I’m tagging you all!)  

Links!

Join the Tag List here

Ao3 link here

TikTok here

Story Playlist here

The Masterlist here

Read Chapter 5: Gorgeous!

[catsvrsdogscatswin]

Someone asked me to do a part two of my vampire history infodump that covered more modern stuff like Blade and Anne Rice, so here’s an updated version of my reblog in its own separate post:

(Warning: my confident historical coverage of vampiric lore pretty much hits the curb and faceplants right around the time of Dracula.)

That warning being duly given... with the collation of stories spanning the 1800s (such as The Vampyre [1819], Varney the Vampire [1845-47], Carmilla [1872], and Dracula [1897]), the vampire was spring-launched into popular literature with all of the deliciously mental tropes that the Victorians so loved to create. As mentioned, these vampires created the power sets and archetypes that were the initial blueprints for our modern concept of a vampire.

One of the tropes that got baked into the genre was... sensuality, I guess is how you’d phrase it. I know we all joke about sexy vampires, but the physicality (and moral questions built into it) were a part of the vampire concept ever since it got absorbed by the Sturm und Drang crowd and vampires were no longer (solely) the gross corpse of your asshole neighbor.

As I mentioned earlier, part of the lure for Sturm und Drang artists was how inherently unholy and blasphemous vampires were. I won’t divert this into a lecture on Christianity and Catholicism’s more batshit practices, but to cut a very long alternate post short: sex and sexual pleasure were considered immoral. Lust was inherently worse than love.

You’ll see this in period novels a lot: loving something or someone in a spiritual/emotional way makes a character inherently purer and better than someone tied to earthly/mundane/physical pleasures and attachments. Off the top of my head, I can think of examples in Tarzan (the original 1912 novels, not Disney), a number of the Sherlock Holmes stories, and Dracula. The novel goes out of its way to indicate how a character (usually a woman) has a loftier, purer, and just generally better soul because they love spiritually. In modern terms, it’s a bit like the book has her walking around with a punk jacket’s worth of pride/ally pins and charity awards and “every spiritual leader ever says you’re just the bestest” medals.

Because vampires were supposed to be the inverse of goodness, however, much of their actions were tied to physicality, specifically in the crude and sensual way of wanting someone bodily. A lot of the post-Sturm und Drang, pre-modern material uses the eroticism the vampire brings or carries as a threat. 

It’s in several poems, including Lenore: the titular Lenore is lured away onto her fatal midnight ride because her dead fiance told her that he was bringing her to their bridal/marriage bed -which, if he wasn’t dead and obliquely describing a coffin, would traditionally be the bed where he would deflower her to consummate their marriage. In The Vampyre, Lord Ruthven is constantly attracting women and killing them soon after. The horror of the book is heavily founded on how the protagonist is helpless to do anything but watch as Lord Ruthven seduces the women he cares about and then murders them, one after another.

We see this same sensuality-is-a-threat in Carmilla, where she is predatorily obsessed with the female lead, and in Dracula, when Jonathan is almost fed upon by the vampire ladies. There’s more examples in Dracula, but in consideration of how good an example it is (and where we are in DD), I’ll leave it at that one. There’s sexual tension between Jonathan and the three vampire ladies in that scene: it’s erotic, and it’s scary. This scene is meant to show us how horrible and unnatural they are, that they can evoke this primal interest from both us, the readers, and Jon, when we know they will try to hurt him.

(We can also argue that there’s much of the same tension with Jonathan and the Count, with Jon caught between feeling attraction and simultaneously feeling fear, but that’s a post for another time.)

Essentially, early vampires were spooky and threatening because they carried undertones of overt sexual pleasure and carnality, which was taboo according to the conventions of the time. As the pop culture interpretation became fully fleshed out and they became infectious rather than fatal, the horror and threat shifted to how they would make you enjoy these things, whether you initially wanted to or not.

And (as I creep out to the very end of my shaky little branch of knowledge) as the vampire solidified as an idea, this intwined sense of danger and arousal was carried with it. As the vampire became less and less an actual creature people commonly believed in and more and more just another literary device, people started doing what they always do: use said horror device as a metaphor for the current neurosis, fears, and struggles of the time. 

(And repressed desire, because humans are horny and that’s how we do. Sometimes there’s both horror and repressed desire simultaneously.)

There’s a lovely (and true) post going around that explains how you can use trends in horror movies to tell you about what people are afraid of at a certain period in time. And this holds true for vampires!

One of the big landmarks after Dracula itself was the black and white film Nosferatu, made in Germany in 1922. Although this is a matter of debate due to the director knowing and being friendly with a number of Jewish people, both the film and the vampire within it, Count Orlok, have been stated to hold significant anti-Semitic overtones. Count Orlok has features that mimic caricature-esque depictions of Jewish people and brings plague-carrying rats to the innocent German town he invades, which reflects the rising anti-Semitic sentiments of the era and the location.

I Am Legend, which was originally a novel written in 1954, also reflected the horror of the day, which was concern over what nukes would do and what they would leave behind. A pandemic has turned every human on earth into vampiric creatures, and one man is left to stand against them. This got adapted into film not once, not twice, but three times, the most recent of which is I am Legend (2007) starring Will Smith.

I admit that I have very little knowledge beyond the surface of the Interview with a Vampire series (the first book of which was published in 1976), but if said knowledge is correct, vampirism partially serves as a metaphor for both homosexuality and the changing attitudes around it. They live among us, indistinguishable from us until they make one specific action to out themselves, and then they aren’t recognizably us anymore. They’re frightening, but there’s a curiosity about them, and a growing (perhaps fatal) urge to find out more. The vampire serves as a vehicle for the horror of “maybe this will be fine, maybe this will damn you forever, and there’s no way to tell which one it’ll be until it’s too late.”

We can also thank/blame Interview with a Vampire for being one of the stories that first began to nudge vampire media towards the dark/paranormal/tragic romance. The other major contributor was the original run of Dark Shadows in 1966-71.

There are also doubtless a number of other examples of vampire media from 1900-1998. Off the top of my head, I do not remember any of them, or know enough about those that I do remember to talk about them (i.e. Buffy the Vampire Slayer).

In regard to Blade, however; I will, first of all, admit that my knowledge is limited solely to the three Wesley Snipes movies; Blade (1998), Blade II (2002), and Blade: Trinity (2004), which I believe deviate significantly from the comics. However, vampirism-as-a-metaphor for the contemporary horror/fears of the day still tracks! 

In the movies, at least, vampirism is treated as a metaphor for the risks of modern society, particularly viruses and viral carriers. In each movie, vampires hunt for -and find- prey at nightclubs and other slightly-seedy locations, and they tend to feed on the young and uninhibited --the subtext being our fear of catching STDs. 

Vampirism is explicitly viral: Blade “catches” it in the womb after his mother is bitten and gives birth prematurely (paralleling birth defects created by parents carrying a virus), and the strain that causes vampirism is compared to cancer in the second movie onscreen. Blade II’s main conflict also comes from him having to deal with a mutant strain of vampirism that infects even other vampires, removing their weakness to silver and garlic at the cost of their intelligence and functioning metabolism. (Invoking the horror of evolving viruses.) Blade: Trinity has him dealing with Dracula, the patient zero who has a super-strain of vampirism.

While I’m sure there’s a whole lot more I’m missing due to knowing sweet-jolly-fuckall about the Blade comics (and superhero stuff in general), in the Blade movies, vampirism in general is partially used as a vehicle/metaphor for our fear of viral infection and disease: this being one of the few things we, as modern humans, are still largely as helpless against as our ancestors were. 

(This particular fear is also why there’s been an uptick in zombie movies within the past few decades. Fun fact!)

I am contractually obligated to mention the Twilight (2005-2008) series. While it certainly wasn’t the first vampire romance designed for teenagers, Twilight is notable for basically nailing the target audience of teenage girls and encapsulating a lot of their feelings and struggles. The way it was written gave said girls a sense of new power and embraced vampiric sensuality full-heartedly, which was what made it a landmark in vampiric literature history.

That isn’t to say modern vampires aren’t still used for full-on villains and horror. Vampireology (2010) and the Vampire Plagues series (2004-2006) are the only two examples I can really think of off the top of my head, but in both cases, vampirism is an unholy metamorphosis that strips away your very soul. In Vampireology, faint echoes of the human personality remain, but in Vampire Plagues, the memories and knowledge are really the only thing that’s left: everything else is lost as the new vampire becomes an undyingly loyal puppet for the evil god that is their master. In both cases, vampirism is explicitly a curse and an act of evil, and vampires are unequivocally the enemy.

However, the 2000-2010 decade was basically the last nail in the coffin (heh) that had the majority of modern vampire depictions shifting over from “evil undying spawn of Hell” to “personable, if not outright sympathetic.” Nowadays, vampires tend to be neutral creatures, antiheroes, or even sometimes just plain good guys. Vampires are used outside of horror to explain superhero-esque power sets or scifi tropes. There’s supernatural vampire romances without even a hint of horror in the classic sense. Quite a shift from Dracula!

In summation, thanks to its incredibly long pedigree and wide folkloric spread, the modern vampire is a literary device that content creators can use pretty much however they damn well like. There are so many traits that vampires have been given over the decades that you can basically just cherry-pick want you want and go, blending it with other genres and literary conventions as you feel necessary (or interesting). The history is already right there, which also what makes it rather difficult to put a truly new spin on any vampire media: usually, someone, somewhere, has already done it before.

Vampires are an inverse of what’s good, a parasite, a blood-born pathogen, an unholy creature from beyond the grave, a tragic victim, a spreader of disease, a mystic/exotic threat, a dark fantasy, a hidden minority, etc. etc. You can use them for horror, religious symbolism, sociocultural ideas, romance, superhero origin stories, an additional monster in your bestiary, an aesthetic filter over your fantasy species, even more etc. etc.

In conclusion:

[turoce]

that ask meme for. Uh. Quinn?

Quinny-Quinn-Quinn....

How I feel about this character: she's THE woman of these games. there is no mama of Papa Louie (?) but Quinn comes close enough. the aunt that comes every [insert closing day here] maybe? she's also the one that gets the most hits from players of the game, due to being a closer... and (to put it crudely) because she's a woman. in my head she's like this:

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Timm? i suppose? i'm a little confused with what i think of the pairing... i defos do like them together but every situation i think for the duo is usually comedic over romantic, aheh...

My non-romantic OTP for this character: i've seen so many posts talking about a Jojo and Quinn friendship and i've accepted that headcanon. it just makes sense. this one's gonna sound silly but i think Yippy and her are friendly. i saw the two sitting together in a Mocharia intro once and the idea that Quinn, being the responsible adult she is, would teach Yippy stuff that she happened to be curious about. how did Yippy get a hold of such a busy lawyer? it says in her scout's guidebook that people will do anything to get a hold of delicious cookie scout cookies, so... ;)

My unpopular opinion about this character: people should draw her more square. i see skinny hourglass shape Quinn a lot but i think fat Quinn would be cute.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: she takes a little break from being a lawyer/closer and her niece comes to replace her for a single game, both as a closer and a lawyer. i say this more because that trope is funny to me but i do hope she can get a break.

my OTP: i don't actively do it, but it feels wrong to not put Quinn and Timm together.

my cross over ship: i don't fuckin know. put her together with Larry from pokemon, overworked characters unite.

a headcanon fact: she's taller than Timm. though i do headcanon Timm to be short too so it isn't a very impressive feat.

[nuttyrabbit]

I genuinely liked all the obscure Sonic Facts that Greeny would post about! It sucks, but I found them really interesting!

However, the constant Ian Flynn bashing was really annoying. I understand not liking his writing style, it’s not perfect and can be criticized. But I swear to fuck, he would complain about the tiniest things!

Then he would talk about Flynn stans and how they sucked his dick constantly. I’m sorry to say this, but Greeny was hate-sucking Ian’s dick constantly!!!!

I don’t usually follow drama in the Sonic Fandom, since I’m too old to be getting angry over stupid things. I just stay in my lane, occasionally read fanfics for my ships, reblog theorizing/positive posts and cute fanart. Like, I think fandoms should be fun, so I try to have fun.

I followed Greeny since, as I said, I like the trivia they posted about and wanted to learn more.

At some point though, I think I became embarrassed to like IDW Sonic because of how much Greeny and their group would criticize Flynn and Evan. I took a break from the comics because the zombot arc had exhausted me, but I think reading the constant criticism made me not want to pick it back up. I still haven’t picked IDW Sonic back up.

I also feel like it’s gotten worse over the years. Like, I don’t remember seeing this type of stuff, or at least not as much complaining, back when I first started following Greeny.

Eventually, I stopped having fun and enjoy my time with Greeny’s posts. I felt like it made me more ashamed of what I enjoyed, and that’s not how I want to spend my time. It wasn’t even thoughtfully negative, it was just mean-spirited.

I recently stopped following Greeny, I think before Frontiers came out. He had made a post bashing the Flynn’s dialogue in one of the leaked cutscenes at the time (when Sonic first encounters the voice). Then he made another post translating the Japanese of that scene… and it was literally the exact same fucking sentence!!!!

I realized then that I was done with Greeny, that he was going to criticize the English dialogue for the entire fucking game. And I didn’t want to deal with it.

I wanted to try and enjoy Sonic Frontiers with being ashamed!

Sorry for the super long rant. Didn’t expect this ask to be a novel. I know you weren’t really talking about Greeny, but I’ve been holding this in and I just needed to air out my grievances.

You don’t have to answer or even post this ask, I just needed to get this off my chest. Again, sorry.

Honestly anon, I'm glad you posted this because my experience was very similar. For a long time I followed Greeny because they had good insights and made good posts, and even thought they acted cunty sometimes and had opinions that I thought were outright ignorant, I generally let it slide because things were relatively civil

But then yeah, the Zombot Arc brought out the worst in her and a lot of people, including me. God going back to my posts from that time is exhausting because I was furiously debating every one of these people and we were all being brick walls about it, and I could feel the discourse get naster and nastier.

It was around that time I remember her and the other people in her group just getting meaner in general and becoming very hateful towards Ian specifiaclly. Like they didn't like him a ton before but it became downright vitriolic and it felt like even discussing the guy in anything other than a negative light was a reason for them to jump down your throat

Even after the Zombot arc ended, shit remained so toxic that it was one of the reasons (well that and just my focus shifting from Tumblr in general) I just kinda left this site and didn't really look back, because it was getting to the point where I was dreading every issue coming out for the inevitable fucking discourse.

From the looks of it, it seemed like it only got worse with time, especially with the release of Frontiers.

Here's my ultimate fucking take. Greeny is entitled to her opinions, however crudely worded or wrong or bad faith they may be. But people are also entitled to call her out on her opinions and attitudes or just flat out ignore them, much as they are with anyone else's opinions, including mine.

The only reason I got involved in all of this shit was because I vented an opinion on Twitter and it got out of hand. Most of the time, I'm like you and just content to vibe in the fandom and talk about whatever, and I'd like to go back to that. I'd much rather be talking about my fucking OCs and my verse than dumb fandom drama bullshit

But like I said, I'm glad you sent this both to get it off your chest and to give me the chance to do the same. At this point I've just had so many bad experiences in this fandom (some of them of my own doing I will freely admit) that it's hard to care anymore. But I don't think anyone should be afriad to speak up about anyone in this fandom, even someone like Greeny or Crusher or a popular artist or whomstever the fuck

[nanjokei]

how do you even say you like 90s, 00s anime without either sounding like a teenager with an animecore blog who doesn't actually watch anything and just mines the internet for pictures or some kind of reddit nerd ass elitist. those are just the anime that were dubbed in arabic when i was a kid (and were arguably still contemporary and pretty new anyway) so i like the conventions, and ofc the anime dvd era was also heavily nostalgic for me, the reason i love vobsub (you know those ugly ass image based yellow subtitles). i love the era where most studios had no idea how to deal with digipaint and some had much more success than others with it, other times the product was so crude the modern sense in you would make you wonder "how the fuck did they put this out on tv, then home markets". i'm not a fool that goes "it was better back then" because a lot of the shit coming out then was pure junk that was never gonna age well, and time has done those things great kindness by leaving them in that era.

i also like the stuff that came out any time. i'm not really gonna put myself in a box here. i love the early 10s, that was the last era where i feel like the anime community was watching things as a COMMUNITY. last season was great cause with g-witch and bocchi the rock and whatever else, it felt like people were watching things they wouldn't usually touch (mecha and CGDCT SoL) and they did it at the same time so there was a sense of camraderie and people actually discussed things.

i feel like the industry is in shambles after streaming companies came in with their investments and publishing companies like kadokawa got too brave. ironically i think a lot of anime is still really good, not really my issue here. it's more like because there's so much anime airing all the time the sense of community is lost, and with the crisis of overwork to meet the demands of sniveling brats who only want """sakuga""" and manga compositions being copy and pasted onto the screen in color for 20 minutes has rendered that most anime are either one cour ir they're a split cour. i really do not like split cours, even when studios try to avoid it there's always the need to have the 13th episode have a feeling of finality despite the story being ongoing... it's jarring.

honestly i just miss the most random fucking anime having like 50 episodes unprovoked. i want nature(the people who make anime and its ecosystem) to heal and i want netflix and crunchyroll and petulant little nerd boys who don't understand how animation and anime adaptations work to DIE.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super 010

Okay, let’s see if I can knock out the entire God Goku vs. Beerus fight tonight.

Before I get too deep in the weeds, I’d like to take a moment to point out some particularly ugly examples of the character models in this series. 

Ugh...

This show always goes for far-away shots of large groups of characters, and they always look revolting. 

And sometimes even the close-ups look wretched. 

Really, I can’t even explain why these are so unpleasant to look at.  It just feels like a really half-assed effort was put forth.  Like, I’m not much of an artist, but looking at this stuff reminds me of my own work, where I sort of just go for it and accept that the end result might not look quite right, but I’m still pleased with it just for getting it done.  Which is fine for unskilled amateurs like me, but it really feels like early Dragon Ball Super was animated by an entire team of people with that same mindset.

Fans have always given Yukio “Triangle Guy” Ebisawa a lot of crap over the decades, what with his ridiculously off-model and often-ugly style.   But I like his stuff way better than the lukewarm crude we see in early-Super and about half of GT. I’m not saying you have to love Ebisawa’s style, but at least when he breaks the rules you can tell he’s going for something.  He’s trying to make the characters look intense and dynamic.  He’s turning them all into triangles for a reason.  There’s a purpose to it, even if we might find it garish or laughable. 

Compare this with a typical shot from GT, and you can see what I mean.  That’s Mr. Satan punching Uub out of the ring to win the tournament, but it looks more like Uub is standing on a box while Satan rubs his knuckles gently against his abs.  That shot of Vegeta above looks way, way more impactful, and he’s not even fighting. 

Generally speaking, Super does a better job making action sequences look intense, although that’s not saying much. Like GT, there’s a lot of shortcuts taken where characters just stare each other down, rush together, and launch big energy blasts instead of doing any kind of complex combat sequences

But then the show constantly switches back to the bystanders to get their reaction, and they always look like crap.  Vegeta’s face is basically frozen that way for the next three episodes.  Bulma’s supposed to be flipping out and Krillin’s supposed to be astonished, but it’s all half-measures.  Whoever drew this was just putting forth the minimum effort.  The characters look like they’re supposed to look, but there’s no oomph there. 

Compare to this shot of Dende, Mr. Satan, and Bee hiding in the bushes.  It’s a lot more expressive, interesting composition.  Mr. Satan’s head is exaggerated, but it helps get across his emotions.  

Anyway, this is just something I wanted to bring up Super always invites comparisons to Z and GT.  And as bad as Super can be, it usually trumps GT simply by having characters look and act like they did in Z, but they often look dull or unimpressive, which makes the show look like a pale imitation of Z. 

But I’ve gotten waayyy off-track.  Let’s talk about the fight.

Actually, there isn’t a whole lot to say here.  In the Battle of Gods movie, they started with Beerus kind of going easy on Goku, giving him a chance to get acquainted with the Super Saiyan God form.  Here, DBS #10 just turns that into a whole episode.  Gradually, Beerus ramps up the offense, and Goku gets more confident with his power, until he finally reverses a punch from Beerus into a grapple. 

Then he flicks Beerus’s forehead with his finger...

... and gives him a chop to the shoulder, just as Beerus did to SSJ3 Goku on King Kai’s planet.

Beerus finds this unseemly, but he can respect Goku wanting revenge for how Beerus humiliated him in their last encounter.  Personally, I don’t think this suits Goku as a character.  Also, Beerus isn’t anywhere close to using his full strength, so if he didn’t want Goku to manhandle him this way, he would just break loose, so this all seems kind of pointless to me.

Anyway, now that Goku seems to have a handle on his new form, they agree to fight more seriously, while Bulma and a lot of her guests try to follow the action in some sort of aircraft she keeps aboard her ship.  And the Pilaf Gang are taking a nap. 

Yeah, now I remember.  So they saw the Dragon Balls being used earlier, so they returned to the ship to find them, only to discover most of the partygoers were gone, and then Whis shared a “dinner encore” with them, and now they’re sleeping it off.

[travelguideliv]

BEFORE YOU FOLLOW…

<- nav

WARNINGS (BLOG WILL INCLUDE)

-> suggestive/crude humour (cussing, kys/kms, etc.)

-> possible spoilers (usually not on the writing blog, but if you visit my yap blog there are livetweets of me watching aot)

-> probably excessive posting. I get bursts of energy, write, and then try to get them out of the drafts ASAP

DO NOT INTERACT — mdni accounts, if you post strictly nsfw/porn/twt links, discrimination of any kind (towards religion, lgbtq, diff races, etc.) this is a fun place, don’t make it suck. If you wanna argue my dms are open (doesn’t mean I’ll respond tho)

PLEASE INTERACT! — asks, aot luvvers, yappers, MOOTS, ages 13-18, philosophy fanatics, just interactive people overall!!! I love talking about stuff as long as I know what’s going on lmfao

BOUNDARIES

-> asks—open open open!!! I’m always open to chat, I love talking to people on here especially when we have common interests

-> reqs—I don’t really get these lmfao, but yeah they’re open. Just remember that it’s a request, so don’t write the whole story in the ask!! It’s pretty hard to get the feel of it when there’s a whole essay of expectations (this happens more than you think, on an old writing blog I got like 300 words in one ask)

-> socials—mutuals are encouraged to ask for socials!!! The only social I have linked with this account (as in faceless, not personal) is discord, so I think that’s a good place to start.

-> following—I don’t mind people asking to be mutuals, in fact I prefer it to you expecting a follow back and being upset if you don’t get one. Please don’t ask to be moots if we’ve never interacted, it’s obvious that you care more about the status/follow than making friends, and that’s not my motive. Aaaannyway, I usually only follow writers and people who interact a lot with me, I’m scared to follow first I fear… so don’t be shy!!!

[psycho-scribbler]

and here's part two yiaaaa

Flytrap

Part one: The Flies (2nd entry)

I woke up with way more sleep goo in my eyes than usual.

I sat up with a sigh, sweeping my legs over the side of the bed as I rubbed the goop out of my eyes.

At this point I’d spent roughly four months in the house, I’d gotten used to a new routine and spent my days editing papers for work and selling tiny handmade trinkets as I listened to music and podcasts.

It was calm and cozy, though I did miss meeting up with all my friends back in the city. I knew for sure that we’d have a blast playing D&D out here in the woods, but that meant cleaning out the all too creepy basement, which I wasn’t very inclined to do at the moment.

But I’d done a bunch of other stuff: I’d renovated the kitchen with the help of my two gym bro buddies Nathan and Ulrik, and my bestie Anna had come over to help me set up fairy lights all over the house while we shared the latest gossip and some herb tea.

Other than that, I’d called a locksmith to replace the locks right away and a carpenter to help me replace the floor.

But that hadn’t worked quite as expected.

In fact, I was just now getting up to go grab a coffee and call the carpenter again, to see why he’d been so damn reluctant to come here and help me with the creaky floor.

I got up from my bed and put on some wooly socks and a thick hoodie, refraining from putting on any pants.

I hadn’t shaved in a long while, so the hair and gradual cold had toughened up my skin a bit. I could stand the cold a lot better now, but I still got cold feet during the night. And an increase in nightmares, surprisingly.

After checking the clock - it was 8 AM, almost 9 - I left my room and turned right down the corridor that led to the kitchen and living room.

The place was pretty big for a log cabin, and I could easily house both my friend groups in the kitchen and living room alone. Both groups were around seven people each, so it was pretty spacy here.

But now that I was alone, it almost felt a little… unnerving.

The space was so open and empty, yet the walls of the house buzzed with life from the outside, leaving the inside perhaps warm but almost feeling unsettled… even when I was living here. I couldn’t help but feel that I was out of place, despite everything I’d done to make this place my own.

I could manipulate the material, but I couldn’t change the mold. If anything, I was the one who had to change to fit in.

But I ignored that and started the coffee maker, beginning to make myself a grilled cheese sandwich.

As the coffee brewed and the sandwich was left without the top layer of cheese, I grabbed my laptop and phone and pulled up the number of the local carpenter in the nearby town, as well as a carpeting company my dad had recommended once I’d told him about the issue with the creaky floors.

They seemed to be creaking even when I was in bed, as if there was something underneath. I was a little paranoid that there might be animals under there, but I wasn’t too worried.

I decided to call the carpenter after the breakfast was finished. Then I’d probably be friendlier, too - it was already 10 AM, and I wasn’t much of a morning person.

But, well… now I was reminded of that small but infinitely fucking annoying problem that’d been plagueing me since the beginning of spring.

Two green-shimmering flies were perched atop my half-finished sandwich. I’d left those slices of bread and cheese on the counter for just a mere three minutes, and the pests were already descending upon my food.

I let out a sigh and waved the flies away, thinking I would just be dealing with the fact that two of those disgusting critters had sat on the food I was going to eat. But once I picked the sandwich up, I could see that there actually were dirty spots on the ham now, so I threw away that slice and finished up the sandwich before putting it in a frying pan.

Then I was crudely reminded that I’d forgotten to put a cup in the coffee machine, so some of the precious chocolate-colored liquid was lost to the coffee catcher.

‘Goddamnit’, I muttered, turning back to my sandwich before it got burnt or something. Had my memory gotten worse, or was I just clumsier than usual?

It didn’t take long to finish up my breakfast, and then I could sit down at the dinner table with a less-than-full cup of coffee, a fly-tainted grilled cheese, and a decreasing level of patience as the ring of an unanswered phone call beeped over and over. The fucking carpenter wouldn’t answer. Again.

‘Well, guess I’m gonna have to call that company’, I sighed lightly, putting down my phone to search it up on my laptop. Lucky for me, it was actually charged. At least I had that going for me.

‘Hi, thank you for calling Nordic Quality Builds, what can I do for you today?’ A slightly shrill female voice said.

‘Hello. I’d like to book a carpenter to check out the floors in my house. They’re all creaky, even when no one’s walking around, and it’s becoming a real pain in the ass.’

‘Sounds horrible, sir’, the woman said. I scoffed.

‘Ma’am’, I corrected her. Insane how people mistook my voice for being male - guess it just was that deep.

‘I apologize, ma’am’, the lady quickly said.

‘I just need someone to come over and see if it’s possible to fix the creaking without too much work, so-’

‘I’m sorry, are you the new owner of the Stockthorne house down in Ramhulta?’

‘Yes’, I answered, slightly annoyed. What was the deal now? Was she also going to decline my request and ghost me? I just wanted to walk around on floors that didn’t creak, goddamnit.

‘I’m sorry ma’am, the previous owner strictly told us not to do any renovations on his house’, the lady said apologetically. ‘I don’t know why, but I haven’t heard of any construction company that was ever allowed to work on that house. He’s a bit infamous for that, that man.’

I let out a sigh. ‘So I can’t get anyone to help me get rid of the creaking?

‘Unfortunately, I think not, ma’am. But have a good day, regardless.’

I hung up and leaned back in my chair with another sigh, grabbing my cup of coffee and taking a sip.

So I couldn’t get rid of the creaking floors. I sure as hell wasn’t doing it on my own, not until summer. Then my friends and family would have more free time to come help me out rather than now.

Well, I did want to get the pipes fixed. The water pressure had been pretty low, but maybe I could fix that myself instead of paying someone to do it. The more I learnt to do myself, the better.

But now I had to get to working. I had a long day ahead of me.

[bixbythemartian]

(unfortunately I messed up and the fourth image description should read "AN UNKNOWN WOMAN FOUND DEAD MARCH 25, 1837", thank you to @evonnagale for catching my typo.)

I wanted to reblog with just the image descriptions before I dug into context on SC-B1, because the story about that is a fucking bummer, and it's stuff I didn't know.

the infant's grave is notably different than the other grave markers. it's in very poor condition, even though it is likely the youngest grave. it appears to have been made by amateurs, unlike the other gravestones, and hasn't been cared for or upkept, unlike the other gravestones. and it was shocking to me that the first baby who died of aids was buried without a name, I thought maybe I would find one.

What I found was mass, unmarked graves.

SC-B1 was in the first batch of AIDS deaths to be buried in the potter's field. There were 17 bodies, and the grave diggers were inmates from Riker's Island jail. They were uncertain about whether or not the dead were contagious, so the bodies were buried away from all the other bodies, and the inmates took extra precautions- burying them deeper than usual, wearing PPE.

There are an estimated 1 million graves on Hart Island. Of these, AIDS deaths are likely to account for thousands. The New York Times article I found on this (link at the end) has this to say:

Trying to pin down the precise number of those with AIDS buried on Hart Island is difficult. A longstanding stigma about the island and criticism that the burial practices are crude and outdated have made city officials reluctant to provide many details. Officials at several city agencies involved in the burials refused interview requests to discuss the issue and insisted that no data or any other information was available on AIDS burials. But piecing together an estimate is possible by surveying the many hospitals that treated AIDS patients during the epidemic and sent bodies to potter’s field. By that accounting, the number of AIDS burials on Hart Island could reach into the thousands, making it perhaps the single largest burial ground in the country for people with AIDS.

Once it became clear that the dead were unlikely to spread AIDS, they were buried in mass graves, marked with plaques that indicate it is a mass grave, but not who is in it. (This is, from what I can tell, standard practice on Hart Island.)

Some people were buried there because their family wouldn't claim the body and didn't care what happened to them, other people were buried here because literally no other cemetery or graveyard that they contacted would accept AIDS patients, at the time. (Or would, but charged outrageous fees to do it.)

In the 80s, Hart Island closed to public visitors, and would not reopen to any public visitation until 2014.

I want to reiterate that. Many people were forced, by circumstances, to allow their dead to be buried in anonymous, mass graves, that they were not permitted to visit. Possibly the largest mass grave for AIDS in the country, and it was off limits.

There's also a large number of people who died from Covid buried on Hart Island, I saw an estimation from 2021 that up to a tenth of the people who died of Covid in NYC were buried on Hart Island. Again, the number is in the thousands.

There is some good news. Hart Island has now been transferred to the Parks Department and is being made open to the public. (Because of the size of the ferry, there's a lottery system for tickets.)

There's a lot of work being done in an attempt to reduce the anonymity of the graves- people pouring through public records and hospital records.

And also to reduce the stigma of being buried there- many people will continue to have no choice, because burial there is free. I'm not sure how I feel about that, entirely, but I do appreciate that people who have no choice but to be buried there are now going to be overseen by people who want to make it nicer and more acceptable.

From what I can tell, inmates will no longer be doing the burials, either.

The people who are in charge of Hart Island now want to make it more public, make it a nice park to visit, reduce the stigma of being buried in a potters field, and help people find their beloved dead. They've been refurbishing the island, and apparently genuine funerals are taking place there, now, not simply burials.

So it does seem like a lot is improving, and the people running the Hart Island Project are very intent on making it a better space to visit and be buried in.

As a bummer coda, I couldn't find anything more about Special Child. From what I've read, it's likely that their mother was also in that first batch of deaths.

Links:

Find a Grave for Special Child: https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/63661652/special-child

The Hart Island Project About page: https://www.hartisland.net/about

New York Times article on the AIDS burials (archive link): https://web.archive.org/web/20230526022026/https://www.nytimes.com/2018/07/03/nyregion/hart-island-aids-new-york.html

New York Times article on the Covid-19 burials (archive link): https://web.archive.org/web/20231010005708/https://www.nytimes.com/2021/03/25/nyregion/hart-island-mass-graves-coronavirus.html

Gothamist article about the opening of Hart Island to the public: https://gothamist.com/news/hart-island-burial-site-for-1-million-new-yorkers-opens-to-the-public

unknown graves

[cheeryjester]

Wizard Platformer Pt. 2

From where i left it last time I've made a few more additions to the game, namely, a healing flask, a better attack animation, a dash, a counter on the HUD for Crystals collected and away to complete the level and move to the next.

While that stuff is all well and good, the first thing on my list was to finish putting every single object into a group which made things a lot easier.

I added sounds and cleaned up my attack animation by removing some redundant frames to speed it up. I also made the player unable to cancel their attack by locking them out of any of their usual controls during the animation. This would force the player to think about when to attack as they cannot immediately escape from an enemy while doing so.

I then added a Healing Flask which could be picked up and refill one of the player's health

I also implemented a dash using Gdevelop's preset horizontal dash behaviour for platformer characters. While it is an excellent base, it does feel quite clunky and will need many tweaks in the future, though i have just left it as is for now

I then added the Crystals and Lvl_Complete variables to the scene.

This was to allow my new HUD text element to count the Crystals the player had collected, which leads into the next addition...

Collecting the specified amount of Crystals in the Level (in this case 7) would trigger the lvl complete variable to be switched to true, now, this does not immediately complete the level as that would be boring, and probably very jarring, to the players. This is why the level continues, spawning in an obelisk which floats and plays a humming noise, which the player will be curious about

As such, completing the level is instead tied to reaching the obelisk and pressing "E" to complete the level and be teleported to the next area.

This is very crude at the moment but does work correctly at least. In the future, rather than immediately teleporting the player, there would be some kind of "Warp" animation. There would also be a text box with a button prompt to inform the player that they need to press the "E" key specifically.

That's all for now. 🫡