#this is my first time drawing anything on my phone

[maichan808]

After several comments on my recent protest posts expressing a desire to join the fray, but lacking information on where to start, I decided to take a Julius Caesar stab at this primer:

PROTESTING FOR DUMMIES: A Primer for the First-Time Protester

HOW ARE Y’ALL FINDING OUT ABOUT THESE PROTESTS???

On TikTok, they have been using code words to circumvent algorithmic suppression of certain search terms. PER THE FIRST RULE OF FIGHT CLUB…. 

On reddit, the recent nationwide State Capitol protests were coordinated via the r/50501 community. For those who were wary of the group’s bona fides, they have since partnered with r/Political_Revolution et al. to help them with organizational efforts going forward. 

Plus, there are tried and true grassroots organizations like Indivisible (the group responsible for saving Obamacare). I personally recommend visiting Indivisible’s mobilize page for help finding events, both in-person and virtual. And join their Stop the Coup mailing list to keep up with ways to take action wherever you live.

WHAT SHOULD I BRING TO A PROTEST? A catchy sign. Keep the message simple and use thick, large lettering for the best impact. Also, don’t forget to make your sign double-sided as half of the protesters are likely behind you.

A friend or two. Safety in numbers is a cliché for a reason. If you must go alone, make friends with any protesters nearby.

A soft-sided water bottle. Stay hydrated, but don’t let that 40oz Stanley mug turn into a potential weapon.

Some snacks. High-nutrient snack foods like energy bars or trail mix work best. Also don’t forget to clean up after yourself. 

A backpack or crossbody bag. To carry all your stuff and keep your hands free.

A face mask. Covid, flu, and RSV infections are spiking across the country. Even Tuberculosis is making a comeback, so keep yourself healthy. And just in case shit goes down, IT WILL BE THAT MUCH HARDER TO IDENTIFY YOU IN THE FOOTAGE. And on that note…

Avoid wearing anything personally identifying. Stick to nondescript muted colors, avoiding large logos/emblems, and cover up any tattoos. 

Consider leaving your phone at home or adjusting your phone settings for added protection against surveillance. Write down emergency phone contacts on a small notecard, or better yet, on your arm with a Sharpie. And always notify people ahead of time whenever you will be attending a protest, so they can make sure you return safely and without incident. 

YOU SOUND LIKE A PARANOID, PREPPER. WHY I GOTTA DO ALL THAT? It’s for your own safety and protection. Protests have been largely peaceful thus far, but don’t give Trump any excuse to call in the Feds or use the National Guard against protesters AGAIN.

And the larger the protest, the more likely it will attract bad actors. It just takes one person to try to incite violence in a peaceful protest. If you’re able, always attempt to de-escalate or call out someone trying to start shit. If you’re not in a position to intervene, once you see the tide turning, slowly move away from the area without drawing attention to yourself.

Also, avoid protesting at night. Peaceful daytime protests can quickly turn violent under the cover of darkness. And without fail, the police will use the first hint of violence as an excuse to declare an “unlawful assembly”, giving them grounds to arrest you if you do not disperse.

Finally, always be aware of your surroundings. YEAH, THAT SUS DUDE IN STEEL-TOED BOOTS WHO DIDN’T EVEN BRING A SIGN IS TOTES A COP.

WHAT IF I GET HURT? To be frank, if you are attending a protest where the majority of participants are NOT white, the use of crowd control weaponry (i.e. tear gas, pepper spray, rubber bullets, or sound cannons) goes up exponentially. If you are attending under such circumstances, consider packing a first-aid kit, extra water (to flush your eyes), and ear plugs (for sonic weapons). Larger, permitted protests will typically have a medic on hand as well.

WHAT IF I AM STOPPED BY THE POLICE? See the ACLU’s page for more detail, but in short, ask if you are free to leave. If you are NOT being arrested, you have the right to walk away calmly. If you ARE being arrested, STFU. No seriously, STFU. Refuse to answer any questions and ask for a lawyer. And under NO circumstances, should you sign ANYTHING without an attorney present.

WHY SO SRS??? YOU’RE MAKING ME RETHINK THIS WHOLE PROTEST THING.

This is the reality of protesting under a fascist-leaning government. We still have rights, but they are on life support every second that Trump and the Muskrat continue their reign of destruction. All the more reason to screw your courage to the sticking place AND MAKE YOUR VOICE BE HEARD!

OK, BUT WHAT IF I’M NOT QUITE READY TO GO FULL ANTIFA. WHAT ELSE CAN I DO? Do not give in to hopeless despair. Not everyone is equipped to be on the frontlines, but you can still support in other ways. You could host a sign-making event for other protesters. You could boycott companies that have rolled back their DEI policies. You could protest in smaller numbers at the local office of your US Senator. You could flood the ICE tip lines with fake reports. Hell, you could even lawfully obstruct an ICE arrest. If there’s one thing we tumblr folks know how to do, it’s be CHAOS AGENTS. Get creative and tell the enemy to GARGLE YOUR BALLS!

WHAT IF I AM A TEENY BLUE SPECK ADRIFT IN A RED SEA? Can’t find an event near you? Visit one of the local offices of your US Senator in your home state. Constituents may email or call, but actually showing up in-person is next level PISSED. Right now, GOP Senators are the only ones with the power to oppose Trump’s cabinet. Make them fight for you and pushback against Trump’s nominees. Democrats can only slow down and obstruct, but without GOP help, they simply don’t have the numbers to stop Trump from installing a baby killer and Russian asset to his regime.

ANYTHING ELSE??? Call your Congresspeople daily. Use 5calls.org to find the numbers for your US Rep and US Senators. The site also provides handy scripts and talking points for all the horrible things going on in Washington, so you can call back multiple times (and to each local office) to ensure you raise hell over EACH AND EVERY MOTHERFUCKIN’ THING. 

ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT YOU ARE NOT ALONE. Nobody voted for the Nazi Muskrat. And Trump failed to even secure a majority of the popular vote, falling short at 49.7%. Plus, if you combine all the non-voters with Kamala’s total, THOSE WHO DID NOT VOTE FOR TRUMP OUTNUMBER MAGA 2-1. 

AND REMEMBER KIDS, TO FOLLOW THE TWO ROGERS RULE:

(So punching Nazis is A-OK! 👌👌👌)

Now go forth my young Padawans, and get into some GOOD TROUBLE, NECESSARY TROUBLE!

VIVE LA RÉSISTANCE!

[buckets-and-trees]

I love bed Chem and the follow up!! I’d love to see them bump into each other outside of hook up times - like they’re both in the same coffee shop…and a cute barista is flirting with reader…and Bucky suddenly feels possessive when he sees it happening from across the shop but can’t say anything as they’re just hook up buds and it’s not his place to be jealous 🤭

Even Better Than In My Head

Characters/Pairings: Bucky Barnes x curvy!Millennial female!reader Word Count: 2.9k Summary: Hooking up with Bucky Barnes in the middle of the night has scratched the itch whenever you're craving between your legs, but crossing paths with the man out in the wild in normal life? Much more dangerous than you could have guessed.

Content Warnings: modern AU, hook up culture/bootycall, established sexual relationship

Author Notes: This is a follow-up to Parking Lot Chem and Camaraderie.

Logistical Notes: My first fill for @buckyboybingo (Gym) and my ninth bit for Valentine Storygrams!

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“This entire table is a masterpiece!” your sister exclaims, thoroughly impressed and overjoyed. “I seriously owe you!”

“You do!” you chide. “You owe me many, many favors.”

“I’d promise my first-born, but that ship has already sailed!” she replies, gesturing at her daughter - your niece - who is currently engaged in some sort of statue tag game with a gaggle of other children her age.

“I’m serious, though. You know you absolutely saved me.”

"I know," you say, waving off her gratitude with a smile. "That's what sisters are for, right?"

You both turn to survey the booth, a riot of pink and red decorations adorning every surface. Heart-shaped cookies, cupcakes with swirling frosting rosettes, raspberry-lemon bars, and delicate palmiers drizzled with white chocolate and heart-shaped sprinkles cover the table in neat, enticing rows.

"Seriously, though," your sister continues, lowering her voice, "this could make or break my campaign for PTA president. The entire board is here, and they're all watching to see how this goes."

You nod, remembering the frantic phone call you'd received two nights ago.

Your sister's voice had been a mix of panic and exhaustion as she explained how her usually angelic toddler had decided to test out his superhero abilities by leaping off the kitchen counter. The result? A nasty gash that required a trip to urgent care and several stitches. But to make matters worse, she’d only been so distracted to allow the failed test-flight of her two-year-old because she’d been trying to figure out why her oven would turn on, but refused to heat up past 180 degrees - nowhere near close enough to take care of her baking needs.

So you agreed - or offered, you really don’t quite remember how this part of the conversation went at this point - to take care of making all the baked goods.

“Couldn't let my favorite sister crash and burn at the Valentine's Day bake sale, could I?"

"I'm your only sister, you goof," she retorts with a laugh. "But again, thank you. I don't know what I would have done without you."

As you're about to respond, your sister's eyes suddenly widen, and a sly grin spreads across her face. She leans in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Speaking of paying you back, I think I'm about to start right now."

You follow her gaze across the crowded gymnasium, your curiosity piqued. Through the sea of parents and children, a tall figure is making his way towards your booth. As he draws closer, you can't help but notice how he seems to part the crowd effortlessly, his presence commanding yet somehow warm.

"See that absolutely gorgeous man heading our way?" your sister murmurs, her excitement palpable. "That's Aiden Hartley. He's a single dad, a widower, and practically the perfect gentleman."

You try to maintain your composure as Aiden approaches, but it's difficult not to stare. He's easily over six feet with a build that suggests he's no stranger to the gym. His short blonde hair catches the light, looking almost golden under the fluorescent glare of the school's overhead lighting. Even from a distance, you can see his eyes - a striking shade of green that reminds you of summer leaves.

As Aiden reaches your booth, a warm smile spreads across his face. Your heart skips a beat.

"Ladies," he greets you both, his voice deep and smooth. "I have to say, this spread looks absolutely incredible."

Your sister jumps in, "Oh, it's all thanks to my amazing sister here! Aiden, you haven’t met her yet, but she's the baking genius."

Aiden's gaze returns to you, a spark of interest in those mesmerizing green eyes. "Is that so? Well, I'm thoroughly impressed. I'm Carter’s dad, by the way, he’s in the same class as your niece." He extends his hand.

You introduce yourself, hoping your palm isn't too sweaty as you shake his hand. His grip is firm but gentle, and you can't help but notice how your hand seems to fit very nicely into his.

"So, what would you recommend?" Aiden asks, gesturing to the array of sweets.

“I’d like one of the cupcakes,” the last voice you’re expecting to hear interrupts from just behind you, and you whip around to find yourself face to face with Bucky, the man who has been regularly - if intermittently - wrecking you sexually.

What on earth is he doing here?

Not only is he here, he’s looking devastatingly handsome in a dark blue button-down and jeans. Your breath catches in your throat as memories of your late-night encounter flood your mind.

"One of the chocolate ones," Bucky drawls, his eyes roaming over the baked goods before settling on you with a heated gaze. "Is that a strawberry buttercream on top?"

“Mhmm,” you manage to nod, throat completely dry, brain trying to figure out how to function.

You’re not supposed to be seeing this man in the light of day - does not compute, does not compute.

"Looks like someone's been busy in the kitchen," he adds.

Your sister, oblivious to the tension crackling between you and Bucky, beams at him. "Yes! Isn't it amazing? My sister made everything here."

Bucky's lips curl into a smirk. "Is that so? You’re clearly skilled with your hands - the piping on this frosting is flawless,” he says, handing cash to your sister in exchange for one of the cupcakes.

He brings the treat to his nose, inhaling deeply, his eyes never leaving yours. "Smells divine," he murmurs, voice low enough that only you can hear. Then, with a wink that makes your knees weak, he turns and strides away, weaving through the crowd with the same effortless grace that brought him to your booth. His confident stride draws more than a few appreciative glances from the other parents.

Your sister nudges you with her elbow, breaking you out of your daze. "See, I told you you're too modest with your baking skills," she whispers excitedly. "Bucky Barnes is usually a man of few words, and he dropped plenty just now."

You nod absently, still reeling from Bucky's sudden appearance and the way he'd looked at you. Your mind races, trying to process the conflicting emotions swirling within you. On one hand, there's the familiar spark of desire that Bucky always ignites. On the other, there's a new, tentative flutter of interest as you glance back at Aiden, who's patiently waiting with a warm smile.

Your sister, ever the matchmaker, seamlessly steers the conversation back to Aiden. "So, Aiden, you were asking about recommendations?" She gives you a subtle but pointed look.

You clear your throat. "Right. Well, the raspberry-lemon bars are a personal favorite. They've got just the right balance of sweet and tart."

Aiden's eyes light up. "That sounds perfect. I'll take two, please." As your sister boxes up his order, he turns back to you. "So, do you bake professionally? These look like they could be in a high-end bakery."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Oh no, it's just a hobby. I work in marketing, actually."

"Well, you certainly have a talent for it," Aiden says, his smile warm and genuine. "I can’t wait to try these,” he adds, holding up his box.

As you're about to respond to Aiden's compliment, your sister suddenly gasps and slaps her forehead dramatically. "Oh no! I completely forgot!" She turns to you with an exaggerated look of distress. "The PTA was supposed to set up the face-painting station, but I just realized we left all the supplies in my car!"

You raise an eyebrow, sensing the poorly disguised matchmaking attempt, but play along. "Oh, that's not good. You'd better go take care of that."

Your sister nods vigorously, already backing away from the booth. "Absolutely! Can't have disappointed kids on Valentine's Day!" She pauses, then turns to Aiden with a look of calculated innocence. "Aiden, I hate to impose, but would you mind helping my sister man the booth until I get back? It shouldn't take more than fifteen or twenty minutes.”

Aiden’s eyes flash to you, gleaming with amusement, clearly recognizing your sister's ploy for what it is, but he plays along anyway. "Of course! I'd be more than happy to lend a hand... or take an order or two," he jokes, winking at you.

Your cheeks flush a with heat, but you’re not totally unhappy with her shenanigans.

Your sister rushes off and Aiden takes her place behind the table. As the two of you settle into a rhythm working the table, you can't help but feel a spark of connection. His easy smile and warm demeanor put you at ease, and soon you're chatting effortlessly about everything from your shared love of books to your favorite local restaurants.

"So, marketing, huh?" Aiden asks during a lull. "What kind of projects do you work on?"

You launch into a brief explanation of your latest campaign, surprised at how easily the conversation flows. Aiden listens attentively, asking insightful questions that show he's genuinely interested. His green eyes sparkle with intelligence, and you find yourself drawn in by his charm.

"That sounds fascinating," he says, leaning in slightly. "I'd love to hear more about it sometime. Maybe over coffee?"

Your heart flutters at the invitation, but before you can respond, your eyes are inexplicably drawn across the crowded gymnasium. Through the sea of parents and children, you spot Bucky leaning against the far wall.

He's standing slightly apart from the crowd, his presence both magnetic and aloof. The sleeves of his dark blue plaid shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing the corded muscles of his forearms. His hair, usually disheveled when you see him, is neatly combed back into a bun, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw.

As if sensing your gaze, Bucky's eyes lock with yours from across the room. A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face as he brings the cupcake to his lips. You watch, transfixed, as he takes a deliberate bite, his eyes never leaving yours.

The chocolate cake yields easily, and a smear of pink frosting clings to his upper lip. Your mouth goes dry as you watch his tongue dart out, slowly and purposefully licking away the sweet confection.

The sight sends a jolt of electricity through your body, igniting a fire low in your belly. Memories of that same tongue exploring your most intimate places flood your mind. You can almost feel the ghost of it and press your legs together.

Suddenly aware that you've been staring, you snap your attention back to Aiden, who's looking at you expectantly. You realize he's still waiting for an answer about coffee.

"Oh, um, yes," you stammer, trying to regain your composure. "Coffee sounds great."

Aiden's face lights up with a warm smile. "Wonderful! How about this Saturday?"

You nod, pushing thoughts of Bucky to the back of your mind. "Saturday works for me."

As you exchange numbers with Aiden, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and guilt. Excitement at the prospect of getting to know this kind, handsome man better. Guilt because you know that no matter how charming Aiden is, a part of you is still thinking about Bucky and the raw, primal energy between you.

About how he probably would have no problem dragging you away to his car and fucking you in the parking lot right now.

You think that’s something Aiden would never do .

The rest of the bake sale passes in good conversation with Aiden, chatting between customers and stealing glances at each other when you think the other isn't looking. You learn that he's an architect, specializing in sustainable design, and his passion for his work is evident in the way his eyes light up as he describes his latest project.

"It's a community center," he explains, his hands moving animatedly as he speaks. "We're incorporating solar panels, rainwater harvesting systems, and even a rooftop garden. The goal is to create a space that not only serves the community but also educates them about sustainable living."

You find yourself genuinely interested, asking questions about the design process and the challenges he faces. As you listen, you can't help but appreciate how different this interaction is from your usual encounters with Bucky. With Aiden, there's a warmth, a sense of connection that’s so natural.

But your gaze drifts regularly to Bucky. Bucky has become attached to a young boy who looks to be about six years old. The resemblance between them is striking – the same strong jawline, the same chestnut brown hair. They grin and laugh together, Bucky follows him around to the face painting, a craft station, poses with him in the photo booth.

All you have ever shared with Bucky is sex. The two of you had given next to no time to small talk even in the first few days of messaging on the hook up app and in your first meet up. You had both made it clear you used each other for sex and didn’t want anything else from the connection.

As the bake sale winds down, your sister finally returns, apologizing profusely for needing to cover the face painting instead of helping at the booth. She winks at you when Aiden isn't looking, clearly pleased with her efforts. Aiden continues to linger, helping to fold up the tablecloth and carry boxes.

This morning you were thoroughly single, no need or with to do much to be otherwise. But now you find yourself torn between two very different men. Aiden, with his warm smile and gentle demeanor, represents the possibility of a genuine connection, of building something meaningful. Your conversation flows easily, and you can't deny the flutter in your chest when he laughs at your jokes.

But then there's Bucky. Your attention drawn back to him over and over, watching as he had interacted with the young boy who must be his son. It's a side of him you've never seen before, and it stirs something unexpected within you. The tenderness in his eyes as he looks at his child is a stark contrast to the raw intensity you're used to seeing when he looks at you.

As you and Aiden start packing up the remaining baked goods, Bucky approaches your booth once more. This time, the little boy is with him, clinging to his hand and looking up at you with wide, curious eyes.

"Hey," Bucky says, his voice smooth and charming. "We wanted to grab a few more treats before you packed up." His eyes flick to Aiden, then back to you, a flash of something - possessiveness? jealousy? - passing over his face.

"Of course," you manage, brightening your voice as you direct your attention to the small boy. "What would you like?"

The little boy tugs on Bucky's hand, pointing at the heart-shaped cookies. "Can I have those, Daddy?"

Your heart does a little flip at hearing Bucky called 'Daddy'. It's such a stark contrast to the Bucky you know - the one who whispers filthy things in your ear as he pounds into you.

"Sure thing, buddy. How about we get a few to take home for later?" Bucky suggests, his voice gentle as he speaks to his son.

You can't help but smile at the interaction as you carefully package up a half dozen of the heart-shaped cookies. As you hand the box to Bucky, your fingers brush against his, sending a whoosh of butterflies through your stomach. His eyes lock with yours, dark and intense, before he glances meaningfully at Aiden.

"Thanks," Bucky says, his voice low. "These look delicious. I'm sure they taste even better than they look." The double meaning in his words is clear, and you feel a flush creeping up your neck.

"I hope you enjoy them," you manage to reply, your voice slightly breathless.

As Bucky turns to leave, his son looks up at you with a shy smile. "Thank you for the treats!”

"You're very welcome, young man," you reply, smiling warmly at the little boy. As they walk away, you can't help but watch Bucky's retreating form, admiring the way his shirt clings to his broad shoulders.

You and Aiden finish packing up the last of the baked goods, and he helps you carry the boxes to your car.

"So, about Saturday," he says as you close the trunk. "There's this great little café downtown that does this stuffed french toast that will send you to heaven. How does that sound?”

You smile at Aiden, genuinely excited about the prospect of getting to know him better. "That sounds wonderful," you reply. "I love a good french toast."

As you exchange details for your upcoming date, you can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and guilt. Aiden is everything you should want - kind, intelligent, and clearly interested in more than just a physical relationship. Yet, as you watch him walk away, your mind drifts back to Bucky.

Later that night, as you're getting ready for bed, your phone buzzes with a text. Your heart races as you see Bucky's name on the screen.

BUCKY: Those cookies were delicious. But not as sweet as your cunt.

You bite your lip, torn between responding and ignoring the message. Before you can decide, another text comes through.

BUCKY: I'm in the neighborhood. Have any of that frosting left?

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[celerydays]

long time no see…

Hey, hi, hello~

I don't know if anyone is still around this little blog o' mine or if I'm just showing up suddenly on the dash and whoever is seeing this might not recall ever even following me lol.

But – if you remember me or not – I'm just dropping by to say that I've missed you and that I truly hope you're doing well 🫂💗

I...have not been doing so well. But I've been working on it.

In a way, it's been healing to reshape my approach to things like journaling and capturing photos. I've been taking the time to develop a practice in documenting daily life – the people I care about, the places we visit, and all the random little moments in between – with more intentionality and care than I have in the recent past.

(tw: grief and loss/death under cut)

We lost my mother very suddenly last November – and things have been unbearably hard the last few months.

In a lot of ways, 2024 was one of the best years: my partner and I traveled to Japan for the first time ever, my family had a small reunion in our hometown to watch the total solar eclipse together, my best friends got married, and we went on so many amazing trips and had the type of outings that made me so inspired, optimistic, and excited about life and the future.

But in so many other ways, it was also one of the worst years I've had in a long time: starting with a hard-learned (but perhaps overdue) firsthand lesson and reminder on how scary and mean the internet can be, followed by losing both my grandfather in the spring and then my mother just before the winter holidays.

I'm not particularly good when it comes to emotions– forget about even processing grief or putting into any sort of meaningful words how it all feels. But I guess all of this has made me shift my mindset when it comes to wanting to just...remember. To not forget.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

On documenting life through journaling...

I had always journaled in some way or another all my life, but I only really started considering it a serious practice and hobby sometime around 2020. But I had lost my way with it in recent years, treating it solely as some kind of aesthetic-only venture, and only dedicating the time if I knew that I could make it "pretty" and "palatable for sharing".

And so, many entries were missed; days and weeks lost to fuzzy recollection, months bled into each other, and little moments only existed as vague and passing snapshots on my phone gallery (if I even remembered to take a photo).

But I now wish I had just written it down; whatever it was – big, small, angry, funny, sad, happy – just wrote it all down. It didn't have to be an aesthetically collaged spread or artful doodle or drawing. I wish I had documented some of the last times I had seen or spoken with my mother; what she had said, did, or how she reacted to silly news or quips I told her. I barely remember anything even just from the last year.

So now I write it all down, day after day: I'll write what's on my mind, what we did before, what I'm doing currently, what I'm planning to do. If someone calls or my partner walks in to my studio while I'm working and tells me something that has me reacting in the moment I'll jot down a little "omg!!" or "lol" or "holy shit" next to whatever they said or did.

If I get little scraps from the day – receipts, tags, tickets, wrappers – I'll paste it in wherever it happens to fit in my journal, with a little note of the date or what the outing was. And every so often, I'll print out photos to paste in with notes relating back to past entries or junk journal spreads.

Is always pretty? No, but it's pretty in its chaos. Is it always even chronological? Not at all. Does it always make sense? Not really. But I love every page so, so much more than anything I had carefully curated before in my previous journals.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

On documenting life through photos...

I had once carried a camera with me everywhere before phone cameras became decent enough that I didn't feel the need to have a dedicated tool for just taking pictures anymore.

It wasn't until we were all looking through our collective family photos to use for my mother's memorial service and headstone that it hit me that I just don't take as many pictures as I used to– and when I did, they just don't compare to the ones that I used to take years ago when I did carry a camera with me on every outing and trip.

We ended up choosing a photo of her that I had taken on my once-beloved dSLR camera I used to haul around with me almost 10 years ago; she was smiling, strong, radiant, beautiful– and it was just a random moment I took my camera out in a Taiwan salon while she was waiting as my sister and I were both getting our hair done for our cousin's wedding.

A bit indescribable – and not even something I realized was missing – but there's something about having an actual camera on hand that pushes me to take more photos, and somehow better and more mindful photos at that.

And so I made the decision to invest in a new camera. An absolute necessity to take photos? No, of course not; I do still have my phone camera after all. But they say (apparently) that "the best camera is the one that you actually use"– and I was most definitely not using my phone as much as I could have been.

This new camera though? Only time will truly tell, but the past has shown that I've worked better with a dedicated camera on hand and already I can't begin to explain the difference it's made in the last week alone since I picked up the habit of carrying a camera around with me again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

This was a crazy long post that sort of got away from me. Not sure where I want to go from here – I guess I just want to say that if you ever felt called to document your life in some way, it's never too late to start; you'll only wish that you had begun sooner.

If you're still here– I love you. I hope you're taking care of yourself.

And thank you for reading along with my incredibly longwinded life update of what was essentially just "I'm grieving so I started journaling more and also bought a camera" lol.

💗

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Adore You 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor Odinson

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Thor and Luna.

Summary: good intentions often lead to bad ideas.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

It’s laundry day. Not for him. His own routine is a bit of a mess these days. Most of his time revolves around her. 

He sits outside the window, positioned just so the curtain obscures with his large figure. She keeps most lights off when she’s not using them. So he can spot clearly her path through the small one floor house. From her bedroom, down the hall, into the kitchen. 

He shifts to see into the later. The light flicks on. She rolls in the hamper and stops it just on the other side of the stackable laundry unit. She pauses to rub her hips. She’s taken her medicine but it doesn’t seem to be helping. 

She puts the clothes into the machine by small handfuls. She doesn’t do heavy lifting. He's made note of that. At the grocery store, she brings her own cart she can push home. She doesn’t grab anything big. Never a big bag of apples, only two or three. No sacks of potatoes but a package of the baby redskins. 

She adds the soap and shuts the door. She hits start and the basket begins to fill. She braces the hamper and takes a few breaths. She moves the empty hamper against the counter and shuffles out, shutting off the light. 

His mother has arthritis too. He takes her to her appointments for her check-ups. That’s where he first saw her. He thought she was rather young to be there. Maybe she thought the same of him, but she never looked at him once. 

He follows her back to the bedroom. She unfolds her heating pad on the bed and crawls up to lay on it. Her shirt tugs up over her soft belly as she reclines. She taps the keys of laptop and focus on the screen. 

Thor backs up to take out his phone. He keeps the screen as dim as he can. It’s dark in her yard and he doesn’t want to draw attention; hers or the neighbours’. 

He feels like he’s falling behind. Peter got a number, Bucky started talking to his special one, and Steve spent a whole night with his. He’s got to figure something out. 

He puts the phone away. There’s a moment of clarity. What is he doing? If she looked out and saw him then, she’d be horrified. It’s not his fault he’s so big. An elephant in a world built for gazelles. 

He only wants to help her. He notices that. She doesn’t have anyone to take her to appointments or to pick up her prescriptions. Or to even help apply the steroid creams to her back where it hurts most. 

She gets up when the cycle ends. It takes her long to switch the wet clothes to the dryer. She takes several breaks. She puts it on high temp then goes back to bed. She shuts off her lights as she does. She’ll deal with it in the morning. 

She squirms to get comfortable. The glow of the laptop illuminates her figure. The cotton top rubs against her hard nipples and clings to her curves. The linen pants are tight around her full thighs and crease just so around her pelvis. Gods, he getting a bit worked up. 

Her eyes slowly droop. He shouldn’t stick around. He does have a job. Sometimes it’s just too hard to leave her. And he didn’t figure out how to move this forward. He hasn’t even made himself known. 

He shrugs in defeat. He makes his way around the house and lets himself out through the gate. A swell of nerves rolls in his stomach. Wait a minute. She didn’t check the doors. She always does. 

He can’t just go. Just in case. He'll check for her. Yeah, that’s how he can help. 

He strolls up the front path and to the front door. The awning casts him in a pool of shadows. He grabs the handle and turns, finding no resistance. The door clicks and opens. It’s a good thing he thought of it. Anyone could just walk in, like he is right now. 

Like he is... 

He steps into her entryway and his mind and heart race. What is he doing? Keeping her safe. That’s exactly it. 

He locks the door. With him inside. 

It’s fine. He’s not a bad guy. He’s just making sure she’s alright. He doesn’t want to frighten her so her takes off his boots. He carries them with him down the hall. 

He stops outside her bedroom door as the dryer rumbles and covers his approach. Her back is to him. He can tell by her breath that she’s asleep. 

He enters her room. What is he doing? He takes in the dim outline of her possessions. 

He should go. That voice keeps telling him to go. No, he has to get something. He takes his phone out. He opens the camera and aims it at her. Just a picture. 

The room illuminates with the flash. Shoot. He forgot to turn that off. 

She twitches and his chest seizes. She brings her hand up to rub her cheek then reaches for her laptop. He woke her up! 

She taps a button and turns down the brightness. Then she buries her face in her elbow. He backs up. He could leave. He could. 

He reaches behind him and inches the closet door open. He slides it slowly then backs up through it. He hunches to fit beneath the shelf then closes the door. He can see her through the slats. What is he doing? He doesn’t know but gods, he is hard. 

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Valentine’s Day Fic - First Preview

Have a sneak peak! Warning for minor sexting 😉

Ring ring ring

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you walked along the streets of Hell. Pulling it out, you saw Lucifer's adorable rubber duck icon pop up on the screen. You smiled and hit the answer button.

"Hey Luci, what's going on?" you answered cheerfully.

"Oh, you know, just waiting for my darling to return home to me," he sighed dramatically on the other side of the phone.

"Hon, it's only been an hour!" you scolded playfully. "I had to pick out something special for tomorrow, you know."

Tomorrow was Valentine's Day; one of Lucifer's favorite mortal holidays. The chocolates, the flowers, the romantic setting, everything about it excited the little devil! And of course he always treated you to a special candlelit dinner, complete with dessert and champaign. But you knew Lucifer always looked forward to the end of the night; that time he gets to worship you as the goddess he sees you as.

This year, however, you decided you wanted to spice things up a bit. Which is why you made it a point to visit the Entertainment District which housed the best collection of sex apparel in the pride ring. Lucifer insisted on giving you anything you wanted, but new lingerie wasn't all that you were looking for; some new toys were definitely needed. It took a while to convince him since you knew he didn't like being left alone for too long, but you promised him that you would be as quick as you could. Nevertheless, that didn't seem to stop him from calling you up after only a short amount of time.

"I knoooowwwww," Lucifer groaned on the other end. "But is there any way I can convince you to come home sooner?"

His proposition intrigued you, so you decided to play along. "And how would you do that, I wonder."

You swear you could almost hear him smile. "Well, my dear, since you got to go out and look for a special outfit, I thought I would try my hand at creating one just for me! Gotta say, I'm pretty happy with it! Tight in all the right places!" You heard the static-filled snap of the fabric hit his skin as he spoke.

"Wait," you paused, moving yourself up against a building. "Are you wearing it right now?" He was doing this on purpose, you knew he was. He knew how to tempt you. And picturing Lucifer in something less than decent did nothing to help keep your composure out in public. You could already feel the heat in your face begin to rise.

Lucifer chuckled lightly. "Would you like a sneak peak, love?" Before you could answer, there was a buzzing on your phone. He already had a picture queued up just to tease you. You opened the message with a gasp, fumbling your phone in your hands. The picture showed of his exposed stomach with the rest of his body covered in a lovely black. It looked as though he shot this photo from the waist up because you could make out his forked tongue that was sticking out through his sharpened teeth, smiling wickedly at the camera.

Quickly, you closed the picture hoping know one else had seen what was on your screen. "You ass, I almost dropped my phone!"

"Hey, you're the one who opened it!" he shot back. "But I can tell you like it, isn't that right?"

He was right, of course he was! How could you not! But he was getting too cocky for his own good. If he wanted to be a brat today, you had no trouble giving him exactly what he wanted. Even if it meant cutting your outing a little bit short. You were going to surprise him with his favorite chocolate candies, but perhaps you could get them after you taught him a lesson.

"I'll be home in 15 minutes," you responded in a hushed tone, trying your best not to draw the attention of others. "If you aren't handcuffed to that bed by the time I'm back, you're gonna be in for it."

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Lucifer murmured, sending shivers down your spine. What a fucking tease, but God, did you love him.

“You have 14 minutes now,” was all you said before hanging up the phone as you pushed yourself away from the wall and began to walk back towards the Morningstar mansion, paying no attention to the onlookers who noticed your brisk pace as you passed them. There was someone who needed to be put in his place.

[justatypicalwizard]

Meta-isekai | K. Bakugo ✧ Act I Scene II

-`♡´- In which Bakugo gets isekaied into a shoyo romance. -`♡´-

Peak stupidity ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Act I 𓆩⚝𓆪

Scene II: Eijiro is a pro basketball player now

ʚɞ “So, first of all let me introduce you to everyone, quietly that is.” The cat tagged along Katsuki's commute to school. Apparently he still went to UA but instead of a hero-school it was now a higher class, yet normal highschool.

“You just do your morning routine and I'll tell you where to go and who is who. Just carry something that I can sit on.” The cat meowed and yawned, digging its nails into Katsuki's school bag. He had to pretend he didn't notice.

“Have you always been such a lil piece of shit?” The boy asked, checking over his shoulder to see if no one spotted him supposedly cursing to himself.

“Same as you. Why do you think we were paired up? Now into the school building!”

ʚɞ Some key information that Bakugo took mental notes of.

ʚɞ He was in second grade. All of his class members were the same with the exception of quirks. Looking at some of them made him shiver, especially Mineta's hairstyle. Somehow it resembled the purple balls of his superpower.

ʚɞ Eijiro was a rising star in basketball. He still dyed his hair and got shit from the teachers about it but since he was one of the school's most promising students they let it slide ultimately. He was loud and obnoxious as always, with a tight group of fanboys circling him and his manliness.

ʚɞ Racoon eyes still had eyes like a racoon. She was devoted to some weird merge of gyaru meets scene meets emo, with dark eyeshadow and contact lenses. Somehow, she also slid past the teachers, always looking down. Guess this world really was a shoyo dream with all the weird loopholes. Anyway, Mina spent most of her time around the basketball team as one of the managers. Also she was not pink, which was weird, but she still kept a pinkish colour, like she was constantly blushing all over her body. Maybe some kind of freaky body paint.

ʚɞ Denki was stupid, blonde and a perverted. No changes here.

ʚɞ Deku was the class nerd with test scores better than college students. He was knuckles down in study groups and tutoring.

ʚɞ The rest seemed to pursue interests that in Katsuki's hero world became secondary. Yaoyorozu was rich and trying to upkeep her appearances (and had a fine china fetish). Jirou played the guitar, Mr. Tight-Pants Fast Legs was school representative, Ochaco was the class (and ass) sweetheart while Icy-Hot still had daddy issues.

At least Katsuki didn’t fall too much out of the loop to draw unwanted attention.

ʚɞ Katsuki v2 (that's how he called him in his head) had a specific crush. It was a girl from a different class that the now Katsuki had yet to meet.

This girl has never held a proper conversation with Katsuki v2 and the Black Cat has no clue why v2 fell in love with her. The cat descended into v2's life when he already developed the crush but failed at achieving anything human-relations wise miserably.

ʚɞ V2 was good at studying, one of the best in class. He also played the drums (good) and was a part of the martial arts club (fucking awsome). He worked-out regularly, ate well and lived with his parents.

ʚɞ He apparently kept close with Kirishima, Denki and Mina-

-who now swarmed him in the classroom.

“Have you heard the tea?” Denki leaned closer to Mina's ear.

“I swear if you stick a wet finger in my ear.”

“Good idea but no.” Dunceface smirked. “Jirou heard that Yaoyorozu went in on Ochaco talking over the phone about how much she crushes Midoriya.”

“And then Pat told Parvatti to tell Ron, whatever. Besides, it's common knowledge that these two belong together.” Mina slumped in her seat, pissed off that Denki's gossip was not juicy.

“Yeah, but I don’t see them getting together anytime soon so it's still spicy.” The (no longer electric) blonde shrugged.

“If you told me Yaoyorozu walked like in on them, then it would be spicy.”

“Kiri, tell her something! I'm supposed to be the perverted one.”

“Well it's not good to spread gossip or invade someone's privacy like that.” The redhead scratched his scalp.

“I need a comrade, not a mum!” Denki started whining. “Bakugo!”

“You're clutching at a straw here.” Mina laughed.

Katsuki wanted to open his mouth and tell them that there are more important things than Deku's miserable love life but then it hit him. For this lot, there weren't any more important things than goofing around, sliding through tests and having crushes. They had a totally normal highschool life without villain attacks, near-death experience and murderous training under Aizawa. And such v2 also had a normal highschool life. Maybe he was more invested in all these dramas?

“They should just fuck each other already.” Katsuki resorted to… something like this.

“Wow dude. So romantic.” Denki said and everyone gawked at Katsuki only blinking. “I always thought you didn't care about these things but I guess I was wrong, Mr. Bombastic. Maybe you'll become a heart-throb by the end of the year if you keep up this attitude.”

ʚɞ In the end Katsuki learned he should just act like himself. 

Tag list: @ita606 @blueberrysoaps

[hederasgarden]

Do you have any darker thoughts about your fav ATJ characters?

Bestie, I have so many thoughts, and I’m totally blaming @otaku-girl-ao3 for this. A few weeks ago, we spent an afternoon on Discord brainstorming what the ATJ characters would be like as dark versions of themselves and how that would manifest in distinct and interesting ways.

Just a quick note—this is quite a departure from the usual content on my blog and the type of things I typically write about. Recently, I’ve been gathering the courage to explore some darker themes in my writing (I blame BookTok for introducing me to a lot of questionable tropes). Please be kind and let me know if you’d like to see more of this kind of writing from me!

Characters: Sergei Kravinoff (Kraven the Hunter), Friedrich Harding (Nosferatu), Tangerine (Bullet Train), and Ives (Tenet) Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Dead dove, do not eat. VERY dark, depraved, and horny thoughts direct from me to you. Not all themes are tagged. Read at your own risk.  Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Aaron Taylor Johnson Character Masterlist

Sergei is a meticulous planner, taking his time to observe you and learn your habits. He likely comes across you by chance—perhaps while on the job or visiting his brother. It’s your scent that first grabs his attention, but it’s not what draws him back. It’s the softness and sweetness in your demeanor, the vulnerability you exude, completely unaware of the dangers around you. You’re the easiest prey he’s ever tracked, unaware even of the most basic threats. You’re always buried in a book or your phone, headphones on at full blast. If it weren’t for his quiet intervention, you would have been robbed or worse on your way home at least twice. 

He takes you because he believes you're not meant to be on your own. You need someone to care for you, to protect you from the world that you don’t fully understand. Really, it’s lucky your paths crossed. He’s certain you’ll come to see things his way in time. Until then, he’s turned his home into a beautiful little cage for you to live in, complete with an entire library filled with your favorite books, cozy blankets to keep you warm, and all the ingredients for the meals you love to cook and enjoy. He’s done his research on what you like and he’ll bring you anything you ask for. Afterall, he’s a provider at heart.

There’s no concern of you running away. You've seen the large snow leopard that prowls around outside, and the one time you made a foolish attempt to escape, Sergei was quick to show you that he wouldn't always be so gentle or understanding. As @writercole suggested, once he has you back, he’ll also end up keeping you tethered by the ankle for a while, a lesson that if you try to run, he’ll leash you.

After you recover from that experience Sergei finds you’re a much better pet, settling into your new life and role. You start cooking for him when he's home, and willingly crawl into bed beside him, seeking out his warmth on those cold winter nights. Soon, Sergei knows you’ll be ready for the next step: starting a family of your own.

Friedrich (in a modern AU) strikes me as the type who would quietly manipulate situations to his advantage, working behind the scenes to ensure things unfold just how he wants. He’d spot you working at a cafe or store he frequently visits and, from that moment, start working on a plan to make you his.

Rather than using overt force, he’d rely on subtle pressure and gaslighting, making you doubt yourself and your choices. He’d skillfully set up circumstances to undermine you—ensuring you miss out on a job you desperately need, getting you fired, or putting you in a position where you have no choice but to turn to him. When you're at your lowest, he’ll swoop in as the savior, the one who appears to protect you. His goal is to make you dependent on him alone, carefully ensuring that when the time comes for him to make his move, you're in no position to resist. Consent would be questionable, but he'd remind you every time you hesitated that you said yes, that you asked for his help, and that you invited him in.

I can also see him isolating you from friends and family, slowly pulling you away from the support system you once had. He’d definitely be the type to love-bomb you, showering you with overwhelming attention and affection, using his money and influence to manipulate you further. 

He strikes me as a baby trapper, sabotaging your birth control or tampering with his condoms to ensure you get pregnant. He believes you'd be the perfect wife and mother—you just need his help to realize that. Once he has you, he’d be the most loving and attentive husband, always caring, but beneath that sweetness lies an unshakable belief that he knows what’s best. He’s the one who makes the decisions, subtly guiding everything with quiet confidence until, over time, the balance shifts in his favor and you start looking to him for help with even the easiest things. Despite all of this, Friedrich would likely still view himself as a good person, firmly rejecting any notion that he is abusive or in the wrong.

Tangerine is on the opposite end of the spectrum, much more inclined to use brute force and physical violence to make you understand your place. He has a short temper and struggles with impulse control, especially when you don't follow his demands. There’s no slow build-up with him—he has no time or patience for romance. The moment he sees you on the street, he decides you’re coming home with him, and that’s final. Or maybe Tangerine and Lemon are sent to kill your husband but when Tangerine sees just how sweet you are, completely unaware of who and what your husband really is, he decides to keep you for himself. After all, no one's going to miss you. They’ll assume you died in the house fire with your husband. 

Once he had you he would try and spoil you with a beautiful place to live, fine clothes and decadent food. He’d want you to look and dress a certain way for him. A darker version of him would fit the profile of a classic abuser—lashing out at you in anger, only to later show up with flowers and a hollow apology, turning the blame onto you as if you were the one who provoked it.

“Why do you have to make things so fuckin’ hard, huh?” Tangerine questions, caressing your bruised skin. “I hate when you make me do this to ya luv. You need to listen better.”

He’d definitely be the most terrifying of all the dark versions of the ATJ characters because of his unpredictability. (I do not know why but I have such a strong sense he’d pop you in the mouth/back hand you with those rings on and just….yeah.)

If Ives were to go dark, he’d likely abuse his power and authority in the workplace, targeting someone beneath him—someone who wasn’t military and who he could easily manipulate using his strength and knowledge. Maybe you’re his admin, someone he works closely with, and no one questions the fact that you’re often in his office with the door closed or staying late to finish tasks together. He’d be blunt about his intentions with you, setting clear expectations for how things would unfold. His actions would be predictable—if you were a good girl, you’d be rewarded; if you misbehaved, there would be consequences. Ives would be a steady, unyielding force, confident that, with time, you’d fall into line.

[roxygen22]

Bus Stop (Part 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Nic: Good morning

You grabbed your phone from your nightstand before you had even fully blinked the sleep from your eyes. A message from Nic was waiting for you. You giggled and kicked your feet in excitement as you held your phone to your chest. Last night wasn't just a dream, after all.

You: Morning!

Your fingers typed wildly.

You: You're quite the early bird.

Relunctantly tossing the warm covers away from your body, you got out of bed to start your morning routine, bringing your phone along so as to not miss anything. As you leaned over the sink to brush your teeth, you felt it vibrate on the tile counter. Just seeing his name on the screen made your heart beat a little faster.

Nic: I try to start the day with a run or bike ride. Just got back inside. Gotta hop in the shower and get ready for class. What time is your lunch break?

Blood rushed to your cheeks at the thought of him being soaked in sweat or lathered up in soap. Too soon, you cautioned yourself. Thank goodness he couldn't see you.

You: Usually at noon, unless a mtg runs long.

Nic: K. I'll give you a call on my way to the station, if that's OK?

You bit your lip. How to sound positive but not TOO eager...

You: Yes, please :)

The morning crawled and meetings droned on and on. Several times you caught yourself daydreaming, staring out the window or drawing abstract shapes on your paper instead of taking notes. As the clock ticked closer to noon, your knee bounced under your desk in nervous excitement, impatiently waiting for your phone to light up.

Like clockwork, your phone buzzed in your hand at 12:00 on the dot as you ran out to the rear courtyard for a semi-private spot to talk.

"You are quite punctual," you answered. Nic chuckled.

"I've been holding my phone in my hand just staring at it for a solid two minutes waiting for the right time. How has your day been?"

"Oh, [nervous laughter] I'm not exactly sure. I spent most of the morning off in la-la-land. I had a little trouble paying attention."

"Funny you should say that. I had the same problem in class."

"Oh, yeah? What were you thinking about?"

"You first," he teased.

"No, you."

"Alright, since we're not in person to settle this with rock-paper-scissors like mature adults, how about we both say it on three?"

You laughed. "Ok. I can appreciate a good compromise. 1...2...3..."

"You."/"Last night."

"Really?"/"Really?"

There was an awkward pause that was probably not as long as it felt. You broke the silence.

"I was stoked to see your message this morning. Confirmation that I didn't dream the whole thing up," you admitted.

"I haven't had a fun evening out like that in ages. I...I felt like- like you were just so easy to talk to."

"I had fun, too," you replied. "I, uh...I dreamed about that kiss. It's been - a while - since I've been kissed like that."

"Me, too."

"Dream or a long time since the last?"

"Both."

"Awwwww!" you vocalized. "Well, you don't have to wait that long again." Your boldness startled you, so you started backtracking in a panic. "I mean, if, uh, that's what you want. Because that's what I want. I mean...," you trailed off and groaned as you smacked your forehead with your palm. "I'm going to shut up now."

"Please don't," Nic replied. "It's adorable when you ramble when you're flustered."

"You do seem to have that effect on me." The tops of your ears burned with embarrassment at your admission.

He chuckled. "So I've noticed."

After a beat of silence, you asked, "So, just curious, how long has it been for you? It's been just over two years for me."

"Almost four years. I've been trying to work on feeling whole on my own before getting involved with someone again."

"Kudos for putting in that work on yourself. My ex did not. He projected a lot of pent-up baggage onto me. I've been on a break since. It was toxic and lasted longer than it should have, and I've been in no rush to get mixed up with the wrong person again.

"But now?" Nic eagerly implored.

"Nowwwwww I think I could be persuaded by the right person," you hinted.

"Ah, I see." He paused. "[Y/N], I...," he cleared his throat. "Do you like Italian food?"

Somewhat taken aback by the jarring transition, you stuttered, "Y-yeah, I love Italian." You worried that you threw him off by mentioning your ex. Maybe it was too much too soon?

"There's this great place near the bus stop where I usually get on at Lexington and 1st. I was thinking we could go get a bite to eat tomorrow after work?"

Whew. Maybe you didn't scare him off after all. "That sounds delicious. I'd love that."

"Great! I'll meet you at the bus stop and walk you over. But for now, you should probably actually eat something on your lunch break. I just made it to the news station and need to go get settled in."

You pulled the phone away from your face to check the time. You only had about 10 minutes left. "Alas, responsibilities befall us all. See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow. Bye, [Y/N]."

"Bye, Nic."

You ended the call and stared down at the dark phone screen in your hand. The fading excitement felt like you were crashing from a sugar rush. You slowly got up from the bench and shuffled back inside to get your food.

Your coworkers were standing at the ready to interrogate you. They knew you generally hated talking on the phone, but this time, you were all smiles.

"Tell us all about him, honey," the receptionist, Henrietta, demanded. "We need some excitement around here."

"What? How did you...."

"Dear, you have lovesick written all over your face!"

You blushed hard. Before you knew it, you were encircled by colleagues rolling over in their desk chairs as you recounted spotting Nic on the bus and working up the courage to say hello, and how magical that first unexpected date and kiss were last night. Once they were done peppering you with questions and chairs were rolled back to desks, Henrietta came up to you and gave you a hug.

"I'm glad you are finally putting yourself back out there after that jerk, Matt. You deserve to find love again, and he sounds like a wholesome guy."

"Thanks, Etta." You patted her arm and gently squeezed. "Time for me to come down out of the clouds and get back to work, I guess."

Small text exchanges throught the rest of the day kept you going, but you craved to hear Nic's voice again. Tomorrow felt like forever away. You knew you'd need to distract yourself with a rare visit to the gym that evening to pass the time and wear yourself out.

You were walking to the bus stop after work when you felt your phone buzz in your bag. It was a long, repeated vibration - someone was calling you. You fumbled through the main section of the bag, cursing yourself for not putting your phone in the pocket it belonged for quick access. Once in hand, you stared at the screen. Nic?

"Hello?"

"Is now a bad time?"

"No, not at all. I just wasn't expecting to get to talk to you again today. I'm off work and walking to the bus. How was the rest of your day?"

"Not bad, but I have to say it definitely peaked at lunchtime. I wanted to hear your voice again."

You chuckled. "Same here. Sounds like you are walking, too."

"The meeting isn't far from the station, so I like to get more steps in if weather permits."

"Maybe your habits will rub off on me."

He didn't respond, but you could hear him breathing on the other end of the line.

"Getting up early routinely and going for a run, walking instead of taking the bus or taxi. I have a gym membership, but I'm the worst about actually going," you added.

"Oh," he replied, followed by anxious laughter. "Hey, I made it to the meeting spot. I'll talk to you later, ok?"

"Ok. Have a good night!"

"Bye, [Y/N]."

<><><><><>

There was no message waiting for you the next morning. Trying not to think anything of it, despite the strange end to the last two conversations, and to keep things balanced, you decided to send one yourself to start things off.

You: Morning!

You had already made it to work and started on your case load before Nic responded with a simple "good morning" in return three hours later. You were elbow deep in paperwork and couldn't break away to message again until lunch, which was later than usual.

No additional texts. And no call. Desperately trying not to overthink, you reminded yourself that he said he would talk to you later, so there had to be at least some intent to make contact. He had given you no reason not to trust his word, but you couldn't take it any longer.

You: Sorry for the radio silence. It's been a busy day prepping for a case.

Nic: No worries. At work, too.

You: Still on for dinner? I should be at your stop about 5:40

Nic: Yep, see you soon

You chalked his stilted, near transactional messages up to being busy at work. For once, you were grateful for the hectic pace at work to keep your brain from spiraling. At the end of the day, you gathered your things and took a deep breath before leaving the office. You reminded yourself that you were beyond capable of handling whatever the evening threw at you.

You boarded the bus and mindlessly watched the scrolling marquee of upcoming cross streets. Your heart rate surged with each stop that brought you closer to Nic. What if he wasn't there? What if he was acting strange because he's planning to cut things off?

The next stop was yours. You stepped off and looked around once you cleared the bus and breathed a sigh of relief to see Nic leaning against a nearby pole. One worry down. He walked over toward you.

"Hi," you said, trying to sound chipper.

"Hey." He bent down and gave you a small peck of a kiss on your cheek. He looked...sad. Not the greeting you had hoped for. "Ready to eat?"

Truthfully, no. But you weren't going to fill him in on your anxieties yet, so you just nodded and walked alongside as he led the way to the restaurant in silence. Something was obviously up. You could see an Italian restaurant sign up the street, but he paused before you made it there.

Nic stepped over to a nearby bench and gestured for you to sit beside him. You did so nervously, clutching your bag in your lap so he couldn't see your hands shake.

"Hey, listen," he started. "Before we, uh, go in, I...I need to tell you something. I owe it to you and to myself."

Your eyes widened. "Oh, God. You're not, like, still married or something, are you?" Your voice raised, garnering attention from passersby.

"What? No, oh, no no, not that." Nic reached out as if he wanted to hold your hand, but hesitated before pulling it back to his leg. He looked around to see if anyone was still paying attention and took a deep breath before locking eyes with you. "[Y/N], I am a recovering addict. I have been sober for about three years now."

That is not what you expected. Your brain churned through a thousand different responses, trying to figure out the right thing to say to such big news. Before you could say anything, he continued.

"I go to NA meetings every Wednesday evening. They reminded me that... that...if we are going to get to know each other, I need you to know me. Who I am. That is part of my identity and daily challenge to continue to be my best self." His shoulders fell as he looked down at the sidewalk away from you. "I also...I wanted to give you a chance to end this early if that is too much. You deserve to be with the right person, and I understand that that may not be me."

Nic jumped slightly when you hooked your finger under his chin to lift his head up, where you met him with a soft smile.

"That is nothing to be ashamed of," you replied slowly. "Thank you for sharing. I know that couldn't have been easy, but at least now I better understand why you weren't talking much today. I thought...I thought maybe I said something wrong yesterday."

"What?! No! Oh no, I'm so sorry that I made you think that." He pulled your hand up to his lips to kiss it. "You- you're a breath of fresh air. A fresh start with someone who isn't stuck on the image of the old me."

You released a deep breath you didn't even know you had been holding. "I must admit that I can't even begin to know what your journey has been like. Or will be like. But I'm willing to take things one day at a time to find out."

"One day at a time is all I can ask for." Nic gently leaned his forehead against yours. "Thank you."

You were enjoying the closeness until your stomach betrayed you with a loud grumble. Now that your worries had eased, you were terribly famished. Nic sat up and wiped a tear off his cheek, laughing as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He stood and held his hand out to you.

"Hungry?"

"Starved," you replied as you stood and followed him toward the restaurant once again. "So what's good here?"

"Well, I prefer their spaghetti over their penne..."

<><><><><>

The End

<><><><><>

Masterlist

Tag List:

@croatianprincess @bluizh @groovy-lady @pmak2002 @itshonestlynotme @parkbabyj @genesis-margarita @superlegend216 @crypticslytherin

[vagueeyes]

Finished reading THE TROLLEY PROBLEM and I'm very normal about it. Apart from the slow-mo/drugged-out fight scene shown in the doc, the script featured a lot more cut-out scenes & lines than I was expecting.

This was the part I was looking forward to reading the most (the HA HAs are spelled out??):

A couple points that stood out to me on reading/rewatching & reading along:

I was first made aware of the significance of the drawing (it's specified as a pencil drawing) because of the sub. From the TLOG commentary, S1E5 "Love Comes to Royston Vasey":

Geoff: Even in art, I remember the teacher preferred his drawing of a trainer to mine. "Such detail!", she said. I wouldn't mind, but it was my pencil he drew it with!

Reece: I remember the "such detail" line is a line from my old art teacher. (Jeremy: From your school days.) He actually said it, yeah. (Mark: And the trainer.) And the trainer, yeah. Well, lots of people drew trainers in art, but he came in and said, "Such detail!"

It's very interesting that the one time we learn anything about Robbie, he's given personality traits of Reece when he was young/at school...I don't want to psycho-analyse the man but there is a lot to think about here.

This was a bit of a contentious part in the episode, I think - why Drew wakes up before Blake. In the script, they specify that Blake puts in three capsule's worth of powder in Drew's tea but in the episode, he's seen only putting in one; whereas Drew is seen putting in four tablets in Blake's tea (in the script it just says he "puts the tablets in Blake's tea"). I think this adjustment helped make that part make sense?

Drew taking the pen out of his leg was not in the script, but the bigger thing that was cut out was this:

Drew apparently wrote the phone number on the spot, whereas in the episode the phone number is not revealed until Blake goes to look for it. Because of this, I was always under the impression that Drew was in control the entire time, whereas this bit in the script makes me think he was very much winging it/hoping Blake would just cave in and confess.

Finally, further to my post last week about the characters' costumes resembling chess pieces, of course Blake knocks out the light/white side of the chessboard only - his mask has fully slipped. I was looking for the chessboard in the script but it wasn't there:

[kabr0ztrousers]

hiya it's🦋anon again can I request a fem reader x male vampire, while reader and the vampire have sex he ends up putting his fangs in her neck and he turns her into a vampire.

Today's been busy again so I'm letting this one jump the queue a little because it's a little shorter. After this I've still got about a week's backlog so if you've asked for anything please don't feel put out, it's coming (pun intended(yes even you, Clown Fucker))

Kabr0z Writes episode 40: Sanguinare Vampiris

Also entitled: You have contracted Hemolytic Porphyria

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: death (kinda); blood play; vampires; blood mention; this list expands if you're familiar with Vampire: the Masquerade to include ghoulification; intox; loss of agency/control; possessive/obsessive relationships;

A/N: I am again reminding you all, you can submit any requests, ideas, verbal abuse, et cetera in my asks and DMs, it will most likely get written.

Even that thing you're thinking of.

Especially that.

###################################

Winter time was a blessing. The sun setting so soon meant your lover was able to come around sooner, and didn't have to wake you in the small hours of the morning to escape the scorching rays. In summer you had to go to his Haven, waiting for dusk before he'd wake up, normally in the small hours in the morning, and only until dawn.

A knock came on your door. He couldn't enter without permission, apparently something to do with the specific kind of vampire he is? He was always pretty vague about it, apparently the less you knew the safer you were. Vampire society seemed pretty cutthroat, you weren't sure you wanted to know more about it.

You answered the door. Nobody was there, but you knew better "come in, then" you said to the empty street

He didn't appear, exactly, you more just realised he was stood there. The deep kiss drawing snapping his illusion as he pressed his body to yours, closing the door behind him.

He was cold, almost clammy, he could mimic being alive if he wanted to, the warmth, the breathing, the heartbeat, but it drained him when he did, so you didn't want him exerting himself if he didn't need to. You were with him because you liked him, not just for the sex. Although, the sex was damn good.

He smiled at you "You eaten yet?"

You shook your head and he pulled out his phone, dialling up a takeout "I'll get you something, my treat"

He ordered a Chinese, and you watched a movie as you ate, him just watching. Vampires can't stomach actual food. He tried when you were first dating, but it didn't stay down and wasn't pretty when it came back up.

So your night together drew on, him asking about your day, your work, your friends, then hanging on every word as you told him.

Being an immortal member of the living dead must get lonely.

The film wasn't very good, some action flick without any real plot or substance. You found yourself staring at him as he absentmindedly watched. He dressed casually, a button down and jeans, a nice watch, a pair of practical boots left by your door. He only became a vampire in the 90's, and he's looked like a 20-something ever since. It made it easier for you to explain to your friends, and the age gap didn't really bother you, even though he was turned before you were even born.

He noticed you watching him, eyeing his sharp jawline, his mouth twisted to a smile and he took a breath. You watched as colour flooded his face, the greyish pallor of his skin turning rosy, his eyes moistening and starting to blink. He kissed you again.

It was warm this time, his breath hot against your face. You touched his chest, feeling it rise and fall beneath your hand. You knew what it cost him to do this.

You rolled on top of him, pushing your hips against his, feeling his cock start to grow and harden. You opened your shirt and one of his hands slid around your waist. He bit the other, holding the wound to your lips. You sucked out a mouthful of his Vitae, feeling the strength and vigour it gave you blossom in your chest, making your skin flush and your pussy moisten.

You slipped off his lap onto the floor, unfastening his jeans and slipping his cock out, licking it up and down as it twitched under your attention, coating it with your spit.

Your pants were already on the floor next to you as you fingered yourself, keeping his cock in your mouth and two fingers in your cunt. The way he stroked your hair as you sucked his cock always just made you wetter and needier, your pussy already clenching around your fingers as you toyed with yourself, teasing out a small orgasm before the main event, just enough to quicken your heart.

His breath quickened as he watched you cum, the little noises escaping you making his cock twitch in your mouth but you knew he wouldn't cum too soon.

You pulled yourself back up to his lap, moving his hands to your tits as you lowered yourself onto his cock. He gasped as it slid into you, your spit only helping it into your soaking pussy. He squeezed and rubbed your breasts as you started to ride him. He always managed to hit the best spots inside you, making you whine and whimper with every roll of your hips. He cradled your face, turning you to look into his wine-dark eyes

"You love this" his voice was even, it made your head spin

"I love this" you echoed to him

"You love me" came his voice again, echoing through the corners of your mind

"I love you" you responded, the only things in the world were his eyes and his cock, each one driving you wild

"Cum"

You came. Still transfixed by him, your body jolted and squirmed as you squirted around the cock skewering you, still rolling and bucking your hips, wringing out every drop of pleasure he was giving you

"Again"

You screamed, your pussy clenching and squirting. Your body pulsing in sync with it, white knuckles gripping his shoulders as he pulled you in to him.

The bite was ecstasy. You came again as soon as his fangs pierced your skin, arms dropping to your sides and brain clouding. You felt your legs twitching and shivering. Your fingertips tingling.

Your head spun faster and faster as your breathing got faster and lighter.

The room got cold, and darker, maybe the power was on the fritz?

The sound of the TV was distant, quiet, as though heard from the next room

It's getting colder.

It's dark.

You can't feel your legs.

A kiss.

Your mind explodes. You spasm and twitch as every vein in your body fills with fire. You try to scream, pain searing through you. You can see. You can hear. You can smell.

You hear the sounds of your neighbours snoring, you can see everything in the room as though the lights were on, but the only light is the TV. You can smell... Blood. Yours, your neighbours', carried on the wind. You're so hungry.

He's stood there, licking his lip, sealing the wound.

You get up, strength coursing through you.

He smiles at you. "Welcome to the rest of your life. We can go over the formalities later. For now, let's get you someone to eat"

#################################

Postscript: Wow, that was another fun one to write! Massive thanks to the folks at White Wolf/Onyx Path for the Vampire: the Masquerade system which I couched this in.

If you can correctly identify the clan Vamp!BF belongs to, you get your request fast-tracked, contest closes when the first winner's story is published! Guess early, guess often, send me your requests!

[calebsmoocher]

After an argument, MC begins to navigate Caleb's 'lockdown' regime. When she thinks the coast is clear, she finds him half dressed. Should fit into the main story. Angst after a shaky reunion.

Word count: 1.5K

A/N: Yipee my first real tumblr post. My mind has been consumed by Caleb. Anyway, just a short bit of angst while i figure out how to use tumblr and get used to posting. woohoo

-

The glare of sunlight roused her from a night of intermittent sleep. She sat up with a wince, clutching her head as the sun’s harsh rays felt like a panging taunt. She fiddled with the curtains in between her fingers. They were wide open, a rare occurrence as Caleb was always the one to draw her curtains each night. But last night he didn’t, or rather he couldn’t, as she had shut him out before dinner. Slamming and locking the door. She rubbed her temple. She had lashed out at him for insisting he accompany her everywhere while she was in Skyhaven. 

“I don’t need your constant surveillance-”

“Surveillance!? You’ve been in Skyhaven for all but two days. And you think you know everything that’s out there. This isn’t the DAA; you’re not staying on a campus for God’s sake.” 

“So what?” She cried. “I’m a competent Hunter. I can hold my own ground. Why do you always diminish that?”

He scoffed, rubbing his jaw. “I never said you weren’t a good Hunter-”

“You implied it.”

“Let me finish.” His gaze hardened and she knitted her brows together in frustration. “There are things here unlike Linkon. Unlike anything you’ve probably encountered at the association. Fleet guards can barely hold their own as is.”

She shook her head. “Like what? What’s out there that’s so dangerous?” He looked past her into the kitchen, then checked his watch.

“Come on, dinner’s ready. You can help me set the table.”

She scoffed as he walked past her, throwing her hands up. “You won’t even answer me,” she yelled.

She hadn’t managed to get him to break at all. He would just ignore her or change the topic. Treating her like she was the same dumb kid from their childhood.

Her stomach growled. That’s what she got for having the argument right before dinner. The devastating weight of shame dwelled in her stomach, overpowering her hunger. She felt like a brat. Like the dumb kid she was so adamant she wasn’t anymore. Even if he was being considerably overbearing, she knew he was trying to protect her. The familiarity just let her lash out at him easier. Show him all the ugly sides to her that she hated so much.

She checked her phone. 7:40 AM. Surely he had left by now. She’d rather starve than have to face him at this moment. She’d apologise tonight, after she’d had time to reflect and cry about it. Rehearse something to get back into his good graces. 

She opened the door slowly and its hinges whined out. The house was eerily silent. So far so good. Stepping out onto the cold tiles, she peered around every corner till she made it to the kitchen. He really had left. She felt an inexplicable pang in her chest, but she brushed it off as her being on the brink of starvation. Pacing around the kitchen, she began opening each cabinet. Where did he store the bowls again? Much to her surprise, each cabinet was full. He had enough crockery, containers, and cutlery for a family of six. Did he regularly have guests over? Someone special maybe that stayed here for long durations of time? That same pang ached in her chest again. She really needed to find a bowl soon!

“Ahem…” 

She jumped, turning around at the sound. Caleb stood in the doorway, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. He was wearing the grey button-up shirt of his uniform and his white pants. 

“...” She couldn’t speak. She felt like she had been caught red-handed. A silence enveloped him, both of them admiring the interior until their eyes caught onto each other. Now, neither could look away.

“Good morning,” he offered. 

“...Morning,” she replied. She rubbed her arms. “I thought you had left already.”

“Is that why you-” he bit back his words, sucking in a breath. “Are you hungry? You didn’t have dinner last night. Let me make you breakfast.”

She gave him a small smile. “You don’t have to do that. You’re going to be late.”

“I’ll call in. Please, let me make you breakfast.” 

Another pause.

“I’m…sorry for last night. I was…I was being irrational. And I lashed out at you.” She dug up the courage to look at him, but he looked equally apologetic.

“I’m sorry as well. You’re a brilliant Hunter. I didn’t mean to undermine you.” She smiled at his words, shaking her head. An awkward fog of tension still surrounded them. 

She tiptoed towards him, closing the distance. He gave her a once over. She was wearing a thin shirt and a skirt. He took her wrist into his clasp, rubbing over the goosebumps on her flesh.

“Your feet are cold. Let me…” He turned, exiting the room quickly. When he came back, he was holding a pair of slippers. He kneeled down, guiding her feet into them. That was strange. They were pink. And they fit her perfectly. Was the person who he was having over a girl?

He had always made her play the role of his pretend girlfriend when they were younger. Was it now that her role was no longer needed?

“So…Porridge? Or how about pancakes?” He gave her a warm smile, fighting to fill the silence.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll go get breakfast with a friend. I don’t want to make you any more late.” She returned his smile, gesturing for him to finish getting dressed. She had a few friends from school who had moved to Skyhaven. Surely one of them would be up for a last minute breakfast. 

But Caleb remained still, his smile faltering. “You’re going out?”

She furrowed her brows, trying to gauge his reaction. She sighed. “Are you serious?”

He let out a strained exhale. “Come on, I’m just looking out for you.” He was still on about this. Now that she thought back to his apology--and hers as well--neither of them had claimed to be wrong. 

She closed her eyes, turning to walk back to her room to get dressed. 

“Hey, wait. Wait.” He gripped her arm, moving in front of her. He gaped desperately at her, struggling to find words that wouldn’t push her over the edge.

“Are you really going to keep me in here?”

“No, I…” She searched his eyes. And in turn, he searched hers. She was unwavering in her resolve. He could see that. Would they really fight again? After they had just supposedly made up? He sucked in a breath before slumping his shoulders. “...Help me with my tie, won’t you?”

She blinked.

He picked up his tie from where he had laid it on the table. It was black and silky, and cool to the touch. He offered it to her, eyes pleading. After a moment's silence, she took it, their fingers brushing against each other.

“You expect me to believe you don’t know how to tie a tie?”

He shook his head pathetically. She smoothed out the fabric, hooking it over his neck.

“I wonder how you managed to get by without me,” she murmured under her breath, playing into his trick. As she tucked the fabric under his collar he lifted his hands to hold her arms, thumbs rubbing over her elbows. She was careful not to let her cold fingertips graze his neck. Every swallow, sharp breath, and rustle of fabric was amplified. It made her ears prickle. It made conscious of her every breath being so close to him.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised again. “I keep…messing up with you. It’s like everything I say and do is wrong.”

She sighed, looping the tie around itself. “No, Caleb. I know you mean well. It’s just- well I need to be my own person.” He nodded, hands shifting to smooth over her upper arm. 

“I’m not trying to control you. I just can’t trust anyone but myself to keep you safe.” She finished looping the fabric, pulling the tie tightly into position.

“Not even me?”

He didn’t reply immediately. And she sighed before bringing her hand up again to loosen the tie slightly. She smoothed out his collar. Then brushed down the fabric of his shirt.

“All done.”

Before she could leave he held her back again. He was always at a loss for words with her.

“...Thank you.”

She shrugged in his hold. “Have a good day at work.” But her words were bitter. And she sunk out of his grasp as soon as his grip loosened. He gave her cheek a parting pinch, offering an unrequited smile. Just like that he was back to his cheerful self. The walls around him hardening like steel. Impenetrable and unyielding.

“Okay, pancakes it is.” 

[kirrafoster]

wooo! let’s get piggy with it!

[tenowls]

rivals

[bottlemandx]

award for most neurotic 13 year old goes to...!!!!

(LOW-EFFORT FUNNIES UNDER CUT)

[onetwothree-moved]

new adventure, new friends

original from the opening

[thetangibleghost]

I've always wanted to wake up from a dream laughing and I just did but I realized after I woke up that I have missed a million social cues :((((((((((((((((( it wasn't even funny idk why I couldn't stop giggling. I dont even giggle irl.