#this isn't the submissions box but I think it might be hard to find

[incorrectprivaterecording1quotes]

Chilled: There’s no “I” in team, but there is one in pizza.

Ze: So, you’re not going to share?

Chilled: I’m not going to share.

This is the submission inbox, right? Anyways, your posts are really accurate, can't believe this all didn't happen

.

[smallearthboundfindings]

[Banner Source]

Sprite Edit Requests: Open!

Submissions: Open!

Asks: Open!

[Blog Contents Masterpost!]

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Request Rules:

Specify what game style you want, please! If unspecified and the character/item/enemy only appears in one game, then I will use that style by default, but if they appear in multiple games (Porky, for example), I will ask which style you're looking for! Save the wait and let me know in advance!

If you are requesting a character, please specify a pose or action desired! Otherwise, I'll just toss canon sprite sheets or generic standing forwards sprites at you; I don't know what you want.

I can decline requests! Those deemed too complex, inappropriate, or hateful will be declined. Don't even bother.

Yes, you can request your OC! Just follow the other character rules and please give me at least a written description of what they look like! (Though pictures are preferred.) OC requests with no appearance will be declined.

I prefer you use the asks box rather than a comment or reblog for requests. It's easier for me to see that way! If you want to make sure I see your request, put it in the asks!

All of our canon sprites are sourced from Spriters' Resource here, here, and here to give all due credit! It's kinda hard to remember crediting every single time, so I'll put it here! Hope that works...

Submission Box Rules:

If you have something more interesting to say than me at a given time, feel free to suggest new posts as submissions or add to any preexisting posts in whatever way you find suitable! We might feature them on this blog! Just follow our little submission rules if you're going to send a brand new post! (Note: These only apply to submitted facts. Submitted headcanons only require the last rule.)

Please try to include at least one form of media, such as an image, video, or audio track as support or proof! If the media is from elsewhere on the internet and isn't a plain normal gameplay screenshot/song from one of the games, however, please credit it in a link or embed it! TL;DR: credit whoever scanned that page of Pollyanna you want to show us, for example!

Credit your sources, please! Made-up sources or “source: dude trust me”'s will not be allowed unless it’s a joke submission. Say what game or bit of secondary material you’re posting about somewhere and in what context it appears, if applicable. A simple “in the Japanese manual for [game]” or “in the debug menu for [game]” should do!

No hateful, bigoted, or NSFW submissions! I mean, we are working with a Nintendo franchise so this probably won’t happen, but just in case. Swearing is a-okay though because the mod thinks it’s funny. Please submit your Kumatora swear montage; it’ll be hilarious.

Asks:

You're totally welcome to walk up to this blog's asks and go "hey allen, what are your thoughts on george?" or something else like that. I ain't no corporate - I'm real and you can talk to me even if it's silly! I'm just some guy (gender neutral) posting Mother content and I'll gladly welcome community interaction!

Pings:

You may ping if you wanna present something you made based on something we did or showed off here, to credit something, or if you desperately want me to see a relevant informational post / a tournament were Ness got nominated and you wanna sic the propaganda on me / basically anything interesting! Overall, I don't mind them.

Miscellaneous:

Regarding the safety of our community and fandom, active bigots such as racists, LGBT-phobes, TERFs; perpetrators/glorifiers of abuse such as MAPs, zoos, and proshippers; and anyone I deem to be too mean-spirited to other users will be blocked the moment I catch you. This has been your warning. The close tab button is right there.

[wazzappp]

A FEAST. A BANQUET BEFITTING A LORD. HOLY S H I T. who do I have to fight to get you more 4 day weekends dude I'll do it. I'll fucking do it. I wont hesitate betch.

/--Chris would probably dismember them both and cremate them in an oil drum. Heck, he could probably skip the cremation step and just leave their corpses in the house. No one would find them for years./

The whole Chris introduction is GREAT. Yeah no theres a healthy fear for the man who punches boulders into submission thats fair thats very fair. But also ROBBIE. HE. YOU CANT. YOU WONT GO DOWN IF YOU GET SHOT YOU KNOW THAT RIGHT??? the boy being oblivious is. my fucking favorite thing. And you write it SO well theres so many great little 'wink wink' moments in this it has me CHEWING MY FINGERNAILS OFF AAGGHHHHH. Deadpool breaks the fourth wall but you play tennis with it dude and that is SO impressive.

/Mr. Redfield seemed like he wanted to appear harmless. He generally arrived in a nondescript rental car, biceps straining the sleeves of his polo shirt, bearing some comics or Cholula hot sauce or something else he thought would endear him to them./

CHOLULA MY BELOVED peak hot sauce I fight and die on this hill >:] Ah yes, ridiculously ripped Chris is quite the important plot point. Dude is just built different. Built Ford Tough. Absolute UNIT of a man.

Robbie going into a full dissertation mentally about how bikes work and comparing them to cars was so fucking funny to me. Like yes my dude this is the most important thing to be thinking about at this very moment good job.

/“It’s big,” he remarked.

“The seat’s not hard to adjust.”

Crap. Mr. Redfield must think Robbie was complaining./

OH HE JUST LIKE ME. HE JUST LIKE ME FRFR.

/Robbie was already sprinting around the Tacoma, between the endless shrubs, down the rocky slope after Gabe, who was hurtling toward the ocean at ten, fifteen, twenty miles an hour—toward the ocean and the rough cliffs that led down to it./

Press X to doubt about the speed dude but also PANIK. Yeah no I could see how that would freak him tf out; no idea what your little brothers newfound capabilities limits are (I feel like I fucked up that grammar a little but whatever) and he just goes NYOOOOOOM.

/“Whoa, little dude, safety first,” Mr. Redfield called, waving the boxed helmet in one hand as he overtook Robbie without obvious effort. Maybe he was some kind of bioweapon./

FIRST OF ALL: DONT FUCKING TEMPT ME, IVE THOUGHT ABOUT IT. SECOND OF ALL: AHA. AHAHAHAHA. HAHAHAHAAAAA. pot calling the kettle black moment. THIRD OF ALL: llololol lmfao being made of fungus cant fix your poor cardiorespiratory health dude. Hop on a bike and get on that shit <33

/Robbie grasped desperately for some way to explain his panic besides, every time you show me something new you can do I get scared you’re possessed again./

OK O W YEAH THATS PRETTY. OW. FUCK. OK.

/“If you cracked your head open I’d be so sad I might die.” Then Gabe slumped and let Redfield tighten the chinstrap according to the diagrams./

If he cracked his head open it would probably fix itself in about a week but theres no need for him to know that yet :] also FJDKSLF:JKDSLJFKLDS THATS ONE WAY TO CONVINCE HIM LOL

Oh my GOD. The whole bit about Jack teaching him how to ride, Eveline treating him like a toy. AGH. Its so so very cool that he can ride a bike now but the CIRCUMSTANCES. REQUIRING 'DECONTAMINATION' HOOGHHHS. AAAAAAAAA. FUCK. Oh boy Robbies separation anxiety is about to be put through the fucking ringer isn't it. Congrats, he can now very quickly and easily leave not just your area of sight but your area of HEARING. The 'are you fucking kidding me' was well earned Chris XD

/Why was he acting shocked. He’d read their file. Foster kids couldn’t haul bikes from home to home. “Who was gonna teach me?”

“Me,” Redfield muttered. “Now. Apparently.”/

Don't make me emotional about them oh my god. oh my GOD. I gotta. Bonding session bike riding drawing time. Fuck. Come on Chris talk about teaching Claire how to ride a bike. Discussing your younger sibling with him would make leaps and bounds in your relationship. Hnnnggjdkflsa get cared for idiot. Get CARED FOR.

/“Is it a requirement?” Robbie checked.

“No, not like firearms training,” Redfield said, confirming one of Robbie’s previous suspicions and raising more questions at the same time. “But I figure you want to keep up with him.”/

Yayyyyyyyy being groomed into a weapon momenttttt just slightly more humanely I guess. At least he has Chris instead of Krauser lol.

Anyway, I need to turn your writing into soup so I can drown myself in it thank you

Ghost Rider/RE7 AU fanfic: Skills

Follows directly from this fic. Set in @wazzappp's Ghost Rider/RE7 fusion AU, during the period that Robbie and Gabe are living in an isolated BSAA-provided safe-house, watched by intelligence agents and also by Chris Redfield.

At least until the thing with Mia, Ethan Winters and Chris Redfield seemed to be friends, and Ethan seems to have looked up to Chris. I don't see this happening with Robbie. Not to say anything bad about Chris -- I'm not familiar enough with his character -- but his wiki page has his full career and this man has spent twenty years professionally shooting things. I just don't see Robbie getting that cozy with him, not without a long adjustment period.

Anyway, here Chris is being friendly. He's got a soft spot for orphans.

Mr. Redfield (like hell was Robbie going to call the private military contractor on whose word they had been extrajudicially deported to a Spanish-speaking country under false Mexican passports, and who had probably trained the guys who trained the guys who disappeared people for the cartels down south, “Chris”) showed up a couple times a month to supervise Robbie practicing with his illegal BSAA-issued firearms and make nice with Gabe. Gabe liked Chris. Robbie had to let them think he liked Chris, because if Chris ever decided that Robbie and Gabe were more trouble than they were worth, presumably as witnesses against Cutting-Edge Health Connections or whoever it actually was that had snatched Gabe up for his life-saving experimental “therapy,” then Chris would probably dismember them both and cremate them in an oil drum. Heck, he could probably skip the cremation step and just leave their corpses in the house. No one would find them for years.

Career-choice aside, Mr. Redfield seemed like he wanted to appear harmless. He generally arrived in a nondescript rental car, biceps straining the sleeves of his polo shirt, bearing some comics or Cholula hot sauce or something else he thought would endear him to them. Today, he trundled down the miles-long gravel drive to the house in a Toyota Tacoma. Robbie didn’t know they sold those in Spain. As he approached, Robbie spotted something mechanical and spindly in the truck bed, which resolved itself into a pair of bicycles.

“Got something for you two,” Mr. Redfield announced, getting out and lowering the tailgate. He vaulted into the bed, and motioned for Robbie to grab the bicycles as he handed them down. Robbie had to take a moment to identify a secure place to grip them; bicycles were about 80% moving parts. Robbie steadied them both awkwardly by the handles to keep them from toppling over, and Mr. Redfield jumped down with a large brightly printed box under each arm. “Casco para Bici de Montaña” and “Casco Juvenil para Bici,” the glossy boxes read. The price stickers were still in place; the helmets had each cost over fifty euros.

Mr. Redfield waved for Gabe to come over, and Gabe ran up and grabbed his helmet with both hands—“Is that for me? Do I have to give it back? Does Robbie get one?”—while Mr. Redfield used his foot to depress a metal brace near the bottom of the frames that allowed each bike to stand upright so Robbie could let go of them.

“They’re a little old-fashioned and I had to guess on the sizes,” Mr. Redfield apologized, gesturing to the bikes. “I figure they should be good enough to have some fun on, though.”

Robbie couldn’t guess what about these bikes was old-fashioned; the paint and seats had a few scrapes and there were stickers plastered to the frame of the smaller bike, but they both had actual shocks with springs and pistons and everything. Each handle had its own cluster of levers and cables. Robbie wasn’t stupid, he knew a bike was basically a big pair of gyroscopes that steadied you as they rotated and he could deduce that the levers and gears and chain served the same purpose as a manual transmission for whatever fraction of a horsepower a human’s legs produced, but understanding how one worked and actually operating one were very different. These weren’t the small one-speed bikes his peers back home might meander along the city sidewalks or pull wheelies on; these looked like the kind grinning sweaty white people rode down mountains on TV commercials for allergy medication. The saddle on the larger bike was taller than Robbie’s hip. If he tried to sit on it, neither of his feet would touch the ground. “It’s big,” he remarked.

“The seat’s not hard to adjust.”

Crap. Mr. Redfield must think Robbie was complaining. Robbie had no opinions about bicycles—no, maybe he did. Bikes were quiet, inexpensive to operate, difficult to conceal tracking devices on, simple to repair, and while they couldn’t compete with cars on the freeway, they were the next best thing for long-distance travel. And they didn’t require ID or registration. If the BSAA had meant to trap Robbie and Gabe in this off-grid house, maybe Mr. Redfield was offering them a plausibly deniable escape. Or maybe he was just irresponsible. That left only the major problem. “Gabe doesn’t know how to ride a bike.”

Mr. Redfield made as though to punch Robbie in the shoulder, and Robbie flinched before he could stop himself. Redfield completed the punch slower, lightly, the same way he insisted on manually adjusting Robbie’s posture when he supervised firearms practice, like he was doing Robbie some kind of favor by pushing his tactile boundaries. “Well, lucky he’s got you for a big bro, huh?”

“Uh, about that,” Robbie started, then froze when he heard a crumbly hiss of tires on sand, and a scream moving rapidly downhill. “¡Ay! Gabe!”

“Thought you said he didn’t know—” Mr. Redfield started, but Robbie was already sprinting around the Tacoma, between the endless shrubs, down the rocky slope after Gabe, who was hurtling toward the ocean at ten, fifteen, twenty miles an hour—toward the ocean and the rough cliffs that led down to it.

“Gabe! Stop!” Robbie stumbled on a loose rock and gasped for air. “Gabe!”

“Whoa, little dude, safety first,” Mr. Redfield called, waving the boxed helmet in one hand as he overtook Robbie without obvious effort. Maybe he was some kind of bioweapon. “Come on back here, let’s get this fitted.”

Gabe arrested his headlong course toward certain death by some kind of miracle, and turned his bike around a mere five hundred yards from the cliff. (It looked closer from Robbie’s perspective.) He stood up on the pedals to put his weight into climbing back up the hill, just like he’d had full use of his legs his entire life, before swinging down off the bike and walking the rest of the way, panting. Robbie wheezed and braced his hands on his knees when they reached each-other.

“Cliff,” Robbie managed. “Gabe. Don’t go down the cliff.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Gabe protested. “That’d be stupid.”

“I know, I know you’re not stupid. But.” Robbie grasped desperately for some way to explain his panic besides, every time you show me something new you can do I get scared you’re possessed again. “This ground is a bad surface for braking. You could skid and lose control at high speeds.”

“I want to try on my helmet,” Gabe said, passing his bike to Robbie as he jogged up to where Mr. Redfield was opening the box. Robbie watched closely as Redfield set the helmet on Gabe and stuck little strips of foam to the inner rim wherever Gabe said it chafed him. Gabe kept trying to loosen the chinstrap until Robbie admonished, “If you cracked your head open I’d be so sad I might die.” Then Gabe slumped and let Redfield tighten the chinstrap according to the diagrams. Redfield was following the English language instructions, but Robbie noticed that he’d had to turn to the middle of the guide pamphlet to find them. The front pages were all in Spanish.

“Thought he didn’t know how,” Mr. Redfield remarked, not bothering to lower his voice despite Gabe being right there.

“Uh,” Robbie said. He still knew almost nothing of what Gabe’s life had been like while the Connections had had him, but he doubted it had included many outdoor activities. Gabe was looking away, picking at a sticker on his bike’s handlebars. “He was...away...for a while.”

“Daddy Baker taught me,” Gabe explained. His voice was quiet. “He taught Evie first. Then me. She really liked it, she made me ride for her after she got too old.”

Robbie swallowed. “You, uh. Are you happy to have your own bike now?”

“Yeah.” Gabe was still absorbed peeling off the previous owner’s stickers, but Robbie watched Mr. Redfield watching his brother with a blank, analytical expression. “Evie was really sad she couldn’t play with her real body anymore. She was nicer when I let her play with me.”

Did Gabe mean play together or play with, like a toy? Hopefully Mr. Redfield would assume Gabe meant the first one, because the second option might have left traces that might require more aggressive decontamination. “I’m really proud of you for learning how to do this,” Robbie said, trying to change the subject. “But you gotta tell me before you go out riding, okay? And stay where I can see you. I don’t want you getting lost again.”

“I wasn’t lost, I was turned around,” Gabe protested.

Mr. Redfield laughed. “Great comeback. Okay, dude. To keep from getting turned around, you just look for your major landmarks. Right here, that’s the water, that’s always gonna be South. You climb up the nearest hill, and you look for either a downhill slope, a river, or the sea itself, and you can figure it out from there.”

“See?” Gabe said, raising one eyebrow at Robbie.

Are you fucking kidding me. Robbie glared helplessly at Mr. Redfield. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now you two can do some sight-seeing. Or,” he said, winking, “zip into town for groceries in an emergency.” What was that wink for. Was Redfield trying to warn and prepare Robbie for something, or just playing Friendly Paramilitary Babysitter? “Don’t act too excited, now.”

“Right, thanks,” Robbie said. “I, uh. I rode a motorcycle once. Bike can’t be that different?”

Redfield frowned. “You never rode a bike?”

Why was he acting shocked. He’d read their file. Foster kids couldn’t haul bikes from home to home. “Who was gonna teach me?”

“Me,” Redfield muttered. “Now. Apparently.”

“Is it a requirement?” Robbie checked.

“No, not like firearms training,” Redfield said, confirming one of Robbie’s previous suspicions and raising more questions at the same time. “But I figure you want to keep up with him.”

“Yeah.” Ahead of them, Gabe mounted his new bike again and squiggled back and forth up the hill toward the driveway. “Thanks.”

[lutawolf]

My Beautiful Man and the BDSM Element Episode Six

And we are at the end of our journey. For those that have missed my previous posts on one of my favorite BLs, you can find it here. Before starting let me explain a little bit about Blood Kink. It's a real thing. I'll only explain enough to fit the context of this series and the above situation. Otherwise we would be here all day with all the subcategories. Blood play is a lot more popular than you might think. With 19% of the population having a blood fantasy of some sort. Blood is our life force, yet it's something that many people fear. Then add in the fact that while alluring, blood is a dangerous kink. This contradiction creates arousal in the same way that drives many of us to watch horror movies. Blood is also one of the most sensual and intimate fluid we can share outside of sex. A way of connecting two people forever.

Previously Kiyoi said goodbye to Hira and Hira knew he was serious. He knows this time they are truly over. However, Koyama realizes he created this mess and it's only right he fix it. He decides to go and visits his brother to have a chance to talk to Kiyoi. First though he tests Kiyoi by disrespecting Hira. "Hira is so servile and indecisive, and then the things he insist on are very strange. It's very temperamental." "That's really a nasty look. You say you don't care but you get upset when people say bad things about him." He then goes on to explain that Hira has only like one person ever and it's the one he has photographed.

Hira gets a call. A request to help with lighting for the play. There is a beautiful moment of Kiyoi trying to express himself to Hira through his script. All Hira can think though is that Kiyoi will never feel that way about him. Please keep in mind that Dominant is not synonymous with abounding amounts of confidence. I have confidence when it comes to my submissive but prior to that, it was very difficult to make myself vulnerable.

I want to be like this forever. I want to shine the light for him for the rest of my life. See Hira is deeply submissive, that he is at a level that he doesn't humanize himself to Kiyoi. Now this is all him, not Kiyoi but it is a large part of the miscommunication. Kiyoi demonstrated as a Master but has grown and softened for Hira, but he doesn't understand that Kiyoi isn't really aware of that.

After the play, Hira is helping clean up. Hira and Kiyoi end up carrying boxes together. Kiyoi asks Hira what is going on but Hira is so stressed he is unable to speak. Kiyoi gets annoyed and kicks a shelf that knocks everything down. This is honestly the first time Kiyoi has lost patience with Hira but he is understandably furious at Hira's inability to communicate. Especially as he sees himself as reaching out and trying.

There are a lot of interpretations of this scene but for me it expresses their relationship. Kiyoi's longing and lack of understanding of Hira and Hira's total devotion to everything Kiyoi. To the point that he wants to consume him. He can't help himself when it comes to Kiyoi. Just like when he masturbated to Kiyoi's picture, he knew he shouldn't but he had to. It never crosses his mind that he would actually be allowed access to Kiyoi now. It's a moment of sensuality that Kiyoi has never had and for a moment Hira is lost to it. Then he catches himself.

Hira apologizes and expresses that he doesn't know what came over him. Kiyoi doesn't understand why Hira is apologizing because to him he has made his feelings clear. He ask Hira what he is to him. "You are my favorite person in the world." "So go out with me" "No" "Why" "Because you are king and I'm the one that serves you."

This is going to be hard to understand but I'm going to try to explain it to the best of my ability. I need you to look back on Kiyoi's and Hira's initial relationship. How they treated each other and the kind of agreement that formed. There was nothing sexual, just Kiyoi telling Hira what to do and him accepting this and doing it. Now let me explain to you what a slave submissive is. First know that this type of submissive should have consensually chosen this prior to the relationship and there should be a written contract. Now that we have addressed that. A slave only answers to his/her Master/Owner and does not negotiate. A slave has given up all limits except those which his/her owner sets for them. It's not just submission it's obedience in all things. They retain no rights and becomes the property and possession of his/her Owner. Now imagine going from a slave mentality to one of general submissive. Because that's what has happened. He has placed himself into that deep submissive state to the point of not realizing that Kiyoi has moved from Master to a general Dom.

Kiyoi mistakenly believes that Hira just wants anyone to serve. He tells Hira to never touch him again. "I am fine with your usual fantasies but don't interfere with me in reality. You always, never understand my feelings." "Yes, how could someone like me understand what your feeling?" "I guess. I don't understand what your thinking either?" gif below is from @save-the-data

Kiyoi goes to leave and Hira jumps up to hold onto him. Kiyoi fights to get loose. "I'm afraid this will be the last time and I don't want to let you go." "You!" "Have you ever thought that I might like you!" "Impossible" At that point Kiyoi is just done and shoves Hira to the ground and walks away.

A bunch of messages come from Hira. Saying that he was really sorry. Saying that he was so wrong. I always thought if I said it, we'd be together. But he didn't even think I was confessing did he? Then so be it. Leave it all behind. Though not very famous yet, I still had a lot of rehearsals and auditions every day. Luckily my time is all booked up.

Hira's vm: I'm sorry. If you think I'm annoying, I won't contact you any more. Tonight I will think of you until dawn where you saved me before. Today is the last day I'll think of you.

At this point you see Kiyoi's eyes widen. He stops breathing. This was never something he contemplated. He thought he would always at least have this. It's time, it's time to end it.

Hira waits in their old classroom. Kiyoi didn't come. He couldn't have come. That's the reality. Let's welcome the new morning. So that I can forget. Forget the person I love forever.

But Kiyoi does show up and then he runs. Hira quickly chases him because he doesn't want to forget. He doesn't want it to just a memory. I know I'm being creepy but I can't lie about my feelings. Kiyoi is who I yearn for. He's self-centered and willful.. That's why... he was my savior. Everything Kiyoi was... and everything Kiyoi will be... I want to embrace it all.

Hira finally catches Kiyoi and shouts that he loves him. I'm not the King. Screw You! That's not what I am. I'm an ordinary guy. I want to be with the person I love. Do you have someone you love? It's you! Stupid, how many times are you going to make me say it? Really? I wouldn't lie about something like this. I kissed you... on graduation day, didn't I?! But you.. Didn't even come after me. Even though you kept saying how much you love me... I couldn't understand. Why would you love someone like me? I wish I knew! I really don't know. You're the one that told me you loved me first. You gave me that look... You even kissed me. But then... You changed your number! Do you know how that made me feel?! Hira whispers Kiyoi's name reverently. He tries reaches out to Kiyoi but gets slapped away and told to go to hell. I love you so much, Kiyoi, that it drives me crazy! I think of you like a God. I never thought I could have you. I'm not a God.

Hira nods. He finally understands. While he will always worship Kiyoi, it now gets to include him. He has become someone to Kiyoi. He asks to touch Kiyoi and Kiyoi agrees if it's not in the same way he has always done before. He wants the touch of a lover.

Hira cups his face and touches his pulse point.

Then Hira embraces Kiyoi. Then he proceeds to worship Kiyoi's body as he has always longed to.

This does not make Kiyoi any less a Dominant. I am a Dominant and I take it. I have mad respect for girls that peg but I can't get near my husband with a 6 inch without him screaming out his safe word. "Boundaries! Luta Boundaries!" The panicked way he says it never fails to make me smile. Anyway, this means I take it. I assure you that doesn't make me less Dominant.

Is there anything you cherish other than photos? The time I spend with you Kiyoi. Kiyoi smacks him hard enough to have Hira say ouch. That's not what I mean! I'm talking about an object. Why? Well I want to know. You're are cute. Kiyoi smacks him upside the head again and threatens to kill him. Which causes Hira to confess about the coins he keeps in the beaker. Kiyoi realizes that everything important to Hira revolves around him. Kiyoi smiles and tells Hira It makes me wonder why I fell in love with a creepy guy like you. Hira asks Kiyoi to tell him he loves him again but this just prompts Kiyoi to torture him until he screams sorry! Yeahhhh, I'm pretty sure it's clear who the Dom still is.

Kiyoi hugs Hira tightly while telling him that he really is quite creepy.

This is so fucking long but there was no way of shortening it. Hopefully you found it interesting. At least. 💜💜💜 This post is dedicated to the Coconuts Mafia for cheering me on and especially Bee. Thank you!

[zeldaheritageposts]

[Edit: sorry for abandoning this blog, couldn't keep up with writing IDs for every old post and got overwhelmed easily. check out the other, more active Zelda heritage posts blog: @/zelda-heritage-posts ]

Submissions for posts are always open!

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I'll try and add image descriptions to posts that don't have them/if I can't find them already in the reblogs, but I'm still new to it so if you think there's any way to improve my IDs please let me know!

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#c: daphness nohansen hyrule

#c: king of red lions

#c: grandma

#c: quill

#c: helmaroc king

#c: mayor bo

#c: linebeck

#c: oshus

#c: ciela

#c: groose

#c: king harkinian

Subcategories Tags:

#s: hylian

#s: zora

#s: goron

#s: deku

#s: kokiri

#s: korok

#s: enemies

#s: divine beasts

#s: triforce

[hychlorions]

What are some of your favourite Klapollo headcanons?

Hi !!!! first of all i would like to direct you to what's basically my quippy (that's my name!) klapollo primer. it's a long read but it has the basic gist of my klapollo thoughts

to say something new though ! i think they're both stress bakers with equal but opposite energies. please never put these two in a kitchen together. apollo is like. eating a badly-frosted box mix cupcake that probably has a sort of lava cake consistency (read: raw in the middle) and going "my life has gone to shit and everything including my oven's temperature is out of my control." meanwhile klavier has a pile of perfect macarons behind him and he's going "what do you MEAN i need better coping mechanisms? what do i even need to cope for haha can someone who needs to cope bake THIS many macarons???" raw cake batter aside i feel like apollo would do better baking pies from scratch. the crust alone takes so much work that by the end of beating it out into flat-submission you don't even remember why you were hitting it so hard with the rolling pin. of course the downside of that is you get more efficient with rolling it out and soon you'll need to find other outlets to relieve all that rage, but it's not like he'd have the ingredients THAT often yk yk

other constants i can think of atm:

apollo's into poetry ! he might not be any good at writing them but he reads and he tries. like. tell me a guy who thinks like "i have to pull that darkness out of him" and "Mysterious songstress... Her quiet, deep song glides through the air... Lilting above a sparse, but elegant piano accompaniment" (yes i copy-pasted that) wouldn't try to write down the few lines he comes up with every now and then.

i like to think apollo isn't really naturally loud ? that aside from calming his nerves, it's what his voice training is meant to amend. like personally i'm a quiet person and i've had so many instructors and classmates tell me to project my voice or speak louder, and when i'm somewhere more comfortable i feel like i tend to yell a lot to overcompensate idk

apollo fact #7343984: he's scared of boxed milk. no i will not elaborate

klavier isn't good at arts and crafts. he once got into one of those youtube channels of housewives making those cute bento for their kids and husbands and he decided he wanted to try it for a picnic date. i mean it turned out delicious but it was still ugly as hell, never mind that he tried to make some of the onigiri look like him and apollo. just imagine how that would look. i say this with all the love in my heart btw

i also think klavier has bad handwriting. three words: Slanted, Sharp, and Scratchy. ofc this would apply to drawings too. i'd go so far as to say it's so bad that when he's writing down music and he doesn't have the sheets for it he won't even draw the g clef anymore. tick the staff and be done with it yk yk.

a bunch of miscellaneous klavier ones: had braces to correct a wide tooth gap and always asked the dentist to make patterns with the bands that hold em in place; terrible wisdom teeth; had a lisp as a child which led to him calling kristoph 'toffee' for most of his childhood; he was also the quiet kid that keeps sticking to his mom at family reunions (still does it). god i can go on and on.

one last thing about klavier. native german speakers keep telling me i'm using achtung wrong but i KNOW and i can't help it ok !!! i just think it's klavier's personal "help girl." his manager said pick a catchphrase and Use It and by god did he !!!!

[yvesdot]

yves.’S 2021 YEAR IN REVIEW

(2018) (2019) (2020)

(view the image in highest quality here!)

A look at something I wrote every month in 2021. All of the above excerpts can be read in order at this link, and I've included a few notes below on the pieces and months in question. It feels as though I spent so much of my time writing for Patreon and editing Forest Castles and so on, but there was still a lot of fresh content every single month!

JANUARY - In Her Arms (unpublished)

COVID's been pretty bad, hasn't it? I think it's been pretty bad. Wrote this piece almost a year ago now to deal with it, and have workshopped it several times since. Eventually I'll get a version I'm happy with, and then you'll see it published!

FEBRUARY - KAY Valentine's Drabble 2 (read online)

I made sure to come up with something to post for Valentine's Day 2021-- a cute little moment between Kay/Atlas, and then Constantine/Julia. Still warms my heart to read over this... that transphobic dad of Kay's isn't always completely useless!

MARCH - mortālēs (unpublished)

I've had a lot of ideas for erotica this year (all excerpts here are SFW!) but haven't managed to post them yet-- I'd probably put them on a separate NSFW writing blog, as I've mentioned before. Well, here's one, inspired by my sudden apparent interest in historical m/f.

APRIL - Silvia (unpublished)

While in the car on the way to a more wintry setting, I listened through the entire Miike Snow self-titled album, and was struck by a sudden intrigue caused by this song. Here was something out of the box, intense, explosive in its unrequited emotion. I could see it all playing out in my head, so clearly I knew I was coming up with a 'true' narrative totally disconnected from the original... but, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't set it to paper. I'm going to let it percolate.

MAY - Forest Castles (first two chapters)

Again, I did edit FC year-round, so I only displayed it here in months where I honestly couldn't find any other new writing (probably hiding in the depths of my Drive.) This was a fun scene to write, though who knows if it'll survive later cuts.

JUNE - THE LOVER RISES FROM THE ABYSS・恋人が黄泉から生えてくる (read online)

I wrote this flash piece in either early June or late May, and then I was stuck revising it for quite a while. You can read about the process of that on Patreon! I worried over it until I felt it couldn't be worried over one second more... and then I edited it as I posted it on Tumblr ^__^

JULY - Something Weird I Heard About Rebecca (available in BLOOD&BREATH zine)

I wrote this so long ago! And, honestly, I expected to spend even longer editing and submitting it, but when the Blood & Breath submission form came around, I knew it was perfect. Preorder the LGBT vampire zine before January 5th to read the story in beautiful, physical form!

AUGUST - Forest Castles (first two chapters)

Day One Hundred And Seventeen Billion: Eliza Is Still Stuck In White Castle. To be fair, though, I remember when I thought I'd never reach White Castle! I hit quite a block around here, which I am still unsnarling, and I like that I've chosen to lean much harder into Eliza's princess nature.

SEPTEMBER - WTWBingo drabbles (read online)

Oh, God, what a timesuck! In addition to The Death of The Author (more shortly), in joining the WTWBingo event, I found myself tormented by hundreds of ideas for drabbles! Thanks so much to the WTW folks for inspiring me to write 10,000 words of these stories.

OCTOBER - The Death of the Author (read online)

I love Halloween. I love Halloween writing, and I love Halloween Episodes. More than all of that, though, I love murder mysteries, and so I am thrilled to present to you, with no further context whatsoever, The Death of the Author.

NOVEMBER - The Proposal (unpublished)

More erotica, with an eerie amount of people waiting on it. Very, very simple romcom MILF nonsense, which apparently is not only a thing I can write but something other people might want to read. I absolutely loved this piece, and it was responsible for my incredible 8K start on Day One of NaNo.

DECEMBER - Exhaustively (read online)

Exhaustively's had a big edit, and I'm now formatting it to release in limited edition paperbacks, in honor of beloved Archivist Max @goose-books! I highly recommend taking a look at it in this graphic (instead of just in the transcribed version) for full formatting joy. Also, I wrote 10,000 words in a day... but that didn't make it in here.

Man, was I prolific this year! I really enjoyed my writing, and I explored all sorts of artistic nooks and crannies (as Patrons especially will appreciate, what with all the experiments and behind-the-scenes things posted to Patreon this year. Fun Patreon surprise coming for free shortly...)

I also spent a lot of time on non-writing writing things, such Exhaustively's formatting, and, well, this Year in Review! I tried to show myself how much of my work wasn't just sitting and writing but reading and thinking and promoting and posting, and I think it worked... though I do miss just-plain-writing this week, as I wrap up all these New Yearly loose ends.

This upcoming year, I want to work more steadily on Forest Castles. It's hard to fit in with all my other priorities, especially when I don't have too much time to write a day. Do I need to set aside an amount of time daily to get it done, or is it better to dedicate full days? That's something I am still exploring.

Finally, this year I began using 4thewords, and I quite like it! Makes writing addictive and much more naturally fun. If you'd like to join up, feel free to DM me any questions, and my referral code is LOMDY47116.

And please, if you feel inspired by this post, make your own! That links to my template, which shouldn't be too painful to use. Just hop in there and change my name to yours, and tag me when you're done so that I can see it!

As always, you can read all of my posted writing here, and if you’d like to support me, I have both a ko-fi for one-time donations and a Patreon for exclusive monthly content. Thanks for being here this year! It's been a big one for so many reasons, and I'm so grateful to have had you along. Have a wonderful 2022, and I'll see you then.

[hellomynameisbisexual]

Here's a shortlist of those who realized that I — a cis woman who'd identified as heterosexual for decades of life — was in fact actually bi, long before I realized it myself recently: my sister, all my friends, my boyfriend, and the TikTok algorithm.

On TikTok, the relationship between user and algorithm is uniquely (even sometimes uncannily) intimate. An app which seemingly contains as many multitudes of life experiences and niche communities as there are people in the world, we all start in the lowest common denominator of TikTok. Straight TikTok (as it's popularly dubbed) initially bombards your For You Page with the silly pet videos and viral teen dances that folks who don't use TikTok like to condescendingly reduce it to.

Quickly, though, TikTok begins reading your soul like some sort of divine digital oracle, prying open layers of your being never before known to your own conscious mind. The more you use it, the more tailored its content becomes to your deepest specificities, to the point where you get stuff that's so relatable that it can feel like a personal attack (in the best way) or (more dangerously) even a harmful trigger from lifelong traumas.

For example: I don't know what dark magic (read: privacy violations) immediately clued TikTok into the fact that I was half-Brazilian, but within days of first using it, Straight TikTok gave way to at first Portuguese-speaking then broader Latin TikTok. Feeling oddly seen (being white-passing and mostly American-raised, my Brazilian identity isn't often validated), I was liberal with the likes, knowing that engagement was the surefire way to go deeper down this identity-affirming corner of the social app.

TikTok made lots of assumptions from there, throwing me right down the boundless, beautiful, and oddest multiplicities of Alt TikTok, a counter to Straight TikTok's milquetoast mainstreamness.

Home to a wide spectrum of marginalized groups, I was giving out likes on my FYP like Oprah, smashing that heart button on every type of video: from TikTokers with disabilities, Black and Indigenous creators, political activists, body-stigma-busting fat women, and every glittering shade of the LGBTQ cornucopia. The faves were genuine, but also a way to support and help offset what I knew about the discriminatory biases in TikTok's algorithm.

My diverse range of likes started to get more specific by the minute, though. I wasn't just on general Black TikTok anymore, but Alt Cottagecore Middle-Class Black Girl TikTok (an actual label one creator gave her page's vibes). Then it was Queer Latina Roller Skating Girl TikTok, Women With Non-Hyperactive ADHD TikTok, and then a double whammy of Women Loving Women (WLW) TikTok alternating between beautiful lesbian couples and baby bisexuals.

Looking back at my history of likes, the transition from queer “ally” to “salivating simp” is almost imperceptible.

There was no one precise "aha" moment. I started getting "put a finger down" challenges that wouldn't reveal what you were putting a finger down for until the end. Then, 9-fingers deep (winkwink), I'd be congratulated for being 100% bisexual. Somewhere along the path of getting served multiple WLW Disney cosplays in a single day and even dom lesbian KinkTok roleplay — or whatever the fuck Bisexual Pirate TikTok is — deductive reasoning kind of spoke for itself.

But I will never forget the one video that was such a heat-seeking missile of a targeted attack that I was moved to finally text it to my group chat of WLW friends with a, "Wait, am I bi?" To which the overwhelming consensus was, "Magic 8 Ball says, 'Highly Likely.'"

Serendipitously posted during Pride Month, the video shows a girl shaking her head at the caption above her head, calling out confused and/or closeted queers who say shit like, "I think everyone is a LITTLE bisexual," to the tune of "Closer" by The Chainsmokers. When the lyrics land on the word "you," she points straight at the screen — at me — her finger and inquisitive look piercing my hopelessly bisexual soul like Cupid's goddamn arrow.

Oh no, the voice inside my head said, I have just been mercilessly perceived.

As someone who had, in fact, done feminist studies at a tiny liberal arts college with a gender gap of about 70 percent women, I'd of course dabbled. I've always been quick to bring up the Kinsey scale, to champion a true spectrum of sexuality, and to even declare (on multiple occasions) that I was, "straight, but would totally fuck that girl!"

Oh no, the voice inside my head returned, I've literally just been using extra words to say I was bi.

After consulting the expertise of my WLW friend group (whose mere existence, in retrospect, also should've clued me in on the flashing neon pink, purple, and blue flag of my raging bisexuality), I ran to my boyfriend to inform him of the "news."

"Yeah, baby, I know. We all know," he said kindly.

"How?!" I demanded.

Well for one, he pointed out, every time we came across a video of a hot girl while scrolling TikTok together, I'd without fail watch the whole way through, often more than once, regardless of content. (Apparently, straight girls do not tend to do this?) For another, I always breathlessly pointed out when we'd pass by a woman I found beautiful, often finding a way to send a compliment her way. ("I'm just a flirt!" I used to rationalize with a hand wave, "Obvs, I'm not actually sexually attracted to them!") Then, I guess, there were the TED Talk-like rants I'd subject him to about the thinly veiled queer relationship in Adventure Time between Princess Bubblegum and Marcelyne the Vampire Queen — which the cowards at Cartoon Network forced creators to keep as subtext!

And, well, when you lay it all out like that...

But my TikTok-fueled bisexual awakening might actually speak less to the omnipotence of the app's algorithm, and more to how heteronormativity is truly one helluva drug.

Sure, TikTok bombarded me with the thirst traps of my exact type of domineering masc lady queers, who reduced me to a puddle of drool I could no longer deny. But I also recalled a pivotal moment in college when I briefly questioned my heterosexuality, only to have a lesbian friend roll her eyes and chastise me for being one of those straight girls who leads Actual Queer Women on. I figured she must know better. So I never pursued any of my lady crushes in college, which meant I never experimented much sexually, which made me conclude that I couldn't call myself bisexual if I'd never had actual sex with a woman. I also didn't really enjoy lesbian porn much, though the fact that I'd often find myself fixating on the woman during heterosexual porn should've clued me into that probably coming more from how mainstream lesbian porn is designed for straight men.

The ubiquity of heterormativity, even when unwittingly perpetrated by members of the queer community, is such an effective self-sustaining cycle. Aside from being met with queer-gating (something I've since learned bi folks often experience), I had a hard time identifying my attraction to women as genuine attraction, simply because it felt different to how I was attracted to men.

Heteronormativity is truly one helluva drug.

So much of women's sexuality — of my sexuality — can feel defined by that carnivorous kind of validation you get from men. I met no societal resistance in fully embodying and exploring my desire for men, either (which, to be clear, was and is insatiable slut levels of wanting that peen.) But in retrospect, I wonder how many men I slept with not because I was truly attracted to them, but because I got off on how much they wanted me.

My attraction to women comes with a different texture of eroticism. With women (and bare with a baby bi, here), the attraction feels more shared, more mutual, more tender rather than possessive. It's no less raw or hot or all-consuming, don't get me wrong. But for me at least, it comes more from a place of equality rather than just power play. I love the way women seem to see right through me, to know me, without us really needing to say a word.

I am still, as it turns out, a sexual submissive through-and-through, regardless of what gender my would-be partner is. But, ignorantly and unknowingly, I'd been limiting my concept of who could embody dominant sexual personas to cis men. But when TikTok sent me down that glorious rabbit hole of masc women (who know exactly what they're doing, btw), I realized my attraction was not to men, but a certain type of masculinity. It didn't matter which body or genitalia that presentation came with.

There is something about TikTok that feels particularly suited to these journeys of sexual self-discovery and, in the case of women loving women, I don't think it's just the prescient algorithm. The short-form video format lends itself to lightning bolt-like jolts of soul-bearing nakedness, with the POV camera angles bucking conventions of the male gaze, which entrenches the language of film and TV in heterosexual male desire.

In fairness to me, I'm far from the only one who missed their inner gay for a long time — only to have her pop out like a queer jack-in-the-box throughout a near year-long quarantine that led many of us to join TikTok. There was the baby bi mom, and scores of others who no longer had to publicly perform their heterosexuality during lockdown — only to realize that, hey, maybe I'm not heterosexual at all?

Flooded with video after video affirming my suspicions, reflecting my exact experiences as they happened to others, the change in my sexual identity was so normalized on TikTok that I didn't even feel like I needed to formally "come out." I thought this safe home I'd found to foster my baby bisexuality online would extend into the real world.

But I was in for a rude awakening.

Testing out my bisexuality on other platforms, casually referring to it on Twitter, posting pictures of myself decked out in a rainbow skate outfit (which I bought before realizing I was queer), I received nothing but unquestioning support and validation. Eventually, I realized I should probably let some members of my family know before they learned through one of these posts, though.

Daunted by the idea of trying to tell my Latina Catholic mother and Swiss Army veteran father (who's had a crass running joke about me being a "lesbian" ever since I first declared myself a feminist at age 12), I chose the sibling closest to me. Seeing as how gender studies was one of her majors in college too, I thought it was a shoo-in. I sent an off-handed, joke-y but serious, "btw I'm bi now!" text, believing that's all that would be needed to receive the same nonchalant acceptance I found online.

It was not.

I didn't receive a response for two days. Hurt and panicked by what was potentially my first mild experience of homophobia, I called them out. They responded by insisting we need to have a phone call for such "serious" conversations. As I calmly tried to express my hurt on said call, I was told my text had been enough to make this sibling worry about my mental wellbeing. They said I should be more understanding of why it'd be hard for them to (and I'm paraphrasing) "think you were one way for twenty-eight years" before having to contend with me deciding I was now "something else."

But I wasn't "something else," I tried to explain, voice shaking. I hadn't knowingly been deceiving or hiding this part of me. I'd simply discovered a more appropriate label. But it was like we were speaking different languages. Other family members were more accepting, thankfully. There are many ways I'm exceptionally lucky, my IRL environment as supportive as Baby Bi TikTok. Namely, I'm in a loving relationship with a man who never once mistook any of it as a threat, instead giving me all the space in the world to understand this new facet of my sexuality.

I don't have it all figured out yet. But at least when someone asks if I listen to Girl in Red on social media, I know to answer with a resounding, "Yes," even though I've never listened to a single one of her songs. And for now, that's enough.

[msmarvelwrites]

Vienna Waits

Summary: The reader has a hard time around the holidays because it brings up a lot of unhappy memories. Bucky knows trauma all too well and he’s always there to lend some Christmas cheer. 

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: mentions/flashbacks of assult, ptsd, 18+, swearing, but truly a fluff piece...

Word Count: 2.5k

Authors Note: Hi again! It’s ya girl, back at it again with the plot all to based on her own predicaments. Please read the warnings because the last thing I’d ever want to do is trigger anyone- but at it’s core I wrote this as an aid. Like My Girl, this was written to bring us together, because we are so much stronger that way! This is also my first submission to the Merry Hoemas Challange, so with that please enjoy! Sending love and light to all you beautiful holiday babies.

Thank you to @amythedvdhoarder  @chrissquares @drabblewithfrannybarnes @pumpkin-and-pine and @starlightcrystalline for hosting this holiday challange!

It was, of course, the most wonderful time of year. Christmas Eve at the Avengers Compound. 

The snow cascading from the dark sky acted as a sheet of white as you nervously sipped on your tea, checking the time once again. Your best friend was supposed to be back from his solo mission hours ago, and yet here you were, alone and completely overwhelmed. 

He was always better at these things. Always knowing how to avoid the holiday slump with ease. Bucky was who you turned to when you needed a quick coping mechanism. 

Christmas with the world's mightiest heroes had its perks for sure, but this was certainly not one of them. The joyous holiday music echoing through the Avenger hq living room was doing nothing to settle your nerves. In fact, quite the opposite. It lingered around you, pulling memories you buried deep down in the back of your mind. 

“I really think it’s better if I just head home… It’s getting really bad out there and…”

His lips cut you off, lazily trailing down your neck as the taste of bile rose into your throat. He was just drunk, you thought. So were you. You had given him the wrong idea. If you just explained you didn't want him to touch you… 

He would understand, you thought… You really did. 

“Honey, I’m home” Bucky called, cackling to himself as he shook off the snow caked to his winter coat. His voice shot you back into the dimly lit living room you now resided. 

You lunged from the recliner, spinning around the corner to find Bucky, hands full of gift bags and a candy cane dangling out of his mouth as a goofy grin tugged at the corner of his lips. 

“Where the hell have you been?” You tried to sound angry, but he was just so damn cute.

“Okay, first of all, you're welcome.” He scoffed sarcastically, gesturing to the gift bags as he placed them on the floor. “And second, you're the one who sent me out in the middle of a snowstorm for last minute christmas presents… So, you get what you get.” He chuckled. 

“No, no, I appreciate you- it… I appreciate it so much Buck.” You stumbled, though you didn't let the blush creep onto your cheeks before you spoke again, “You know how I get this time of year.” You sighed, crossing the room to help him with his bags of gifts. It wasn't lost on Bucky that the holiday season was difficult for a lot of the team, including yourself. Though he didn’t know everything about your past and how it brought you here, to the team, and one of the most ruthless fighters the Avengers had ever seen, he did know it was rough and dark and definitely off limits to talk about. Bucky didn't mind, however. As long as he had you by his side. 

“Ya know, if you help me wrap these gifts there might be a Christmas movie marathon in your future.” He wiggled his brows causing you to laugh. 

“That really sounds like a lose-lose on my end here, Buck.” you giggled.

“Are you by any chance at all into hot chocolate?” he bribed, though you would have caved regardless. Any time spent with Bucky was all you wanted for Christmas. 

Once all the presents were wrapped, Bucky was true to his word, puttering into the kitchen, whipping up his famous hot chocolate recipe. Honestly, if the world knew the famous Winter Soldier was as jolly was he is, they probably wouldn't believe it. Something about Christmas just brought out the best in him. 

“So,” You started as you sipped on your whip cream topped hot chocolate. “What is it about this holiday?” You pried, looking up at Bucky as he wiped a dollop of cream off the tip of your nose. 

“I don’t really know. Getting my memories back after all that time, Christmas with my Ma and sisters was always so clear…” He paused, his eyes fixing themselves on the floor. “I guess it’s one of the only really decent memories I have.” 

You only stared at Bucky for a moment as you let the words sink in. He never really spoke about his family and what, if anything he remembered. You never pushed him, thankful that he respected you the same. Though you had only been friends for a year now, those things just aren't privy to your relationship. 

“You never told me that before.” You finally spoke, watching as his eyes met with yours. 

“Yeah well, it’s hard to talk about sometimes. But… I don't know. I trust you, doll. More than anyone, I think. You kind of pull it outta’ me.” He sighed into that goofy smile you loved so much. You wanted to tell him that there was no one in this world that you trusted more, that you could and would be an open book for him, if that's what he wanted… But you supposed it went without saying. Instead, you rested you head on his shoulder, sinking back into the couch as you watched whatever sappy Christmas movie Bucky had picked out for you to watch. 

It wasn't long before the compound started to buzz with disembodied voices and echoing footsteps. A team was getting back tonight, and soon the living room would be filled with your friends booming laughter. 

You let your mind wander, tiptoeing into the darkest parts of your unconscious as the movie faded further and further away…

Your body shook, hard. You heard yourself plead, begging him to stop. Could feel the tears wet and hot as they rolled down your cheeks pooling onto your chest as he wiped them away. Such an act of kindness in such a nauseating scene. Your whole body ached with how hard you were trembling. So weak. You knew it, and now he did too-

Wanda was the first to round the corner, plopping herself down on the couch between you and Bucky, almost sitting right on your lap. 

“Good evening!” She chimed, resting her head against your shoulder in a complete and utter disregard of yours and Bucky’s closeness. Wanda was always the best at diffusing tension you hadn't even realised was there. Though now, as she sat there, it was very apparent that's exactly what it was. However you were thankful for her halting your train of thought. 

“Hello, darling.” Bucky chuckled as you wrapped your arms around her.

Tony rounded the corner next, snickering when he saw the three of you bundled up on the couch together. “Well, isn't that sweet. The trauma triplets are back together.” 

“Dont hate us cause’ you ain’t us, Tony.” You sang, watching as he rolled his eyes and puttered off to his lab. 

“So, any plans for this evening?” Wanda asked, grabbing your mug of hot chocolate without a second thought and taking a sip. 

“This is kind of it. Most of the team is back home with their family.” You explained, looking behind Wanda's head to Bucky, “Do you have any plans with Stevie?” You asked.

“Nope.” He popped the P. “Just us tonight. Steve’s out on a solo mission until tomorrow morning.” 

“About that… Nat is actually setting me up tonight. A double date, I think? So, it's just you guys tonight.” Wanda spoke sheepishly. 

Bucky and you both gapped at her before you finally spoke, “Traitor.” You glared while she only chuckled, shoving you playfully.  

“You guys will get along just fine without me. Just don’t watch The Holiday until I’m back! You guys know that’s my favourite”

As the compound quieted down for the night, you and Bucky fell into your daily routine of  comfortable silence. It was just like every other day, or at least that's what you tried to tell yourself as the end credits of another holiday movie started rolling onto the screen. 

“So,” Bucky finally spoke, shifting in his seat to reach for something out of your eyeline. “It’s technically christmas now… And, I know we said no gifts, but I saw this and it was just so you. I had to pick it up.”

Your eyes landed on the small velvet box in his hands, your breath hitching in your throat for a moment as your brain forze. You could feel your body trembling as he held it out, waiting for a reaction, but all you could do was stare. 

“Such a good little thing.” He finally spoke. Your eyes were so glazed over you couldn't quite tell where his voice was emulating from. You could hear his belt, feel his hands on either side of your face as he whispered in your ear. “Happy Christmas, baby.” He chided, dropping the small velvet box in your hands as he left the room. 

You couldn't bear to touch it, whipping it across the room as it shattered open, the small diamond necklace rolling across the hardwood floor as it tumbled to the ground with a harsh crack. Your fingers burned where the rough velvet had been, and you remembered thinking you'd feel this way forever. 

“Y/n?” Bucky spoke your name and it shocked you back to reality. You blinked at him, tears welling in your eyes as you stared at him. He looked absolutely terrified and it broke your heart. Absolutely tore you apart that you could ever be the reason for that face. 

“Hm? Oh, yes. I’m so sorry, I was so far away there for a moment.” You reached out but before you could take the small box, his hands covered your own and he let his thumb stroke your skin, sending a shiver up your arms and all around your neck. 

“You know I would never judge you, right?” He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. “God knows you've never judged me. I’m here. Whatever it is, it’s not your fault.” 

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. ‘Not your fault.’ Did he know? There was no possible way. You had Fury burn your physiatric evaluation from when you first started a year ago. No one knew. This was a fresh start, and there way no way that- 

“I can see your mind turning, and I just want to assure you, we are good. Okay? You and me, that's easy. It’s always been that way. Whenever you're ready, if you ever want to talk… I’m here, alright? Always.” His voice melted over you like a warm bath, calming you as you met his gaze. There was a sweetness you haven't seen before. It was new and yet there was something familiar about it. Had he always looked at you that way? Surely you would have remembered as it sent butterflies to explode in your stomach. 

He dropped the rectabled box in your hands and you finally felt the weight of it. Definitely heavier than a necklace, though you guess that wasn't really Bucky’s style anyways. 

You slowly clicked the box open, your eyes falling on the small black object resting on the pillow inside. 

“It’s a knife?” You spoke, just above a whisper as your hands traveled over the cool metal looking up at Bucky in surprise. 

Bucky chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he explained. “Remember that mission a year back? I think it was one of our firsts.” 

“Vienna.” You chimed, the memory coming back to you now. 

“You stole my knife.” He laughed, shaking his head at the memory. “I remember, I had it in my hand, you ran out of ammo and in a flash it was in your hands. Those Hydra punks didn't see you coming. God, doll. That had to be the hottest-” He blushed, clearing his throat, “I mean, that was the coolest thing I've ever seen. Been trying to find you one like it ever since.”

“Oh, Buck.” You signed, gripping the knife in your hands and effortlessly flipping it through your fingers as it sparkled in the dim lighting. 

“Do you like it?” He hummed. 

“Like it? I absolutely love it… I feel like such an ass for not getting you anything.” You confessed, averting your eyes to the floor. 

You flinched as Bucky’s cool metal fingers tipped your head up, and he tried not to notice, though the reaction wasn't lost on him. He really didn't know about your past, but trauma knew trauma. 

“Darling, this…” He motioned to you, “This is all I need for Christmas.” His voice was like honey in tea, warm and sweet and so smooth. 

“You flirt.” You giggled, shoving him playfully as you placed the knife back in its box and resting it on the coffee table.  

“I would never.” He sarcastically gasped, causing you to laugh at his dramatics. Bucky wasn't truly himself around the others, but you wished sometimes they could see his goofy side. Though it warmed your heart he reserved it for you. 

“What do you say? One more movie before we call it a night?” You asked, relaxing into his shoulder as you clicked through the options. Bucky’s silence caught your attention, pulling you back to his gaze. He stared at you as if startled by your words. 

“What?” You chuckled nervously, raising a brow when he didn't speak. 

“You're willinging requesting we watch a Christmas movie? Are you feeling okay?” He jested, lifting his flesh palm to your forehead as if to check your temperature. You swatted him away, rolling your eyes as you did so. 

“I’m fine. I just…” You watch him carefully as his laughter faded and he focused on you. “I never really thought I could enjoy Christmas. Someone stole that luxury away from me a very long time ago, but with you… With you it comes so easy. I know it must be hard, but you never let it show. I honestly can't tell you the last time I’ve properly laughed like that during the holidays. God, it's been years and yet here we are. You just pull it out of me.” 

Bucky smiled softly, holding his hands out for yours and you quickly accepted the gesture. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned pulling you into his chest as he hugged you. It was something that was very new, and yet just felt right. Like this was how your bodies were meant to be, fit together like puzzle pieces. 

“Doll, I’ll pull it out for you whenever you want.” He cooed, sarcasm lacing his words and your head fell back, laughter bubbling out of your chest. 

“God, I love you.” You finally got out, but as soon as the words left your lips you knew how impulsive you had been. Bucky stilled beside you but you kept your eyes trained on the ceiling above, terrified to meet his gaze. It wasn't a big deal, just two friends admiring each other. You knew, however if you were honest it was much more than that. Bucky felt it too. 

“Darling,” He murmured, so low you almost didn’t hear him. Your eyes slowly returned to his as your heart nearly jumped from your chest. “You’ve had me wrapped around your finger since Vienna. You’re it for me. Always have been, I think.” 

You stared at him for a moment, unsure of where your voice went as your mouth ran dry. 

“As if I even need to say it, I love you too.” 

Divider made by the wonderful @chrissquares 

Thank you 3000 to my amazing friends @cutie1365 and @sweeterthanthis for their endless support and constant grammatical corrections. I’d be forever dyslexic without you guys... (I kind of will I think, but ya’ll make it a hell of a lot easier on me)

Taglist:

@sweeterthanthis​@cutie1365 @whateveriwant @drabblewithfrannybarnes @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares @pumpkin-and-pine @starlightcrystalline @kalesrebellion @projectcampbell @calwitch @sycochick @sassy-pelican @mollygetssherlockcoffee​ @amateuratheart @officialmarvelbaby @a-really-bi-girl @fairislesheets

[thetorchwoodarchive]

Gwen Focused Stories as Submitted by the Mods and Users of the Torchwood Archive

Everyone! Thank you so much for your submissions! Recs are under the cut!

As always, please mind the warnings and ratings listed on each individual story. 

Feel free to reblog with additions!

Something Beautiful by Cyus (Gen | complete | 4,500 | PG)

After Torchwood, after Jack, Gwen lives her life, even as Jack comes back.

Domestic Disharmony by thirteeninafez (JackIanto, GwenRhys, Gwen&Ianto, Gwen&Jack | complete | 3163 | G)

In which Jack and Gwen get stuck in the Archives and discuss green milk, thermostats and Ianto Jones.

Side Note by Aliciajazmin (Gwen&Ianto | complete | 1027 | T)

A few months after her best friend's funeral, Gwen runs into Rhiannon while grocery shopping. Ianto's sister has some questions and Gwen has some things she needs to say to her.

Inevitability (and other hard truths) by violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto | complete | 1236 | T)

There's a clock ticking down at Torchwood, and Gwen realizes she's the only one who hears it.

All Around Me are Familiar Faces by gwendolyncooper (Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 2602 | G)

Gwen Cooper wakes up in Jack Harkness' bed. Ianto Jones wakes up in Rhys Williams'. And they find themselves in each other's bodies. As close as they are, this might be a level too deep in their friendship.

Blueberry Knees by Violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 3878 | T)

If Ianto thought about it, the way Gwen’s illness progressed was rather like falling asleep. Slowly and surely, but then all at once.

He hadn’t noticed it at first - he still loathed himself for not recognizing that something might be wrong. But he hadn’t, no one had, so it slipped through, like little crumbs falling between the crack of their ancient sofa.

And there was nothing to be done about it.

Power Struggle by Prochytes (GwenTosh, Gen | complete | 1416 | T)

How Gwen ended up in charge by the start of Season Two, based on the premise that one should never assume Jack Harkness is joking.

Bad at Communication by engagemythrusters (JackIanto | complete | 1740 | G)

In which Gwen visits a hospital, where Jack and Ianto, respectively tired and high, are complete idiots.

The Hands on the Clock Keep on Ticking by Violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto | complete | 10235 | M)

They all knew it could happen to anyone. They’d all seen the proof. Even if it happened to a miniscule amount of the population, it was still a possibility.

But they had grown complacent. They had forgotten that they too were also at the mercy of the Rift, that the Rift did not make an exception for those who knew its existence.

They had forgotten until they were faced with it themselves.

In which Gwen and Ianto get sent back to 1969 by the Rift.

Pastries, Avoidance Tactics, and a Bottle of Scotch by pocky_slash (Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys, JackIanto | 6220 | G)

In which Gwen said something she regrets, Ianto makes a poor dinner choice, Rhys offers sound advice, and Jack has a key. A different sort of "Meat" post-ep.

Children, Daleks and Mopeds: How Gwen Cooper Got Her Groove Back by paycheckgurl (Gwen&Jack, GwenRhys | complete |  9603 | T)

Following a disastrous shopping trip that put her at the center of an explosion, Gwen finds a little alien boy.

Or: The series of events in which Gwen acquired another child, had a much needed conversation with Jack, bought a moped, defeated a Dalek with a boxing glove, and learned that loving yourself and saving the world don’t need to be mutually exclusive.

A coda to Revolution of the Daleks where I explain why Gwen has a son all of a sudden.

I Don’t Know What to Think by  aliciajazmin (GwenTosh | complete | 2637 | T)

Gwen and Tosh travel with the Doctor through time and space, taking a break from Torchwood. Gwen decides to bring along her pet rat Owen (not to be confused with Human Owen). Also, Gwen and Tosh are desperately in love with each other.

Lost Inside by Xennon (Gen | complete |  36,642 | T)

The team go in search of some smugglers.

A Vision Too Removed to Mention by Pocky_Slash (Gwen&Ianto | complete |  13920 | T)

In which Ianto is stuck in a time loop that feels more like hell.

Club Wales by Pocky_Slash (Gwen&Ianto | Series |  69,530 | G-T)

 In the wake of Jack's disappearance, Gwen finds comfort in a new friendship with Ianto. Gossip, bonding, and other hijinks of understanding ensue.

To the Waters and the Wilds by Violetmessages (GwenTosh, JackIanto | complete | 13190 | T)

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Tosh whirled around. She’d thought she was alone, she’d expected it.

Then she locked eyes with the most beautiful woman she’d ever seen, a woman who seemed to radiate an ethereal glow, a woman that emanated an otherworldly light.

Cold Pizza by  Eberesche (GwenRhys, Gwen&Ianto | complete | 4767 | T)

With Jack missing and the Rift running the team ragged, Gwen's plans for a single night in are foiled.

Safe by DinoDina (GwenToshRhys, GwenRhys | complete |  1191 | G)

After the cannibals, Gwen doesn't go home with Owen. She rides back to Cardiff — back to Rhys — in an ambulance with Tosh.

Dead on Arrival by violetmessages (JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 13582 | M)

Ianto Jones wakes up. The only problem is, he's certain he was dead.

You Won’t Be Seeing Us Today (You Won’t Be Seeing Us in Hell) by Beleriandings (GwenRhys, JackIanto, Gwen&Ianto | complete | 11141 | T)

One day, Syriath took Gwen's voice. She should have realised Gwen wouldn't stand for that.

Girly Night In by Mathemagician (GwenTosh | complete | 1088 | T)

The girls and Ianto have a night in. Gwen figures something out about herself.

For the Torchwood Femslash Fest prompt "Sexual Identity"

This Earth is Empty Without You (But the Grave is Not) by violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys, JackIanto | complete | 1036 | G)

Ianto Jones' funeral happens on a perfectly sunny day. Gwen hates every minute of it.

In a Polaroid Picture by innocent_until_proven_geeky (GwenTosh, GwenRhys, Gwen&Jack | complete | 2176 | G)

Gwen finds a photo of her and Tosh, and remembers.

Exit Protocol by Beleriandings (GwenTosh | complete | 6139 | G)

Not long after the deaths of Tosh and Owen, Gwen gets a message from an unnamed user on the Hub system. That really shouldn't happen. And yet, there it is.

To the Sticking Place by zephyras (JackIanto, GwenRhys, OwenTosh, MarthaMickey | complete |  96433 | M)

The end justifies the means. Failure is not an option. There is always a choice, except when there isn't. These are the phrases Ianto Jones lives by and he refuses to allow anyone, even Captain Jack Harkness, to change that. Jack/Ianto, AU, Torchwood One Agent!Ianto.

These Happy Days by Violetmessages (GwenRhys, JackIanto, Gwen&Ianto, GwenJackIantoRhys | series |  16,777 | G-T)

A series of non-chronological stories in which Ianto miraculously survives CoE in some fashion and Torchwood Three (plus Rhys and Anwen) settle down near the seaside.

Piece it Together by Beleriandings (JackIato, Gwen&Ianto | complete |  3442 | T)

Gwen realises that for all they talk, she's never asked Ianto about how he and Jack got together before. The answer is a lot more complicated than she was expecting.

Respite by Beleriandings (Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete |  2590 | G)

Even by their usual standards, Gwen thought it was absolutely fair to say it had been a rough week.

Dancing in the Midnight Garden by Fionn_sgeul (Gen | complete |  17660 | G)

In which Gwyneth the Maid and Gwen Cooper are the same person, Jack meets someone else whose life was completely turned around by the Doctor, and Torchwood is invaded by garden gnomes

Don’t You Know For Years You’ve Haunted Me by Virtualsilver (GwenRhys, JackIanto | complete | 12083 | T)

Gwen has inherited a recessive trait that has lurked in her ancestors' blood for generations: she is prescient. She can see flashes of where the timeline is heading and can feel when something - or someone - changes it.

She tries to use her foreknowledge to change events for the better, but securing the outcome of her interventions proves to be a challenge.

He Really Loves That Coat by DracoPendragon (JackIanto | complete | 585 | G)

It was quiet when Gwen entered the Hub that Monday morning. And the sight that greeted her was not one she’d expected, but wasn't one she minded seeing.

Sink Your Feet into the Mud (and I’ll Return) by violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys, JackIanto | complete | 3404 | G)

What if she could bring Ianto back?

It’s a dangerous idea. It’s got the potential to be catastrophic. But Gwen is all out of options. She’s surrounded by the graves of the people she loves, abandoned, save for her husband, and she refuses to let her best friend go without a fight.

Painted in the Sand (To be Washed Away) by moonlightrhosyn (Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys | complete | 1992 | T)

Gwen could still see their bodies every time she closed her eyes.

This is Me Trying by gwendolyncooper (GwenRhys, Gwen&Tosh, GwenOwen | WIP | 2524 | T)

“Sometimes you do stupid things to try and cope, to get a sense of normalcy, to make all this chaos and the Rift and space and aliens and the things we see make sense. Stupid, horrible things that should never have happened, and they come back ‘round to bite you again, and--” “What happened, Gwen?” Tosh’s prodding is soft and careful, but it speaks the glaring truth they both know - Gwen is stalling, talking around the issue at hand. Verdant eyes flash upwards with a startling intensity now, wide and filling with unshed tears again, the special agent’s plush lips pressed into a trembling line as she attempts to retain a semblance of control over her emotions. “I told Rhys about Owen.”

Fourty-Eight Hour Stand-Down by pocky_slash (JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 2740 | G)

"You and Ianto had a domestic," Gwen guesses. Jack scowls at her. In which Jack is kicked out, Gwen just wants a night off, Rhys buys milk, and Ianto clears table space.

Ret-comp (Retroactive Compensation) by reiley (LisaIanto | complete | 499 | T)

The phone. The one that could call any place or any time in the whole universe. The one Jack had locked away and warned them all that it was never to be used.

Any Other Day by Amand_R (JackIanto, JackGwen, GwenRhys | complete | 84055 | complete| NR) 

Hey, this one time? At Torchwood? Gwen and Jack switched bodies and everything went pear-shaped.

Space Tripping (in spaaaaace!) by Princessoftheworlds (JackIanto, IantoOther, GwenRhys, Gwen&Ianto | complete |  5115 |T)

Gwen and Ianto road trip across space - space trip, get high, shop, have a light existential crisis, face grief, and get massages - not all necessarily in that order.

Empty Chairs by princessoftheworlds (Gwen&Ianto | complete | 412 | G)

Gwen tends to Ianto's wound.

Forever, And What Comes After by Violetmessages (JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 10028 | T)

“Hm, imagine if they did,” Ianto said. “Torchwood would have to come out of retirement.”

In which Gwen and Ianto relax at a spa, Jack and Rhys attempt bad science, and Anwen is just along for the ride.

One In The Same by Violetmessages (Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys | Complete | 1638 | T)

Ianto, Gwen thinks. Her best friend would never turn her away, and maybe she can sleep on his couch for the night. Perhaps by the morning she’ll be okay again.

Wastin’ Away In Margaritaville by Paycheckgurl (Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys, Gwen&Jack | Complete | 1419 | T)

Jack’s bad coping mechanism is agreeing to be a surrogate for an alien spawn baby. Gwen’s is at the bottom of a bottle.

Big Finish: Expectant from Gwen’s POV

[songweretson]

The internet is such a double edged sword when it comes to content creation.

Traditional publishing, for books, music, etc., has always been very much to the publisher/labels benefit. This is why they've been able to absolutely take advantage of creators. There's a very "you need us, so we have the advantage", attitude. (I was talking to some friends about Taylor Swift re-releasing her music because of owner ship. And also how Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson's friendship was ruined when Michael purchased the rights to a chunk of Paul and the Beatles' music.)

So creators had to jump through hoops to try and get signed. I know book publishing best, so I'll focus on that. You have to submit your book to an agent, because you need that edge to get a publisher's attention. You have to format your cover letter, your synopsis, and everything else properly. You hope you catch the agent/their assistant on a good day, in a good mood, and they give your submission a chance.

Then they submit it to a publisher. And even if your book is good, you can be rejected because it's not "on trend". Or because it's too hard to market. Or whatever tiny reason they can find. It isn't even about quality - it's about the stars being in the right position, pretty much.

The internet, and all the options for self publishing, have removed a lot of those risks. Author's don't need to worry about meeting a couple editors' tastes - they can go straight to the audience. It gives the audience more options, as well.

But, it also removes the quality filter.

In publication, there's what's called "the slush pile". It was where submissions went if the agent/editor hadn't specifically requested it from the writer.

I remember reading an agent's blog years ago, and someone asked if there was a way to read what kind of submissions you found in the slush pile... And my thought was "just check out fanfiction sites". And anyone who's spent enough time looking through writing online knows that some people who think they can write really can't. (There's a difference between people who are just starting out, and learning, and people who have no sense of how to create a story, yet think they're geniuses.)

Imagine an editor opening a submission and finding something on the level of "My Immortal", and a fractured cover letter about how the writer is an unappreciated genius.

I watch a YouTuber called Saberspark, who reviews animated movies, some of which are from small studios, other are self-released. Some of which are absolutely hideous, and make no sense story wise. But he also reviews self-released projects that might be a bit rough around the edges, but are still really good.

YouTube has created an avenue for musicians who don't fit a traditional box, but who are still absolutely brilliant. As well as documentary makers, makeup artists, and animators, who might not have had a chance to share their work otherwise.

Like I said, it's a double edged sword. There are times I wish we did have a bit more quality control, if only so good projects didn't get lost in the endless deluge of crap. But at the same time, the lack of quality control is exactly why we get unique, niche things.

(P.S. All this being said, I write a fantasy romance series called Callatis Chronicles that you can read for free on my Ko-fi page. This post wasn't supposed to be about self-promotion, just my thoughts on how much content creation has changed. But it kinda fits, so please consider checking it out.)

[onemegabyteofkilobyteage]

little update on slowing activity from this blog recently

due to being busy with other projects as well as my own life, as well as (if i'm being completely honest) a general lack of engagement with this blog at its peak, i am no longer being very proactive in finding posts to share and will probably not be maintaining the previous 5/day queue at any time in the near future. this blog is not dead, and i am not bored of it, but i have to focus my attention and efforts intelligently, and this has become a lower priority for me than it was a couple months ago. there has been no change to any policies regarding the blog other than this, so i have left the previous writeup intact below:

submission guidelines:

- my ask box is open. if you choose this method, please send just the 18-digit ID of the 1TBKBA tumblr post you'd like to submit

- you can also DM me @twitchytyrant. if you do, regardless of how much you submit, i'll probably end up searching your blog archive for all the 1TBKBA posts you've reblogged over the years

- please do not tag 1MBKBA or my personal blog on 1TBKBA posts in order to submit

- i want original posts, not images. if all you have is a saved image, locate the geocities url in the address bar and search "[City 1] [City 2] [ID]" on the 1TBKBA tumblr

- i will credit you in the tags unless you request otherwise

- i reserve the right to decline submissions. no hard feelings

getting the letter out:

i advertise this blog very little, mostly because there are few inobtrusive ways to go about that. after all, none of the posts are original content, and not many people are active in the 1TBKBA replies (the one time i saw an opportunity for that was during Porn Hell right when 1MBKBA was launched). i also think posting "check out my blog" in the replies of every single 1TBKBA post on the off chance someone might see it is scummy and annoying. so the only avenue that i see for turning this into a useful/entertaining resource like i want it to be is for you guys to tell your friends about it. current 1TBKBA followers, people who would get annoyed by their dashboard being spammed (because let's face it, 72 posts a day is a lot especially when 80% of them are boring) but occasionally reblog the posts, webcore fans, etc. - if you know anyone in those categories, i'd really appreciate it if you gave them a recommendation. after all, i want this to be a somewhat collaborative effort, especially since different people find different categories of these webpages interesting. i try to cast a wide net, but i do tend to skim by some stuff that honestly i probably should have queued, and in any case this isn't meant to be just a sideblog for twitchytyrant.

that's all i can think of to say at the moment. Thank You For Visiting My Web Page!