#this turned out to be 1500!!!????!!!

[friendlynaborhooddisapointment]

I literally never write but batlantern was haunting me so I went prompt hunting and this one looks really fun!!! (ARE YOU KIDDING ME A DP X DC WITH DIVORCED BATLANTERN AND A SECRET LOVE CHIL-)

When returning home to earth, over the years Hal Jordan had developed a bit of a vague list of things to get done for his personal life. It wasn't a very concrete list and usually was done in the order that came to dick punch him first, but priority numbero uno (not withholding city destroying events and things alike) was getting himself some variation of big greasy burger combo times the biggest number he could afford without going broke. Space food had nothing on the over processed 7 dollar burger of home sweet home.

the last time he had returned to earth, Ollie had showed him this neat app u could download on your phone to get the nasty fast food right to your door. It was super great!!! He saw all the open places, how long everything would take, and wouldn't have to deal with some grump on the phone who would get his order wrong. If only he could figure out how to get it to charge if fucking credit card so he could actually get his food to his nice apartment with a TV that had shitty reality TV. he did not want to leave his shitty reality TV to get his food, but he couldn't figure out how this 'moogle pay' or 'apple card' thing worked he would be left with no choice.

Or maybe it did work because someone was buzzing his apartment, and who the hell would be buzzing him at 2 in the morning if not the delivery guy? Obviously, Hal buzzed him in. no time to waste, the food was here. Thank you weird delivery app recommendation from Ollie!!!!

Or it wasn't and it was his teenage nephew.

"Danny? What.." Hal began to question, but it fizzled away as Danny's apprentice settled into him. Danny was leaning on the door frame and supporting his abdomen in his arms. His face was gaunt and was twisted in a weird expression of pain that came when the pain was a little too much for too long and was becoming too exhausting to continue emoting. And he was bleeding. A lot. A terrifying amount. And green, the blood was.

Questions and explanations came later, Hal brought him inside and closed the door behind him. Now that they were inside, he could feel whatever was holding his son up evaporated and Danny slumped into him. Getting into the bathroom where the med kit wasn't difficult, but it was stressful. Hal had never seen Danny seem so... Danny was sitting on the bathroom floor, his eyes dropping a little as he watched Hal ripping open his med kit, pulling out bandages and disinfectant.

"Don't fall asleep on me Danny" His voice was strong, "keep putting pressure on that on your stomach while I get this ready" his tone was reassuring. Hals hands didn't shake. "Okay, I'm gonna wrap this up and then give a call and get someone to come finish up here."

Hal worked quickly to stop the bleeding. Danny looked a little bit more present now. He furrowed his eyebrows a little, in a way that made it seem like it was a very tiring expression to make. Hal put his palm flat against Danny's forehead smoothing out his brow, then gently carted away his sweaty bangs. Danny leaned into his hand, his eyes cloudy but more present. His mouth was pressed into a frown.

Hal was once again violently aware of how much blood was around him at the moment. He reined in his anger and picked up his phone and opened his contacts and called Ollie. He refrained from pacing as the phone rang, so he just stared at the marks of blood he left on his phone screen. The call cut out to voicemail. He hung up and called again. Who can he call? His civilian family couldn't really help with the whole stop making his son bleed in a more permanent way than taking him to the hospital and whatever had happened to his son screamed no hospitals. The other green lanterns didn't know much more than he did in first aid, and even if he did, they were off world. Dammit Ollie pick up. The same could be argued about Superman, so no for him too. Ollie was really starting to piss him off almost as badly as- Batman. Of course. That asshole was way too prepared for too much shit. He'd definitely be prepared for this.

Hal hung up with a quiet "fuck you too Ollie" for good measure and called The Batman.

On the second ring, Danny's head snapped up and Danny threw something green at Hal's phone that he barely managed to dodge. The phone clattered on the ground and continued to ring.

"Don't call mom!!!" Danny yelled as he tried to stand up. Hal reached for him to try to get him to stop moving, but Danny continued hysterically, "don't call mom! Please uncle Howie please don't call mom and dad" he sobbed into his uncle and that was around the time Batman picked up.

Hal registered Batman speaking something along the lines of this better be important Green Lantern, but Hal Jordan was not paying attention to that. Hal Jordan had the son he had trusted in the care of his sister falling apart in his arms bleeding to death begging not to what not return to his sister? What the fuck had happened to his son? And what the fuck had Maddison and Jack done?

He could hear batman on the phone say something, but he cut him off. "Batman I'm coming to Gotham with a civilian, I need a medic and secure location. Send me the coordinates" Batman was saying something else, but Hal reached for his phone on the ground and hung up.

He and Danny were both on the floor now. Danny's hysteria fading as he listened to the conversation. His eyes were wide and his mouth mouthing the words Batman. Hal griped Danny's shoulders, his expression stern, "I'm going to need you to explain all of that, but right now I need you to hold on tight and trust me".

Hal picked up his phone -batman had sent an address and coordinates- good and gripped his fist with the ring on it and became Green Lantern, taking himself and his son to Gotham City.

xxx

Danny was asleep in the bedroom of the safe house and batman and green lantern were sitting at his bedside eating burgers. Batman had gotten an 'acquaintance' of his, Leslie Thompkins to be at the safe house when they got there. Whatever Lessie needed to get done she got done quickly and returned to her clinic. By then Danny had fallen asleep and Batman had started demanding answers to which green lantern said "I'm not explaining shit till I get a burger" Green Lantern would have explained it any way but Batman’s demanding tone had pissed him off so he had said that. But to his surprise Batman had paused to study him, then quietly taken out his phone typed something in and passed it to Green Lantern to order, from the same. Stupid. App. Green Lantern added his order a little bit more aggressively then he needed and passed the phone back. They sat in silence until batburger arrived.

Hal (he had taken off his disguise to pick up the order and hadn't bothered to put it on again, what if Danny woke up? He was sure if Danny would remember the whole Green Lantern thing) bit into his burger and started explaining.

"This is my nephew Danny" He took another bite of the burger, "he came to my apartment like this, he wouldn't let me call his parents". Hal turned to face Batman, who hadn't moved since he began talking. Batman had thee burger in his hands, with only the initial bite he had taken from it there. He was studying the sleeping face of the boy. "That's all I know" he finished lamely.

Batman hummed. He stood up and made his way to the door.

"Where are you going" His tone was harsh, but it had no bite to it.

Batman turned to him, his hand on the door, "to find out" he replied. Hal watched him for a moment and felt something twist in his stomach. He gripped the edge of his seat. He jumped up and raced towards the other man before he left the apartment. "Wait" Batman stopped, his foot already halfway out the window. Hal picked up a pen he saw laying on the dining room table and ripped the receipt from their batburger order and started scribbling words down on the back of it.

"Here is some information that'll help get the small stupid stuff out of the way" he headed the list to batman. The list comprised of various names and places. "Like his hometown and stuff about my sister and her husband". He carefully folded the paper up and slipped it into his belt. He paused for a moment before speaking again.

"Thank you, I will find what happened. Contact me if anything changes here" and batman disappeared into the night.

My brain has decided to blend my two current hyper fixations!

Divorced Batlantern (before Hal became Lantern) with Trans!Hal and Danny being Hal and Bruce's kid. Hal wasn't in a good place to raise Danny so he gave him to his Cousin Maddie. Content with simply being odd Uncle Hal to his child. Only to be horrified when years later Danny shows up on his doorstop bleeding green and on the run from his adopted parents and the GIW.

[littlecrow4]

How we feeling about this??? Good? Bad?

Part of a fic I’m writing

[cattewife]

"are you writing weird fetish fanfiction or are you writing normal fanfiction about how much they love each other?"

OK LOOK IT'S BEST WHEN IT'S BOTH OK! DON'T LOOK AT ME

[famewolf]

the instant relief I felt when the mechanic called to let me know he found the oil leak culprit and that it was only going to be $300 to fix ... dont even care that i have to leave my car there until tomorrow!! now I can actually relax and enjoy my weekend

[wings-of-flying]

sigh. time to sleep

[sadbicth]

elon musk did a nazi salute twice at the inauguration, and republicans are defending him.

trump revoked executive order 11246, which prohibited discrimination.

trump put all dei employees on leave to be fired.

trump blamed the dc plane crash on dei.

trump banned all lgbtq+ flags from being hung in government buildings.

trump ordered the pentagon to cancel celebration of mlk jr. day, black history month, women's history month, holocaust remembrance day, asian american pacific islander heritage month, lgbtq+ pride month, juneteenth, women's equality day, national hispanic heritage month, national disability employment awarenessmonth, and national american indian heritage month.

trump proposed removing all palestinians from gaza, turning the area into a vacation resort called “riviera of the middle east”.

trump posted an ai generated video showing what he hopes to turn palestine into, with a large golden statue of himself in the middle of it.

trump rolled back biden’s executive order to lower prescription drug costs for people using medicare and medicaid.

trump rescinded the $35 cap on insulin, and prices are expected to rise to $1500 a month.

trump ordered the national institutes of health to cancel their review panels on cancer research.

trump ended the guidelines to prevent ai misuse. the guidelines prevent many things, but notably it prevents production of ai child pornography.

when sean hannity asked trump about the economy, he said “i don’t care”, after campaigning with the economy as his main talking point.

trump has withdrawn the us from the world health organization.

trump is ordering health agencies to stop reporting on bird flu and halt publications of scientific reports.

trump has pardoned over 1500 people who stormed the capitol on january 6th.

trump changed denali back to mount mckinley.

trump signed an executive order to rename the gulf of mexico to gulf of america.

trump shut down cbp one, an app which granted legal entry to 1 million+ immigrants.

trump has discussed introducing a “gold card”, which would allow the wealthiest people to buy us citizenship for $5 million usd.

trump is allowing ice raids at churches and elementary schools.

trump announced plans to declare a national emergency at the us-mexico border.

trump signed an executive order to expand the use of the death penalty.

trump disbanded the school safety board that works to prevent school shootings. it was comprised of survivors, educators, and gun violence prevention advocates and formed after the school shooting in parkland.

trump has threatened to invade panama to claim the panama canal.

trump withdrew from the paris climate act.

trump revoked all protections for transgender troops in the us military.

trump rescinded executive orders made by biden that benefited and protected women, lgbtq+ people, black americans, hispanic americans, asian americans, native hawaiians, and pacific islanders.

trump is attempting to make it legal to refuse to hire or fire pregnant women.

multiple state legislators are drafting bills to allow the punishment for abortion to be the death penalty.

trump pardoned 23 individuals convicted under the freedom of access to clinic entrances (FACE) act for their anti-abortion activism, including oftentimes violent protests at abortion clinics.

trump signed an executive order allowing deportation of foreign students who they believe express support for hamas or hezbollah.

trump announced that the us government will from here on out only recognize male and female as sexes. intersex is not legally recognized anymore.

trump has told all schools and universities that they have two weeks to end all diversity initiatives, or he will cut federal funding. (as of feb 19, 2025)

trump fired the staff of the federal aviation association after a deadly plane crash in dc.

trump has fired the heads of the tsa and coast guard, and gutted a key aviation safety advisory committee.

the supreme court weakened the clean water act's limitations on raw sewage discharge into our water in a 5-4 ruling.

the official white house twitter account posted an “illegal alien deportation” asmr video where they did closeups of chains and the sound of ankle chains hitting the metal stairs of the airplanes deportees were being loaded onto.

on truth social, trump posted, “LONG LIVE THE KING!”.

at CPAC, a republican group called the “third term project” held a rally to support changing the constitution so trump can run for a third term. on their posters, they’re photoshopping his face onto julius caesar’s, seemingly forgetting what happened to julius caesar.

the trump administration paused health communications to prevent the fda from announcing food recalls.

republicans on tiktok are recreating elon’s salute to prove that it “wasn’t a nazi salute”, and they’re either doing it completely wrong because they know if they replicate it then it will actually be a salute, or they’re doing the proper salute and posting it online.

google and apple maps now display the gulf of mexico as “gulf of america”.

rfk jr. wants to ban SSRIs and put everyone on them into labor camps.

andy ogles drafted a constitutional amendment to allow trump to be president for a third term.

the us senate confirmed russell vought, one of the main authors of project 2025, will lead the white house budget office.

nancy mace repeatedly used the t-slur during a congressional meeting, three times were out of spite.

andy biggs introduced a bill to abolish osha and completely eliminate federal workplace safety protections.

georgia republican congressman mike collins called for the deportation of new jersey born mariann budde, the bishop who urged trump to “have mercy” on the lgbtq+ community and immigrants during a service at the national cathedral.

florida republican anna paulina luna has introduced a bill to add trump to mount rushmore.

new york republican claudia tenney introduced a bill to make trump’s birthday a federal holiday.

west virginia republican delegate lisa white has introduced house bill 2712, which would remove rape and incest as exceptions for abortion, even for minors. you can call her at (304) 340- 3274 or email her at lisa.white@wvhouse.gov and let her know your opinion on that.

there is a bill named the SAVE act which would require americans to provide their birth certificate, passport, or other citizenship documents every time they vote, and would require the last name on their driver’s license to match that of their birth certificate. this would prevent married women who have changed their last name from voting.

bill h.r.1161, which is available publicly on congress.gov, would authorize trump to enter into negotiations to acquire greenland and to rename it to "red, white, and blueland".

six states (arizona, idaho, iowa, kansas, mississippi, and north dakota) are planning on challenging obergefell v. hodges, which would end same-sex marriage nationwide. about a dozen more states have representatives are also considering filing similar resolutions.

a bill to ban the mRNA vaccine has passed out of the house committee.

amazon revoked protections for lgbtq+ and black employees.

the cdc has removed their hiv prevention page.

the united states state department has officially changed its “travelers with special conditions” page which previously said “lgbtqi+ travelers” to “lgb travelers”, completely getting rid of the tqi+.

every single republican told us we were overreacting. trump swore he had nothing to do with project 2025 yet continues implementing details outlined in it. not a single person has the right to tell us we’re being dramatic anymore.

hope “cheaper eggs and gas” was worth it.

EDIT: i removed the “trump refused to swear on the bible” point because it was being taken as me being an offended christian. i’m not christian, im agnostic. the reason i included it in the first place is because he’s the first president in history to ever refuse to swear on ANYTHING. meanwhile his “conservative christian” followers had no issue with this, and decided to continue to scramble for excuses instead of admitting he may not be as religious as he claims he is. i figured taking that point out entirely is probably better than filling this with an explanation in the middle of the other important issues.

[oneofthosecrazycatladies]

Okay so we have this huge problem with forgetting about everything that’s happened by the time the next election rolls around so I’d like to keep a running list of things as they’re happening to help remind us when the 2026 midterms roll around. And please add to this if I’ve missed anything.

January 2025:

Donald Trump pardoned 1500 people who participated in the insurrection of January 6th, including those who violently assaulted and nearly killed police officers.

Donald Trump has declared that trans and non-binary people don’t exist.

Donald Trump is working towards firing everyone in the government who isn’t loyal to him.

Donald Trump has effectively fired everyone who he claims is an “illegal DEI hire” …whatever that means

Donald Trump pulled out of the Paris Climate Agreement and the World Health Organization

Congress are trying to pass the Laken Riley Act to, effectively, round up every immigrant in the country, including LEGAL immigrants

Donald Trump removed caps on prescription drug prices.

Donald Trump wants to withhold federal aid to help combat the LA wildfires and help the thousands of people who have been displaced and lost their homes.

The Department of Justice has put a hold on all civil rights cases.

Donald Trump has cut off aid to Ukraine.

Laken Riley Act has been passed by Congress and is awaiting being signed into law by the President. Here’s the breakdown of the votes: House Senate

Donald Trump purged a dozen inspectors general from the federal government and intends to replace them all with people loyal to him.

Pete Hegseth has been confirmed as Secretary of Defense. Here’s the breakdown of how the Senate voted. Note, it was a 50-50 tie that JD Vance had to break.

Donald Trump imposed a 25% tariff on Colombia after the Colombian government turned away two airplanes carrying migrants. Columbia has retaliated by imposing a 25% tariff of its own on US goods.

Donald Trump has also issued a travel ban for Colombian citizens and revoked visas from Colombian migrants coming to the US.

Donald Trump has now backed off the tariffs and other threats against Colombia. Note for future reference: this comes just hours after Trump made the threat in the first place and he and the Colombian president got into a big fight on social media.

Nearly 1,000 migrants were arrested mostly in Chicago on January 26th by ICE and ICE has been told to meet a quota of 75 migrant arrests every day.

Donald Trump rescinded an anti-discrimination executive order from Lyndon B. Johnson

Donald Trump signed an executive order banning trans people from serving in the military and also ordered that people who were discharged for refusing to get mandatory vaccines be reinstated.

Donald Trump has frozen all federal grants to institutions.

After pressure from state governments, activist groups, and the general public, the White House has rolled back some of the freezes on federal funding.

Representative Andy Ogles (R-TN) has proposed a change to the 22nd Amendment to allow Donald Trump, specifically, to serve a third term.

Donald Trump is trying to fire all federal employees who don’t want to return to the office (work-from-home saves the federal government millions of taxpayer dollars in overhead). He also sent an email to federal employees saying that if they’re not loyal to him, they’ll be investigated.

Donald Trump has signed the Laken Riley Act into law.

Donald Trump has said he doesn’t think Palestinians should be allowed to return to Gaza but instead should be sent to Egypt and Jordan.

Native Americans have been targeted by ICE raids.

Donald Trump has ordered undocumented immigrants to be sent to Guantanamo Bay

Donald Trump signed an executive order to expand federal funding for school choice programs. [x]

Donald Trump signed an executive order saying that he will deport visa-holding students who protest against Israel. [x]

Donald Trump has blamed DEI for the plane crash that killed 67 people in Washington D. C. [x]

Donald Trump signed an executive order that schools should no longer teach about racism and discrimination. And that schools should only teach history that is “patriotic” [x]

Florida Representative Anna Paulina Luna wants to add Donald Trump’s face to Mount Rushmore. [x]

Trump’s Department of Education has called book bans a hoax. [x]

The Department of Justice has barred certain news outlets from receiving information from the Pentagon. [x]

The Trump administration has fired multiple FBI officials who investigated the January 6th insurrection. [x]

February 2025

March 2025

April 2025

I’ll keep adding to this list as new things come up and, again, please feel free to add anything I’ve missed. I know that in this world of constant news it’s easy to forget, so let’s give our future selves a little help!

[stresskidz]

I don't know why, but i'm thinking about an AU where Seonghwa is a 500 year old vampire who along with the rest of vampire Ateez saves reader from a bad vampire. Seonghwa comforts reader and is super gentle with them answering all their questions. Hongjoong is a famous pirate from the 1600s mentioned in history books, who is still very much "alive" today.

[1am-s0-veryt1red]

I am going to end up on the 6 o'clock news.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Change your mind

Pairing: College!Athlete!Bucky x College!Reader

Summary: Natasha drags you to an NYU baseball game. And despite yourself, one player catches your attention.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: Bucky’s charm; Bucky being flirty; Bucky showing off; Reader checking out baseball players lol; Reader not being interested in baseball (at first)

Author’s Note: I've been craving some flirty college Bucky after all the angst I've been writing. So that’s what I came up with. It is also meant as a little celebration fic because I've got over 1500 followers and that’s so amazing! Thank you so much!! Hope you enjoy! ♡

Divider by @thecutestgrotto ♡

Masterlist

You haven’t been to a single game since the semester started - since any semester started, to be real. And honestly, you have been content with that. Satisfyingly so.

Your time is better spent attending to assignments, slogging through your part-time job at the library, or doing literally anything else besides sitting in the stands and watching a bunch of guys chase a ball around a field, or whatever the hell this sport even is about.

Baseball isn’t your thing, it never has been and it never will be.

You’ve been complaining about it the whole way here. Dramatically so, but you didn’t care. Your best friend can handle you and your antics.

“You know, I can think of at least a dozen things I should be doing right now instead of this,” you grumble, trailing behind her as she weaves through the crowd in search of seats.

Natasha sighs sharply and throws you a glare over her shoulder. “God, would you quit whining? This is good for you.”

“I fail to see how,” you shoot back, adjusting the strap of your bag as you begrudgingly follow her.

But Natasha just smirks. That dangerous little smirk that means she’s about to say something you won’t have a comeback for. “You know,” she muses, eyes darting playfully in your direction. “I didn’t think I’d have to twist your arm to come watch a bunch of hot guys running around out there.”

A brow of yours lifts. “Alright, hold on-” you jab a finger in her direction “-I never said I was against that part.”

She scoffs, clearly pleased with herself, and you grin, nudging her with your elbow as the two of you settle into your seats.

“Besides,” you continue, voice dripping with amusement. “I don’t think you should be making comments like that when we both know you’re here for one guy in particular.”

Natasha only shrugs, all nonchalant, but the corner of her mouth tugs lightly upward. “So what if I am?”

You snicker. “I mean, nothing. I just think it’s cute how whipped you are.”

She rolls her eyes, but her lip is still twitching. Natasha and Steve have only been dating for a few weeks, but you see the way she looks at him. And as much as you complain about being dragged here, you suppose watching your best friend fall stupidly in love is kind of entertaining.

Even if you have to suffer through a baseball game to witness it.

You lean back against the hard metal bleachers, arms crossed as your gaze falls across the field.

It’s a decent night, warm with just enough of a breeze to keep the air from feeling stifling. And even though you’d rather be anywhere else right now, you can’t deny that seeing Natasha like this - light in her eyes, a weird softness in her expression - makes the whole ordeal slightly less painful.

Steve is out on the field, stretching with his team, and Natasha is watching him with this reserved kind of smile. The kind that sneaks up on a person when they don’t realize they’re doing it. You smirk to yourself. Yeah, she’s got it bad. But honestly, you are happy for her. They look good together, and she certainly deserves someone who looks at her the way Steve does.

Natasha must catch you watching her because she suddenly turns, an all-too-knowing glint in her eye. You don’t like that look.

“And who knows,” she says, spreading her legs out in front of her, voice hinting at humor, “maybe your future husband’s down there right now.”

You snort, rolling your eyes so hard they might get stuck. “Oh, yeah, sure. He’s just waiting for me to sweep him off his feet in the middle of a stretch.”

She smirks. “Could happen.”

You shake your head. “Yeah, no thanks. I'm all for watching a bunch of hot guys get all sweaty and run around in tight pants, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” You gesture vaguely toward the field. “That’s just spectating. Everything else is a hard pass.”

Natasha quirks a brow, tilting her head at you. “Oh, come on, Y/n. It’s not that bad.”

You shoot her a look. “Nat, the last guy I went out with, Peter Quill, you remember?-” You don’t wait for her nod “-he told me, verbatim, that he doesn’t believe in seasoning his food. And the guy before that showed up to our date in cargo shorts and a fedora and spent two hours explaining why The Wolf of Wall Street is the peak of cinema.”

She winces. “Oof.”

“Yeah. So forgive me if I’m not that eager to throw myself back into the trenches.” You pause. “Also, I’m super busy.”

Natasha laughs, shaking her head as she turns back toward the field. “Well, if you ever change your mind, I’ll be sure to put in a good word with one of Steve’s teammates.”

You scoff. “Wow, generous and delusional. I’m so lucky to have you as a friend.”

She nudges you with her shoulder, smirking. “The luckiest.”

Huffing, you sink deeper into your seat. Well, at least there is one upside to all of this. If nothing else, you can at least appreciate the view.

Your eyes wander over the team as they move across the field, warming up, adjusting their gloves, casually tossing a ball back and forth.

And yeah, you can admit it - objectively speaking, they look good. Athletic builds, toned arms, legs that fill out those pants just right. It’s a nice view, even if you’re not about to go throwing yourself into the dating pool again, so soon.

Your gaze drifts back to Steve, mostly because he’s the only one you actually know - if only a little. But before you can really focus on him, someone steps into your line of sight, half-blocking the blonde from view.

The number 17 fills out your vision.

Your head tilts instinctively, curiosity sparking before you know it. The guy in front of Steve is tall, broad-shouldered, with an easy stance that suggests he’s completely at home out there on the field.

His uniform fits him in a way that makes you annoyingly aware of just how well built he is - jersey stretched firm across his upper back, the sleeves tight around his biceps, pants snug in all the right places. His chestnut hair curls slightly at the nape of his neck underneath the baseball cap he is wearing, and he stands so casually confident that it makes it impossible to not look at him.

Have you maybe seen him around campus before? You should have, right? Someone like him doesn’t just blend into the background. Maybe in the halls, in one of those massive lecture rooms, passing by in the library, maybe when you're on shift. But you are sure, that if you saw that guy, you would have remembered him.

“See something you like?”

Natasha’s smug voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you catch the smirk she is throwing your way.

Scoffing, you tighten your arms around yourself and glance back at the field. Number 17 is still standing there, talking with Steve, completely unaware of the fact that you’ve just spent the past minute analyzing every inch of his backside.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you deny, keeping your tone even.

Natasha snorts, bumping her knee against yours. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“For what?”

She nods her head to the field. “For dragging you here. For the eye candy. For giving you the opportunity to meet your future ex-husband.”

You huff out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.”

Inevitably, your eyes move back to number 17, and you can’t help but think that if you haven’t seen him before, why it feels like you should have.

He’s turning.

Wait, he’s turning.

Your breath hitches and stays stuck in your throat uncomfortably, and suddenly he’s looking at you. Did he feel your eyes on him? Does he somehow know that you eyed him up like a complete creep? But just as the heat of panic can spark in your chest, you realize he’s not even looking at you.

He’s looking at Natasha.

Your shoulders loosen slightly. Steve also has turned his gaze toward the stands, his affective smile directed at your friend as well. He probably told the brunette that she’s here.

Number 17 lifts a hand in a casual wave, movement smooth, and even that simple gesture kind of looks way hotter than you want to feel right now.

Natasha only gives a small, lazy nod in return.

You expect the brunette to turn back around after that, to go back to whatever pre-game thing they were doing. But he doesn’t.

His attention shifts. To you.

Your stomach makes a flip before your brain can decide how to handle it.

His eyes are sharp, the exact color lost to the distance, but it seems to be something blueish. His expression is unreadable, his head tilting slightly as if assessing you. The stadium lights cast a glow over his features, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw, and the way his mouth seems to settle into something just shy of a smirk.

Immediately, you whip your head around to Natasha, eyes wide.

“Do you know that guy?” you ask, trying to sound more casual than you feel.

Natasha doesn’t even bother looking at you. She’s still watching Steve, her lips curving higher as if knowing what she’s doing.

“He’s Steve’s best friend.”

You blink. “Steve’s best friend?”

Your gaze falls back to the field against your better judgment but Number 17 has already turned back to Steve, talking to the blonde who now is sporting a smirk just like Natasha’s.

“You never mentioned him before,” you comment, though it comes out a little too measured.

Natasha of course picks up on it immediately.

“Should I have?” she counters, dragging the words out just a little.

You narrow your eyes at her but she only continues smirking.

And again, your gaze falls back to Number 17. God, why can’t you stop checking him out. The white baseball pants of his do absolutely nothing to hide the strength in his legs. His hair at his nape is slightly messy from running around and you wonder if it would feel soft if you put your hands on it.

You shake that thought right off again.

It’s not like it matters.

Still, you shift in your seat, arms tightening. “I just think it’s interesting that you never brought him up before when he’s his best friend.”

Natasha exhales a laugh through her nose, finally glancing over at you, her eyes glinting with something mischievous. “I mean, I could have.”

“And you didn’t because…?”

“Because,” she says sultry, shrugging one shoulder. “I figured you’d meet him eventually.”

There is something pointed in the way she says it, something deliberate, and you don’t like that it sends a small tingle of anticipation through you.

“So, what’s his deal, then?” you keep going, not even knowing why.

Natasha hums, stretching her limbs languidly. Her voice is sly. “His deal?”

“You know,” you press, trying not to sound too interested, although, fucking hell, you are. “Like, what’s his major? Have you seen him around before?”

She turns to you again, and oh, that look on her face is entirely too smug. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You huff. “Nat.”

Her smirk only deepens. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Before you can answer, she looks past you, over your shoulder, down the steps.

Her expression doesn’t change but her smirk gets a little too satisfied, a little too wicked.

You quickly follow her gaze and, oh shit.

A heavy beat thuds against your ribs before your heart remembers how to move properly as your eyes follow the unmistakable figure making his way up the stairs.

Number 17.

And he is coming right toward you.

You inhale sharply, sitting up a little straighter, trying to act like this isn’t throwing you off balance. His steps are easy and unhurried as if giving you the time to check him out some more. And even though you should know better, you do.

His uniform is wrinkled from warm-ups, the fabric clinging in ways that are frankly unfair, and his dark hair curls enough to look annoyingly good.

He reaches your row. And despite the fact that Natasha should logically be the person he came up for, he isn’t looking at her when he speaks.

His eyes land directly on you.

“Steve sent me up,” he says, voice low and smooth, a pleased drawl rolling through his words. “Said he forgot his water bottle or somethin’.”

You blink and try to shake off what his voice does to your body. Crossing one leg over the other, you feign indifference.

“Yeah,” Natasha says, sounding way too delighted. “She’s got it.” She slaps your arm lightly with her hand.

You turn to her confused. “Huh?”

“I asked you to put it in your bag since mine’s smaller.” She raises an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know it’s Steve’s,” you mutter, then glare at her for a second before reaching down to retrieve the damn thing.

Natasha looks triumphant.

When you pull the bottle free and hold it out to the guy standing in front of you, he takes it with his fingers brushing against yours in a way that feels very intentional.

“Thanks, doll.”

His tone is silk spun into sound and hell, it glides over your skin, making it prickle underneath your sweater.

He has the bottle now but doesn’t step away yet. His eyes linger on you.

“Never seen you ‘round here before,” he remarks, studying you with open interest. His lips tug a little as if he is holding back a full grin. As if he is pleased.

You meet his gaze and swallow, keeping your expression open but neutral even as something sparks under your skin. “Yeah, it’s my first game.”

His lips press together like he’s trying not to fully smirk. “No kiddin’.” There is something about the way he says it that you can’t place.

You lift a brow and tilt your head slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs, feigning innocence. “Just figured I woulda noticed you before, is all.”

Oh.

Oh, damn.

You know flirting when you hear it. And that was flirting.

You clear your throat, but a smile is trying to makes its way over your mouth. “Do you say that to all the girls in the stands?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Nah. Just you.”

Heat winds through your stomach. Because there is an easy, matter-of-fact kind of confidence in his voice.

Biting his lip, he studies you some more. Eyes intensely on you. “So you ain’t much of a baseball fan, then,” he hums. His voice is a low timbre.

You scoff, but can’t help the amused smile lifting your lips. “Not quite my thing.”

“Maybe I can change that.”

You almost choke on your next breath, because oh. He’s good. And hell, that came fast.

Natasha cackles. You ignore her.

Your fingers play with the fabric of your jeans. “Smooth,” you assess, unable to help the wry lilt in your voice.

He grins. Lopsided. Charming. Devastatingly handsome, oh god so help me. “Yeah? That workin’ for me?”

You roll your eyes, but it’s all for show. “Debatable.”

Natasha snorts.

His smirk is deep. There is a twinkle in his blue eyes. He stares at you like that for a second.

“I’m Bucky.” His voice is softened a fraction. His tone is genuine.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

His head moves to the side a little, the corner of his mouth twitching. “And you are?”

You tell him your name and his gaze lingers, his smirk edging into something thoughtful.

“Huh,” he muses.

You frown slightly. “What?”

He shrugs, still watching you, maybe even looking a little bashful. “Dunno. Just- I like it. Suits you.”

That somehow feels worse than the flirting.

You feel your face heat and you hate that Natasha can probably see it.

There is a shout coming from the dugout. “Barnes, get your ass down here, now!”

That must be their trainer Fury.

But Bucky stays standing there, looking at you for a beat longer, biting his lip and scratching the back of his neck. Then he takes a step back, spinning the water bottle once in his hand. “Guess I’ll see ya next game, doll,” he charms.

You blink, eyebrows up. “That’s a bold assumption.”

He just grins, throwing you a wink. “Nah. I got a feelin’.”

And just like that, he turns, heading back down toward the field, leaving you sitting there slightly dazed.

It takes a moment for your brain to start working again.

You feel Natasha leaning in but are not ready to meet that sly expression.

“We both know you’ll be here next time.”

Infuriatingly, you know she is right.

“I hate you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The game kicks off, but you are not watching it the way you thought you would.

Because he’s on the field.

And, well damn.

You tell yourself you’re just curious. That’s all it is. You’re not actually watching him. You’re just keeping an eye on him. Casual observation. A purely academic interest in how the game works.

Except, the longer you watch, the more you have to admit that he is good.

Really good.

His movements are seamless. It’s like an unbroken flow of precision and control as if the game is merely responding to him, not the other way around. He’s so natural, seems so at ease, and yet he moves so fast and sharp.

You can see the innate understanding he has, of how the game breathes. It’s impressive.

When he’s at bat, his stance is balanced to perfection, knees bent just enough, shoulders loose but poised. The pitcher winds up, releases, and before you can even register it fully, Bucky crushes that ball.

The sound of it is sharp, a crack that echoes through the field.

You track the ball as it soars high, way over the outfield. And then he’s running. He’s a cloud of white and navy as he rounds first base, feet hitting the dirt hard.

Natasha whistles low beside you. “Not bad, huh?” She doesn’t hide her smirk.

You press your lips together, determined to be neutral. “Yeah, well. Maybe I was just expecting less.”

Your best friend lets out a half-amused, half-exaggerated breath through her nose. “You weren’t.”

You want to throw her a glare but that would mean you’d have to take your eyes off Bucky and somehow you can’t manage that.

So you only huff and lean further into your seat.

But even as he plays, you can’t shake the feeling that perhaps he somehow tries a little more than necessary.

There are subtle indications. The way he lingers just a bit longer when he looks up toward the stands, the slight, extra flourish in the way he moves. The exaggerated ease of it all.

Oh, hell.

As he rounds third base, his gaze snaps up.

Right at you.

And he winks.

Your stomach plummets. Heat boils along your spine, and you freeze for half a second, caught completely fucking off guard.

The grin he shoots you is smug and holds a knowing edge, seeing the way your eyes are already on him, seeing your reaction, and thriving on it.

Natasha grasps your arm, gasping. “Oh my God.”

She is overly dramatic on purpose and you hate it.

You tear your gaze away from him and glare at her. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I'm starting,” she laughs, delighted. “That guy’s showing off for you.”

“He is not,” you hiss, trying and failing to ignore the warmth along your neck. Spreading and spreading up to your cheeks.

“That was textbook showing off, babe.”

You bite your lip, refusing to give her the satisfaction of the reaction she wants to see.

But maybe she’s not wrong.

The game continues, and despite your best efforts, your eyes keep finding him.

The more you watch, the more obvious it becomes.

The smooth way he catches the ball in the outfield, hardly needing to look before launching it straight to second base. The way he moves just a little bit slower after a play like he knows there are eyes on him. The way his grin sharpens when he hears the cheers, the teasing comments from his teammates.

And apparently, Steve notices, too.

Because after a particularly showy throw - one that was definitely more dramatic than necessary - Steve jogs past him and smacks him on the back of the head.

You faintly hear Bucky’s startled grunt from the bleachers.

Natasha snickers beside you.

Steve is muttering something to him, but the brunette only grins, backing away with his arms outstretched and shoulders pulled up in an unbothered shrug. And his eyes immediately find you. You look away hastily.

Your best friend leans in, voice low and teasing. “Change your mind about dating yet?”

Sinking lower in your seat, you move your hand through your hair. “This is ridiculous.”

But even as you say it, you glance back at Bucky.

And he’s still looking at you.

This time, you don’t look away.

Another smack lands across the back of his head and he is forced to drag his eyes away from you to grumble at the guy who is grinning from ear to ear, enjoying whatever the hell this is between Bucky and you.

“You’re actin’ real thirsty right now, Barnes,” the voice of the other player sounds out, loud enough for you to make out some words. “Hey, I mean, I get it. She’s cute. But can you focus, man?”

Flustered, you shove your hands between your thighs and curl a little bit inward.

“Shut up, Sam,” Bucky warns, rolling his shoulders and throwing a hard look at his teammate before jogging back to his position.

You don’t miss the way he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair after lifting the cap for a moment as if he is trying to gather himself.

Your heart is beating in a weird rhythm. Your hands are a little sweaty and you hate that Natasha notices.

“Well, well,” she teases, watching Bucky get into position. “Looks like you’re a motivator.”

“Do you ever stop?”

“Not when it’s this much fun,” she grins, eyes swimming in mischief. “And clearly not when my best friend’s about to have my boyfriend's buddy ask for her number.”

It’s your time to smirk. “Boyfriend?” you chirp. “I'm sure Steve would like to know you calling him that behind his ba-”

“There’s no turning this around, babe. I’m the one with the power here,” she chides, but she is suppressing a smile. “No go ahead and continue to watch your future boyfriend.” She turns your shoulder forward to the field.

“He’s not-”

“Watch.”

You do.

And the longer the game goes on, you try to keep telling yourself that you’re going to stop watching him. But no matter how much you try to focus on anything else - the scoreboard, the crowd, even the actual game - your eyes don’t listen.

They keep wandering back to him. To the way he moves, his effortless command of the field.

It’s the way he seems to own every second he’s out there like he is meant to be on the field. And he seems to love it. His body moves with an instinctive kind of grace, muscles shifting under the snug fit of his uniform, every motion thought through but natural.

When he takes his spot at shortstop, you admire the confidence of his stance. He’s completely at home. He stands relaxed but his eyes are sharp and focused, scanning the field.

And when the ball comes his way, his gloved hand snatches it mid-air before his arm whips it across the diamond in a clean throw.

It’s irritatingly impressive.

You try to convince yourself that he plays like this all the time - that this isn’t for you at all - but there is something nagging at the back of your mind. Something in the way he carries himself, the extra little flair in the way he moves.

He really seems to be putting on a small show and you can’t shake the feeling that you might be the only one in the audience that actually matters to him. You don’t know how to feel about that.

Natasha catches you watching again. “Mhm,” she hums, knowingly. Not at all subtle about it.

You throw her a burning look. “Shut up, Nat.”

She smirks and tilts her head. “You want to be the one he’s showing off for.”

You release a sharp breath, looking at the darkened sky faintly lit by the stadium lights. “If I did, I’d be enjoying it, wouldn’t I? I just think he’s- trying a little hard. Like he’s-”

You don’t get to finish that sentence because the crowd erupts again. The score is tied. This is the final inning.

Your throat constricts as Bucky walks up to plate, adjusting his cap like he’s been waiting for this moment. He taps the bat against the plate once, twice, and tilts his head at the pitcher. You watch the way Bucky’s muscles coil, the readiness, the concentration.

The pitcher winds up. The stadium is silent.

The ball is pitched.

Bucky swings.

Crack.

The sound echoes across the field as Bucky swings and connects perfectly, the entire stadium staring with bated breath. The ball rockets up into the night sky, impossibly high, soaring straight over the center field fence.

It’s gone. A home run.

The crowd erupts, students leaping to their feet, fists pumping, voices carrying through the air. Natasha is already up, grabbing your wrist and yanking you up beside her.

“That’s your man,” Natasha yells over the noise, pointing at the field. “That’s your home run, babe!”

“Oh my god, Nat, he’s not-” you start, but you are cut off by the thunder of feet around you, students leaping onto the bleachers, fists raised, chanting his name.

Just like the others, you are watching Bucky jog around the bases at a confident pace, brushing a hand through his sweaty hair again.

You’re honestly a little overwhelmed with this whole thing. Trying to catch up to the way Bucky moves as if it’s the easiest thing in the world for him, like sending a ball out of the park is just something he does on a casual Tuesday.

And then, just as he crosses home plate, the team swarming him, he turns his head up.

Right to you.

The whole world seems to slow for just a second. Your breath is lost in your throat when your eyes lock. There is a heat in his gaze, but it shifts from exhilaration to something softer. He beams up at you for that special moment, blue eyes shining under the stadium lights, his grin wide.

Your pulse hammers in a way you really don’t want to acknowledge.

You are clapping, like all the others.

And there is something changing in his expression. The corner of his mouth curls in a way as if he can’t believe what he is seeing. His confidence falters for a brief second, replaced by something almost sheepish. His hand scrubs over his face, attention caught by his teammates, but there definitely is a hint of pink dusting his cheeks at your small cheers.

The other players pull him into a rough embrace and for a moment you don’t see him at all, the rest jumps around him in celebration.

“Alright, come on, let’s get down there,” Natasha says, grabbing your wrist again.

“Wait, what?” you sputter as she pulls you toward the railing, making her way down the steps, dragging you with her.

“You are not going to be the only one still sitting while your boyfriend-”

“Stop that-”

“-just won the damn game,” she finishes, waving you off as you scowl at her.

Before you know it, you’re at the very front of the stands, your hands coming together as the roar of the crowd vibrates through your bones.

You see Bucky looking over the chaos, his arms slung around his teammates, his chest rising and falling from exertion, when suddenly, his gaze catches you again.

That bright, wide grin now definitely softens. In a shit, you really were watching kind of way. His blue eyes scan your face as though he is trying to read every single thought rushing through your head right now.

Natasha is practically jumping beside you, cheering happily, so you don’t want to be a bummer and start clapping again. Looking at him.

His smile tries to widen, but Bucky bites his lip. And then, he actually looks bashful.

He dips his head just slightly, running another hand down his face, and this time it’s him looking away first.

But not before you catch that tiny flicker of something almost shy. For all his confidence, for all the easy charm he’s been throwing at you, all the flirtatious lines, something about your reaction to him is what makes him falter that little bit.

And oh how it does something to you. You don’t even fight the little smile on your lips as Natasha bumps her shoulder into yours.

“Shut up,” you murmur, but it sounds too light.

Natasha smirks. “I didn’t say anything.”

You roll your eyes and fold your arms over your chest to hide the way your hands are still itching to continue clapping.

The roar of the crowd slowly begins to settle, the energy of the game remaining charged in the air. The bleachers empty languidly, students pouring onto the field or shuffling toward the exits, their excitement buzzing in hurried conversations and triumphant chants.

The players begin filtering off the field, disappearing into the tunnel leading to the locker rooms. Some of them are still exchanging shoves and laughs, adrenaline still pumping through their veins.

Bucky walks alongside Steve, his uniform tightly handing off his frame.

But before he disappears with the rest of them he glances behind one last time. And, of course, it’s at you again. You shiver.

His glance is just a flicker of blue under the harsh stadium lights but it’s just a beat longer than you would expect. As if he is making sure you’re still here. As if he is worried you won’t be when he comes back out.

Then he’s gone.

“You see that?” Natasha assesses, leaning her weight into one hip, arms crossed.

“See what?” you ask, obviously annoyed.

She’s unbothered. “That boy just looked at you like a man checking to see if his car’s still parked outside.”

You groan. “God, shut up.”

“That never worked on me. You should know better.”

With an impish grin, she tugs at your wrist and guides you away from the bleachers.

“Come on, we’re waiting for them,” she says, already pulling you toward the tunnel exit.

“What? Nat-”

“Well, I’m waiting for Steve,” she says, “and you, my dear, have been eyefucking his best friend all night, so don’t even try to act like you don’t want to see him again.”

“Okay, come on,” you defend. “I have not-”

“-been staring at him, sure,” she interrupts, her smirk widening. “But only every time he wasn’t looking. Which, by the way, wasn’t often.”

You groan again but follow her anyway, because, at this point, you’re not even sure if you’re protesting for show or out of actual resistance.

Minutes go by as more people slowly tickle away, leaving only a few clusters of them lingering around, chatting under the lights.

The air is still warm, but the breeze carries enough of a chill to make you shift on your feet, arms folding over your chest as you wait.

And then, Steve and Bucky emerge from the locker room, side by side.

Steve’s blond hair is still damp from the shower, his team jacket slung over one shoulder. The moment he spots Natasha, his whole face softens. His stride quickens as he reaches her and he pulls her in for a kiss that is far sweeter than you expected from someone fresh out of a game.

Your best friend, for all her teasing confidence tonight, melts against him, fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket.

You feel happiness for her but you look away, feeling like you’re intruding on something intimate.

And before you can prepare yourself, Bucky is standing right in front of you.

“Didn’t think you’d still be here,” he says, voice lower, less playful than before.

His hair is damp too, looking darker like that. He doesn’t wear his cap anymore, short brown tendrils resting on his forehead. His uniform is gone, replaced by a dark hoodie and jeans. And yet, he still looks every bit like the man who just stole the game with a home run. He looks handsome. You can even admit that.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll leave with Nat,” you answer, voice a little quieter than you would have liked it to be.

Bucky smiles. He shifts his weight, hands slipping into his pockets.

“Well, had to make sure you actually enjoyed yourself,” he says, tipping his head to the side, smirk slowly appearing. “Didn’t want you to suffer through it since you’ve already been dragged out here.”

You huff out a small laugh, looking at the ground before up at him again. “It wasn’t terrible.”

“Not terrible?” he echoes, feigning offense. “Sweetheart, I won the damn game. You were cheerin’ for me.”

It’s as if he needed to say it out loud. As if he’s been telling that to himself the whole time.

You bite your lip. Those nicknames will send you tumbling to the floor if you’re not careful. “Yes, well. You put on a good show.”

He grins something slow and smug. “And here I was thinkin’ you weren’t much of a baseball fan.”

You shift, laughing softly. “Still not, really.”

He hums, studying you so deeply. In a gentle way. But he takes his sweet time and it’s making you nervous. “I’ll change your mind.”

Your stomach does something weird - something that has everything to do with the way his voice dips slightly, the way it rumbles out so smoothly.

You narrow your eyes, trying to keep your cool. “I’d like to see you try.”

Bucky chuckles softly, rocking on the balls of his feet. He can’t stop watching you, moving his eyes around your features, your whole frame, as if wondering where you have been the whole time. He looks like he is trying to read every little thing written across your face.

Your chest feels a little too tight, and your pulse picks up the longer you look at him, the longer he looks at you.

The air is cooler now that the game is over, the heat from the crowd dissipating into the open night, and although you feel plenty heated up by his gaze and presence, you instinctively rub your arms, shifting on your feet.

“You cold?” Bucky’s voice is lower, and there is a soft gentleness to his tone, that sounds so sincere, you feel your knees grow weak.

You shake your head. “I’m fine.”

“I’ve got an extra jersey in my bag,” he offers as if he didn’t even hear you, already moving. “Or you can take this one-” He seems about to shrug off his hoodie instead.

You quickly hold up a hand to stop him. “No, really. I’m okay.”

Bucky pauses, squinting at you, mouth quirking as he eyes you a second longer. Then, as if he’s figured something out, his lips form a real smirk again.

“Alright,” he concedes easily, his weight tipping slightly to one side, then back again. “Guess I’ll just give it to you next time, then.”

You freeze just slightly, blinking up at him.

Next time.

You don’t quite know what to do with that.

You clear your throat, forcing words out. “Yeah. Next time.”

Bucky beams.

It’s a full-on, dazzling grin, cheeks high and rosy, eyes bright in a way that makes something overturn in your stomach.

He looks way too pleased with himself now. And you are way too aware of how warm your face feels.

You try to push yourself past the sudden rush of flustered energy. “Well, I guess I will see you around campus, then.”

Bucky hums, considering, still not taking his eyes off you. “Maybe,” his head turns to the side, making a pause. “Or I could just make sure.”

“Make sure?”

He pulls his hands from his hoodie pocket, adjusting his footing and running a hand through his hair, messing with the damp strands a little. He might just seem the slightest bit nervous.

Flipping his palm up expectantly, he looks at you with a glint of hope in his eyes. “Your phone.”

Your stomach does that turning-over thing again as you realize what he’s going on about. “Oh.”

You are fumbling to grab your phone out of your bag, fingers perhaps wavering a little and you are glad that Natasha is preoccupied at the moment to see this. Unlocking it, you hand it over to him.

Bucky takes it gently, fingers brushing yours. Again, it feels intentional.

The glow of the screen illuminates his face as he punches in his number, and presses to call himself so he’ll have your number as well before handing your phone back to you.

You glance down.

A new contact. Bucky Barnes.

Bucky watches you with a soft smile.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve calls, still standing with Natasha. You don’t see the triumphant smile those lovebirds share, busy trying not to show your disappointment of the night coming to an end. “We heading out?”

Bucky sighs, but he doesn’t break eye contact with you just yet.

“Guess that’s my cue,” he murmurs.

“Guess so.”

His feet shuffle against the floor. He seems not quite ready to end this conversation, taking a slow step backward, not turning away from you.

“See you next game, doll,” he says, words landing softer, quieter in a way. He speaks as if it matters.

You fidget with the sleeve of your sweater and let out an almost shy laugh. “Sure.”

Bucky smirks, holding up his phone and waving with it when walking further backward to Steve. “I’ll remind you.”

You watch him walk off with his best friend, watch him throw another grin over his shoulder at you, still feeling the heat that won’t stop tingling along your skin.

Your own best friend throws her arm around your shoulders.

This time, she keeps her mouth shut. She knows she doesn’t have to say anything anymore. There is no denying it any longer and you are well aware.

Because yeah, you might not be into baseball.

But you might be into Number 17.

“Flirting is a promise of something more.”

- Milan Kundera

[emmyrosee]

"mumma?"

there's a tug to your pant leg that turns you away from your skincare to acknowledge, smiling down at the little girl with eye's like kenma's blinking up at you longingly. maesi blinks up at you before pointing at the lip balm in your hand. "lisstick?"

you smile softly, "close! lip balm, baby.” you twist the lip balm down slightly before putting it on the counter, bending to hook your hands under maesi’s arms and haul her up and onto the counter. her curious hands wander to the lip balm, and she picks it up with excited eyes. “i dood it?”

you smile, “sure why not. it’s clear.” you help maesi turn to face the mirror, “now go like this, baby-“ you purse your lips out and use your finger to demonstrate how to apply the lip balm, which she copies. you see the subtle sheen of where she missed her lips glistening on her skin under the lights of the bathroom. she squeals in satisfaction before putting down the lip balm and raising her arms to be picked up. “wanna come up?”

“wanna get down!” she says, and you obey her wish before watching her giggle and make a break for the bathroom door.

“and where are you going?” you smile.

maesi turns to you and giggles, “gonna get daddy!”

“you wanna get daddy?” you laugh, making the connection between the lipstick question from earlier and the application of lip balm now; she wants to prank him, thinking she’ll leave color on him.

you smile and make your way down the hall, watching her toddle in her jammies to his streaming room. she pushes the door open, and you hear kenma’s voice go from loud and clear, to much more soft when addressing your child.

“hey spawn,” kenma coos, pausing his game. “how are you? where’s mumma? wanna say hi to chat?” she nods eagerly, and kenma pulls her up and onto his lap. “wave hi, baby.”

maesi doesn’t wave, instead, she puckers her lips out childishly for a kiss, and kenma chuckles as he leans down to kiss her, tasting the familiar taste of your lip balm. immediately, his three year old crumbles into laughter, squirming out of his grip and running away, yelling a soft “got you!” and kenma hears you in the hallway, gasping and squealing in pretend panic, hearing your shared laughter fade away as you make your way down the hall.

he cocks a brow before returning to his stream, “i don’t know what just happened.” he looks into his monitor and smacks his lips together before shrugging and turning back to his game. “but im not complaining.”

bokeandbookies LMAOOOO

keishatwolips SHE GOT YOU (literally have no idea what just happened)

rayisthename LMAOOOO

notemmyrosee I think she got you kodzuken

grannyshouseparty IF SPAWN SAYS SHE GOT YOU, SHE GOT YOU

thank you kuroosasscheek for the 1500 bits GET PRANKED

“kuroo, you’re just mad i got a kiss and you didn’t.”

kuroosasscheek you’re right </3

[oh-look-car-horns]

Wondering what boop count your 3 letter word corresponds to? I gotchu:

Using a python script I wrote, I booped myself 50,000 times, saving an image of my boop-o-meter every 500 boops. Before we get into the results, there are two important limitations to this study that I should mention:

Firstly, because I only recorded the boop-o-meter every 500 boops, if a message appeared for less than 500 boops it may not have been caught.

Secondly, every now and then my computer would lose a boop or two when a click wouldn't register. This is seen in the 500 and 1000 boop images below, which in reality read 498 and 994 respectively. Because of this, boop values are slightly lower than they appear.

With that out of the way, lets dig in.

0-999:

From boops 0-999, the boop-o-meter displays your boop count, and changes color as you boop

Boop count: 0 Boop count: 500 Boop count: 1000

Boop fact: the colors do not change after 1000

LOL:

Between boops 1000 and 1500, the boop-o-meter changed to display 'LOL'. This likely took place at 1000 boops, but maybe it said 'MAX' or sumn for awhile at first? Idk this is already the misinformation website so not my problem.

Boop count: 1500 (actually more like 1490 ish)

More results below the cut

OMG:

Between 1500 and 2000, the boop-o-meter changed to display 'OMG'. Again, this probably happened at 1500 but who knows. Maybe staff made it 1523 for the bit or something.

Boop count: ~2000

WOW:

The boop-o-meter remained at omg until the 3500 boop readpoint, when it switched to 'WOW', meaning this transition happens somewhere between ~2980 and ~3480.

Boop count: ~3500

Boop fact: 'WOW' is the second longest reigning message

*-*:

Between 5000 and 5500 the boop-o-meter switched to '*-*'. You get the idea at this point so I'll speed it up.

Boop count: ~5500

WHY:

The boop-o-meter changed to 'WHY' between 6000 and 6500 boops. For science. That's why.

Boop count: ~6500

PLZ:

Next was 'PLZ', switching between 7000 and 7500.

Boop count: ~7500

AAA:

I'm not sure what bloody urine has to do with anything, but for some reason staff felt is was important to display, switching between 7500 and 8000.

Boop count: ~8000

;_;:

Huh the colon makes that one look weird. 8000-8500.

Boop count: ~8500

Boop fact: That fucking cat haunts me in my dreams

0_0:

I realized after I set my pyautogui script running that my computer wouldn't turn off its screen because of the clicking, so there was a strobing blue light in my room all night. This encapsulated my expression while trying to sleep (8500-9000).

Boop count: ~9000

MAX:

After 9000 it displayed 'MAX'. This was cap. (9000-9500 switch).

Boop count: OVER 9000 (9500)

<33:

I miss my wife. 9500-10,000.

Boop count ~10,000

TUM BLR:

THE HOLY GRAIL. The boop-o-meter switched to displaying 'TUM BLR' between 10,000 and 10,500 boops. Because my actual boop count was slightly behind my theoretical, I'd guess that this change happened at 10,000 boops.

Boop count: ~10,500 (likely switched at 10,000)

Summary:

When charted the boop curve looks as follows:

Boop curve: 0 - 10,000 boops

My script continued to run until 53,000 boops, but no further changes were observed. Again, there were quite possibly more messages at lower boop values, but my ass is not checking. Maybe I should have scaled my sampling accordingly, but it is what it is. Thank you for joining me on this journey, and if you have any corrections or more information, please add it to this post.

Boop fact: Terfs DNI

[eevachu]

Orange lad update:

him neck still bald but less so

[nohr-selphias]

shoutout to all the fanfic writers out there - i literally cant write 50 words without having a crisis

[black-fist-order]

THIS WAS ON A FRIEND’S PAGE: An anguished question from a Trump supporter: ‘Why do liberals think Trump supporters are stupid?’

THE SERIOUS ANSWER: Here’s what the majority of anti-Trump voters honestly feel about Trump supporters en masse:

That when you saw a man who had owned a fraudulent University, intent on scamming poor people, you thought "Fine."

That when you saw a man who had made it his business practice to stiff his creditors, you said, "Okay."

That when you heard him proudly brag about his own history of sexual abuse, you said, "No problem."

That when he made up stories about seeing Muslim-Americans in the thousands cheering the destruction of the World Trade Center, you said, "Not an issue."

That when you saw him brag that he could shoot a man on Fifth Avenue and you wouldn't care, you exclaimed, "He sure knows me."

That when you heard him relating a story of an elderly guest of his country club, an 80-year old man, who fell off a stage and hit his head, to Trump replied: “‘Oh my God, that’s disgusting,’ and I turned away. I couldn’t—you know, he was right in front of me, and I turned away. I didn’t want to touch him. He was bleeding all over the place. And I felt terrible, because it was a beautiful white marble floor, and now it had changed color. Became very red.” You said, "That's cool!"

That when you saw him mock the disabled, you thought it was the funniest thing you ever saw.

That when you heard him brag that he doesn't read books, you said, "Well, who has time?"

That when the Central Park Five were compensated as innocent men convicted of a crime they didn't commit, and he angrily said that they should still be in prison, you said, "That makes sense."

That when you heard him tell his supporters to beat up protesters and that he would hire attorneys, you thought, "Yes!"

That when you heard him tell one rally to confiscate a man's coat before throwing him out into the freezing cold, you said, "What a great guy!"

That you have watched the parade of neo-Nazis and white supremacists with whom he curries favor, while refusing to condemn outright Nazis, and you have said, "Thumbs up!"

That you hear him unable to talk to foreign dignitaries without insulting their countries and demanding that they praise his electoral win, you said, "That's the way I want my President to be."

That you have watched him remove expertise from all layers of government in favor of people who make money off of eliminating protections in the industries they're supposed to be regulating and you have said, "What a genius!"

That you have heard him continue to profit from his businesses, in part by leveraging his position as President, to the point of overcharging the Secret Service for space in the properties he owns, and you have said, "That's smart!"

That you have heard him say that it was difficult to help Puerto Rico because it was in the middle of water and you have said, "That makes sense."

That you have seen him start fights with every country from Canada to New Zealand while praising Russia and quote, "falling in love" with the dictator of North Korea, and you have said, "That's statesmanship!"

That Trump separated children from their families and put them in cages, managed to lose track of 1500 kids, has opened a tent city incarceration camp in the desert in Texas - he explains that they’re just “animals” - and you say, “Well, OK then.”

That you have witnessed all the thousand and one other manifestations of corruption and low moral character and outright animalistic rudeness and contempt for you, the working American voter, and you still show up grinning and wearing your MAGA hats and threatening to beat up anybody who says otherwise.

What you don't get, Trump supporters, is that our succumbing to frustration and shaking our heads, thinking of you as stupid, may very well be wrong and unhelpful, but it's also...hear me...charitable.

Because if you're NOT stupid, we must turn to other explanations, and most of them are less flattering.

- Adam-Troy Castro

(To all who agree with its content, I ask that you PLEASE SHARE IT on your own post, and ENCOURAGE OTHERS to do the same.)

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She often won.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And. Well. Gwerful had some views.

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

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

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

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

Needless to say, the original is not sanitised.

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

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

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

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

My attempt:

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

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

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