#where's that aggressive handshaking post

[lallyloo]

[x]

[itsbrucey]

Need to cement myself as the Darryl Wilson mutual otherwise it'll all have been for nothing

[scoonsaliciousupdates]

1.3 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntire, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 3.1k

Previously On...: Bucky got his first glimpse of you.

A/N: Accidentally posted this to the wrong blog. Apologies!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You were having so much fun getting better acquainted with Nat and Wanda that you didn’t even notice when the pool game broke up and its players meandered over to join you. Nat made quick work of introducing you to everyone, and you were fortunate most of them were so famous, you already knew their names, otherwise you would have been lost in a whirlwind of new faces.

Everyone was exceedingly friendly as you went around shaking hands– Peter (that was the first name of the boy Nat had called ‘Parker’) was entirely too enthusiastic in his handshake, but it was endearing, all the same. Thor bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, and you were almost positive you saw Wanda swoon by proxy out of the corner of your eye. Steve’s handshake was firm, but basic (‘boring,’ you couldn’t help but hear Wanda’s voice say in your head), and Sam was brazen and went in for a kiss on the cheek– not that you minded in the least. 

When it came time for you to be officially introduced to Bucky, you found yourself practically tingling with anticipation. God, he was even better looking up close.

“Major,” Nat said, giving you a sly smile, “this is Bucky. Bucky, this is my friend, Major.” He took your hand in his, enveloping it, and the heat radiating from where your skin touched sent an electric current down your spine. “Major.” You watched the way his full, pink lips formed around the syllables, as if he was tasting your name, rolling it around in his mouth, something to be savored. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

You offered him a shy, half-smile that you hoped looked flirty and not cringe-inducing. “It’s really nice to meet you, too, Bucky.”

You smiled stupidly at one another before you realized you’d been holding hands for just a little too long. Reluctantly, you let go before you looked too weird.

“I’m Lily,” the petite blond woman you’d noticed him with earlier said, stepping forward slightly so that Bucky had to take a stumbling step back from you to make room for her. 

“Watch it, Lil,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder to steady himself. “You almost bulldozed me over.”

The other woman flashed him a smile before turning back to you, her gaze now hardened. She took your hand and shook it firmly, almost aggressively.

“Major,” you said, matching her pressure with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Lily.” 

“Should we move this party to a booth?” Sam asked from where he stood a few feet away. “This table ain’t big enough for all of us.”

You had to agree– the high top you sat at with Nat and Wanda was not nearly large enough to accommodate your enlarged party. You all made your way to a back corner of the bar, where there was a large, circular booth available. 

“It’s gonna be a tight squeeze,” Nat said, eyeing your group, “but I think we can manage it.” You all began awkwardly sliding in, and by some miracle (or Nat’s manipulation, you weren’t quite sure), you ended up pressed against Bucky on one side of you, and Sam on the other. 

“Hi,” Bucky said shyly to you once everyone had gotten themselves settled.

“Hi,” you replied, trying so very hard, and failing, not to blush as he looked down at you with those beautiful blue eyes.

“So, Major,” Sam said from where he sat on your right, “how did you come to be friends with our Natasha?” 

“Wow, wasting no time in interrogating the new girl, huh, Sam?” you asked him with a teasing grin. 

“Hey, it’s not often we get such pretty new company in our midst,” he said, giving you a playful nudge. “Barnes was our last newbie, and he’s ugly as fuck.” 

“Nat’s a customer of mine.” You ducked your head in the hope of hiding your blush at being called ‘pretty’ by an actual Avenger as Bucky shoved Sam over your head. “We’ve known each other… what? About half a year now, Nat?”

Natasha nodded. “Major owns her own business.”

“That’s really impressive,” said Bucky from your left. “It must be nice to be your own boss.” 

You nodded. “It is. It’s stressful, but it’s also really freeing, really rewarding.”

From Bucky’s other side, Lily snickered. “Please,” she said, drawing attention to her. “Half the time these “women small business owners” are just morons who got sucked into an MLM; a pyramid scheme. So, which one is it, Major.” You didn’t like the way she sneered your name, but you opted to ignore it. “Herbalife? Beachbody? Oh god, don’t tell me it’s Mary Kay?” she giggled.

“Uh, no,” you said, feeling defensive, though you weren’t quite sure why. “I own a place called The WarZone?”

“Hold up,” said Peter enthusiastically. “Isn’t that the rage room by Sunset Park?” You nodded, pleased to have someone recognize it. “That place is sick! You own it?!”

“Yeah,” you said, self consciously brushing back a piece of hair that had fallen into your face.

“Me and my friends go there sometimes on the weekends,” Peter chirped. “It’s awesome!” 

“You’ll have to let me know when you visit next,” you said. “I’ll make sure to sign you and your friends up for the VIP package, no charge.”

Peter’s face was elated. “Seriously? You’d hook me up like that? Wow, you’re amazing!”

“Absolutely,” you shrugged your shoulders. “A friend of Nat’s…”

“Sorry,” said Steve, cutting in before Peter could continue to gush his thanks, “for those of us who were born before the invention of the television, or on another planet,” he cast a friendly nod to Thor, “what’s a ‘rage room?’

“Only the single greatest invention the Japanese ever came up with,” Nat said, throwing a wink at you. “So, like, imagine you’re angry. Like, fucking pissed. And you need to get all that shit out of your system. You go to a rage room, and you pay them money, and they give you a hammer, or a baseball bat, or whatever you want, and you just go to town smashing the shit out of everything you can get your hands on! It’s so much fun!”

“And you do this often, Natasha?” Thor asked, bemused smile crossing his big face.

“At least once a week,” she said. At her friends’ curious expressions, she raised an eyebrow. “What? You think you lot are all peaches to live with? You’re lucky I go as often as I do, or you’d all probably either be dead or violently maimed.”

“That… actually sounds amazing,” Bucky said, turning to smile at you. “I’d love to check it out sometime.”

You fought to keep the pleased grin from growing too wide across your face, when Lily spoke up. “Ick, but Jamie,” she said, “then we’d have to go all the way to Queens.”

“She’s got a location in Midtown, too,” Nat offered. “That’s the one I go to.”

“I can definitely set you up with a VIP time slot, if you’d want” you said to Bucky. “Just let me know when you’d like to come check it out.”

“That sounds great.” Bucky awkwardly maneuvered himself so he could pull his phone out of his back pocket. “Put in your number, and I can call you when I know when I’m going to be free.”

Oh, smooth, you thought as you took his phone from him. Very smooth, indeed. You couldn’t help but notice his phone wallpaper after you’d entered your contact info– it was a picture of him and Lily, smiling together in front of a giant Christmas tree, his arm around her shoulder, and both of hers wrapped around his waist. If Nat and Wanda hadn’t assured you otherwise, you would have sworn they were a couple just from looking at it.

You handed Bucky back his phone. “Here you go,” you said. “Just call whenever you’d like to set up a time.”

“So, the entire thing is just people coming in and destroying stuff?” Lily asked, confused. “I’m sorry, but I honestly don’t see how something like that can be lucrative enough for you to make a career out of it.”

“We do alright for ourselves,” you said, not feeling comfortable with discussing how much money your business brought in. It wasn’t enough for you to be making the cover of Forbes or anything, but you were far above comfortable now.

“Alright?” Nat asked, laughing. “You’ve got five locations in the tri-state area and are looking into opening a sixth! With at least thirty-five employees under you! I call that a bit more than ���doing alright!’” You shrugged your shoulders demurely, though secretly basking in your friend’s praise.

“I can’t see how that kind of place could even make a profit,” Lily scoffed, “Let alone afford to pay that many people an actual living wage.”

“Indeed says starting salary there’s $75,000 a year, plus benefits,” Peter said, looking up from his phone. “Is that true, Ms. Major?”

You chuckled at his polite addition of a title to your name. “That’s starting, yeah,” you told him, and by extension, Lily. “But it’s more based on education and experience, plus you get an automatic raise after a 90 day probation period.”

Sam let out a low whistle. “Well, aren’t you just the savvy businesswoman?” he asked with a smile. “Too bad we didn’t have Tony come out with us tonight; you two could have a lot to talk about.”

Holy shit, Tony Stark, you thought. You hadn’t even considered that knowing Nat might put you on the path to meeting someone like him. It was too fanciful to even imagine.

“Well, I don’t see the appeal of it,” Lily interjected, seemingly determined to find some sort of fault with your business. “It just seems so wasteful to me. Not very environmentally friendly at all.”

“You know, that’s actually an interesting point,” you said, leaning around Bucky to look at her. “We have contracts with the boroughs and cities we operate in, taking things that would normally go into landfills, like old tvs, furniture, china and glassware, stuff like that, and have people smash them to smithereens. It ends up taking less space in the dump when our clients are done with it, and we painstakingly go through everything that’s left to make sure whatever can get recycled or reused, does.”

Lily pouted, obviously displeased with your answer. “It just seems so… violent.” She wracked her body in an overly dramatic shiver.

“I can see why it would appear that way,” you said casually, “if you’re not familiar with them. Though there are studies that suggest it’s a really healthy outlet for expressing anger and getting stress relief."

“I just don’t understand the appeal,” she said finally, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

“That’s okay,” you said, nonchalantly shrugging a shoulder. “It’s not for everyone, and that’s fine.” You shifted your focus back to Bucky and gave him a wink. “It’s a hell of a lot of fun, though.”

Bucky smiled and bit his bottom lip. “Sounds like it,” he said, a flirtatious glint in his eye. “Seems like a guy could get quite the workout doing something like that.”

“Oh,” you pressed your thigh firmly against his under the table, “it’s definitely my second favorite way to work up a sweat.”

Bucky’s gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips. “That so?” he asked. “Well, then, I guess I have no choice but to see how hot and bothered it gets me.”

“I think you’ll be very satisfied with it, Sergeant,” you said, and both of you knew you were no longer talking about his visit to The WarZone. 

“Oh, I have no doubt it would be a mutually satisfying experience, doll,” he said. You bit your cheek to hide the smile that was threatening to escape your face. 

“Jamie–” Lily began, trying to get Bucky’s attention back on her, but before she could continue speaking, Wanda spoke over her: “So, Major, I didn’t think to ask before, is that a nickname or what?”

You turned to the redhead and nodded. “Yeah,” you told the group. “My real name’s (Y/N), but my employees started calling me ‘Major’ when we first opened and they thought I was being too much of a hard ass,” you said. “It’s just kind of stuck since.”

“Wow,” said Lily, disdainfully. “It’s actually kind of disgusting that you go around calling yourself that.” At all the questioning looks that came her way, she put her hands up defensively. “What? Stolen valor is a real thing, you know. And it’s vile. You’re sitting here with two World War II veterans; you should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Lily,” Bucky began chastising, “it’s fine, seriously; Steve and I don’t mind, do we Steve?”

Steve shook his head. “Of course not. It’s just a nickname.”

“It’s actually not,” you spoke up. All eyes turned to you, now. “When I graduated high school, I couldn’t afford to go to college, so I enlisted. I spent eleven years in the army, did three tours in Iraq and Afghanistan during the war,” you said. It wasn’t something you enjoyed talking about, so you always spared the details. “‘Major’s’ not just a nickname; it was my rank at retirement.”

The table was silent for a beat as everyone took in your words.

Until Sam broke it with a raucous laugh. “Holy shit, Cap” he said, slapping his knee. “New Girl out-ranks you!”

The tension that had built around the table at Lily’s accusation of stolen valor broke as almost everyone laughed at Sam’s comment, making jokes about how you would be the only one who could give Captain America orders. Only Lily remained unsmiling, looking down petulantly into her glass. Conversation naturally broke into smaller groups, then, and you were glad to have all the focus off of you. 

“You know,” Bucky murmured, leaning down to talk directly into your ear, “you seem pretty amazing.” The way his lips brushed the shell of your ear sent a pleasing shiver down your spine. 

“I’m just a regular girl,” you responded, feeling incredibly shy all of a sudden. 

Bucky pulled back to take in your face. “Nah, I highly doubt that,” he said. “You strike me as something special.”

“You are quite the charmer, Sergeant Barnes,” you said, playfully pushing at his shoulder.

“It’s working, then?” he asked, smirking. “I’m charming you?”

“Hmm,” you pretended to mull over his words for a moment. “It’s still too early to tell,” you said eventually. “But I’ll let you know.”

Bucky’s grin was boyishly adorable, and you loved the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled. You could stare into them forever, you found yourself thinking. Where had that come from? You’d only just met the man!

“Are you always such a flirt, Sergeant?” you asked, trying to keep yourself in check.

“Only when the girl’s exceptionally pretty, Major,” he winked. But then, a bit more seriously: “No– not always, not much at all, actually.”

“That’s a shame,” you told him. “You’re quite good at it. Seems like you’d be doing the ladies of the city a great disservice by not doing it more often.”

“Haven’t much felt the need to,” he said, and you had to hold in a gasp when you felt his hand land on your knee, his thumb tracing small circles into your covered skin. “Is this okay?” He whispered, looking up at you through his lashes. There was something inherently vulnerable in his gaze, as though he was fully expecting, yet terrified, for you to tell him no and to fuck off.

“Yes,” you whispered breathlessly. There was something so sexy about the fact that he’d even asked, and you truly believed that, if you had told him no, it wasn’t okay, he would have immediately stopped and apologized. 

One by one, the members of your party left the booth and made their way to the bar’s small dance floor. Soon, it was just you and Bucky. And Lily, of course, but you were trying very hard to not notice her and the angry expression she wore. 

“You ever dance, Sergeant?” you asked, as you watched Wanda squeal with delight as Thor picked her up and spun her about.

“Oh, Jamie doesn’t dance,” Lily supplied for him, matter of factly. “He finds it ridiculous.”

You raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Ridiculous? Interesting.”

Bucky shot an annoyed look in Lily’s direction. “I never said it was ridiculous, doll,” he said to you. “Just… You know about me and Steve, right? How we’re…”

“Really old?” you offered with a teasing smile. “Positively geriatric?”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah,” he said, “really old. We used to go to dance halls a lot when we were kids, back in the late ‘30s, early ‘40s. It was basically the thing to do. I danced all the time back then.”

You nodded, smiling at the image of a younger Bucky cutting across the floor, twirling a girl in his arms. 

“My point is,” he continued, “the music now? I don’t know how to dance to that.” He jerked his chin toward where Nat and Sam were dancing– or more accurately, grinding– against one another. “It’s practically like speaking a foreign language.”

You considered his words. “I have an idea,” you said, sliding around to the edge of the booth and standing up. Bucky followed you with his eyes, expression curious, as you made your way over to the bar’s digital jukebox. Swiping your debit card, you quickly selected the song you wanted to play–  something contemporary, but that still had a bass line, a vibe, that Bucky could relate to.

Once your selection was confirmed, you made your way back to the booth. You held out your hand to Bucky. “May I have this dance, Sergeant?” you asked.

Lily rolled her eyes. “What part of him not liking to dance don’t you understand?”

“Relax, Lil,” Bucky said, putting down the glass of bourbon he’d been nursing before sliding out of the booth to take your hand. “What kind of soldier would I be if I ignored a request from a superior officer?”

He beamed at you as you led him over to the dance floor, occasionally looking back at him bashfully. 

“Holy shit, New Girl got Tin Man on the floor,” Sam called from where he was dancing with Nat. “Never thought I’d live to see the day!” 

Bucky scowled at his friend before you turned to face him. He took both your hands in his and pulled you closer to him. “I really hope I don’t embarrass myself in front of you, doll,” he said with a smile.

“Just dance the way you like,” you said, enjoying the sensation of holding both his hands in yours, though you barely noticed the left one was gloved, “and I doubt that would even be possible. I’ll just follow your lead.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[shaw-ni]

Steadyhands AU, post Edizzy divorce where after some therapy, an intervention from their friends and a break from each other which lasted a few weeks, Ed and Izzy’s relationships is firmly in the “ it’s complicated” option on Facebook (Izzy is a Facebook mum and does post pointed passive aggressive rants on his page daily). Ed starts bringing Izzy coffee during their lunch break, a large haf-caf cappuccino with coconut milk and one sugar (haf-caf because he needs some caffeine to keep himself awake but not enough to keep him trapped to the toilet seat). Ed has a new concoction every day, always with 7 pumps of what ever syrup they have on option, and coconut milk as well (which he gets to let Izzy have a taste, and even though it tastes like a headache and the cream is never dairy free, Izzy always tries at least one sip, he’s trying too, okay?). Thing is, the coffee might just be the best coffee he’s ever tasted, the first time Izzy tasted it (trying not to look into Ed’s big brown hopeful eyes) he almost moaned in bliss, but settled for a slight nod and a muttered “it’s good”, which might as well have been a Hollywood handshake coming from Izzy.

The coffee cups are damn adorable too, with little illustrated pirate ships and the ocean filled with sea creatures on the sides (and some weird swirly writing as well, probably the barista writing the order? Not sure what the hearts are about, who cares, cursive is beyond him). The coffee shop is called ‘the revenge’ which seems an odd name, but their Tattoo parlour is called ‘Queen Annie’, so who is he to judge (said Izzy never). There’s only one problem, however, every time Ed comes back from the coffee shop, he practically skips into the studio, smile dimpling his cheeks like he just ate something sugary sweet. And Izzy knows that smile, even though it’s been years since it’s been aimed at him, it’s almost enough to put him off his coffee (almost, it’s fucking good coffee, right!).

Anywho, this goes on for a couple of weeks, with Izzy gritting his teeth every time Ed prances through the Parlour doors, until one day Ed’s not here to give him his daily coffee fix ( he told Ed going clubbing with Jack was a bad idea, but what’s does he know? He’s only been on the wrong end of Jacks generous pours since before he was legally allowed to drink, but whatever). Beforehand, Izzy would of just used their shop owned coffee machine in the kitchen, but perhaps he’s been a tiny but spoiled these past few weeks because their Nespresso coffee capsule doesn’t sounds appealing at all (that, and he’s not sure when it was last cleaned). He eventually decides, fuck it, and grabs his coat to head out side. It doesn’t take him long to find ‘the Revenge’, the place has a distinctly 16th century feel to it, in that it looks like it’s came right of the set of a period drama. The outside of the shop resembling the front of a ship, equipped with a unicorn figurehead, intricate wood carvings and what appears to be several hand made flags (including the trans flag, which, fuck yeah).

Inside, the place is bustling with customers and live music, the pirate theme seems to continue with the interior and there is a relaxing low light illuminating the shop. The live music, a tall but awkward man playing sea shanties on stage, seems to be the reason for the large number of people in the shop, and fortunately the line behind the counter seems to be relatively short. He makes a beeline for the line and repeats his coffee order in his head (it pays to be prepared). After five minutes, the line has annoyingly, not budged an inch; at this rate he’ll end up late for his next appointment. Izzy stretches his head to peer over the few heads in front of him and notices a tall, blonde twat babbling away to the frazzled barista. Fucking twat.

“Oye, quit holding up the line, some of us have places to be,” Izzy yells over to said twat. Startled, the man turns towards Izzy, and oh shit, assholes shouldn’t be allowed to be pretty, Jesus Christ. Shit. The asshole looks directly at Izzy, his eyes seem to drift and then linger on his chest, before moving slowly back to his face. Shit. He must be feeling the effects of a caffeine withdrawal, the only explanation to why he suddenly feels so flushed.

“One moment, sir. We’re quite in the middle of something.” With that the twat turns back to the barista, picking up their conversation.

Never mind, the only thing he’s feeling now is pissed.

“Mate, I doubt this guy wants to listen to your sad attempt at flirting, just order your damn coffee and go.”

The blonde asshole splutters angrily? Embarrassedly? And turns his full body towards Izzy (Jesus, those shoulders don’t deserve this guy, not fucking fair).

“My attempts at flirting are not sad! You angry little man! And I’m not flirting, that would be unprofessional, considering I am attempting to converse with my own staff!” The man speaks in a way that emphasises the unspoken exclamation points in his speech without actually increasing the volume of his voice, his accent is familiar in the way a 5 year old might play Mary had a little lamb on the piano. And wait… did he just say his staff?

He scoffs. “ Your staff?.”

The asshole raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Mine.”

Izzy raises his own bushy eyebrow. “Well if I was you, I’d—”

“Oh, hey Izzy, didn’t think I’d see you here!”

Izzy turns too see his ex husband turned current best friend and forever love of his life weaving quickly through the crowd, suspiciously springy for someone who was supposed to be ‘too sick to work’ hungover.

Ed finally makes it through the cluster of people, and swings an arm around Izzy’s shoulder. He grins at Izzy and then weirdly enough at the blonde asshole Izzy was in the middle of arguing with. “I see you’ve met Stede!” He cups his hand to his mouth and mock whispers to the blonde twat, of course he’d have a pretentious name like Stede. “Man, Izzy here loves your cappuccinos, won’t drink it from anywhere else, he even said they were ‘not shit’ which coming from Izzy, is a five star review!”

Wait, what?

“He makes the cof—”

“He drinks the cappuccino?!?”

Izzy looks to the blonde prick, who seems to be turning an amusing shade of pink and oh… suddenly the hearts on the coffee cups make a lot more sense. Shit. Well isn’t this fucking fantastic.

[absolut3th0t]

Could I request Alastor x Lucifer where they meet at a ball and Alastor is from an enemy kingdom but falls hard for Lucifer whose like "no way" but listens to his broadcast every night not realizing it's him

Do I know you?

Lucifer x alastor

(Dick measuring contest warning and a lot of swearing)

Minors dni it's not an explicit post but minors should still not interact with this fandom!

Also this does start with an argument but it's fine

Alastor strutted into the large corridor. A wicked grin plastered on his face, making the woman and men scatter and part like the red see before him. The people either staring eyes wide like they just saw a ghost or whispering to the person nearest to them. He looks around "haven't your parents taught you manners?" Making a few scoff before prancing away, the others either just stand there like a deer in headlights or saying something about needing to something.

One short messy haired well dressed man made his way over hips swaying as he walked. He put his hands on his hips "didn't your parents teach you style?" Alastor's grin widens he looked him up and down eyes settling on his tangled blonde hair "did your parents teach you how to brush your hair" lucifer scoffs as he rolls his eyes, running his fingers through his hair in attempt to untangle "did your parents teach you how to brush your teeth?" His tone much more aggressive than before alastor chuckles before bending down to the man's height, "did your parents forget to water you" siting back up to his full height.

The man searched for words "I-I uh I" before blurring out "YOU'RE ARE PARENT'S ARE PROBABLY DEVORCED" face flushed taking deep breath trying to recover from his little outburst. Alastor's brows furrow before nonchalantly replying "watch it little one you might pop a blood vessel" he paused "do I remind you of your kid? If you even have one" he chuckles "You seem like the kind of man that a woman can't stand"

(Pov switch)

I take a step back as i tries to fight back tears that one hit a soft spot but i take a deep breath and say "well you look like the only woman who would even enjoy your company would be your mom" i pause "actually your mom probably didn't even enjoy your company!" The tall man's eye twitched "haha are you speaking from experience" I can't help but think that laugh sounds so familiar the thought leaves my mind and I roll my eyes and cross my arms infront of my chest. "Your mother must be ugly it shows"

(Another pov switch)

Alastor was about to drop it and walk away before those words left the man's mouth he slowly turns to the short man smile growing impossibly wider as his eye twitched. "What did you call my mother?" The man looked up at me "are you deaf?" Alastor didn't wait a second to reply "Fuck you" the short man steps closer "fuck you to" alastor steps closer "fuck you more" the short man steps closer "nobody can fuck you more than me" yes he just said that. "Oh I will out fuck you" Alastor claims leaning down pressing his forehead against the short man's. "Bet" the short man says. "That's a suckers bet deal" lucifer just can't help to think (his voice does sound familiar???, no it's probably nothing right?) Alastor holds up his hand and Lucifer grabs it shaking it no magic just a handshake. Alastor laughs "see you later" lucifer rolls his eyes stepping back and saying "fuck you" giving him the middle finger before stomping off.

Alastor eyes never left that man's body throughout the night often making eye contact lucifer just looks away immediately embarrassingly. Alastor tried to make conversation with him many times but every time Lucifer shut I'm down walking away because he needed to do something or he saw someone and said oh I haven't seen you in so long and walked away. Hours of trying to talk to him paid off ad he finally was able to corner the man and talk to him, "Let's dance shall we" lucifer rolls his eyes "yeah no thanks" Alastor tilts his head to the side come on just this one dance it's a short one dear" lucifer lightly blushes at the pet name his voice does sound so familiar he just can't put a pin on it maybe he could? He was awfully curious. He sighs placing his hand in Alastor's. He wastes no time guiding the man to the middle of the room where everyone waltzed around them they started to mimic the people around them. Lucifer thinks to himself this man's cologne smelt quite nice and inviting, but mysterious. He lost himself for a bit just thinking about how nice it was he just relaxed and flowed with the music soon the dance was about to end lucifer snaps out of the trance and realized he didn't even know this man's name oh yes he completely forgot why he said yes in the first place. Alastor huffed "whats on your mind doll your tense" lucifer blushes at his words "I-I never caught your" Lucifer stutters out "Alastor, yours?" "Lucifer" Alastor hesitated almost stopping in his tracks before continuing to dance "thats a beautiful name were you named after or are you-" lucifer cuts him off "I'm the one and only in the flesh" he says as the dance finishes. His fingers untwine from Alastor's as he begins to walk away and disappearing into the crowd. Alastor searched for short king but there was no luck.

Just as soon as the night began it ended he didn't see the king for the rest of the night and he gave up making his way back home after the long night. Lucifer sat on his bed trying desperately to remember why he reconized the name he just couldn't figure it out. He sighed deciding to get ready for bed. Alastor sat in his comfortable chair in his radio tower flipping a few switches before greeting his listeners. Lucifer was putting on his favorite silk pajamas it was covered in a rubber duck pattern. His hat discard on the foot of his bed as he drank a glass of water. He glances at his radio as the static turns into the radio demons voice he listened to the same radio station every night before bed. He started to listen to it after lilith left just to drown out the silence just to drown out his thoughts. Quickly he realized that it was hard to sleep with out hearing it. He sighed setting the glass down knowing it was time to sleep. He made his way to his bed plopping down on the mattress it was so big compared to him because lilith tall figure needed to fit on it. He exhaled it always felt so lonely. Be was thinking about getting a new bed just so it didn't feel that way. He listen to the broadcast his eyelids began to feel heavy as he drifted of to sleep. Alastor was talking about how great of night he had, and how he couldn't wait until next years ball. He drifted off to other topics and killing a few people just to make sure his listeners knew he wasn't going soft. before calling it a night himself "goodnight hell tune into tomorrow's broadcast for the latest news told in style!" He flipped a few switches me for making his way to his the. I head cannon this man's don't sleep but for sake of the story he gets ready for bed himself and gets in bed he yawns, "Well today was a quite exhausting yet enjoyable day" he says to himself before opening up a book and reading before clicking of the light and drifting of to sleep.

Omfg I love this and idk why but when I wrote the lucifer wanting a new bed I was just imagining like a small ass twin sized mattress in a fucking ginormous room lol. Anyway I absolutely love this I might write a part 2.

Also if you made it this far have a juice box 🧃.

[liesmyth]

@takiki16 tags on my post are too good not to be shared! The context is wild shit that legit happened in IRL football ⚽ that I need the Ted Lasso fandom to be aware of, because it'd make for excellent fic material:

the MANAGERS #the PERSONAL DRAMA#I KNOW that ted lasso is not designed to be an actual realistic show #I KNOW that this whole thing did in fact begin as a way to soft trap Americans into watching the Prem #to the point that JOSE FUCKING MOURINHO ACTUALLY HAD A PART IN THE ORIGINAL NBC AD #I do NOT want to change the vibe of the show at all #(but like…a dramedy about the EPL that REALLY wanted to roast some fuckers would perhaps…NOT look like ted lasso #if they wanted to start with the managers it would just be two middle aged idiots with BOILING beef #who had to be physically restrained from throwing hands every other game and have personally destroyed each others’ marriages

Okay WHO would Roy have managerial beef with. I vote Arteta. Actually as @elizabear suggests, it's funnier if it's one sided

He would also instinctively dislike Rob Edwards of Luton because Jamie once said he's the hottest manager in the EPL. Roy's annoyed and he doesn't know why. (Rob Edwards is very hot)

For an example of managers throwing hands... the Tuchel/Conte handshake

In fact here's a whole compilation of managers throwing hands.

Thank you for bringing up Mourinho! This is his ad, btw. "What do you WANT Ted?" lives in my mind rent-free

After much soul-searching I've decided Roy likes Mou a lot among all the managers he's played for. YES, he is a total cunt BUT

he's really fucking funny about it. Like, really.

he's never met a referee he didn't have beef with but most of all Anthony Taylor (as a Roma fan I have to agree with him on that)

the entire 2005 Chelsea team would've died for him. I've said this before, but there can't be a Frank Lampard in TL if Roy plays the box-to-box midfielder role, so this quote about Mourinho walking into Lampard naked in the shower to give him a pep talk? That's Roy. To me.

I can't even pick a quote among all the shit he's said about all the managers he's played against, but I especially enjoy when he used to be a bitch about Pep and Pep was like "I don't know her." It was like a one-sided crush dating back from their Barca days

#if they wanted it to be about the players the literal sky is the limit. WHATEVER the writers room can come up with#it cannot come CLOSE to the batshit drama that real Sockckckckcer Playahs have amongst each other#also intricate rituals. NOT ENOUGH INTRICATE RITUALS#when Jamie scored that free kick after getting permission to be a prick Dani should have kissed him with tongue

Here's some homoeroticism:

#but TO COME BACK TO OP’S POINT ABOUT ACTUAL GAMEPLAY#I want to see Coach Roy get red carded and have to sit in the stands for the next game cursing and swearing

He'd get, like, 3 red cards a season MINIMUM. Mourinho who. Here's Klopp losing it a bit. Here's Pep being passive aggressive as fuck. Pochettino from 2 days ago. Also from last weekend: De Zerbi's "I don't like 80% of referees in England" he's so right for this.

Manager Roy would get himself red carded the week before Richmond play Chelsea away. Totally accidental. So he doesn't have to have a lil cry about it.

#I want to see what it would take to get Zoreaux sent off#and then they have to stick Bumbercatch in goal and it turns out he has some Hyper Specific Phobia about the situation#he manages to save the team but his coping mechanisms for dealing with Forcible Keeper Phobia make up the comedy B-plot of the episode#

I want CLUB RIVALRY. dunno where Richmond actually physically is but imagine if they had derbies#Ted has to be made to understand that no coach - for THIS game we will not stop till we see BLOOD#Richmond wins but bc they are playing away the home fans actively are tossing crap at them as they celebrate on the pitch#also the sprinklers come on and it’s a bus full of soaked greyhounds on the ride home

They're in West London! Maybe they just fucking hate Fulham. Or Brentford.

Actually, I've thought long and hard about Richmond's derby rivalries. Semi-canon sources say they have a bit of a West London rivalry with Brentford BUT to me it doesn't make much sense because Richmond are supposed to have been mid-table in the Prem for years, top-flight but mediocre. Brentford only made it to the Prem in 2021.

Actually, I've decided that Richmond kind of take the place of QPR for most of their history, except they didn't get relegated when QPR did. This is because 1) it'd be too many London-based clubs otherwise but, more importantly, 2) when Man City won their first title in 2012 with Agueeeeeero!!! that was against Richmond. It's funny, To Me.

Also you know Roy still fucking hates Newcastle from his Sunderland academy days. If his pundit career had lasted longer he'd be having top tier shithousery with Alan Shearer every week about it.

Anyway here's a whole youtube playlist about WILD derbies.

#ALSO BC SUAREZ IS COMING TO MIAMI - BITING INCIDENTS CAN THEY DO THAT

As an Italian I am legally obliged to SAY that if Suarez hadn't bitten Chiellini at the World Cup we would have gone past the group stage because Uruguay scored off a corner they won while Italy were all busy telling the ref that there was a fucking cannibal on the pitch. I don't forgive and I don't forget.

Anyway for context: cannibal Luis Suarez. He's a repeat offender. Someone at Richmond would think it was very funny

[lestappenforever]

As surely as Charles and Max will always have a post-race debrief, I will return here to dump my social-psychological thoughts after any minor interaction. As always thank you so much Mona for having such an amazing space for anons like me to do these sorts of things 🫶 ✨

Firstly, I love the video of Max apologising because not only is Max Verstappen apologising immediately after the race about something but you actually see Charles go “mate” in that sort of “why did you do that come on” way but whilst he says that he still goes for a handshake with the other hand coming to above Maxs elbow. I’m defo no body language expert (will leave that to @little-racing-driver 🤭) but it’s a very basic tenante that formal handshakes never go above an elbow and it has lots to do with upholding boundaries and “social decorum” but an elbow handshake (where ones non-shaking hand goes to the other elbow) conveys a sense of familiarity however when that hand is above the elbow it stops being a handshake used in formal setting and becomes a show of camaraderie and intimacy. It’s also different than for example the hand going to the shoulder or just below the shoulder which is typically used for aggressive posturing to show that you are ready to fight and subconsciously puts your own body in a fighting stance whilst “asserting dominance” over the other person by pressing downwards on their shoulder. (Keep in mind this is usually in a formal setting like politicians business men or business events however, especially for those who are constantly surrounded by this, these gestures become subconscious because you become so used to expressing yourself through your body) even more it isn’t just a single tap he keeps his hand there whilst Max goes for the waist tap which conveys the same thing -a strong sense of familiarity and an attempt to bring the other closer (maybe not physically but by establishing a point of contact is also a way of doing this). And keep in mind that at this point Max hasn’t had the chance to explain he had no grip. Which I think shows so much about how much they have matured especially Charles and not just maturing but also how much their relationship has grown that he doesn’t automatically get angry, if anything he looks to be dejected and slightly betrayed that Max would run him off the track like that. Consider for example how he could have just shook Max’s hand and called it a day but he is the one who reaches out to Max first and then follows it up with that extra gesture of putting his hand on Max’s upper arm that essentially says “I may be mad but I value you” and it is very endearing and super sweet. Also If you contrast that with how they usually greet/congratulate eachother, it is with a typical sportsman hand clasp (where neither person’s palms are facing downward which would indicate attempting to dominate or play mind games, instead both parties hold their hands level and facing the other as a show of “middle ground” and equalling respect which is symbolic of sportsmanship and usually used between competitors) but in this case they both go that extra mile, Max by apologising with his body with the waist tap in that way bringing Charles closer (also I believe he goes for a double hand handshake which in this context looks to me like Max is showing extra affection with this type of handshake which is used to show trustworthiness and make the other person feel valued though it’s hard to see because of Checo) and Charles by initiating the contact and establishing a supportive point of contact that essentially reassures Max that they’re good.

Max as well is very notable with how he immediately goes for Charles and opens with an apology instead of congratulating him (or checo for that matter) which really shows what was at the forefront of his mind and is very indicative of the fact that Max does not want to have any issues or any misunderstandings and he does not want Charles to think that he intentionally pulled that move on him.

I love the cool-down car too like that’s such a fun thing by forcing these three together and actually showing us what they talk about during the debrief but I couldn’t help but think that it was just slightly uncomfortable and Charles and Max didn’t feel fully comfortable to do their proper de brief- whether that is because they were in close quarters, Checo was too close or most likely because of the huge ass camera pointed right at their faces whereas usually we see their de brief from further away, giving them a greater sense of privacy and I am 100% running with that because the moment they get out of the car and checo is having his interview you can see that they have fully launched themselves into their de brief with Max gesticulating about what looks to be running Charles wide into turn 1 and maxplaining again what happened (second time so there is defo no chance of misunderstanding). And then by the time we get to the podium all is right in the world and Charles is feeling comfortable enough to spray Max playfully and obviously Max’s huge smile followed by the press con where they are ONCE AGAIN reminiscing and talking about how “very very” well Charles knows Max as a driver and how much history they have with their de briefing tradition having started very early on and it really makes sense why the lestappen briefings hit so different; they bring the same energy and the same eagerness and over a decade worth of familiarity with this borderline ritualistic coming together post-race to discuss. Max and Charles’ comments on the de brief make it explicit that it is their specific ritual and they both see it as being a different/special type of debriefing that comes “naturally”. As we know from the heaps of Max podcast memes that Max will always maxplain to whomever and generally all drivers will have their de brief but it is a completely different beast when it is a de briefing with Max and Charles because they have placed eachother in a special place where the others opinions, thoughts and experiences are just held at a higher standard which is why they have a tendency to just go into their own little world and ignore the third person- they are just that engrossed. And the third person usually looks like they don’t want to interrupt them, they know that their sessions specifically are special and they just have to be left alone to have their moment rather than trying to get a word in. Like if you have the likes of Lewis Hamilton and your own teammates third wheeling your de briefs then you know something is up.

There are other things to say as we defo had an eventful race week and tbh most of the things we are seeing really speak for themselves- I don’t even want to start about the inchident making a full circle because I may not stop. Can’t believe that we are actually seeing these things because as everyone keeps saying, tell 2019 Charles/Max that they would be cool and act so fondly with one another after an incident like that they may shrivel up from disbelief. So seeing this is truly great stuff and if Ferrari gives Charles the car he needs so that the boys can do what they want to do.

Social-psychological anon, how your presence in my ask box has lit up my entire morning. ❤️

Once again you are bringing such wonderful insights that I will never get tired of reading, and your insights are especially appreciated after the weekend we've had. Thank you so, so much once again for blessing me and everyone else who reads this with your beautiful mind, and putting your stunning thoughts into words for us all to enjoy.

I'm so happy you feel comfortable sharing your thoughts in my ask box, and I truly hope that won't change because you have no idea how much joy it brings me. And I truly do want my blog to be a happy, comfortable place for anyone who loves Lestappen, so it's such an honor that you seem to think it is just that.

Just as a final note: "don’t even want to start about the inchident making a full circle because I may not stop." <<<< Should you ever do decide to start, please feel free to do so because I, for one, would love to read it.

I love you, my wonderful social-psychological anon, and I hope you're having the best day/night. 💕

[lovelyiida]

kiribaku as your bestfrieds!

INLUDES: KATSUKI BAKUGO, EJIRO KIRISHIMA

WARNINGS: implied fem reader, FLUFF, intimidating kiribaku yas, vulgar language, COMPLETELY PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP

A/N: sorry guys if this seems rushed, I currently have two projects due and I’m trying to get this out of the way so that I’m able to post lol.

MASTERLIST

WORDS: 2K WORDS

Kirishima and Bakugo as your best friends is truly something…

As the only girl in the group of friends besides Mina. It wasn’t easy getting into the friend group off the rip, it was almost like a secret association.

You had to know someone, to know someone, to see someone, then talk to said someone, then finally befriend that person to get in said friend group.

It wasn’t a simple: 'hey! Can I join your crew?'

You were introduced to Kirishima by a friend in hero engineering. They told you that he was cool to be around if you just wanted to talk, so that’s what you did.

You didn’t know later on that it would lead you to have four more friends down the line. One of those friends being Bakugo Katsuki.

He didn’t like you at first.

You'd come around with Kirishima and he just scowls at you, he wouldn’t even ask for your name and just call you an “extra.” And as completely narcissistic as that sounds—you still came around him.

Because I’m reality, you could give two shits whether he liked you or not. You had four other cool ass friends to be around anyways. And that irked him.

“So you aren’t gonna talk to me?” Bakugo spits.

It was passing time and you just so happened to run into the infamous 1-A crew in the hallway. It would be rare for you to see them on occasions like this, since you were in hero-analytics.

You bubbled up seeing all your friends, diving to Mina and Sero for a high five, waving at Denki and doing a secret-not-so-secret handshake with Kirishima.

And there was Bakugo too.

Turning towards him, you smirk. “And you’re name is?…” you ask, your tone overflowing with sarcasm as your words trail off. This makes Bakugo scoff, a stinky scowl etched over his lips.

“You know who I am, dip-shit.”

Bakugo walks up to you, pushing your shoulder a little bit, you flinch. “Watch who you’re pushing!” You yell, pushing him back.

“Well then watch who you’re talkin’ to!” He yells, pushing you back even harder. “I got one of the most powerful quirks in the whole school, watch your tongue—cause I can blow it off.” Bakugo says, a smug smirk present as he watches you shake in anger.

Walking away, he bumps your shoulder and heads to class. You see your friends walk away with him, as they scold him. Frowning you look up to see Kirishima with a guilt grin, “hey, I’m so sorry! Bakugo gets a bit pissed off when he hasn’t eaten lunch yet ha ha.”

Kirishima apologizes, a bright grin on his face as he reaches out to help you up. Smiling you grab his hand and push yourself off the ground.

Patting yourself down you look up at Kirishima and shake your head, “you shouldn’t excuse his behavior, he’s an asshole!” You spat.

“I know, I know, it’s just—listen, I think he likes you! He just doesn't have a lot of experience when it comes to the whole adding another person to the friend group thing! Just let him warm up to you, it’s only been a week!” He reassures.

You roll your eyes at his words. One part of you hangs on to the false hope that maybe he’s right.

“Yeah, whatever, see you around.”

The two of you would argue throughout the rest of the week. It didn’t matter where, it didn’t matter when, and it didn’t matter what it was for—the both of your were gonna argue like you life depended on it.

It could be over the smallest minute thing, like one time the both of you argued over how you don’t like spicy food ( if you do just pretend you don’t lol ), you didn’t understand why you were arguing because why is Bakugo upset that you don’t like something he likes?

Why can’t we just agree to disagree?

It was like a switch in your head that told you that if you saw him it was time to become more aggressive than ever. You were completely out of your nature, and when people you knew walked by, they would be shocked because they'd never seen you like this.

One day, the sky was blue and the clouds were nowhere to be seen. The birds chirped and the sun glared down harshly with ease, it was a cool spring day that was too beautiful to waste.

You were taking a walk outside until you spotted Kirishima on the grass working out, talking for a while, you noticed that somehow everyone else appeared as well.

you thought you were enjoying the time you were having until Bakugo tells you how the way you ties your shoes is wrong.

“Does it really fucking matter? They’re tied aren't they?" You spat at him. "Why can't you be a normal human being, eh?" Who doesn’t wrap the string around the bow first? Who the hell makes two bows and then ties? You damn maniac!” He exclaims.

“Okay then, I’ll be that!—you fucking twat” you harshly mumbled the last few words under your breath with a scowl. Bakugo’s eyes widen for a moment, walking closer to you he dryly chuckles.

“Say that again princess, I didn’t hear you.”

Princess?

“Princess!” You yell in awe at his words, “who are you to call me Princess?” You say, poking at his chest.

“Guys! Can we stop torturing her now? It’s been weeks!” Denki yells tiredly. You and Bakugo turned at Denki's protest; it was clear that you were confused.

Your eyes snap over to Mina and Sero, as you see them burst out laughing, and Kirishima follows along with a small chuckle.

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” You growl. Your eyes look over to Bakugo and see his smug grin still hasn’t wiped off.

As if on cue, Bakugo’s hand harshly pats your shoulder. “Well L/n, you passed the test—you’re in.” Bakugo chuckled again before walking off. Astonished at his words, you didn't even realize he finally called you by your name.

“The test?” You mumbled in confusion.

Ah, the test.

On this glorious day, approximately two weeks ago. Bakugo Katsuki, Minda Ashido, Denki Kaminari, Sero Hanta, and Ejiro Kirishima all sat down and made a plan.

A test if you will.

The test is simple, they push you to your limit. If you stay and endure, you earn a spot in their group. If you leave, you’re not in the group and will stay acquainted with one another.

As harsh as that may sound, it was only the truth. They have all passed the test. it was without them knowing…but that doesn’t matter.

All that matters is that you’re in.

When you were finally “in,” you swore when you walked into school the next day everyone was a whole new person. Sero, Mina, and Denki didn’t talk to you that much—but when you saw them today, they basically jumped at you.

“L/n! What’s up newbie?”

“Sup L/n?”

“Ah! I’m so happy to see you, I have so much to tell you about!”

They were so boisterous when talking to you, it completely caught you off guard.

When you’d walk to class, you’d notice how you bump into everyone more often. Either sharing quick glances or stopping to have a chat.

When it was lunchtime, you walked out of class and saw Kirishima waiting for you at the door. When they dragged you to the lunchroom, you noticed that they made a spot for you at the table for lunch.

It also didn’t dawn on you then that you were sitting with some of the most popular if not the most popular kids in the school.

You were just some random girl from hero analytics, and you’re sitting with future pro-hero’s? Unbelievable.

Now, when you were a first year, you became friends with everyone. But it wasn’t until your junior year that you all became best friends.

Especially with Kirishima and Bakugo.

It was almost like two sub-groups within the six of you guys. Depending on the day, it would change. If there were a main three, it was usually you, Kirishima, and Bakugo.

This happened by pure chance, third year hero analytics classes were able to watch and study students in the hero course. Luckily, you scored high enough to be placed in class 1-A, as you were assigned to random students.

Those two students turned out to be your friends, so on and so forth.

When you spend time watching them, you guys would talk non-stop. Whether it be normal things or serious things, the three of you have a lot in common.

Growing that bond you have, you guys ultimately became best friends.

Sometimes it feels surreal to be able to be friends with them.

During break time, you’d walk over to class 1-A just to pop in and chat with everyone. You could see Bakugo's eyes lighten up, a grin forming on his lips as he sees you smile everyone’s way.

Everyone in the class knew who you were, even though you'd never talked to any of them like that.

“It’s because Kirishima talks about you non-stop” Denki told you one day. You chose not to read into that too much.

You noticed that you were closer with Kirishima and Bakugo one day when you saw that Kirishima made a whole other group chat with only you and Bakugo in it.

You guys would talk to each other for hours and hours on end, staying up late and night until early in the day. Laughing to yourselves about the inside jokes you all have.

Sometimes Bakugo would ask you and Kirishima to come to his dorm to hang out. You’d lay on his bed and do your homework. He and Kirishima would play video games together. Or sometimes Bakugo would play on his guitar while you and Kirishima just talked.

You notice when you come over that he doesn't talk that much. He told you he just liked having company over, which was adorable (you had to beat that information out of him).

Sometimes the three of you would go out to the arcade or out to eat. It didn’t matter what you guys did as long as you guys had each other.

That vow comes in handy at times.

Like that one day you were sitting at lunch with your friends and Mineta decided to ruin your day.

“I’ve never seen a girl like you before!” He creepily gawked at you. His short stature makes him too close to you for your liking.

“Um…I’m not in your course, actually,” you awkwardly chuckle “I’m in hero analytics.”

“Really? Didn’t know chicks were so damn hot in that course, thought they’d all be ugly.”

"Laughing," you hurriedly glanced around, and eventually saw Kirishima and Bakugo with lunch trays in hand with the scariest faces you've ever seen before.

Their hero faces, you’d call them.

Their eyes were dark, and their fists were clenched tightly around their trays. Walking over calmly they set their trays down and towered over the poor pervert.

“Hey dude, whatcha talkin' to L/n about?” Kirishima smiles at Mineta, hand slapping harshly on his shoulder. Looking down you see spikes ripple off his skin.

Looking over at Bakugo, who didn’t even try to hide his shit-eating grin. Hands out and fingers separated as short sparks of fire pop out.

You can say that Mineta never looked at you again after that.

Jumping up from your seat you give them a big hug and a loud “thank you,” you feel them take in your embrace.

“Anything for you L/n!”

“ s’no big deal.”

But it was a big deal for you.

You were thankful for your friends, every last one of them. You were upset that the time you all had was limited and that it wouldn’t be like this forever.

You were proud to say that Bakugo and Kirishima were your best friends.

well shit guys, almost 300 followers, I meant to have something planned for 100/200 followers but it seems like it keeps growing. I might do a 500 follower special event instead lol.

— lovelyiida&lt;3

[meidui]

🔖post-endgame fics where one of them moves away and the other one will NOT leave them alone

please rec more if you know more like that<3 I CAN'T GET ENOUGHH

when i run out of road, you bring me home by quidhitch

“Oh, I won’t bother you.” The tone of Steve’s voice implies that he definitely will be bothering Tony, aggressively and frequently. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll keep to my farm, you keep to yours. Solitude together.”

Tony opens his mouth to argue that that’s not how this works, but he snaps it shut at the realization that Steven Grant Rogers is fucking with him. That twinkle in his eye has accelerated into a full-on glimmer, and the ends of his lips are twitching. Jesus, he hates this man. Or maybe he wishes he did. Tony can’t really tell the difference anymore.

Breathing at the Same Time by softanticipation

The dust settles and the stones are returned, leaving Steve more aimless than ever. In a world that doesn’t seem to need him anymore, he eventually learns that purpose goes beyond war and love is more than just a four-letter word.

Featuring two halves of a road trip, sidewalk chalk, and a man with whom Steve never expected to share a pull-out couch.

nobody saves me, baby (the way you do) by Capstiddies, meidui

Steve fights fires and rescues kittens for a living these days because of course he does; of course that man doesn’t know how to properly retire. So now Steve has his firefighting career and Tony has a new complication in his long, winding relationship with Steve after parting ways without so much as a handshake.

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Shoulder to Shoulder

First posted: April 13, 2019

Focuses on: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson

Favorite bookmark: None, no one is being clever

Tier: Lower-mid on all metrics except comments and bookmarks, where it's in the bottom 20.

This is my “behind the scenes” series where I indulge myself horribly by annotating my fics. Link to the fic itself above. Thoughts below the cut.

Another one-year ficiversary piece, rewriting Carried from Dick's POV instead of Tim's.

It was the first time in Dick didn’t know how long that his hand itched to throw something and it wasn’t Bruce’s fault.

I was still playing around with the arc of Dick and Bruce's relationship. I still am, really. Some canon and fanon paths have them viciously at odds during Dick's teen years and/or immediately after Jason's death, while others less so. I do think there has to be some friction, because that's part of the uncomfortable stretching of independence, but I haven't settled on a consistent tone or tenor yet. I tend to have to write a fic specifically about a thing to figure out that thing and I haven't done that yet.

Here their relationship could be described as tetchy.

Dick felt like he was being punished. Screw up one brother, shame on you; screw up two... He had failed Jason, miserably and completely, he knew that, but shouldn’t that knowledge be punishment enough?

POV musings seem to confuse people, for whatever reason. They take the character's words or thoughts as the author's. When writing from Dick's POV, Dick in my fics will state that he failed Jason, that he was a bad big brother, that he was too distant, too unavailable, too disconnected. Dick is not an unbiased observer.

Bruce was dressed in the Armani suit that worked like a pressuring lean on a shoulder.

I panic any time I have to describe a rich-person thing. Yes, sure, I can google, but I would imagine the true rich-person things are not available to the average googler!! Whatever, celebrities wear Armani on the red carpet, it's probably fine.

Not ostentatious, not aggressive, just the understated but deliberate expression of I am richer than you that would do more to steamroll anyone he met today than a tight handshake or a punch to the jaw ever could. Alfred stood at the door of today’s car, a stately, almost old-fashioned limousine Dick had seen Bruce use only once or twice before.

Bruce Wayne is clever, and he is subtle, and he knows how to wield wealth and legacy like a weapon as deftly as any blade. And that's that on that.

“You should have called,” Dick muttered once he reached Bruce. Bruce’s chin rose infinitesimally. “You told me—” Dick held up a hand. They wouldn’t get on this ride today, this whirling teacup of you told me not to call and why are you always so pigheadedly literal.

They're both so stupid and I love them so much. (Bruce is Team Say What You Mean and Dick is Team I Know You're Just Making A Point You Jerk.)

“Can I ride with you?” Better to go as a united front, even if they risked picking another quarrel on the ride over. Bruce, to his credit, didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

To his credit—Dick you proud teenage hothead, that's your dad of course he's going to let you ride with him, short of a BOMB strapped to your chest with five seconds left he'll say yes and even then I'm not sure he would do any differently.

They didn’t talk on the ride over. Dick fidgeted with his cuffs until he caught Bruce looking, then stopped. When they arrived at the cemetery, Bruce held out a hand, blocking Dick’s exit. Dick braced for whatever thought Bruce had been chewing on, but instead, two large, calloused hands reached out and gently straightened his tie.

nananananananananananananana DADMAAAAAAAAN

Dick met Bruce’s eye. On the other side of the car door awaited a funeral with a minister, mourners, and an open grave. They both knew what to expect, both would likely pay for it in their own ways later. A united front. For Tim. Dick nodded, once, and Bruce returned the gesture before letting Alfred open the door.

These are two people who love each other very much and love a third person equally as much and I love it so much.

Tim sat at the front, shoulder to shoulder with his father.

The one thing I can't do in these notes that I could in a printed book is pointedly underline and/or circle things with no other comment.

He could remember being where Tim was now, at the edge of a grave looking down into incomprehensible loss and an uncertain future. He remembered leaning into Bruce, then a virtual stranger, and being grateful that he wasn’t alone, that there was someone whose side he could cry into, whose arm could circle around his shoulders, firm and warm.

They're fighting and Dick still knows Bruce will always be there for him. 🥺 Write me a fam like that or I don't want it.

And then Bruce was there, shrugging on his Brucie persona like an old coat just before stepping into Jack’s path.

Dick had forgotten what a relief it could be to have Bruce take charge. He’d forgotten what a marvel it could be to watch his grunting, reclusive guardian oil the gears of Gotham society to get exactly what he wanted.

A magic trick doesn't become less impressive when you know how it's done. If anything, you get the magic of the illusion and the awe of the sleight of hand skill.

He wanted to throw something. He wanted to break something. “You have to do something.”

parallellllllllllllls. It's not the prettiest but I still enjoy them.

“That’s today,” Dick argued. “And tomorrow, if Jack doesn’t care, which he won’t. What a măgar.” His mother would’ve washed his mouth out for that one, but it felt good, to throw venom at Jack Drake with his words at least.

I've backed off Romani Dick because it's a line of fanon that I don't feel any particular way about (and "ah the traveling circus people are wandering Romani, of course" feels not great from me, someone with zero Romani heritage), but I was still parsing through the heaps of fanfic I'd devoured and trying to figure out what I ascribed to as a writer, so there it is. (I was also still desperately trying not to swear in English in my fics.)

“He can’t go back there. He’s just a kid, and he shouldn’t be alone in an empty house. Who’s going to look after him, the cleaning lady?” Bruce’s reply was little more than a mumble, “Turned out okay for me.” “Because you’re the picture of mental health,” Dick snapped. 

Richard. Apologize to Bruce AND Alfred.

He stopped pacing and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” “You did,” Bruce countered, his voice placid.

Let me tell you, that response, without malice or heat? A power move.

Dick knelt in front of Bruce’s chair so he could look up into Bruce’s eyes. This was something he knew well, a sensation as ingrained into him as somersaults and backflips. He would always look up to Bruce, one way or another.

THAT'S HIS DAAAAAAAAAAD

“He needs Jack Drake.” Bruce sighed, and Dick, still on his knees, noticed the lines around his eyes, the silvery hair twinkling at his temples. When had they changed? When had they both grown up and apart?

Noticing your own parents age hurts. It's lowkey terrifying. And then add being fresh off a funeral for someone else's parent...

Bruce held out a hand, and Dick let him help him to his feet. “I’ll be better,” Bruce promised quietly, Dick’s hand still in his. “He’s welcome here. He’s been... welcome. I’ll be better about making that clear, from now on.”

Double meaning maybe?? Who's to say????

Dick tightened his hand around Bruce’s, a hug between two people who had fallen out of practice. Wuss. The sneer had an Alley cant to it.

As Dick says in the very next time, they have to be better. Together. Because brothers die and parents die, too.

Dick leaned in and wrapped his arms around his... his Bruce. 

Sometimes I use this kind of language as a character-specific hesitation. Here, I think it was meant to be because I'd only written Mother Bruce the year before and I liked the emotional uncertainty of Bruce as legal guardian but not necessarily parent. However, another, more heartwarming way to read this is that for Dick specifically, Bruce isn't a step less than a parent, he's more. He is legal guardian and big brother figure and mentor and friend and dad. He is not one of those things, he is all of those things, and so he is Dick's Bruce.

[scribble-brain-aced]

i researched schizophrenia just to diagnose fictional characters

quick note: i’ve tried to do research on schizophrenia, but if anything is inaccurate/offensive/insensitive/just plain wrong, please let me know! i’m not trying to offend anybody with these, i just noticed a lot of people headcanoning Error and Dust as schizophrenic and i looked up symptoms to see whether or not it could be plausible.

specifcially Error because he’s my favorite. (all information on him comes from ‘Ask Error!Sans, the MOVIE’ on youtube.)

so i have google open, behavioral symptoms include: “social isolation, disorganized behavior, aggression, agitation, compulsive behavior, excitability, hostility, repetitive movements, self-harm, or lack of restraint.”

Error lives in the Anti-Void, which seems like isolation to me. his only friends are the voices in his head, puppets, and later on, a kidnapped Swap Sans. so… check? at least, i really don’t think he has any living friends.

CQ said that Error was made to be hypocritical and confusing, which could fit in with disorganized behavior. he contradicts himself, he never provides a straight answer when asked why he destroys AUs, etc. not a lot, but i think that still might fit.

I think that we can absolutely call Error aggressive, agitated, and hostile. he destroys entire worlds, he plays with the souls of other living beings, and the second Blue says that his weakness is friendship in the comic, he gets defensive, maybe a little paranoid if I remember right?, and abandons him in the Anti-Void.

Error does whatever he wants, so that could easily fit with ‘compulsive behavior’ and ‘lack of restraint’. maybe?

i can’t say anything for repetitive movements or self harm, though.

Cognitive: “thought disorder, delusion, amnesia, belief that an ordinary event has special and personal meaning, belief that thoughts aren't one's own, disorientation, mental confusion, slowness in activity, or false belief of superiority.”

okay, well, we can’t read minds, however, amnesia is pretty obvious for Error. he doesn’t remember who he is, he forgot that Toriel was a ghost, his memory is generally pretty bad.

Delusions, I don’t know. Schizophrenia is mostly defined by hallucinations and delusions, but i’m not sure what to think.. “belief that an ordinary event is special,” “belief that thoughts aren’t one’s own,” “disorientation,” “mental confusion,” “slowness in activity”. i don’t think we’ve seen any of that in Error.

however, “false belief of superiority” seems pretty obvious. he acts like he’s the righteous one, saying that “SOMEONE needs to destroy the AUs,” like it can be justified. he calls himself cute, pretty, the best, Abomination #1, and just refers to everyone else as mistakes, abominations, anomalies, and says that Ghost!Toriel shouldn’t exist.

Mood: “anger, anxiety, apathy, feeling detached from self, general discontent, loss of interest or pleasure in activities, elevated mood, or inappropriate emotional response”.

i’m pretty sure we’re lacking in these areas. Anger, yeah, Error gets pissed off easily, and he definitely seems paranoid and suspicious. but everything else, aside from ‘elevated mood’, I really don’t think he has the symptoms.

Psychological: “hallucination, paranoia, hearing voices, depression, fear, persecutory delusion, or religious delusion”

Error mentions in an earlier post that he’s been hearing voices for years, so ‘hallucinations’ and ‘hearing voices’ are checked. there’s a moment where he realizes that a handshake with an asker became handholding, and thinks that he’s being taken advantage of. that, along with his getting angry when Blue says that his weakness is ‘friendship’ and accuses him of being a liar, makes ‘paranoia’, and possibly ‘fear’, seem like another box to check off. i don’t know about the others.

Speech: “circumstantial speech, incoherent speech, rapid and frenzied speaking, or speech disorder”.

I don’t think this is much, but technically, Error could have a stutter? Repititions, prolongations, and blocks are often seen when people voice-act Error, so… maybe? his glitches can definitely make him hard to understand at times, so again, maybe??

Also common: fatigue, impaired motor coordination, lack of emotional response, or memory loss

i’m not sure about a lot of these. maybe,if you squint, you could take the line “when i first got here, all i did was sleep” and fit it in with fatigue, but i’m not sure. impaired motor coordination, i’m not sure either. in my own personal AU, he does have a bit of trouble w/ precise movement because of his glitches, so he ends up clipping through a lot of things, but in canon, i don’t think he has any problems. lack of emotional response doesn’t fit either, since he seems pretty expressive. but memory loss is a given, this bitch remembers nothing.

sooo yeah! that’s all i could find, draw your own conclusions with this-

[ladylooch]

Letters in Your Last Name - Chapter 22

A/N: This was so self indulgent at the time... ahahaha I wrote this on that day and was literally panicking all day. He wasn't traded, but we still knew it would come. Then when I was getting close to posting this chapter, he actually was traded, and then I couldn't post it cause I was so fucking divested. Man. We have come a long way since last summer.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content, Swearing, Angst

Trade Deadline day of 2022 may be the death of me.

Kevin is currently at practice while I’m drowning in every trade rumor that spreads across the ticker bar on NHL Network. Highly reliable reporters are spilling their sources’ secrets all over Twitter. Each breaking news announcement makes a lump push against my esophagus, threatening to consume me with its pressure. At least this will all be over in about 6 hours.

Before he left this morning, Kevin reiterated to me to stay off social media. I agreed that I would, but made no commitment to keeping the TV off. He also reminded me that him and General Manger Billy Guerin have a handshake agreement to discuss his next contract after the season is over. This agreement was made after Kevin’s rough stretch of games in November. Billy called him to his office and told Kevin to relax. The pieces would shake out the way they would, he just needed to focus on hockey. Whether this understanding is good or bad for Kevin remains to be seen.

The reality of it all is that the money will have to be at the exact right price if Kevin is to stay with the Wild. Considering how negotiations went last summer, and an even bigger cap crunch, I am incredibly uncertain as to where we will be next year. The high possibility remains that this is our last season in Minnesota. The reality of that creates a deep ache in the threads of my soul. The fact that we are even having these worries while Kevin is having another career year feels incredibly unfair.

The door to our apartment opens and Kevin strolls in casually. He’s on the phone and panic begins to bubble up in my chest. He wiggles two fingers at me in acknowledgement around the keys in his other hand.

“Jaký byl tvůj víkendový výlet?” He speaks into the phone. I recognize the Czech language, but none of the words, and that confirms he is talking to a family member. I stare intently at him, getting on my knees on the couch. Kevin tosses his keys into the bowl and kicks off his Adidas before moving into the kitchen. He sets his container of food on the counter and leans against it, listening to the person on the other end. His top teeth nibble distractedly on his bottom lip. As he does so, his brown eyes connect with mine and he raises his eyebrows in question.

“Who is that?” I mouth to him.

“Mom.” He responds.

Their conversation continues in Czech as I wait and stare. Kevin’s eyes dance in amusement at me, distracted by my persistence. He licks his lips, walking over to the couch and dropping a kiss on my mouth. He mutes his phone to speak to me while his mom’s voice continues to come through the speaker.

“I haven’t been traded.” He assures me, picking up on my interest in the conversation. “Just talking about their ski trip to the alps.” He walks back to the counter, unmuting the phone to respond to his mom. “Sněhová nadílka musí být letos dobrá?”

With Kevin’s certainty, I back off and slump into a sitting position on the couch. Kevin begins to eat his pre-game chicken, rice, and broccoli while conversing with his mom. The sound of his light laughter connects with my ears and I frown. How is he so nonchalant about this day while I feel like my insides are aggressively being torn apart? What is his secret to not giving a crap? I need it desperately.

"Sbohem, mami.” I know this means goodbye, so I throw a look at Kevin over my shoulder. “Damn, Maggie nailed this today.” Kevin insists, shoving another big bite into his mouth. Maggie is the team’s chef who caters to all the boys' culinary needs. Kevin prefers for her to make his pre-game meals so he can focus on important things like napping. “Come taste this.” He ushers me over to where he is standing. I get up, walking over to him. He pulls me closer by my hip and hands me the fork. While I stab a bite together, he studies me. His tongue runs along the inside of his lip while he does so. “How ya doing?”

“Horrible. Thanks for asking.” He chuckles at me, watching as I put the fork in my mouth and chew. “It’s great as usual. She is so good with flavor.”

“Yeah. So why are you all worked up? I told you that Billy and I talked.”

“Yeah I know. But I’ve been thinking. What if a team comes in with this insane offer he can’t refuse?”

“Then I guess maybe I would be. It would have to be a pretty significant offer though.” He shrugs his shoulders, again looking unfazed. I roll my eyes, instantly frustrated that he is so dismissive of the anxieties I'm having.

“Oops I forget, we are Team No Worries today.” I step away from his arm around my waist and turn to walk out of the kitchen. My annoyance flares more at the sound of his light laughter again.

“Baby.” He calls, “look at me.” I resist at first, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. “Samantha.” He sing-songs to me, trying to keep the tension from absorbing us. Finally, I slide my gaze to him. “It’s going to be okay.” I stare at his brown eyes. I know he believes this, but I can’t jump onto that feeling with him today. Not until after the deadline. So I nod, knowing Kevin doesn’t believe it as he releases a heavy sigh. He stabs his fork into his food and mutters in Swiss German under his breath.

My gaze goes back to the TV, watching the analysts discuss a new pending trade call between the Rangers and the Panthers. It’s someone I’m not familiar with. I can hear Kevin moving around in the kitchen behind me. Eventually, he comes to sit with me on the couch with a glass of water.

“Can we not watch this?” He asks me, scrolling on his phone.

“I want to.” Kevin purses his lips in annoyance at me. “We have other rooms in this apartment you can go to.” I snip at him.

“Why are you so upset with me?” He snaps, holding his arms out in frustration. “I haven’t done anything to deserve this attitude from you.”

“You’re gaslighting me into thinking I’m overreacting.”

“You are overreacting.” He insists, getting a touch louder. “I’ve told you: Billy and I talked. My agent and I also talked. There is no concern today. You’re feeding into the rumor mill and not trusting me.” He places his hand on my thigh. The anger directed towards him dissipates at his touch. I push out a calming breath.

“I hate this. I hate all the uncertainty on what’s going to happen. It’s making me crazy. I just want to know what this is going to look like. Where are we going to be at this time next year? Is it here? Is it somewhere else?” I close my eyes and shake my head at him. “I don’t want to feel like this anymore. Even after today, it won’t disappear. How much longer do we have to live like this?”

“At least a couple more months.” His tone is soft and understanding.

“I just want to know. That’s it. I just want a decision.” Kevin nods his head empathetically.

“I get that, but you know I can't join you there. Not during the season. If you need to watch this, then that’s your choice. But I can’t when I have to play tonight.” He stands then comes to drop a quick kiss on my lips. He silently leaves the room, heading to our bedroom. The soft click of the door announces our separation. For some reason, that makes me feel worse.

I continue to watch the trade coverage for the next few hours. Excitedly enough, the Wild are involved in several trades, but every time I see the announcement and their logo, my throat constricts painfully tight. Kevin stays in our room, tucked away for safe keeping until It’s time to leave for the game tonight. The last, big news of the day for the Wild seemingly revolves around Marc-Andre Fleury. The analysts begin speculating that Kevin may be involved in the trade. Panic swells in my veins. Chicago was not in the forefront of my brain. The idea makes a sour scrunch come to my face. I wouldn’t touch Chicago with a ten foot pole right now.

I feel out of control as I drink in every word of their speculation. But they don’t know. We won’t know until the final paperwork has been submitted. I close my eyes, leaning my head back on the couch cushion and feel the anxiety consume my body. The blood pounds through my veins, making my body feel as though it is vibrating with each heart beat.

I am not in control. We will be okay.

I feel air moving close to my face, then Kevin’s lips press to my forehead. Next, they go to my temple, then to my cheek, skirting along my jaw bone. His shirt tickles my hair as he leans further forward, pressing our lips together tightly. He’s here now. Does this mean the speculation is true? Did Billy call him?

“You are too beautiful to be this stressed.” He murmurs.

“I don’t know how you are so calm about this.”

“Last time I was traded, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m not afraid. I wish you weren’t.” I shake my head, unable to put into words all that I’m feeling. I wish I wasn’t too. I wish I felt a sense of security and peace that whatever is next is what’s best for us. I don’t. Instead, fear of the unknown is choking me until I can barely pull in shallow breaths. "You’re making it worse by watching this.” He insists to me. A moment later, I hear the TV click off.

“Hey. Put it back on.” I snap at him, reaching for the remote.

“You’re done for today.”

“There is still a half hour until the deadline.” He shrugs, then brings both his hands up, skimming across my arms until they rest on my chest. He gives my breasts a tight squeeze. I bite back the moan that pushes into my throat. His thumbs brush against my now hardened nipples. Involuntarily, my eyes close and I lick my lips, letting on just how good it feels. “I’m going to help you relax.” His hands come to the edge of my shirt, lifting it to exposure my bra to him. Luckily for us both, the clasp is in the front. The cups fall away, exposing perfectly, rosy nipples. Kevin sighs behind me, getting closer so our lips can connect easier. His fingers swipe across the sensitive peaks and the moan becomes too forceful to keep in.

“Kev…” It’s meant to be firm but instead comes out soaking in desire.

“Shh.” He whispers against my lips, fingers moving again. His tongue dashes into my mouth at the same time his movements increase. Wetness is pooling between my legs, so I open them to showcase my need. My hand goes to the back of his neck, holding his mouth to mine. My tongue dances with his in perfect sync. His thumbs and pointer fingers tighten against my nipples, squeezing them into submission. My back arches further into his hands and he spreads his fingers, taking my full breasts completely into them. His thumbs dance over the tips again. I shiver in pleasure as his mouth pulls away from mine.

“Come here.” He opens his arms to me. I stand on the couch, shedding my shirt and bra, leaving them long forgotten on the floor. I throw my arms over his shoulders. He pauses, grabbing my right breast and pulling me to his mouth with a firm grip on my ass.

“Oh.” I cry out, head tilting back, chest rising and falling rapidly. His tongue circles my nipple and then he pulls it completely into his mouth. He sucks and laps at me until my knees feel weak. My mouth rests on the top of his head, pressing kisses to his scalp, encouraging him to continue. When he moves away, the afternoon light glistens across my wet nipple, shining a beacon on his work.

“Ready?” He murmurs, before wrapping his arms around my waist, lifting me over the cushions and into his chest. My bare breasts dance against his shirt as he walks. His straining erection teases me; the barriers of our pants too much for the state of arousal I’m in. “Hold onto me, baby.” He reminds me as he enters our bedroom. I’m not sure if he’s reminding me about now or the contract situation. The shades are open to accept the light, so when he sets me down, the sunlight highlights my naked features to him.

“Take this off.” I insist, shoving his Wild shirt up his abdomen. He does so, exposing the rigid muscles of his torso. “Fuck.” I murmur running my nails along the divots, salivating at getting to have him like this. My fingers move to the waistband of his pants, shoving them down. His erection thrusts out at me. I run my fingers along the thick, hard shaft, causing him to sigh in pleasure. His hands practically rip my pants from my legs after that. I laugh at him, but it doesn’t last long. His lips are on my inner thigh, instantly trailing towards our favorite place. My fingers thread through his hair as he pauses, taking in the view.

“Your pussy is incredible.” I bite my bottom lip as he places a kiss on my pubic bone. His lips press delicate kisses all along my lips, teasing me, making me ache and cry out until his mouth finally encloses over my clit. My head snaps back and my fingers curls into his brown locks. One of his hands comes to grab my free one and I squeeze his fingers tightly. I can’t help but move my hips into his face, which makes him moan in response. “So hot, baby.” He insists, tugging my hips tighter to his face. His tongue dashes deeper into my clit, making the pressure build unbearably tight. Every muscle in my body clenches. I squeeze the parts of Kevin touching me and then release all at once.

“Ohmygod!” I yell then moan deep in my chest. Kevin licks me through my orgasm, causing me to jerk then shove him deeper. I’ve barely caught my breath before he is flipping me to my stomach, pulling my hips up high into the air. His first plunge is quick and deep. He gives me no time to adjust to his thickness. His thrusts are rough and demanding, requiring me to take him quietly and without protest.

“Good job, baby.” He whispers in my ear as he connects his chest with my back, driving deeper still until my cervix tingles in slight protest. “Tell me if it’s too much.” I immediately shake my head fiercely.

“Don’t stop.” I force out through gritted teeth.

“That’s my girl.” He grins and lets out a confident laugh. He knows how good he is in bed.

He stands back to his full height, slapping my ass gently and then gripping my hips tighter to drive faster. The bed squeaks in dissent. Our heavy breathing fills the room just as my second orgasm descends over me. I fall into the comforter, letting it catch my scream. Kevin fucks me through this wave and well into the next one already building. When that one is complete, he pulls out of me, kissing up my spine to the base of my neck. He nibbles at my skin there then taps my thigh for me to flip over again. His mouth comes to my pulsing clit and licks. I whimper at how sensitive it is and he softens his laps. When I’m back to the wetness he wants, he pulls back, grabbing my legs and putting my heels on his shoulders. His strong hands come under my butt, lifting my hips as he slides into me.

“Ahhh fuck. You are perfect. So damn perfect.” He hisses out through gritted teeth as he slowly moves in and out of me. My arms go to the side, allowing my breasts to bounce the way he likes them to. He grins, then gnaws on his bottom lip. His teeth snap tighter together and his mouth practically snarls as he takes in the view.

My cheeks and chest are flushed; I’m withering desperately beneath his hands. Despite the trade deadline, Kevin Fiala is having a great day.

“Touch yourself.” He insists to me, watching my hand come between my legs, lightly rubbing myself to my fourth orgasm.

As my fingers stroke, my eyes don’t leave his face. His jaw tightens, cheeks sucking in slightly; I can tell he is holding back. He wants to come, but he’s waiting for one more from me. I can feel it building, a little softer, less intense than the others, but just as exquisite. I surrender to it, arching my back as much as he will let me with his vise-like grip on my hips. When he’s confident I’m through, he finally allows himself to release, shooting deep into me with a long, profound moan. His chest heaves as he lets go of my legs. I spread them wide so he can fall towards me beneath him. He gently sets himself over me, connecting our lips immediately. His kisses are soft, nothing like the franticness of before. Both my hands run through his brown hair while my legs rest loosely against his butt.

“I love you.” I tell him in between our soft smooches.

“Mmm, I love you too, baby.” I trace the outline of his swollen lips with the tip of my pointer finger. They tilt into a smile under my touch. “It’s after 2:00pm.”

“And you’re still a Wild player.” I murmur, cocking my head to the side. He feigns shock then snickers at me.

“Technically, I might not be. My phone is in the other room. That would be quite the phone call.” He brings his hand up to his ear like he’s taking a call. “Hey Billy, sorry I missed your 18 phone calls. I was fucking my hot fiancé. What’s up?” I roll my eyes at him, cheeks turning a little pink.

“Stop.” I mumble, running my hands up to his shoulders, resting them against his firm muscles.

“Sex that good should be talked about.” He insists, kissing the corners of my mouth.

“Yeah? So you talk about me in the locker room?” I ask him. He sits back on his knees, looking down at me spread before him to accommodate his body.

“No. I know better.” He shakes his head, eyes serious.

“Mmm.”

“But…” He trails off as one of his fingers slides against my still sensitive folds. I chomp on my lip and wiggle against his finger. He removes it then dances his other hand up my body, briefly skimming my right nipple, then resting close to my mouth. His thumb comes to my bottom lip, pulling it slightly down with heavy eyes. “If I were to say something, it would be praising your mouth.” I slide my tongue out, licking his thumb then sucking it into my mouth. My teeth lightly scrape against his skin and he breathes out an angsty “Fuck.”

“What’s so good about my mouth?” I ask him while knowing exactly what he means. I can feel his erection building against me again. It teases my thigh making my inner muscles clench again.

“Where to start…?” He trails off, pausing for a moment, again taking in the sight of me splayed before him. I shimmy further down the bed so his erection is within reach. My fingers grip his shaft and tug at him as he thinks. His eyes are dilating again, his core muscles straining as he tries to remain composed. “You do this thing with your tongue that I swear pulls my soul straight out of my body. And you’re never shy about how deep you can take me. In fact, I think the deeper I am the better you like it.”

“That’s true. I love the taste of you.” I insist, shifting to get on my knees. He immediately backs off so he is standing next to the bed. I set my face right in front of his dick. It twitches at my proximity. I gently flick the tip of my tongue against the slit in his head. “Keep going.” I encourage, wrapping my hand strongly around the base, tugging upwards. His balls tighten against my hand and I grin. He’s already close and I haven’t even started.

“Um… Ah…” He begins but trails off when my lips press against his head. His hand goes to the back of my head and he eases me down. I take him fully and stay there until his pressure on the back of my head releases, then I slowly rise, dragging my tongue the entire length of him. “That. Definitely that.” He moans as I swirl my tongue against his head, dipping into the crease at the top. My tongue traces the curves of him, then I take him most of the way in my mouth, sucking and licking and squeezing him into submission. “Baby.” Kevin cries to me. I know I have him exactly where I want him.

“What else.” I ask during a brief moment where my mouth is empty.

“Fucking everything. Keep going, baby.” His voice is frantic, so I move again.

As I do, noises and begging comes from his lips in several of his languages. Most prominently is Czech. I have to hold back the smile forming on my lips because I want him to finish. I give him one final tug, then suck his head tight and swirl my tongue along the pulsing skin. He comes fiercely into my mouth. His hands grip my head tight as he sways into the bed at the power of his orgasm. I take every last drop of him in my mouth. When he opens his eyes to take me in, I release him. I sit up on my knees then show him every ounce of him on my tongue. I curl my tongue back in and swallow, falling back onto the bed like the damn queen I am.

“That noteworthy, Kev?” I tease him. He still looks lost as his chest rises and falls rapidly with his eyes locked on my bouncing breasts. When he looks back at my face, his grin is infectious.

“So… Ah… What are you doing for the rest of your life?” He wonders, eyes still molten with desire.

“You.”

“Fuck. Lucky me.”

[the-lore-and-art-cave-go-brrrrr]

Well I was going to reply, but apparently I now have the need to get into like the physical body language of several species I have, both from [Redacted]'s world and some other ones.

The thing that started this was actually the two genshin characters I made, Alizeé and Aimeé (having to hunt down the accented e is fun), who are both something called Crystal Nymph hybrids. The two are both half human though, so some of their body language may work different to an actual full blooded crystal nymph. I'm mostly thinking about how their tails would function. And after thinking about it, I've decided for the most part, their tails mirror that of a cat. Mostly because it's the description I've been getting. So mini key, mostly for myself (half the time these posts are made just for me to have this stuff down somewhere)

-Tail straight up: Alarmed, possibly angry (If they had fluffy tails I'm sure they would puff up)

-Tail tapping while asleep: relaxed in general, but still aware of their surroundings

-Tail moving while sleeping: Dreaming

-Tail lashing while sleeping: Nightmare

-Tail moving while alert: nervousness, aggression, "Do not touch" (If we're being honest, Alizeé probably is doing this one a lot of the time. Crowds freak them out, and so do people)

-Tail straight up with a hooked tip: friendly greeting (You'd probably see Alizeé doing this around their siblings, be it Aimeé or the fontaine sibling trio. Aimeé probably does this to everybody.)

-Tail lowered really close to the ground: Afraid, anxiety

-Tail tucked between legs: Terrified (I imagine Alizeé's tail would probably wrap around one of it's legs, and Aimeé would probably hold her tail in her hands as a way to try and ground herself.)

-Tail wrapped around their body: In pain, feeling unwell (in this case I imagine that Alizeé's tail would probably wrap around their stomach, as their tails are really long, while Aimeé's would wrap around her legs, and sometimes their stomach)

-Twitching at the end of their tail: Playful or hunting

-Really aggressive twitching at the end of their tail: Irritated

-Slow side to side swishing: Focused on something (Literally anytime Alizeé is working on anything. Aimeé isn't seen doing it as often, but she would probably be doing so when writing lyrics or practicing for performances)

-Tail quivering: Excitement (Aimeé probably does this a lot. Alizeé wouldn't be seen doing it as much, but probably does it around any of his siblings when he sees them)

There's some other things, like if one of them wraps their tail around someone. If someone goes for a handshake, their tail may wrap around their hands while they are shaking them. And they would have behaviors not typically associated with cats as well. Gonna list those now.

-I imagine that alongside the angry tail lashing, the tips of their tails, where the crystals are, probably are being shaken, much like a rattlesnake does as a warning. I think maybe this would make a sound? And the sound changes based on things such as the element they are associated with, and the shape of the crystal. So Alizeé, who's associated with anemo and has the four sided diamond shape for a tail, probably would actually make sounds akin to a bell, but higher pitched, probably loud enough to hurt. Aimeé however, is associated with Pyro, and has a tail with the shape of a gem cut in a diamond shape. So the sound she would be making is probably something like the sound of embers popping. Logistically I don't know how this would work, so we're going to blame it on weird element shenanigans.

Also a crystal nymph who's associated with geo (the base element for all of them) would probably sound like a rattlesnake, or maybe the sound of rocks being knocked together.

This is getting really long, so I think this one specifically I'm going to use for these two, and I'll make another with the specific tells for the groups from [Redacted]'s world. Anyways, moving on!

I assume crystal nymph's ears would also be tells for their emotions. So here's that.

-Neutral position: Not really feeling any strong emotions (Alizeé would probably be here usually)

-Ears pointing up slightly: Excited, happy, eager (This is probably where Aimeé would be at)

-Ears pointing straight up: Startled, aggressive, on alert

-Ears drooping slightly: Sad, nervous, tired

-Ears drooping a lot: Panicked, exhausted, in pain

-Ears angled up and shaking a little: Somewhat angry

-Ears angled up and shaking a lot: Furious

-Ears angled back slightly: Overwhelmed

-Ears angled back a lot (gotta figure out just how far back they can go): Overstimulated, probably by noise

I don't know the full range of motion of their ears just yet, but I assume they can point up a ways, down a ways, and angle back just a bit.

There's only one other thing I think should be mentioned. Their eyes.

As I often do, I gave the two diamond shaped pupils. I imagine these can do more things shape wise than that of a normal human, so here's what I think can happen.

-Normal size (taking into consideration light level): Neutral

-Narrowed into slits: Aggressive, suspicious, jealous, on alert

-Eyes wide with narrowed pupils: Panicked, Furious, defensive

-Eyes wide with normal pupils: Surprised

-Eyes wide with widened pupils: Excited, in awe

-Widened pupils: Happy, eager

That's really all I have on this. Gonna make one for [Redacted]'s homeworld now.

[waru-chan8]

Just wanted to say thank you for posting the things said in cuatro tiempos. I’m not sure how many episodes there will be, but I’m relishing every moment you post (or Jorge posts on Instagram and I half understand)

Also quick question, was the (in)famous handshake in 2008?? It’s said the worst of their rivalry was in 2008 so what are some things that happened??

Lol I'm glad you like my post. I felt like I'm screaming to the void only the bits I find curios or I like. I was lucky that this episode was mostly about Dani and Jorge relationship and rivalries so it was a gold mine. Cuatro Tiempos is just 4 episodes, so we are half way done, but probably I'll rewatch some times and bring other bits if I feel like, or if someone ask for something from it.

If you want more bits of footatge, Izaskun Ruiz post in her insta stories the content DAZN post, plus she post interviews and photos of the team on track and they are funny to watch.

2008-2009 it's Dani's and Jorge's pick of rivalry basically because they have been forced to fight against each other since 2002 when Jorge debut on the championship. Basically all around them made them "enemies" plus their riding style and actituts. Dani was Honda's golden boy, he had the seal of approval from DORNA plus the support Jorge lacked (and a Cola Cao ad). Dani was the angel and Jorge the bad boy.

When they where both fighting in 250cc (year 2005), there was lots of contacts on track plus a lot of accusations flighting between Jorge, Puig and Amatriain. According to Jorge and Puig it was a way to destabilize the other rider on track and a means to and end. Back then, Jorge was very aggressive, he saw a gap and he throw himself there, which caused him a race ban. Spanish media was all over them back then.

Then Dani went to MotoGP as 3 times consecutively World Champion (125 in 2003 and 250 in 2004 and 2005). There was 2 years without their fights on track as Jorge was fighting for his 2 tittles in 250.

So in 2008 they both found themself in the same track with more or less equal machines fighting. Media was all over them to reignite the 250cc fight and because it was the first time that Spaniards had 2 very competitive riders on track fighting and having options to win in the big category. So again it was more about people around them than them.

But then again Dani has said, he did not like when Jorge won him, and by the type of character he his, it led to this:

So basically Jorge had been recriminating Dani to not congratulate him on the podium in Qatar. Then in Jerez, Jorge went to congratulate Dani for his pole, with a handshake, but Dani ignored him and Jorge and the other rider in there where kind of shocked.

The next day, Dani won the race and Jorge finished in 3rd place, so they had to share a podium. The King of Spain, Juan Carlos I (the older guy) was and is a fan of the races and was in charge of giving the trophies so he went to the cold-down room/the back of the podium and forced the hand shake. During the podium they did not look at each other.

This is according to the media, their worst/lowest point in their relationship, but Dani said pre-2010, so I'm guessing 2009 was like that too.

In 2012, it's when media and everyone knew that the hatched was buried and they where friends, when this happened in Qatar

And if there was doubts, Jorge asked Dani to marry him on a press conference that same year

I hope this is enough to answer the question

[orange-orchard-system]

Pop off all you'd like

I will say that I do see accounts of people who are affected by syscourse (and those who care about it) offline – everything from attempted institutionalization to physical assault to general unkindness – and I don't want these people's experiences to be erased, which I fear the common narrative of "none of this matters offline" perpetuates. But I'm very glad that you've been able to have more positive experiences; it brings me hope whenever I hear things like that.

Something I think that people may be missing in my original post is that it was inspired by seeing syscourse around the very concept of pluralphobia. Out of all the things we're going to argue over, it's how we talk about the shit we face for being plural?! It's about whether the shit we face is "bad enough" to spend time talking about?! It's about whether the shit we face specifically for being plural is distinct enough to identify it as its own form of oppression?! We've graduated from the "you aren't real" argument to the "even if we suppose you are real, none of the oppression or discrimination you face matters, it's just people being mean on the internet, you don't need your own word for that" argument (and wow, I wonder where I've heard that before! *stares aggressively at ace and trans discourse*). The usual exclus have gone a step further in adopting common bigot logic to shoot all of us in the foot, and even the people I see pointing this out are ending up dragged into intracommunity slapfights over the precise ways we talk about our pain. This whole thing makes me feel like the "can I please get a waffle" vine, except it's "can I please get some legal protections".

Like you mention in your post, we should be helping and looking out for each other. I don't think syscourse focused blogs are necessarily worsening things, or putting their energy towards the wrong things – the work to fight against exclusionism, misinformation, and cruelty within our online spaces is important, especially as we see it begin to spill into offline spaces as well. But we as a community shouldn't lose sight of there being more to the problems we all face than syscourse alone. We shouldn't be infighting about the parallels we draw between different forms of oppression; we shouldn't be telling each other off for drawing comparisons and handshaking with communities that have gone through similar to us. There are systems who could be kicked out by their families at any given time for being plural and yet people are arguing over the meta of our exploratory theories and thoughts on our own oppression; on whether or not we're "allowed" to call it oppression at all. It makes me so angry to think about. Call it whatever the fuck you like, but call it out.

When I'm in a safe place in life, I want to turn my attention to helping more systems offline. Probably in the form of a regular, local meetup at a library or something. We desperately need more in-person places to foster community and meet other plurals at. I want us all to be able to know for a fact that we are not alone. I want us all to know there's at least one other person/system they can go to who will understand and can help them. I want us all to be able to come together, whether that's to push for change, or just to be there for one another. It's hard to do those things in a way that feels tangible and real in online spaces, no matter how much the online world affects offline events and lives.

Peace and love to all plurals and survivors, indeed. May we all find the peace and community we need.

I wrote a whole f-cking poem about this that I may or may not publish but. I need to stop looking at syscourse. People are arguing over whether or not pluralphobia is bad enough to care about and what kinds of discrimination it's okay to draw parallels between and I'm just here like. Okay. Great. So anyway, regardless of these slapfights, I'm still stuck depending on openly and specifically pluralphobic family – as in, my own family I directly depend upon who have outright stated their hostility towards systems specifically– to be housed and fed. I have met multiple other systems offline in my local area who are stuck in the same position I am, with unsupportive if not outright hostile and hateful family. We are forced to remain closeted for our own safety and to ensure our basic needs are met. Can we focus on problems like that, please? We can hold the Oppression Olympics after we get a start on making sure vulnerable systems are safe.

[outoftheframework]

oh! well would'ya look at that, chapter two got out

Excerpt from the second half of Introduction to Tim Drake Studies, now posted here on ao3!

_

“Tim,” sighs Bruce with a parental gentleness that his third child still has trouble processing even after all these years, “would Conner like to join us for dinner?”

The third Robin flounders, peeking over his shoulder and then back again.

“Who?” He asks in a tone scarily believable for a lie so embarrassingly horrible. Kon picks that moment to reappear, now with socks, straightened glasses, and more presentable hair. He leans around Tim and extends a stiff arm out to Bruce.

“Mr. Wayne. Sir,” he greets, trying not to look surprised or terrified in any way when his boyfriend’s father accepts the handshake with a grip that simply cannot be human. Bruce nods.

“Conner.”

The handshake lasts horrifyingly too long. Once he escapes Bruce’s death grip, he surveys Dick and Jason standing on either side of their father and goes with his Kent-brand Southern instincts.

“Mr.-” he pivots his arm out to Dick, continuing after the slightest pause, “Wayne.”

Dick looks over to Jason, then Bruce, and finally at Tim, who seems to be seconds away from crumbling. He shakes Kon’s hand. The teen pivots once again, quicker this time.

“Mr. Wayne,” he addresses Jason, who’s quick to return the gesture.

“Mr. Kent,” Jay draws as he shakes Kon’s hand far more aggressively than necessary.

“Stephanie Brown,” the girl calls from her place at the dinner table where most have already sat down again in attention, “heiress to the Wayne fortune. But you may call me Ms. Leech.” Damian looks to be much too frustrated with his own confusion for a biting remark. His arms are crossed as he grumbles about dinner invitations and “just letting anyone march in now.”

“Hey Steph,” Kon greets with a smile and a small wave as Tim breaks out of his embarrassed stupor enough to ask Bruce, “Wait, you actually wrote her into the will?”

_

I enjoyed writing this fun little piece! I'd love to hear what you all think about it :) Be well and stay safe, everyone!