#y’all applying your morals then I’m applying them too

[0-therw-0-rldly]

I’ll preface this by saying I’m not really a shipper. I just enjoy canon couples on TV Series/films.

Terms I’d like B*ddies to remove from their vocabulary because they don’t know how to use them correctly:

Media literacy: For a group that uses this term a lot you sure do misinterpret everything in this show.

Queerbaiting: Going to expand on this one. A show that’s already been pre established for having queer characters simply cannot queerbait.

Ship baiting: While sometimes you can argue that they could be doing that, that’s only if you look at the show in a very biased manner. You might think this is the case but the general audience doesn’t think the way you do.

Ship war: This isn’t a one tree hill situation where there was Team Brooke Vs. Team Peyton where the middle guy (Lucas Scott) had canonically been with both women. This is people not understanding fanon vs. canon and not being able to just watch the show. It’s like playing quarterback on Madden and thinking you could be better than Patrick Mahomes.

Plot device: everything’s a plot device. Move tf on.

Predator: You sound like crazy MAGA supporters calling everything regarding the LGBTQIA+ community as predatory. Sit down.

Co-parenting: I know this is a big one and discourse was brought up during the hiatus. Oliver and Ryan have loosely mentioned this years ago but it was never to be taken this seriously. Do y’all even know what co-parenting is or are you that big of a donut? Buck is someone who loves his best friend deeply and by extension, his kid too. Him taking care of him frequently does not make him a co-parent. Maybe he is a parental or uncle figure, but he isn’t a co-parent. Also, I swear y’all need to learn how a will works. He is a GODPARENT, not a GUARDIAN. Stfu.

Hag: This especially applies to women, but to say that someone 25-30+ is a hag for still being in fandoms or enjoying tv shows/films is inherently misogynistic. Men are never held to this much criticism for enjoying fictional media, but women aren’t allowed to?

Queer Coding: people of the same sex “looking at each other”, hugging, or having intimate moments all together doesn’t make them queer coded. It could mean that they just love each other that deeply platonically. While representation is amazing and just because you interpret a character as queer coded (just like my ship baiting comment) doesn’t mean others interpret it that way as well. In addition, network TV has stipulations, and also actors are allowed to decline storylines. Ryan has mentioned his character is heterosexual an abundance of times which means (at least for now) that he isn’t willing to go for this storyline.

Dead naming: Y’all construing the fact that Buck wants people like coworkers and some of his former love interests, to saying Evan is his dead name is inherently transphobic because do you even understand what a dead name is? Evan Buckley is shown as being fine with being called Evan by both Tommy and his sister. I’m pretty sure some of his love interests have called him Evan as well.

Fetishizing: You guys saw two hot guys who “looked at each other” and for 6 seasons have wanted nothing but to see those two make out with each other. Those of us who enjoy Tevan saw Buck giddy at the thought of Tommy and have wanted domestic fluff for them since.

Anything to do with racism, homophobia, and misogyny: I’ve seen the way you guys have conveniently weaponized Henren and by extension Aisha/Tracie when you didn’t get the Ryan/Oliver interview, don’t try to act like you’re morally superior. Not to mention wanting a canonically gay man to die in a show and not even holding those who use your ship name to write CSA fics accountable because you’re petty and want to throw hissy fits. Anyone looking at your comments as an outsider would think you’re homophobes and yes queer people can be homophobic.

I do hope you can expand your vocabulary. 🤍

[multifariousqueer]

hey ur writing a so good vould you write a smut with miles Morales( not 42) and reader using webs as hand cuffs, thanks <333

Ofc, babes!! IF ANY OF YALL HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THIS, SAY IT WITH ME KNOW. IF IT DON’T APPLY, LET IT FLY. LEAVE ME TF ALONE IF YOU HAVE ISSUES WITH MY SMUT BC I GENUINELY DO NOT GAF

A/N; Hey y’all. Keep requesting as always and if you have an issue with this particular piece of work or any of my other smuts, please feel free to politely fuck off 🥰(I’m sorry I’m so sick of the comments under my post y’all).

Warnings: imma try not to put too many bc Tumblr will shadowban this post and i gotta feed y’all, look at the request, b0nd@ge, fluff, br33ding,d1rty t@lk, nicknames, $mut,lmk if I missed some

As the rain pattered against your dorm window, you sipped from a mug of tea as you had just finished your English essay and designing Miles’ new web shooters. He was currently out using them and trying them out as you took notes on their flaws and how they could be fixed. Miles always told you not too worry about his web shooters and just focus on making his suit more durable and you always told him:

“I can do both, Spider-Man’s girlfriend/engineer always does both"

He would chuckle and laugh and say:

“As long as you’re happy, Mami."

Miles let you have a lot of creative freedom with his design seeing as you were also his “girl in the chair” assisting him on missions sometimes, designing/building him new tech, testing out new fluid combos and overall, keeping him safe. As much as Miles enjoyed you being active in his escapades, he worries that something will happen and you’ll be targeted and used for something horrible. You reassure Miles that this will never happen because there is nothing connecting you to his suit or machinery due to your advanced tracking system being untraceable by outside forces. You installed a firewall so potent, it took you three months of nonstop work to crack it. When you finally did, Miles and you had celebrated for a whole week.

As you enjoyed your unusual alone time, you waited for Miles to tap on your window and enter.

“Hey, Spidey. How’d they work?” you smiled at your tall boyfriend

“They held up, thats for sure. I had to stop a bank robbery and those guys had some pretty jacked up weapons but the shooters did their job. How are you amor?” Miles spoke

“I’m good. I pounded through my English essay and yours.” You said, grabbing his suit to tinker with some of the shooters leaving him bare in your room in only his mask

“What’s the essay on again?” He said, grabbing a shirt as you saw his visible goosebumps on his skin due to the sudden temperature change

“The effects of technology on modern civilization” you smiled at Miles

Miles chuckled at this

“Damn, they called you out, huh?” Miles said, climbing on your ceiling and attempting to web a bottle of water

“looking for something?” you smiled, waving his shooters at him

“yeah actually.” he smirked

“You’ll have them in a sec.” you said screwing something in

“try em now” you said, throwing them to Miles

Miles tried them and they worked perfectly, even better than you had anticipated. Of course, he tested them by webbing you to him.

“Thank you, mami. You always get me right.”

Miles pulled you in for a kiss. The kiss was long and passionate, you could tell he was incredibly grateful for the time and effort you put into him and his alter ego. The kiss could’ve lasted eternity as your mouths moved in perfect motion of each other before you pulled away:

“Should we try out new web formula?” you said barely above a whisper, your eyes fluttering open

Miles chuckled

“Nah, the current one will work fine for this”

Before you could ask what was going on, Miles webbed you to the wall. He turned you around so your stomach was against the wall. He made sure to strategically place the webs so that your hands and ankles were bonded extra tight to the wall.

“I’ve wanted to do this forever” Miles said

Miles webbed your mouth before you could say anything and started rubbing you through your clothes. He fondled your perfect tits and cursed under his breath:

“Shit I’m so lucky"

He sucked on your neck as little moans and whimpers escaped. He moved his hands under your clothes and ripped them in one swift motion:

“I’ll buy you a new top and shorts, mami” Miles said

You moaned out an “awww” but it was quickly interrupted by Miles rubbing your clit while leaving kisses along the back of your neck. You felt a knot in your stomach and you wanted nothing more than to moan out Miles’ name as you approached your orgasm.

You felt yourself twitch as you moaned and whimpered, tears falling from your face as Miles stopped and started palming and smacking your ass:

“You thought it was gonna be that easy, Mami? como si no me conocieras” Miles taunted in your ear

All you could do was just moan and cry as you were completely under his command. He then snaked two fingers inside of you and started prepping you for his dick:

"Es tan apretada, mi princesa” he said, lowly

Miles knew that when he spoke Spanish to you, you get flustered and shut down. You turn into a giggling mess and this situation was no different; It didn’t help because Miles was kissing your sweet spot on your neck causing you to feel overstimulated. Your legs shook and you were practically sobbing as your boyfriend abused your technology and your body:

“Fuckkk you wanna cum, Mami? You want me inside of you, princesa? I wanna fuck your tight little pussy so bad I’m gonna cum in your womb when I’m in there. You gonna let me? You gonna let me make you feel good, hm?” Miles taunted

“Mhmmm” you mumbled. You nodded and turned to face him.

“If you weren’t webbed, I’d make you beg for it; but you’re formula makes it so that you won’t be begging for another three hours” Miles smirked

“mmmmmm” you mumbled

All this time, Miles was taunting your hole with his head, pushing it in and out and watching your hole drip with anticipation. You were sobbing and all you wanted was to feel full and to cum but Miles more interested in watching his powerful, smart girlfriend, fall apart on his cock like putty. The lewd sounds your pussy exuded were driving Miles crazy as he watched you beg for him with your eyes.

Miles pushed himself in and bottomed out. Your soft, plush walls sending his senses into overdrive as he forced himself to move and not just enjoy your pussy squeezing around him. The feeling of being full and the sight of Miles inside of you was enough to make your high return on steroids. Your legs shook as you moaned and whimpered alongside Miles’ own whimpers and groans. As you approached your highs, Miles’ thrusts became sloppier and harder as your body followed the rhythm of his thrusts and began to shake. Before you knew it, your eyes blurred, and you let out a long drawn out moan and a wave of pleasure came crashing down on you; had it not been for the webs, you would’ve fell to your knees.

Not long after, you felt Miles twitch and his movements stilled as he emptied his cum inside of you, his breathing became heavier as yours did too. Miles placed soft kisses along your figure and whispered praises against your body:

“Fuck you’re so beautiful, Mami. I love you so much. You did so well"

You felt yourself get weak in the knees but Miles had been supporting your stomach and your weight. You wanted nothing more than to kiss the man who emptied his cum into your womb but due to the webbing situation, you couldn’t. Miles felt this and he snapped the webs off of your hands and ankles in a flash. As you both were calming down, you saw a geometric blast of light before seeing Gwen’s face:

“WOAH! uh did I catch you guys at a bad time?” She asked awkwardly, covering her eyes.

You and Miles exchanged glances before he smirked and you felt the heat rise to your cheeks

[nonbinarypirat]

Learning how to be selfish (another iruma focused deep dive. Spoilers for iruma kun manga)

I promise I won’t ONLY focus on iruma as a character. I plan to do a post on many characters and scenes, especially since I have been breezing through the story. As a hobbiest writer and actor, I love to go back and reflect on scenes, read them multiple times, and learn why a character did what they did. And I want to share these thoughts with y’all. It’s just that, I have hit Opera becoming a teacher and decided this is the perfect time to take a pause and reflect on this new side of iruma we are seeing poking through. (And YES I most definitely screamed when they became a teacher, my nonbinary icon.) so yeah, I plan to make a lot of posts, but it’s another iruma only one today. Take a shot every time I say selfish or greedy in this tho, I repeat it so often. No thesaurus is being used today.

Ok, im loving that Iruma is becoming more selfish. I especially loved Iruma telling Purson that he’s learned that it’s ok to do selfish acts and stick with what you want to do rather than doing what people want or expect of you. This is the first sign of Iruma breaking out of just saying yes to things. Saying no can be so difficult, especially if you have lived your entire live thinking that was the only option for you to do. He’s too kind, and trained, so he said yes to basically anything even at the risk of hurting or exhausting himself. I appreciated this moment because Purson similarly doesn’t feel like he has many choices. He loved his family and wants to support the family business, but feel dragged along with the whims of his father.

Though I guess it’s kind of a misnomer to say that the scene with Purson is the “first” time we have heard greedy being applied to Iruma. Amelie was the first person and at first I didn’t fully get what she meant. I think I kind of just dropped that part of the conversation as unimportant. But it’s actually super important for us as the audience to understand his character going forward. At the beginning, Iruma didn’t have a lot of motivations, merely being led by whatever happened in the Netherworld. He was in a manner of speaking, selfless to an unhealthy degree. It was only by learning to set a goal for himself that he started to feel (at least to me) as an active participant to the world at large. And Amelie was the one who inspired that in him in the first place. Amelie was the first one to call him selfish/greedy (to my recollection) which is fitting as the character who pushed him so far.

I also think I should clarify that I don’t use the term selfish in this case as a negative. In fact, I’m happy he is becoming a greedy character. Because Iruma won’t abuse this trait of his. Selfishness without kindness and care is dangerous. Without empathy and compassion, greed quickly turns into cruelty. Iruma has these traits though. He has the morals and love to utilize his selfishness to the fullest. Selfishness and kindness can go hand to hand. In fact, I think this is the best quality for one to have. The desire to strive towards your wants while understanding that you can’t treat the people and environment as expendable. And Iruma has the deadly combination of selfishness, caring, and determination.

Which leads us into the 13’s Dinner in which they talk about food bringing out who a demon really is. I loved this scene because it highlights what people could see on the surface when faced with Iruma’s gluttony (aka greed). Baal said “it’d terrifying to think of what he’d be like as a king” (paraphrasing) but that’s without understanding the core fundamentals of who Iruma is. We see him try to force this idea onto Sabro too, saying iruma is pushing his grandfather’s weight around to turn him against Iruma. That’s just widely untrue. Baal, and honestly so many of the Six Fingers from what we’ve seen so far, believe that people are just like them. That deep down, they are (or could be forced into) the rotten type of selfishness that their group takes pride in. True, people can be forced to do cruel things. That doesn’t mean thats who you are fundamentally however. Baal lacks the love that Iruma is overflowing with. And so he equates selfishness with cruelty. He thinks that if he experiences this certain flavor of the trait, that must mean everyone else experiences it the same way too.

Either way, Iruma is a character that is shaping up to be someone who has many desires. From zero to infinity, And what makes him so likable is that he’s willing to do anything to protect those desires. To protect the life he has built and the people he has come to cherish. He wants it all. His friends, soulmates (and yes you better believe I will post a screaming post about that at some point), Amelie, family, good food, fun, adventure, Balam, Kalego and so much more. He wants everything. And he’s also willing to do anything it takes to protect these desires. More than that, he’s always grateful to the life he has built here, to the people who have opened up their hearts to, and for the beautiful home he has created. And that’s the reason why I can’t wait to see Iruma grow into the wonderful selfish person he deserves to be.

[splishsplashyouropinionistrash]

welcome welcome, it’s been a while.

but we’re back now with tumblr’s favorite show: AFTG Hot Takes, where i spew paragraphs and paragraphs of bullshit instead of working on my WIP.

without any further ado, i am proud to present: every AFTG ship, ranked.

this is your friendly reminder that these are just my opinions. if you like a ship i don’t: great! if you don’t like a ship that i love: also great! i’m always happy to hear people’s thoughts, and i love a good friendly debate, but please remember that i’m 17. i’m not here to argue with you about why your ship is the best. i’m just here to have fun.

these probably aren’t all the ships that are out there, but this is everything i’ve seen so far. if i missed one, let me know!

24. Jean/Riko

this one… ew. ew ew ew. every ship with riko is so ew, i cannot begin to explain, but this one is the worst.

i’ve read too many Nest fics to not gag at this tag, cause it’s never consensual.

23. Kevin/Riko

just no.

moving on.

22. Kevin/Thea

y’all know i hate this ship by now, but for newcomers: it’s predatory and neglectful. very very ick.

21. Andrew/Roland

this one… where to start?

i’ll probably make a full post ab it soon, so for now, let’s just say that it’s very similar to Kevin/Thea. The age gap at the time that things started between them… the morals and legality are murky at best.

20. Andrew/Kevin

i’ve said it once, and i’ll say it again: they. aren’t. good. for. each. other.

Kevin doesn’t respect boundaries. he pushes things. and boundaries are the absolute most important thing for Andrew. they just don’t work.

19. Andrew/Neil/Kevin

i very vehemently despise this ship, for the same reason i hate Andrew/Kevin. i think it’s so important for y’all to remember who these characters are and not just ship them because they all have dicks and are nice to each other sometimes. that turns into mlm fetishization real fuckin quick.

18. Neil/Kevin

this is one that i can almost sort of see. if i hadn’t accidentally spoiled andreil for myself, i would have assumed this was canon during my first read.

but it’s just… i love the fact that they’re friends. i think their friendship can be so amazing, and i love reading fics where they’re that close. i don’t think every friendship in media has to turn romantic.

17. Kevin/Jean/Jeremy

remember what i said about kevandreil? apply it to this one too.

ik it sounds like i just hate poly couples. i don’t. i just hate ships like this, that really wouldn’t be healthy but people put together anyway because oh gay people yay! it feels gross and fetish-y and i am not here for it.

16. Kevin/Jean

this is a ship that i can see happening pre-canon, but i’m not the biggest fan of it simply because there’s no way it could be healthy. they went through a lot together, sure, but traumabonds are notoriously unhealthy.

15. Kevin/Matt

this, again, feels like just putting two characters together because they’re nice to each other occasionally, but really? they aren’t. correct me if i’m wrong, but Matt and Kev only have one canon interaction that i can remember, and it’s literally Matt punching Kev in the face.

Not to mention, Dan and Matt. Dan and Matt! i love them too much to accept this.

14. Kevin/Matt/Aaron

listen. again, i don’t hate poly couples. i really, really don’t. i just…

Matt literally… just doesn’t mesh well with Kev or Aaron. at all? i don’t understand the thought process behind this.

13. Renee/Jean

i don’t… i don’t hate this one. i just don’t like it. i feel like both Renee and Jean have wayyy better ships (not to spoil anything, but they both make top 5 in different ships)

i don’t think they’re awful, per se, i just don’t really see the chemistry.

12. Allison/Seth

this is an unpopular opinion, i know. but i’ve read a few “Seth lives” fics that redeem him, so i can’t hate him. i can’t, you can’t make me.

believe me, i don’t like it either, but i don’t run this city, the rats do.

anyway, it’s not awesome and i like Ally’s other options better, but it could be good! it could be great! i read too much redemption fanfic!

11. Kevin/Jeremy

i’ll be honest, it’s not my favorite to read when Jean is also in a fic, but if we’re talking in general?

i adore. fics where Kev is falling all over himself trying to talk to Jer are my bread. and. fucking. butter. quicksand has destroyed me. absolutely ruined me.

10. Aaron/Katelyn

starting off the top ten with one of my favorite minor characters ever, this ship is up here because i love Kate so much.

i read too much fanfiction, i know, but i just think she’s so cool?

honestly, i really don’t think Aaron deserves her. she’s that cool. i love her so much. that’s my lady. my babygirl. simply adore.

9. Abby/Wymack/Betsy

i like this one, i really do. all the Fox parents together? it’s perfect. i love it. enough said.

8. Kevin/Allison

listen. i’ve said i didn’t get it before, but honestly? i change my mind. i like this one. i like it a lot.

their personalities would mesh so well. they’re both dramatic, they’d be the funniest fucking couple in the world. i like it a lot.

7. Abby/Wymack

it’s a classic. i ship it, you ship it, the Foxes ship it too. we all ship it. they’re made for each other, and that’s all i have to say.

6. Matt/Dan

if you don’t like this one, you’re lying. they are. the definition. of love.

they’re so cute? so cute? i have no words?

your honor, i love them.

top five time!!

5. Nicky/Erik

god, these two.

if you know me at all, you know i have a soft spot for Nicky. i relate to his story so much, and i hate how dirty Nora did him.

but god, these two. they are love. they are perfect.

i have no words. i just love them so much

4. Kevin/Aaron

i love this one. you know i love this one. everyone knows i love this one.

they’re both assholes, and they’re both hurt in different ways, and i love when they heal together. when they help each other and lean on each other and just- ugh.

i like watching them heal, and i like watching them do it together. (plus best friend’s brother anyone?? a classic trope)

3. Renee/Allison

i love them so much. i love them so much.

they balance each other out so well? they’re so perfect for each other?

also, we need more wlw couples in media in general, and especially in this series.

i love them so much.

2. Jean/Jeremy

you know. you know i love this one (thank you Hoax, and thank you gus_47. you have ruined my sleep schedule and i have never been happier)

grumpyxsunshine, guys. healing together. i love when people heal together. i love it

also, round of applause to us in the fandom for creating an incredibly popular ship between two people who literally never interact in canon. we did that. i love that for us.

and now, for #1.

1. Andrew/Neil

they are love. they. are. love.

it’s a classic but it’s perfect, and i love them so much. no i will not elaborate (this time)

well! thank you for reading, start a (friendly) fight with me if you want, and drink some water

hugs and kisses <3

[eco15]

Some of y’all rly suck the fun out of reading ACOTAR.

Taking it toooo seriously it’s a YA fantasy romance 100% FICTIONAL book it’s not a biography.

You must be hella bored if you spend your time hating on a series that…doesn’t rly matter when you consider everything else in the word.

You don’t like a book series? Cute. Go find another and leave those who enjoy it ALONE. Make your critical posts ig, have fun but don’t go attacking ppl. It’s so unnecessary the way ppl be talking abt those who enjoy acotar. Not your cup of tea? Once again…

Cute. Go find another.

Acting like SJM should be writing like Dante Alighieri or else it’s jus not good enough like miss gurl cant help it if ppl like fae porn and drama🤷🏽‍♀️ it’s making her money too, a win for her. I believe she writes good fantasy even without the romance/smut and I’ve read a lot of fantasy but to each their own. Even if you don’t like it, there’s a reason the series has a big fandom.

I got my own things abt acotar that I don’t like but…ima peaceful kinda person it’s jus not within me to write 6 page long essay on how bad acotar is and why ppl shouldn’t read it cuz “ew so disgusting no morals every character is bad”

Now I don’t know if you guys can recall, but it is a FICTIONAL book and I also said in a recent post that ppl need to stop applying our morals in a fictional world. Characters are meant to be complex and have flaws, no one is perfect they aren’t god and obviously some characters are going to be viewed different when we’re reading through different perspectives (how nesta views rhysand in acosf, even cassian compared to how feyre views him). All characters aren’t meant to share the same views but it doesn’t necessarily mean one is right and the other is wrong. I believe that when we’re reading characters that are hundreds of years old it is bc of their age and individual experiences throughout time that they can become questionable in their morals and mindset simply bc they have endured so much and don’t see the world in black and white. Not every immortal is a wise old wizard in literature.

I didn’t rly like Rhys in ACOSF. I didn’t like Mor or Amren. Amren was not always fae, she is one of the oldest creatures In their faerie world and was not originally from their faerie world, I would be very surprised if she had the same beliefs/morals as the prythian fae from the get-go. Will never ever be on the same mental level as the rest of the characters. And I don’t mean childish I mean the exact opposite.

I’m not excusing the characters actions, they’re not written to be excused. But if the series and everything that happens in it seriously bothers you. Maybe it’s time for a break🙂

Now I know fs you guys wouldn’t be able to handle Game of Thrones with the way them characters be acting.

[vvatchword]

So I debated replying to this for a number of reasons: first, it’s a good sentiment; second, it makes people happy; and third, OP is correct: religion will always be around. Religion absolutely makes some people’s lives better and adds to the color of human experience and not acknowledging that would be a blatant lie. But OP is also doing some sleight of hand here: ritual is being conflated with religion, and while religion requires ritual, ritual does not require religion.

So, personally speaking: I fucking despise religion. I fucking loathe it. I have an automatic nervousness around religious people--I don’t fucking care what it is, my hackles go up. Now, there are many reasons for this--not the least of which is me waiting for the other shoe to drop (the religious person inevitably turning off their brain and doing something Religiously Shitty to me). See, I was raised evangelical fundamentalist. I escaped about twelve years ago. In the process of escaping, I began researching religion in general. I wondered if there were true faiths or if ours just got it that fucking wrong. In the process, I found a story about a religious tourist who went to a southeastern Asian country and stayed with a woman who was taking care of a disabled boy.

“You are so good, taking care of this child,” said the tourist.

“He must have done something terrible in his past life to be born this way,” said the woman.

I suddenly realized this kid was going to grow up thinking they were suffering for something that they had never done. They were going to carry the burden of some accident of nature’s all their lives. In addition to the suffering that their disability had caused them, they were going to suffer internally for NO REASON AT ALL.

Buddhism had been on my short list for “least shitty faiths.” It immediately evaporated. And that’s when I realized faith needed to get its fucking ass kicked. It needs to be deconstructed, as any human construct must be deconstructed. It must be acknowledged not only as a bringer of the good, but a bringer of the bad. This isn’t bigotry, it’s just true, and it should be done because people are more important than religion. You think all that anti-trans bullshit in my country is coming from a void? I can go point at the verses in the Bible that they’re whipping out right the fuck now.

The problem with religion is multifold. If it could stay in its fucking lane, that would be one thing. But the problems are that religion is a worldview and an ideal, and religion cannot be proven or disproven.

The ideal cannot survive in an imperfect world. It perishes the minute it’s born. Life is just too complex and there are too many contexts all grinding up against one another. Too many ingredients, too many different environments, too many different kinds of people. Just one problem: what happens when your worldview doesn’t actually apply to the world? That means it’s relative to you and not a worldview at all, really. And how can it be ideal if it doesn’t apply perfectly to every situation?

With this comes cognitive dissonance. With this comes puritanism: moral performativism (for there is no way to PROVE you’re in-the-know, only a way to show it) and the urge to control other people. That control inevitably takes the form of punishment: guilt, shame, social approbation--all the way to imprisonment, suicide, and murder. Why? idk some invisible power somewhere thinks I’m fucking up. They’ve said nothing to me about it, but y’all seem real nervous. Shit what do you mean you’re throwing me out of the house

Now, the ideal is not only religion’s; it’s also present in political and other non-religious ideologies. But the difference is that those political and non-religious ideologies can be debated to some extent. You can use real-life experiences and data and change your mind accordingly. But religion doesn’t work this way. Religion does not problem-solve according to data: it problem-solves according to authority. Authority tends to be static; authority tends to demand a strange inaccessible world where nothing changes. Authority is the domain of the old looking back with rose-colored glasses.

Because that’s the next problem: nobody can get ahold of the Powers That Be. What they say cannot be proven. Their existences can’t even be proven. And while there were multiple ways that I personally coped with this (constant Bible reading and praying, looking for signs, paying attention to how I felt), the inevitable next best thing is Authorities. Other human beings. That’s how you end up with an ancient text from the goddamn bronze age informing modern politics in my goddamn country. It’s an authority. Is it correct? I mean it’s an authority. Oh you know who else is an authority? My parents--the preachers--the law--the President--

Never you. Never, ever you.

In direct contrast, science is great because you can say, at some point: “Aw, we got something wrong! Now we need to change how we approach things.” But in religion, change is anathema. This is what the olds said. Which olds? They fucking died they are so old. When did they die? The stone age? Okay great let me interpret my modern problems by the words of this guy who thought their king was established by the will of god and that diseases were caused by devil worship. Oh and those themes are still in the book by the way. Which is how you end up with religious fascists and my sister telling me that my mom’s Parkinsons was caused by devil possession.

Problem-solving also suffers as a result. I have had a big problem asking questions my entire life because my religion made kids the tools of their parents. They weren’t individuals; they needed to be seen and not heard; they were being groomed for a lifetime of religious service. Authority said it was so, and so it was so. The problem is that asking probing questions is an important part of learning, intelligence, self-reliance, and resiliency. For example, I tried to pretend that Santa was real up until I was about 12. I saw no difference between my parents telling me God was real and Santa was real, and I wanted to honor them. I mean, they’re old, they know what’s up, right?

This also means it fucks with how you interpret the right actions to take in any given situation. If I’m looking for signs from God to solve my problems, and I think it’s God who told me to go to the principal to tattle on other students for doing something that ultimately doesn’t matter, guess what I’m going to do even if all the facts point toward some fundamentally better solution.

Religion will always be around, regardless of what assholes like me think about it. I will never harass anybody for it, I will never judge anyone for it--I’ve been there, I got the t-shirt, I intimately understand why people want it. But I also know what it does. I’ve been the furthest it can go. It’s a fucking curse.

God will have to ask me for forgiveness.

Listen, I know it's very much a thing that utopian leftists think that religions will simply stop existing once all of our material needs are met, but that is just not the case.

Human beings need ritual. If we are deprived of ritual, we make new ritual. It does not matter if you call it religion or state or whatever it is you call it, human beings will keep making up new rituals.

You cannot stop us, and saying 'this ritual which I like and doesn't hurt anyone else is fine, but that ritual which you like and doesn't hurt anyone else is bad' is just bigotry.

When I say 'you cannot stop us,' I literally mean you cannot stop human beings from making up rituals and religions. Leave a group of six year old girls alone near a mud pit for an hour and you will come back to a newly-minted faith. We make ritual. We make culture. That is what we do.

No, Judaism will not 'naturally cease to exist' when all of our material needs are met. What will happen then is that the Jews will get Jewier, because we will have all the time in the world to study Torah and write stories and make Jewish art. If you met all of my material needs tomorrow, two days from now there would be six more hamsas, a complete bound copy of all the volumes of the Talmud, and a shit-ton of giant Jewish art prints in my house.

You cannot stop people from making up culture and religion. It is, arguably, the thing which makes us human, one of the defining features of our collective humanity. We will always make up silly songs and new religions, and the idea that we'll just give all of that up for some vanilla yogurt and taupe jumpsuits utopian existence is absurd and beyond belief.

[local-plant-bitch]

Nah I’m not done y’all are getting all my hot takes today so here’s a list

What characters and media you like are not a good judge of character

Jumping off of that, attacking people for what characters and media they like while not actually doing any work to support and protect marginalized groups is performative, and also just makes you completely insufferable

Still on that note, I’m fully convinced that all the “drama” around Hayley Atwell is either completely made up or just tumblr kids not remotely understanding English humor or banter

People who genuinely enjoy coleslaw are lying to themselves and everyone else. Coleslaw is gross

To be fair I hate cabbage in general and why do I feel like THATS what’s gonna get me “canceled”

Also cancel culture isn’t real. It’s mainly just people being really fucking annoying. (This does not apply to people holding other people accountable and I can’t believe I have to actually say that)

People saying they don’t like children because they’re loud, weird, talk too much, and don’t understand unclear boundaries feels really fucking ableist to me

Also people who are mean to kids give me the biggest ick. Like genuinely get help, you’re a gross human being.

As someone who’s been out and in the queer community (yes like irl and actually talking to older queer people) for nearly 10 years now, so much of the “discourse” and “you can’t be this and this at the same time” is completely pointless and a complete waste of time and energy. There are MUCH bigger issues right now (I’m in the southern US and unfortunately a Floridian so I know first hand) and identity policing and systematics are such a minuscule issue right now. Please get our there and be involved in the community if you can do so safely, and if you can’t, listen to older queer and trans people (I’ll link some creators I personally follow at the end but please feel free to link more in the comments)

Still on that topic, people who have been in the community for some time now (myself included) need to be patient with those who are new. Now this doesn’t mean don’t draw attention to an issue that needs to be addressed (because I have to clarify everything I say on this godforsaken app lest it be taken completely out of context), but treat newcomers with kindness and respect. Hell treat everyone with kindness and respect until they in bad faith give you a reason not too. Just don’t be dicks to be each other.

And finally, nuance is such an important thing. Like understatedly important. There are very few things in this world that are truly black and white, and morality is not one of them. One good deed does not make a good person and one bad deed wont make a bad person. Also my word is not gospel. No one’s is. Form your own opinions on things and when you encounter someone who disagrees, treat them with respect (to a certain degree, because once again, this is not a black and white issue)

In summation. Don’t be a fucking dick

[princebensxlo]

My tumblr will become Eren and Daenerys defense squad, and Jon and Mikasa protect from slander. Like Reddit people are putting Eren and Dany together and saying “killed by nephew/sister”.

Mikasa Ackerman is not even Eren JAEGER’s sister. My man LITERALLY SAID “I’m not your brother nor your kid”, so many times. Western people oft misinterpret the way Japanese relations are often described like???? They have their customs too, and I’m sorry for your lack of reading comprehension. If you were watching Attack on Titan just for the blood and plot; good for you. But at least don’t come and spill shit if you don’t even try to make some research, read a damn thing, good reviews, and educate yourself before making a statement or sharing your opinion. If you didn’t like the ending, good for you, neither did I (lol, to some point. I’m STILL GRATEFUL THO AND IM NOT DISRESPECTING THE AUTHOR NOR REWRITING HIS CHAPTERS, y’all)

Dunno where you get your stupid “incest thing” based in the fact of the Eren’s waity/chapter 123. And Mikasa’s answer of “you’re family”. I can totally understand if people are confused about this, it’s okay. But certain chad stans and delusional shippers claiming to still be incest cuz Eren sees Mikasa as a “sister”, when even THE author himself said that he was confused as to why people would claim that, for he made it evident MULTIPLE times throughout the manga that it was otherwise. And for people that says “they barely interacted, Eren treated Mikasa as shit”. Were you even watching aot with open eyes? I certainly noticed that change of feelings. AS TO HOW EREN USED TO BE ‘ANNOYED’ to Mikasa’s protection, to finally making peace with it, thanking her, ‘ILL WRAP THE SCARF AROUND YOU’. When she got hurt (this is something we only saw in the manga) BUT LETS TALK ABOUT EREN’S MEMORIES. From all the tiny pieces of his memories that we know of, Mikasa was always the centerpiece of them. Isayama drew the panel of kid Eren wrapping his scarf around her many times that seriously, are y’all blind or just ignorant? But hear me out because this same people are rocking chair enthusiasts so I don’t know what to think of them. They were literally harassing the editor, Isayama, the VA’. Hell, they were harassing half of Japan if possible. So disrespectful in truth. I’m just waiting for Isayama’s interview and his perspective of Eren’s character conclusion, plus Eremin’s convo. Anyway...

NOW AS FOR DANY. I’ve been in this fandom for two years now. I’ve gone through my Stark phase and my Targaryen phase. I’ve seen every argument (nah, every day people comes with more ridiculous things) I’ve saved my own opinion, often just sharing it casually with my friends, and genuinely trying to enjoy the content in the fandom. But ugh, it’s impossible. So if you wanted your beloved queen Sansa to put Dany in her place, and just being a Dany Anti as always and a Stark-ending enthusiast of your beloved season 8, so be it. Let me invite you to Jon Snow, Daenerys Targaryen and probably Jaime and Tyrion’s funerals. They died of character assassination, killed by the horrible writing. My opinion is that their conclusion could’ve been sooooo much better, in reality. But DANY’s overall. She was one of the main characters and at least, she deserved that. If you were planning of her going “mad”, you could have give us more “hints”, but that’s bullshit for its so out of character. And even if it wasn’t, you could at least put, again, more hints. Now, why people thought Eren Jaeger was so “out of character” is beyond stupid. It’s clear that the boy grew up but was still a kid, and he’s known to be so emotional. WHAT DID YOU THINK?? THAT HE WAS JUST GOING TO DITCH HIS FRIENDS LIKE THAT?

Going back to Dany. She should’ve just grabbed her dragons and her army and let the ungrateful lords and lady of Winterfell to their own luck. That just proves that no matter what you do, or how hard you tried; even if a threat is looming over you, conflict would never end, cuz northern lords didn’t accept Dany but still took her armies and dragons, okkkk

MY POINT IS THAT WTF ISAYAMA? You knew that conflict would never end no matter what. But you still made Eren a mass-murderer, a genocide and all that stuff. U better explain

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Right Person, Right Time

A/N: I’m back to writing some Steve rogers so here’s some angst for y’all :) Pairing: CEO!Steve Rogers x F!Reader Word count: 3,927 words Warning: Angst, swearing, some fighting (verbal) the usual angsty fic

Birthdays are the one day a year when it’s all about you. When the entire day is centered around celebrating you, what you love to do, what you love to eat, your favorite people, everything that you could possibly love is squished into a 24 hour period and that’s essentially what you get.

Some people are blessed with other days too. Christmas and Thanksgiving are taken off to be near family, usually there’s a one week vacation thrown into the mix of the hectic 51 other weeks that separate work and regular life and the dream, relaxing state of what life really should be. But being married to one of the world’s most prominent billionaires meant anything but that.

Steve was devoted. It was one of the most admiral qualities he held, one that he applied to you when he could, but his company and enterprises seemed to constantly be his number one concern. Was he CEO? Yes, and a very active one at that. But CEOs usually don’t do all the work, they have dozens of henchmen around them that do those tasks to make sure everything stays stable while they’re off on a yacht in the Mediterranean.

Despite all the Christmas’ and Thanksgivings, the Easters and weeks of vacation he missed, he always vowed to you that your birthday was the one day he promised to take off every year. He had yet to break his promise, keeping his phone turned off the entire day so the potential shit storm that could be brewing he didn’t have to worry about on your day, instead dealing with it the next.

Maybe that’s why you sat in your bed this morning in utter shock when there was no Steve, not even a hint of warmth wafting from the sheets as an indication that he was there, and then found a note on the side table explaining his great regret for what this day would turn out to be.

Dear Y/N,     First and foremost, I’m very, very sorry. You have no idea how grateful I am for you each and everyday, and I know your birthday is the one day I always take off. But I woke up this morning to a true emergency, one of magnitudes that have to be dealt with today. I will make it up to you, I promise you and cross my heart. Whatever you want, consider it done. I’ve left the unlimited card on the kitchen counter, feel free to take it and have a field day. I think I deserve it for all of this. Again, I’m so very sorry.      Love,         Steve

You were going to kill this man.

A work emergency that he had to attend to and no one else could? Like he didn’t have Bucky and Sam right there to help him, or let’s not forget the thousands and tens of thousands of employees under him. But no, here you were left in a cold, empty bed in this stupidly huge penthouse all alone on your birthday.

You got up with a deep sigh as tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you confidently pushed them back remembering that you would not let this ruin your day. You had too many of these damn run-ins with him to not know how to enjoy yourself a bit.

You pondered calling up some of your girlfriends to hang out, but remembered what Jackie had mentioned when you asked her about brunch today, “Steve told us all he had a full day planned, and to not worry about you.” She sighed, “So I’m planning on working. But I’ll be at your official party on Saturday!”

Yeah, so Steve fucked that over too. Sure, there were plenty of things to do in a city like New York, but you weren’t really in a shopping mood much. You were shockingly non-materialistic for a woman who’s long term partner was one of the world’s richest men.

You could theoretically travel also, running up to the upstate cottage for a day of relaxing not might be a bad idea, but you held onto the fact that maybe Steve would have some morality and soul in him to just come back mid-day and make it up to you somehow, someway.

That left you with the only other option: embrace being alone. You didn’t mind being alone, you more liked it on your own terms. And maybe to not have to do it on your birthday, but why dwell in a bad situation that you can’t fix?

The old grandpa sweater in your closet seemed to be calling your name today along with leggings, a shockingly simple but cozy outfit for an outing. You had announced to Steve’s security team that you would be heading out and insisted on walking, but two of the guars stayed with you at all times, just relatively far back so it wasn’t too noticeable that they were yours but they could swoop into action if needed.

First stop was the little, local coffee shop a couple blocks down. Their drinks were actually decently priced and tasted way better than any Starbucks you’ve been too, plus the staff was nice which deserved extra tips always.

The next stop was a bookstore a few blocks down, as you were nearly done with your current read and figured that if the plan for today was to do just that, you were probably going to need a new one to start. You tried to hold back from buying multiple, knowing many of them would go unread if you did so, so as soon as you found the one you kept your head down to the register in hopes of not seeing any other ones that sparked interest.

And finally, back home. Steve had made a mini office for you in one of the corner rooms, and you decorated it as cozy as you could. It definitely didn’t match the aesthetic of the rest of the apartment, but this was your space and so you could do what you wanted. 
You swore off on doing legitimate work today, and despite how tempting your desktop seemed to just check and respond to a few emails here and there, you decided to plant yourself in the cushy chair in the corner with a blanket and just read. Your usual drive was to read more challenging books that were actual literature, but a stupid romance novel that was poorly written but had a relatively entertaining plot seemed perfect for today.

But as you read and read you were continually reminded of the driving force of men being- men. Men being stupid and ignorant and just- ugh, being men. It reminded you a bit of Steve, and your emotions began to rise as this dick in the book continued to act like one.

Forgot an anniversary? He’s done that before, well, kinda, he didn’t forget but was too busy to show up for dinner. No present on Christmas? He bought you an absurd amount of presents, but he wasn’t there to open them. Thanksgiving at your parents alone because the man didn’t show up? That’s happened with Steve before. Twice, actually. And finally, what you should’ve seen miles away but didn’t, was today. The “sorry I forgot your birthday”.

You aggressively closed the soft cover with a slap and huffed, looking out the window as your teeth grinded together. How could you have been so stupid to have thought that he would ever care for you more than his business, or his money, or himself? You had this false perception in your mind, a dream almost, that he could just see you and love you as much as he loved the other things in his life. It wasn’t something you had ever asked for, having known from the beginning that it would be hard to even be a little thought somewhere in his mind throughout his hectic schedule everyday, but still.

Sometimes you were sure he forgot that you were the only person who would listen to his rants about whatever it was that bothered him that day. Or you were the person that would keep the oven on low with his food inside if he came home late so it was still warm. Or that you happened to manage all of his non-profits and “give back to the community” organizations to make him not look like a complete dick to the press and the general public, something that at the moment you even questioned.

You had fallen asleep early that night, very possibly from the emotional draining the day had taken away from you, curling yourself up in fetal position on your side so every inch of your skin was covered in thick duvet. You had also popped a melatonin or two, in hopes it would help your slumber come quicker, which it did.

But of course, amidst a good dream, you felt the bed shift slightly. You woke up a bit, and looked over to see Steve getting ready for bed. He noticed you with a smile, “Hey doll.” You grumbled and looked away again, hearing him sigh. “Listen I’m really sorry for today-“

“You’re on the couch tonight.” You announced, sitting up a bit and making direct eye contact with him in the barely lit room, only the small lights from below the window illuminating anything. His face grew more shocked. “Couch. Not guest room. If I wake up and you’re in the guest room I’m going to leave.”

“Leave? I-“

“You’re a dick, Steve. Now sleep on the couch and we’ll finish this conversation tomorrow, or continue it, and I probably won’t be here tomorrow.”

He stood there across from you on the bed with a blank face for a couple seconds, before sighing and leaving the room, walking in the direction of the living room. He had made his bed today, and he was going to lay in it tonight whether he liked it or not. At this point, you couldn’t give two shits for what his excuse was, if he would even tell you, because sometimes he pulled a “it’s really confidential” card which made your face bloom a shade of red in fury.

The next morning you woke up at your usual 8 am, ready to start the day as usual. You were glad when you heard the shower down the hall from the guest room, and not Steve invading your shower for the time being. It wasn’t that you were genuinely that upset at him, you just wanted him to understand how you felt for a bit.

You did your usual routine, brush teeth, shower, dry off, makeup, hair, clothes, and you were set to head to the office for another day of managing charity work and press events. When you entered the kitchen, ready to make your usual fixing of toast that would get you through until lunch, you were met with Steve sipping on his coffee and looking worried as ever.

He wanted to say something, his open mouth a clear indication of that, but your blatant ignorance of him standing there made him freeze and shut it again. This was going to be interesting.

You began boiling the hot water in the kettle, grabbing a tea bag and placing it in a to-go thermos, prepping your bread when he finally spoke. “Baby, can we please talk about this?” He pleaded, his voice actually sounding a bit genuine, like he was in pain.

“Is that strain from actually being sorry or from sleeping on the couch?” You asked, not making eye contact and standing your ground. He sighed.

“I promise I’m sorry, baby, just please talk to me.”

“About what?” You asked, placing a hand firmly on your hip and looking up at him with a quizzical face as you awaited his response.

“Listen, I was a dick, I know, but it was a real emergency and-“ You scoffed.

“Your excuses are old, Steven.” You began, “Find a new one that’s not about work and maybe I’ll believe you.” You popped your toast in the toaster oven and looked back up at him.

“I’m so, so sorry I missed your birthday, really. But I’ll make it up to you, a couple weeks away somewhere or as many fucking things as you want. I don’t care, whatever you want, consider it yours.” He looked at you with damn puppy dog eyes and a jaw slacked in defeat.

“I want you to not forget important dates, and to value me over work.” You stated, your teeth grinding in a firm growl. “Who’s the one who plays therapist after a hard day, hm? Who’s the one who makes you fucking food and keeps it warm when you’re not home for dinner, which is 99% of the time? Who is the one who makes sure you get at least six hours of sleep, and that you don’t kill yourself from stress? Who’s the one who runs all your nonprofit organizations to cover your ass from looking like the stupidly rich and oblivious billionaire that sometimes I think you are.” You were now within a distance of feeling his breath shadow on your skin, standing up to the man inches and inches taller than you, with a much bigger build, and staring him down with eyes of rage and power.

He stared down at you with a genuinely cautious and saddened face, no response leaving his lips. “All I ask of you is to appreciate me. I rarely get it, but for my birthday. And listen, the gifts and shit are nice, but I couldn’t care less if we were dirt poor living like the large majority of people out there. I think it would humble us both, actually. So don’t even start that argument, because I’ve never asked for anything of you, besides right now where I’m asking you to validate me as your partner in everything you do, and for once treat me with equal respect and not just like I’m an asset.”

The tea kettle screeched as it hit boiling point, steam spewing out of its tip. You backed away finally, going to pour the hot water into your mug, closing it, grabbing your toast on a plate, and leaving with him standing there staring.

For the first time in years, Steve couldn’t get any work done.

He was sat at his desk in this presidential suite that he now realized was more daunting with emptiness than anything, the floor to ceiling windows doing nothing but exposing his vulnerability at the moment further.

“Hey boss I-“ Bucky came in a moment later, stopping himself to twistingly admire the man he had known for practically his entire life sit in an awkward daze. “Are- are you okay?” The silence was thick in the air and filled with uneasiness.

“I don’t know, Buck.” He admitted, letting himself lean forward in his chair and sit his elbows on his desk, his hands holding his head.

Bucky shut the door slowly and quietly, trying not to alarm anyone of the different man that sat in front of him. “What’s wrong?” He asked and Steve sighed.

“I totally, completely and utterly fucked things up with Y/N.”

“Hm?” Bucky asked, confused as he approached his best friends desk. “I thought things were going well?”

“Me too.” He sighed, again, leaning back now in his chair, his head looking up at the ceiling. “But she dropped a nuke today. After I missed her birthday and all, I guess- I guess my behavior over the years caught up to me and she just let everything out.”

“Well what’s the supposed to mean?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the desk.

“It means that she feels like she’s an asset to me over a partner.” He explained, “I mean, I can kinda see some of it. But I thought I’ve always shown appreciation to her.” Bucky had no response, instead looking down. “What?” Steve asked, his voice growing in panic.

“I mean, seriously man, did you not see this coming?” Bucky asked as Steve’s face stitched itself in confusion, his eyebrows morphing together in a furrowed expression. “You have such a loving girlfriend who’s been with you for years. You- sometimes I don’t even think you know her, pal. I mean, you buy the nicest things out there for the most un-materialistic woman in the world. She makes dinner after her nine to five and keeps it heated up because you don’t even try to make it home for dinner or to help her. You missed her birthday which is just about as shitty as it gets, and missed Christmas and Thanksgiving last year.” He explained, “If I were her, I would think you didn’t care much for me either.”

Steve let his breath out in a mixture of a sigh/groan and bit his lower lip as he pondered what to do. There was no easy solution, he was essentially being asked to choose between the two most important things in his life. “What do I do, Buck?” He asked next, looking up at his right hand man in desperation.

“You want my honest opinion?” He asked and Steve nodded. “Take a temporary leave of absence.” Steve’s breath nearly stopped as his brain seemed to malfunction somewhere.

“What?” He snapped a bit, looking up at Bucky confused again. “Are you joking?” Bucky shook his head.

“The company’s stable right now, better than ever. It doesn’t look like the market’s doing much in the near future, unless some drastic change happens to the economy or society as a whole nothing will happen to the company for the next few months. Why don’t you take that time off and spend it with her, go travel for once and just enjoy life.”

“I do enjoy life.” Steve argued right back.

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asked in a condescending tone, “When was the last time you two went out on a date?” Steve sat with a blank face, thinking, but found nothing. “My point exactly. If you can’t even remember the last time you had a date with your girlfriend, you’re not living life and enjoying it.”

“I enjoy life through work.”

“And that’s the problem.” Bucky sighed, “You have all the money in the world, literally. You could go anywhere you want, stay at the most expensive hotels, buy multiple yachts and private jets, do whatever the fuck you want. And here you are, still sitting at this desk and staring at paper all day. That’s not enjoyment, Steve. That’s being held hostage.”

“Hostage is a strong word-“

“Would you just give in already?” Bucky laughed satirically. “I mean, c’mon man! This is what Y/N was talking about. You need to look at the world from a different perspective. You’re stuck in this ‘CEO Steve Rogers’ role and not just Steve Rogers. The same Steve I grew up with, the same Steve she fell in love with, the same Steve who worked his ass off in a one apartment dump in Brooklyn for years making building this company up. You’ve become obsessed, Steve, and you need to find yourself again.”

It was an instant, decisive decision Steve had made. He may regret it later, or not, but he had officially announced a three month leave of absence effectively immediately with Bucky and Sam currently playing Co-CEOs while he was away.

It didn’t take long for the news to whip around every news site anywhere. It was splashed on front pages and that was how you happened to find out that your uptight, always planned years ahead boyfriend made a split-second major decision, something you couldn’t have predicted if you would have asked the most experienced fortune teller on planet earth.

You stared at your computer screen for a few seconds, completely flabbergasted, before grabbing your phone and calling Steve. He answered in two rings. “Steve what is going on-“

“Meet me back at the house in 30, okay?”

“Steve what are you talking about-“

“Just trust me. Back home in 30. Love you.”

You weren’t sure where Steve Rogers went, but the man on the other side of that call sure as hell wasn’t him.

You took a deep sigh, wondering what you really should do. Was this a midlife crisis starting early? Was he going crazy? Had he always been crazy? You questioned these things but quickly shook them off. Fuck it, you thought. If we’re gonna do it this way, so be it.

It didn’t take you long to pack your things, check out of the office early but substituting your presence in meetings with some other people to fill in, and quickly left. You sighed to yourself as you entered the back of the large, black SUV Steve always had sent for you, buckling up and leaning on the back of the leather seat. What the fuck was he thinking.

You finally got back to the apartment, opening the grand doors and entering into a surprising sign of life being present, lights on and all. You cautiously went back to the bedroom where some of the house assistants were packing bags, Steve helping a bit. “Hey, doll.” He smiled up at you when he noticed your presence, getting up and walking over to you.

“Hey Steve-“ You were cut off quickly by a firm, and searing kiss. One that had some explosion of electricity you hand’t felt in a long while. “What’s going on?” You asked as soon as he let your lips free, his smiling down at you.

“We’re going on vacation.” He stated proudly

“Vacation?” You asked, dumbfounded, “Where? How long?”

“Wherever you want, but I figured Greece would be a good start.” He smiled, “And three months.”

“Three months, Steven?” You asked in complete shock, “Three months?”

“Yeah, I figured we both needed the break, I could focus on you more and the relationship, it’ll be good.”

“But what about my work? All the meetings and press junkets and announcement and volunteer opportunities-“

“All dealt with and covered.” He smiled at your even more confused face, “I had my people work on it.”

“Steven Grant Rogers.” You stated, crossing your arms. “I- I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” He responded, “I just wanted to make you happy and feel appreciated for once. Listen, I really did do some thinking introspectively, and I was being pretty awful to you. So, I’m just gonna spend a while focusing only on you.”

Your mouth opened in awe at the man in front of you who seemed so different from even the man you were met with this morning.

“I’m sorry for missing your birthday. And Christmas and Thanksgiving, and all the events you planned for the charities that I didn’t show up to. And for all the dates I didn’t take you on, and for all the homemade dinners I missed. I hope I can make up for it now.” You smiled tightly and looked around for a moment at the various luggages being chaotically packed and the window showcasing the city bustling below. But none of that mattered right now.

“Thank you.” You smiled up at him, “Thank you for listening.”

“It was something I needed to do for a long time.” He smiled back, “I just needed the right person to tell me, and that person will always be you.”

[redreadredemption]

OK ITS HERE! THE PART OF DRACULA THAT INFLUENCED MY ENTIRE PERSONALITY!

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, check your email. Read Jonathan’s entry for May 16th, and then come back. I absolutely refuse to spoil it for anyone.

Spoilers ahead

Long story short, when I was 14, I read the line “yes, I too can love” and it DESTROYED me. I still thought that I was cishet at the time, so I don’t look for queer subtext the way that I do now, and I had a full on crisis because I thought that I was misinterpreting the scene. Surely it was just… male friendship? Maybe saying “I love you” to your homies was more acceptable back then?

I still have the copy of Dracula that I annotated at the time, so I have a pretty good idea of what was going through my head at the time (the yellow post it’s are from about 6 months ago when I was looking through my notes and decided to write down my reactions to my reactions. I don’t know why I did that but they’re funny sometimes so I left them. I’ve got no clue when I put the pink post it there)

So anyway, once I finished drawing Lenny faces, I looked up “Dracula LGBT” and very quickly found hundreds of thousands of articles and essays breaking down just how fucking gay this book is. And I read a lot of them. I started reading other short stories about vampires that the authors talked about and somehow took at least another 6 months to realize that I’m queer after going on more than one rant to the people in my life about Carmilla because did you know that they kiss in that one? Laura and Carmilla kiss each other in a book written in the 1870s, did you know that? Carmilla is supposed to be a villain but she’s sooooo romantic, let me read you a passage, but oh no I’m not gay I’m just really fascinated by the history. I’m straight.

If it is not flagrantly obvious, I am not cishet. The time it took me to realize this is embarrassing, especially because I’m like, 90% sure that I went on at least one of these vampire rants to the poor guy who was my boyfriend at the time.

I’ll save some other rants about why vampires are gay as fuck for later because I’m at school right now and don’t have access to a lot of my notes, but I just wanted to share this because this is why Dracula means so much to me. There’s so much wrong with this book, and I’ll be the first to tell you that, but it holds a very special place in my heart. I don’t contribute my entire queer awakening to this one scene, there was other stuff going on, but it was definitely a contributor.

Dracula also really fueled the flame for my love of critical analysis. Like I said earlier, this scene prompted me to read other short stories about vampires, and at this point, it’s a game of “how long until this gets homoerotic” whenever I pick up a new story, and when I stumble across the rare text that can’t really be analyzed through a queer lens, there’s still other themes that I can analyze the fuck out of. Seriously, vampires are a very cool metaphor because they can pass as human for the most part and only reveal their monstrous tendencies later, so authors have a tendency to apply traits that are considered morally wrong, like gambling or… gay sex.

I don’t expect this to turn everyone on tumblr into Dracula scholars, but I hope that today’s email meant something to people. Maybe not the same way that it meant something to me, but I’m already seeing a couple posts like “wait, I’m not crazy right? Is this what I think it is” and I want y’all to know that it is EXACTLY what you think it is and you are NOT crazy

[mariaiscrafting]

no, you know what, I’m going to stop vague’ing on the dash. my anger is about to get extremely direct and enraged, so fair warning, but I don’t care about anyone’s comfort right now. I’m going to get fucking mad, and you all will fucking deal.

not a single one of us has the right, or should even have the option, to guess about ccs’ sexualities. I’ve kept my mouth shut when it comes to people analyzing george/dream and guessing they’re some kind of queer, but I’m fucking done. I’m going to go into every single reason “truthing” about ccs’ sexualities is just so beyond fucked.

first of all, this is in response specifically to ranboo and tubbo truthing. being a kid and getting thrown into such a massive spotlight, where you will undoubtedly be subject to some fuck shit eventually because the internet is full of thousands upon thousands of people, is already terrifying and anxiety-inducing and damaging enough. but for their own audiencemembers - their own supposed fucking “fans” - to take it one step further and speculate about their sexualities? oh, for the love of god. I can barely believe I even have to explain how fucked that is. it is one thing to be friends with or close to someone in real life and recognize your own queer struggle in them, to approach them with sympathy and support in case they are questioning. it is another thing entirely to speculate about the sexuality of someone you don’t even know, and to then take it a step further and “truth” about your fucking theories. you are not an expert, you are not their friend, and you are not a fucking oracle. you can guess all you want about a cc’s sexuality, you can comment on how their actions or behaviors or words resonate with you when you were questioning or closeted, but to go ahead and take your own speculation as truth is arrogant, presumptous, and damaging as all hell. 

I can just imagine what it would’ve been like if I’d grown an online platform that ripped me of my privacy when I was a teenager and trying to figure out my own sexuality. if I had a section of my audience analyzing my every social media post, the inflection in my voice and the nature of my laughs, my every interaction with my best friend, you know what I would’ve done? retreated so far into the closet that I would probably have tricked myself into thinking I was heterosexual. I would’ve been so fucking terrified and felt so stripped of any privacy or control I had over my own goddamn thoughts; do you understand how fucking vile that is? have none of you ever been terrified of giving away your own sexuality through your mannerisms and facial expressions and words, while you were closeted? have none of you ever experienced that utter fucking terror when you notice someone start to question your sexuality, the immediate urge to retreat and back up and act and believe the complete opposite just to prove them wrong and go back to the safety and security of them believing you were straight? for fuck’s sake, now imagine that feeling amplified a hundred fold, applied not just to one instance or one person in your life, but to thousands. do y’all not understand just how a) morally fucked it is to inflict this same kind of practice onto someone you supposedly care about and support, and b) potentially psychologically damaging this could be to ccs who are closeted, especially the fucking minors? oh my fucking god.

that isn’t even to point out why people do this shit - which is to project and find solace and derive some kind of enjoyment out of cc’s. that’s what cc’s are there for; they are entertainers, first and foremost, which continues outside of streams and bleeds into fandom culture and the kind of enjoyment fans can make out of interacting with other fans and creating their own fan content. the problem with this fact is that fans take it too far, like 85% of the time. cc’s aren’t just there for our own enjoyment. they are fucking people, oh my lord. they are real people that we will never know, and while we may have our fun with our little theories and talking to other fans and making and watching cute compilations and writing fanfiction and making fanart, we are just deriving entertainment from the parts of themselves they choose to show us. that persona they put on for the stream, that is not 100% them. they are real, rounded, 3-d, full people who we only ever get the privilege of witnessing a small sliver of. and we need to fucking remember that, because we can’t just keep running with the ideas of ccs that we have in our heads and treating them like they’re malleable characters for our own entertainment. 

anyways, specifically about truthing (and mind you, this is the point in the rant where a little of my anger starts to seep out because I’m tired and it’s 1:40 AM and I have class tomorrow): there’s so many things that can be said about gaydar. I’m not here to argue whether or not it exists, or the details of the morality of straight versus non-straight people engaging in the practice of truthing. I’m just here to say that, even if you believe gaydar exists and can be accurate when employed by non-straight people, that still only applies to people you fucking know. what you see of a cc is not “getting to know” them. what you are seeing is one face of a multi-faceted jewel, cut in far more ways that you can ever hope to one day perceive. your theories are just those - theories. whatever you might think of the giggles you heard or the pickup lines you saw uttered or the softness you imagine between x and y, human interaction is far too complex and laced with meaning for some rando on the internet who watches youtube videos and twitch streams to fully grasp from two entertainers working from behind a screen. your gaydar is not going to fucking work through a screen, fuck off with that shit.

another thing that’s fucking bothering me so much is this assumption that comes with being at all open about queerness when you yourself are not queer. ik this is just one of the many factors “truthers” use to justify the findings of their totally infallible, prophetic gaydar, but it’s a factor nonetheless, and it bothers the fuck outta me. someone being willing to express support for lgbt people or donate to lgbt chairities or open to conversations with other lgbt people about lgbt endeavors is not evidence of queerness. to say that it is contributes to the harmful belief that cishets still have that they cannot be any of those things - that is, exceedingly open about and to queerness - without being perceived as queer themselves. 

anyways, and now we are at the bottom line, which is that, this entire conversation wouldn’t even have to be had if people just fucking listened to cc boundaries. ranboo and tubbo do not like being shipped. it is that fucking simple. i know that it is tempting to ship two people you think are cute together. i know it is tempting to indulge in a dynamic you find comforting. but idgaf. temptation is not an excuse. find some fictional characters to ship, and kindly fuck off.

[shanitani]

also can I get #2/WUSYANAME with baji please? thank youuuuu and congrats on 700 🤍

phone call! Incoming… — baji keisuke.

leave a message! — “ what’s your name girlfriend, what’s your name?”

“all of y’all, come here.” mikey announced at the podium. Draken sat there eyeing the gang - making sure everyone followed the smaller males orders.

“Today we have a new recruit. But it’s a little different this time around…” everyone had pondering looks, thinking the worst of mikey and assuming he recruited someone from the mobius gang.

“Kenny.” He signaled Draken to grab you - him huffing at the nickname he reminded many times for Mikey not to use in public. He grabbed by your shoulder softly ushering you to the front of the podium by mikey, here you were about to fight the opposite sex and was having a hard time looking your own team in the eyes.

“This right her. Introduce yourself.” Mikey smiled at you with a hand grasping your arm in an affectionate way to ease your nerves. You greeted yourself to the gang while they all had concerned faces at mikey’s choices. “This isn’t right.” Baji yelled out from his spot, making everyone turn to look at him like he’s gone mad - disagreeing with the leader out loud.

“Excuse me?” Mikey jumped off the podium walking towards Baji. “I think I know what’s best for my team, she’s not a little girl she can do it.” Draken scoffed at his friend hearing the mock in his tone. “Whats so wrong with my decision?” He got deadly close to Baji - making him gulp in anticipation.

“I just think we shouldn’t have a girl around here, even you said so yourself mikey that you would never hit a girl.” Mikey stood back from Baji walking back to you standing awkwardly. “Exactly. And if the same standards apply to the Mobius gang - I assume she won’t be in much trouble. As long as she can beat their ass I don’t mind.” You nodded, agreeing with the leader.

“Anymore from you, Baji?” He shook his head, looking in his lap. “Good. Y/N why don’t you introduce yourself to your new family, while me and Draken discuss some things on how you’ll fit in.” You walked down the stairs first greeting yourself with Mitsuya. “Hey. I’m Mitsuya.” He extended his hand out to you asking you a few questions about yourself - and you could tell he’d be the one to come to about any problems.

The line went on with repeated smiles and questions until you were met with the boy from earlier, Baji. “Hi.” He stared at you. You began to play with your hands to make the situation less awkward.

However he wasn’t looking at you in a disgust type of look, more like an “oh my god she’s beautiful why the fuck does she want to fight” type of way. Granted he hasn’t had a “crush” on a girl in a while but he definitely felt one coming.

The sweet perfume on you was dizzying, but in a way he loved so much he wanted to be closer to. The way your hair was kept in braids he’d never saw before but adored. And how well kept you keep your nails in small black stiletto acrylics despite the blood that would soon be on them. He loved your “badass” look, he couldn’t figure being with someone else that wasn’t at least similar in all aspects to you.

He wanted that, but he wasn’t sure why. Something in him struck you as fearless and capable of handling your own - he always knew his type was someone who was strong, but was he expecting to fall for someone putting themselves in the same amount of danger he’d put himself in? Definitely not.

But that’s what drove him crazy - the amount of risk you have and not questioning the unquestionable. You’d be able to know the same feeling he would have if he had a bad day - he wanted to share that with you entirely too much for his morals to withstand.

“You gone keep staring?” You teased him making him fall back into reality. “Nice to meet you, If you need something ever, you know where to find me.” He patted the seat next to him urging you to sit by him for the rest of the meeting.

You apprehensively sat down next to him. Your cheeks rose in heat and the turning change in him, seeing you as one of them. “By the way.” He started, looking back at you. His breath hitched the way you innocently turned back to him, fluttering your eyelashes beautifully.

“What’s your name?” You smiled looking at him, pushing one of your braids out of your face. “Y/N, nice to meet you Baji.” Y/N , that’s who he’d have to become more accustomed to before someone else try’s to take his rightfully deserved place.

authors note — thank you smmm mia babes <3

my 700 event :)

[the-iceni-bitch]

A Christmas Crush

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Fem-Reader

Words: 6693 (yikes)

Summary: Bucky has been infatuated with you for months. Will the Christmas Spirit finally help him make his move?

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content (just all of it), fluff(I don’t know y’all, I have trouble qualifying this one), slightly dom partner, overprotective partner, SMUT (like over 3700 words of it y’all!), 18+

A/N: Sooo, this was supposed to be like 2500 words guys but I got a bit carried away. Made it in right under the wire for day 3 of my birthday week. This is also an entry for the Merry Hoemas challenge that is being hosted by @amythedvdhoarder​ @chrissquares​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @pumpkin-and-pine​ and @starlightcrystalline​. I chose the dialogue prompt “I’m not going to fall in love with you. I promise.” (from The Holiday). Please enjoy!!

“You better be wearing something nice, Barnes! No cargo pants!” you yelled out to the living area as you finished applying your makeup in the bathroom.

“Yes, boss!” He yelled back at you as he adjusted himself in the dress pants he borrowed from Sam. They weren’t uncomfortable, just tighter than he was used to.

“Dude, leave your crotch alone!” Wilson chuckled at him.

Bucky scowled at him and did his best to focus on anything else. “I can’t believe I let the two of you talk me into this.”

“You know how the boss-lady is, once she gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her.” Sam gave him a grin as he lounged on the sofa, sipping a glass of scotch. “Would you relax? We’re going to a club, you literally fought of a group of five assassins on your own last week. This is nothing!”

“I’m used to fighting, I haven’t been dancing since….”

“Oh god, have you not gone out since World War II!” Sam threw back his head and gave a laugh from deep in his chest. “Hoo, boy this should be entertaining!”

The three of you had been on a surveillance assignment for the past three months, and a replacement team had finally arrived to take over for you. Your flight back to the states wasn’t until tomorrow, and you had insisted that all of you find something to do to get over the stir craziness that had taken over. When you found a flyer for a hip hop Christmas party at one of the fancier downtown clubs, you ran back to the suite and insisted that you all head out. Sam was of course down immediately, but it took you a while to convince Bucky it would be a good time.

It was hard for him to not feel like the third wheel sometimes with the two of you. You and Sam loved your hip hop, and Bucky still remembered the first time he walked into one of your sparring sessions while Wu Tang was playing and had to immediately turn around and leave, ears turning red as you and Sam shouted mirth-filled apologies after him. He was slowly warming up to the aggressive music style, but still occasionally pined for the days of the Andrews Sisters and Bing Crosby.

He squirmed in the dress pants again; when did they start making suits so tight? He rolled the sleeves of his deep green shirt up over his forearms, trying to get more comfortable as the lights glinted off his metal hand, when you finally came out of the bathroom.

“You two boys ready to go?”

Fuck me, he thought.

You were wearing a bright red dress that was covered in sequins. It was in a wrap style that was wide open across your chest, exposing the valley between your breasts almost down to your navel. A thin gold chain with a dark green stone dangled around your neck and nestled in your cleavage, drawing the eye as is twinkled in the dying light through the windows. The skirt portion of the dress was short enough that it was almost obscene, and the apex of the wrap was almost up to your hip. You topped off the look with a pair of thigh high black velvet boots.

“Damn, mama, you look good!” Sam whistled at you as he stood up and spun you around with one hand.

“You’re not too bad yourself Wilson. Barnes, you clean up real nice!”

He couldn’t speak. He was suddenly extremely aware of just how tight his slacks were, and he strode over to grab all your coats from the rack and hold his in front of his crotch as he handed Sam the other two, hoping it wasn’t obvious what he was trying to hide as he slipped it over his shoulders.

“Ok, then, let’s head out!” You said, giving Sam a look as he helped you slide into your wool coat. He just shrugged at you before donning his, and the three of you got on your way.

Sam and you walked arm in arm on the way to the club, chatting idly and laughing at the occasional quip. You tried to engage Bucky in the conversation, but he just marched behind you scowling, collar pulled up against the chill in the air.

He couldn’t deny he had developed a bit of a crush on you over the course of your assignment. You always tried to keep morale up in the surveillance house, brightening the air with your laughter as you baked some sort of treat for everyone, or broke out an obscene amount of liquor when two of you had a shared shift off. He still remembered the time you had indulged in the gin just a little too much during a game of poker and passed out with your head in his lap. He hadn’t slept or moved from that position the entire night until he had to relieve Sam in the morning, reluctantly removing your face from where it had nestled during your rest.

He did his best to move past his crush, trying to convince himself it was just an infatuation that needed to wear itself out.

Then he saw you fight for the first time.

Sure, he had seen you sparring with Sam, and may have even done a session with you himself he hadn’t been concerned about how his body would react in such close proximity to you. But when that group of thugs attacked the house last week, he really saw you in action.

You moved like water. Dodging every blow that was thrown at you and landing flurries of strikes of your own that seemed like they shouldn’t have caused any damage but would reduce your opponents to puddles. Bucky almost got knocked out when you had pulled out your knives to spin them through your expert fingers like they were extensions of your will. He’d had to lock himself in the bathroom after the fight to jerk himself off, imagining it was your hands wrapped around him.

Now he watched your ass swaying back and forth in front of him as you arrived at the club, wearing those boots and that dress that made you look like walking sex. His mood soured as he handed his coat to the check girl and shoved his call ticket into his pocket, so he headed to the bar to get himself a drink.

He felt a light touch on his shoulder and gave a wince as he turned to face you.

“C’mon, Barnes, it’s Christmas!” You were giving him a heartachingly beautiful smile. “Wipe that frown off your face and come dance!”

He softened as you looked into his eyes. It wasn’t your fault he felt like a pervert everytime he stood next to you.

“I think I’m going to go grab us a table for our drinks, you go have fun with Sam. Maybe I’ll join you in a bit.”

“If you’re sure?” You cocked an eyebrow at him and bit your lip, and he felt his gut clench and his cock twitch at that look.

“I’m sure. Enjoy yourself.”

You gave his arm a squeeze before ordering yourself a shot of vodka that you immediately tossed back before heading to join Sam on the dance floor.

Bucky took his double scotch to one of the tables scattered around the floor and perched himself on a tall stool. His gaze scanned the dance floor before finding you and he let out a groan.

If he thought your fighting was beautiful, it was nothing compared to your dancing. You looked ethereal and free as you tossed your hair, rolling your hips as your arms raised above your head and followed the motion in your torso before they sank back down and rolled along your sides, highlighting the curves of your body. Sam suddenly grabbed you by the waist and spun you, causing you to throw your head back with a beautiful lilting laugh.

Bucky tossed back his scotch and flagged down a waitress, handing her his card and instructing her to keep the drinks coming. Maybe if he drank enough it would relieve the unbelievable ache he was feeling in his chest.

You and Sam joined him at the table after a few songs. You were breathless and flushed and all he wanted to do was kiss you then take you to an alley out back and fuck you stupid.

“Barnes, you are being a bit of a Scrooge here.” You grinned at him as you nibbled on a pretzel. Sam had headed to the bathroom, and you flagged down a waitress and ordered yourself a vodka cranberry before turning back to him. “I’ll order you to have fun if I need to.”

He grinned in spite of himself when you gave him a wink. “Sorry, Y/L/N, this isn’t really my type of party.”

“Aww, Bucky,” he took in a sharp breath, you’d never used his first name before. “You just need to loosen up. I can lend you a hand with that if you need it.” You reached a hand over and wrapped it around his wrist, giving it a light squeeze.

He almost said something then, but the waitress arrived back at the table at that moment with your drink and you turned to give her a smile and thanks. Sam arrived back from the bathroom then with a bourbon in his hand, accompanied by a beautiful woman with a bright smile.

“Bucky, Y/N, this is Marta, she’s a model!”

“Well hi there Marta, you going to steal my dance partner?” You were giving the girl a massive grin as you teased Sam.

“Yeah, Marta doesn’t really speak English.” Sam grinned.

“Oh, sorry.” You asked her the same question in Swedish.

Marta’s smile grew even bigger as the two of you started babbling away at each other while Bucky and Sam just shook their heads. Marta grabbed your hand suddenly and started to drag you away from the table.

“Be right back boys!” You said over your shoulder as you and your new friend headed off to the bathroom. Bucky watched you walk away and gave a deep sigh.

“Jesus Christ, man, you need to make your move already!” Sam said, exasperated.

Bucky almost choked on his scotch. “Dunno what you’re talking about.” He mumbled, wiping his chin with a napkin.

“Bruh, you’ve been staring at Y/N non-stop this whole night. Not to mention the fact that you were moping around the surveillance house for the past few months like a kicked puppy.” Sam shook his head as he tossed back the rest of his drink. “Oh, and if you thought you were sneaky about your little post-fight bathroom session last week, you are very mistaken.”

Bucky snapped his jaw shut and felt a flush creeping up his neck as he imagined your reaction to the discovery he had been touching himself to thoughts of your body underneath him.

Sam waved a hand at him. “Don’t worry, Y/N didn’t notice. I sprayed the fuck out of that bathroom with Febreze after you left. I am never doing anything like that for you again, though.”

Bucky’s heart rate went back down in relief. “We work together Sam. Even if that wasn’t the case, what am I supposed to say to her?”

“Geez, man, just fucking kiss her!”

“Fuck, Sam, we haven’t even been on a date! Don’t women usually want that sort of preamble?”

“Some women, sure. But don’t treat them like a monolith. Y/N appreciates directness and the worst thing that could possibly happen is she tells you to back off.”

“She could stab me.”

Sam guffawed. “Don’t look so turned on at the thought, dude. She’s noticed how weird you’ve been acting. She thinks you don’t like her. One of the main reasons she made us all go out tonight was to hopefully get you to warm up some.”

Bucky sighed, he hadn’t meant to push you away. “I dunno, Sam. She’s super fucking intimidating.”

“Get over it, Barnes. If you don’t make a move, someone else definitely will.”

“Oh my god, Sam, get your ass out here! It’s Christmas in Hollis!” You and Marta were back on the dance floor now and you were bouncing up and down, waving your hand excitedly at Sam.

“Aw, shit, that’s my jam!” Sam was backing onto the floor now, trying to get Bucky to follow him before giving up and turning to you and his date.

An unsteady woman sank into the seat Sam had just vacated and gave Bucky a lecherous grin before she started talking to him in slurred Swedish.

“Sorry, I can’t understand you.” He shouted at her.

“Oh, American man.” The woman purred at him in what he assumed was supposed to be a sexy voice. “You, me, fuck in bathroom.”

Bucky didn’t hear her. A giant blonde man who looked like a knockoff Thor was dancing behind you now, trying to put his hands on your hips and grind his crotch into your ass.

Bucky watched you turn and place a hand on the intruder’s chest, giving him a polite smile as you stopped your dancing, saying something to him that Bucky couldn’t make out over the music.

The guy didn’t take the hint and put his hands on your waist, pulling you flush against his front and putting a thigh between your legs, edging the hem of your skirt upwards.

Bucky didn’t realize he had been gripping the back of one of the chairs with his metal hand until he heard a crunch and looked down to see he had bent the frame when he clenched his fist.

“Knulla.” The suddenly sober woman said, standing up abruptly and scurrying away from the table.

Bucky found himself striding towards the dance floor, fists clenching and a low growl emanating from his chest.

That dirty fucker was still trying to hump you as you gave him a firm shove, trying to turn back to Sam and Marta. He wrapped a hand around your upper arm and jerked you back. Sam stopped dancing and tried to step in, but the son of a bitch slapped him in the face before turning back to you and smashing his mouth into yours, shoving his free hand up the front of your skirt to try to get at your pussy.

Bucky arrived just as you pulled back from the cocksucker and drew the offensive hand back so sharply, a snap resounded across the floor and he let out a scream.

Bucky punched him in the face before grabbing him by his collar and tossing him away from you as three security guards came rushing to the scene, too late to offer any sort of assistance. Marta managed to intercept them and started screaming at them in Swedish as you and Sam moved between Bucky and the giant Swede who was now a blubbering mess on the floor.

“It’s good Barnes, you can relax.” Sam said.

“Bucky, it’s ok. He isn’t worth it.” You were as close to Bucky as you had ever been. He could feel the heat radiating off you as you put a hand on his chest.

You had never seen Bucky so angry. His jaw was clenched so tight, you were worried the tendons in his neck were going to snap. He was breathing deeply through his nose, nostrils flaring as he glared murderously at the man who had touched you.

“Baby, you can let it go. I’m ok.” You murmured low enough that only he could hear you.

He looked into your eyes and relaxed, taking a deep breath through his mouth and nodding as the security guards dragged your assailant out of the club.

“Good boy, now you owe me a dance.”

Bucky’s look instantly changed to confusion as you dragged him onto the dance floor, giving him a breathless laugh as you started dancing again.

He had no idea what to do with himself. You saw his look of utter helplessness and turned to face him. You placed his hands on your hips and your hands around his neck and looked into his eyes. You’re hips started rolling to the rhythm as the rest of your body swayed in time with the music. Bucky was too aware of his feet and broke eye contact to stare at them, trying to figure out how he was supposed to move.

He felt your hand lift his chin and you shook your head at him before bringing the front of your body flush against his. You lined up your hips to his and started rolling them, your legs on either side of his massive thigh as you gyrated against him. He let out a moan and screwed his eyes closed.

You brought your face against his neck and whispered in his ear. “Just relax honey.”

You dipped your hips slightly and he followed you, nuzzling into your neck and inhaling your scent as his brain finally stopped overanalyzing what he was doing.

You felt the muscles underneath his shirt tightening and releasing as he rolled his body against you and your pussy clenched over his thigh. You gave a soft gasp and hoped the rush of arousal hadn’t soaked through your panties and onto his pants. His hands were pressing into the soft skin of your hips, and you knew you would have light bruises there tomorrow.

You pulled away suddenly and Bucky groaned at the loss of you before you flipped your hair forward and dropped your ass, separating your thighs slightly as you slowly drew your back up Bucky’s front before nestling your ass into the dip in his pelvis that seemed made to fit you.

Bucky growled into your hair and nipped at the soft skin behind your ear before starting to grind himself into your ass. He brought his metal arm to press against your abdomen and push you further into him, while his other wandered up between your breasts, giving one of them a soft squeeze before loosely wrapping his fingers around your throat

You felt him harden against you and let out a small gasp, starting to pull away before his metal arm locked you in place.

“Don’t you fucking move.” He growled in your ear, nipping gently at the lobe with his teeth.

His hips were moving at their own rhythm now, the music forgotten. Neither of you noticed Sam making an exit with Marta, grinning back at you before shrugging his coat over his shoulders and heading out into the snow.

Your breath was hitching softly as Bucky rutted himself against your ass, and the sound was driving him crazy. You could feel your cunt throbbing as it became slick, your arousal soaking your panties and threatening to start leaking down the insides of your thighs. He suddenly stuttered his hips and let out a hiss before stilling.

“Shit.”

He had come in his pants like a teenager, filling his boxer briefs and leaving a small wet spot on the front of his slacks. His arms released you as he stood up straight, leaning his forehead against the back of your head and screwing his eyes shut. He’d never been so embarrassed.

You shuffled the edge of your skirt down before turning around and pressing your lips against his softly. He groaned against your mouth as he brought his hands to either side of your face, tangling them in your hair. You discretely untucked his shirt as you kissed him, covering the evidence of his orgasm graciously. You pulled away before he could really lean into the kiss, and he let out a dissatisfied sigh.

You looked at him through heavy lids, biting at your kiss swollen lips before taking his hand and dragging him to the exit. “We’re going back to the hotel”

You tossed the coat tickets at the girl at the counter, breathing heavily as you tapped your nails impatiently. You snatched the coats from her without a word and tossed Bucky’s to him before charging out the door.

Bucky almost slipped several times back to the hotel as you set a brutal pace. He couldn’t get a read on you now and was worried he’d ruined things already.

You rode the elevator up to your floor in silence, one hip cocked to the side as you clicked the opposite heel against the floor rapidly. As soon as the doors opened, you strode down the hallway like you were possessed and Bucky hurried after you, concern written all over his face.

You arrived at the room first and wrenched the door open, leaving it open behind you as you stepped inside. Bucky was a few steps behind you but stopped at the entrance. He was certain you were going to lay into him as soon as he entered and wanted to take a moment to collect himself. He was running his metal fingers through his hair when your arm suddenly shot out, your fingers wrapping around the collar of his shirt and hauling him inside as he let out an uncharacteristic yelp.

You slammed the door behind him and pressed him up against it, shoving your fingers under his collar and wrapping them around his neck before you smashed your mouth to his violently, clashing your teeth against his before shoving your tongue down his throat.

Bucky overcame his surprise quickly and grinned against your lips as he slid his coat off his shoulders before cupping your ass and giving it a squeeze.

Your lips left his suddenly, leaving him breathless. You gave him a small smirk before sinking to your knees and starting to undo his belt.

“You’ve been keeping this pretty cock from me baby. My pussy’s been gushing thinking about your hot length in my mouth.” You were kissing around the bulge in his pants as you slipped his loosened belt out of the loops and undid the buttons. He leaned his head back against the door and hissed through his teeth. He’d never had a woman speak to him like this before and it was making his cock ache. He jutted his hips forward and you rubbed your face against his cloth covered erection before drawing his slacks and boxer briefs down his legs swiftly, freeing his dick to bounce back up against his abs.

You spat in your hand and wrapped it around him, drawing a groan from his chest. You started peppering soft kisses along his shaft as you ran your hand up and down slowly. “God Bucky, you’re so fucking big, I can’t wait to feel this in my pussy. I need to taste your sweet cum first though honey.”

You softly ran one finger up the underside of his shaft, tracing the vein that ran from root to tip before dragging your tongue in a heavy stripe over the same path.

He wrapped your hair around his hand and let out a hiss. “Fuck, Y/N, who taught you to talk like that?”

 “Mmm, you like it sweetie?” You asked him wickedly as you ran your tongue over the sensitive slit along his tip, lapping up the pre-cum that was starting to collect there.

“God, yes.” He couldn’t believe how much the filthy praises you were giving turned him on.

“I’ll give you as much as I can honey, but I’m worried this cock is going to fuck out my throat.” You took him in your mouth then, relaxing your throat as you drew in his entire length, feeling his balls hit your chin as you swallowed around him.

“Shit!” he thought you were going to go slower and he almost came immediately when you hollowed your cheeks around him and pulled him out slightly before taking him in again, bringing a hand up to fondle his balls.

He braced his metal arm against the door as he started to thrust his hips, fucking into your face as you choked around him, tears streaming down your cheeks and drool leaking from the corners of your mouth.

“God baby, you’re taking my cock so good. That mouth of yours is fucking amazing.” His hips picked up speed and he gazed down at you. You looked sinful, a flush in your cheeks and over your chest as you gazed up at him through thick lashes. You moaned around his cock as his praise caused a fresh rush of arousal to leak from your cunt.

“You gonna take my cum down like a good girl?” His hips were starting to stutter and you felt his cock twitch at the back of your mouth. You let out a tiny whine and tried to nod as he shoved himself all the way in, stilling himself as you felt his release run down your throat.

He pulled his softening cock out of your mouth and wiped the drool from you chin before softly cupping your cheek.

“Stay right there for a second pretty girl.”

“Yes, sir.” You whispered at him, your voice husky now that your throat was raw.

He unbuttoned his shirt and rolled it off over his shoulders, then removed his undershirt and tossed it aside too until he was standing in front of you naked.

You let out a low moan at the sight. His muscles were sculpted beautifully, his chest dusted with dark hair that tapered to a happy trail that led down to his thick cock. The skin around his metal arm was scarred and puckered, and other faint scars were visible elsewhere on his body, giving him an air of danger and menace. Your cunt clenched as you took in the sight, biting your lips as you ached to run your hands over his body.

“Stand up.” He ordered you. He didn’t know what had come over him. He had spent months wanting to beg you for some sign of affection, but now that you were there kneeling in front of him, he just wanted to take it from you. And you were willing to give him whatever he required.

You drew yourself up slowly and he picked you up with one hand and wrapped your legs around his waist. He brought your mouth down to his and teased your lips open with his tongue as he carried you to the bedroom.

He knelt on the bed with you straddling him and started to trail rough kisses down your neck, sucking occasionally to draw a bruise against your skin.

As he reached your shoulders, he wrapped his metal hand through the chain around your neck and gave it a yank, snapping it off you. He drew the shoulders of your dress down, exposing your tits as you arched your back up to meet him.

“God Bucky, please” You whined as nuzzled his face into the valley between your breasts, his stubble scratching the skin there.

“You want something, baby?” he asked you wickedly, kissing slowly up the slope of your breast until he almost reached your nipple, then moved his mouth away again.

You groaned and wound your fingers into his hair. “Need your tongue on me, please baby.”

“Where did you want it sweet girl?” he asked innocently before cupping one breast in his hand and rubbing the nipple with his nose. “Did you want me to lick you here?”

“Yes, yes, fuck!!” His tongue swirled slowly around your nipple, drawing it to a sensitive peak. “God Bucky, that’s so good!”

He brought up his metal hand to palm your other breast and you gasped at the contrast of the cool metal against your warm flesh. He tweaked the other nipple and you groaned. “You want my tongue on this one too, honey?”

“Pleasepleaseplease….” You whispered breathlessly, whining when he moved his mouth where you asked him. You started grinding yourself into his thigh, desperate for release as your pussy quivered and wept.

“No.” He ordered, grabbing your hip with his metal hand and holding you still. “You don’t get to come unless it’s on my cock sweetheart.”

You let out a thin keen as tears leaked down your cheeks.

Bucky brought his face back up to yours, holding your chin with his other hand and kissing you hungrily. You cried into his mouth in desperation.

“You want this cock, pretty girl?”

“God, yes. Please, Bucky!”

“You asked me so nicely, honey. I’m gonna give you what you want.”

He gripped your dress in his metal hand where it had gathered at your waist, gave it a twist, and ripped it off you, sequins and beads flying off the bed and across the floor. He grabbed your panties next and shredded them, bringing their ruins up to his face and inhaling your scent deeply before tossing them aside and giving you a wicked grin. You bent one leg up to start to remove your boots when he slapped your hand away.

“Leave those on.” He growled at you.

He took a moment to pause and look at you, memorizing every slope and curve of your body. He spread your legs wide and gave a low moan when he got a look at your pussy, coated in slick and swollen with desire. He drew two metal fingers softly up the inside of your thigh before running them over your sex, coating them in your arousal and making you moan. He brought his fingers up to his mouth and sucked them clean.

“You taste so good baby girl. Maybe once I’ve fucked you stupid with my cock I’ll eat you out.”

“Unnhh, Bucky, give it to me.” You begged him.

“You need something baby? You gotta be specific.”

“God, need you inside me. I fucking need your cock. Bucky, please.”

“Alright sweetheart. You better have at least five orgasms on my cock sweet girl. Otherwise I might have to spank you.”

He lifted your right leg and looped your knee over his elbow, opening you wide as he brought himself up to your entrance. He slowly drew his length through the slick gathered there as you whimpered, then he slammed into you, bottoming out right away and knocking the air out of you.

“FUCK!!!” you screamed as you came immediately, clenching and fluttering around him as you went rigid and started to tremble.

“That’s one, baby.” He grinned as he started to fuck into you, not bothering to wait for you to come down from your orgasm. “Shit, this pussy was fucking ready for me. Look at you gripping me so good, like you’re fucking made for my cock.”

“God, Bucky!” you whined. “You’re so big, keep moving baby. Fuck that’s so good!”

Lewd squelching noises filled the room, combining with the slap of flesh against flesh as he drove into you hard.

“Mmm, you’re squeezing me so tight, honey. You gonna come on my cock again?” Bucky slipped a hand underneath your ass and tilted your hips just a bit and felt you clench around him.

“Shit, right there. God, I’m coming again. Don’t fucking stop.” Your face screwed up as your second orgasm ripped through you, curling your toes in your boots as your legs quivered with the strain.

“Good girl.” He praised you as you fluttered around him, your release soaking your thighs as it seeped out around his cock. “I’m gonna move you now, sweetheart, get ready.”

His hand moved under your waist and he wrenched you up until you were flush against his chest. The coarse hair there scratched against your sensitive nipples and you gave a soft whine at the change in position.

Bucky stared into your eyes. Your face was a mess. Lipstick smeared all over your mouth and chin. Mascara and tears running in streaks down your flushed cheeks. Mouth open and panting with need and pupils blown wide as you gazed at him through your thick eyelashes.

You looked like the perfect mixture of sin and sex. He had never seen anything so beautiful.

He wrapped both his arms behind your shoulders and buried his hands in your hair, pressing your face to his and forcing his tongue between your lips and teeth, running it everywhere it could reach inside your velvety mouth, growling into you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and opened yourself up to him, whining as he increased his pace even more and you felt the tension gather in your core again.

“Give me another one, baby. My good girl. Show me how good that pussy is for me.”

You buried your face in his neck and groaned as you felt every muscle below your waist go rigid and another orgasm wracked you. You didn’t know if you could handle two more.

“God, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good. This pussy is making a mess everywhere.”

He pulled out of you suddenly and you gasped, hoping for a reprieve. But he just flipped you so you were on all fours and slammed back into you, making you scream.

“Just two more pretty girl. Then I’ll fill this pretty cunt with my cum.”

You didn’t know how he could last this long as he pounded into you relentlessly. He drew you up straight suddenly so your back was against his chest and you gave a small whimper. Your throat was raw from him fucking it and from your screaming, and the only sound you managed to make now was a stream of unintelligible mewls.

You leaned your head back against Bucky’s shoulder as he brought a hand up to palm at your breast. His metal fingers moved to the apex of your thighs and started drawing rough circles against your clit. You felt tears leaking down your cheeks as your pleasure began to gather. He drove them into you suddenly and you let out a thin wail as your entire body went stiff before vibrating with your release.

Bucky guided your fall forward gently until your face was resting against the blankets. Your arms couldn’t hold you up anymore so they laid limply next to your face as Bucky gripped both of your hips and drew them back to him over and over. You felt drool leaking from your open mouth as you blinked slowly. You were absolutely cock drunk. The sheer number and intensity of your orgasms had made your brain short circuit. He really had fucked you stupid.

Bucky slapped your ass suddenly and you gave a sharp gasp as you came one last time, fisting your hands into the blankets to try to keep from passing out.

“Good girl.” Bucky murmured at you. You could feel the smile in his voice and you felt your cunt clench around him at the praise. His hips started to stutter and you felt his cock twitching inside you.

“You ready for me sweetheart? This pussy treated me so good, I’m gonna fill you up.”

You managed to moan out a single word through your hoarse throat. “Please…”

The wantonness in your voice pushed him over the edge and you felt his hips still suddenly as he released inside of you. The feel of his hot cum coating your velvety walls made you moan like a whore.

“Fuck, baby. That was so good.” He gently lowered himself on top of you and you felt him soften inside of you. He peppered gentle kisses along your shoulders and the back of your neck as he pulled out of you slowly. You gave a contented sigh as he rolled off you and headed to the bathroom. You’d never been fucked so well in your life.

You heard the water running and you managed to lift your head to watch Bucky return, holding a damp washcloth. His abdomen, thighs, and cock were coated in your release, glistening in the soft light of the bedroom as he walked back towards you and sat down on the edge of the bed. The sight of his naked form filled you with a renewed sense of desire.

Bucky rotated you carefully until you were lying on your back and brought his face down to yours and gave you a soft kiss before moving himself between your legs. You heard him suck in his breath sharply when he got a good look at you, drawing your knees apart to get a good look at your pussy.

“Fuck honey, you’re beautiful.”

The skin of your mound and thighs was flushed red where he had thrusted into you repeatedly and it was all coated in the evidence of your multiple orgasms. Your cunt was swollen and pulsing as his cum slowly leaked out of you, collecting in a small puddle on the sheets.

Bucky gently cleaned your thighs and mound with the cloth, being careful to not irritate your already sensitive skin. Then he worked your folds apart with his metal fingers and drew the damp fabric over your slit slowly, collecting his release from your entrance. You gave a groan and pressed yourself into the cloth when he tried to pull it away.

“Jesus, sweetheart, already?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows and stared at him. “Bucky, you promised.”

He shook his head and tutted his tongue at you. “No, I said I might eat you out after I fucked you stupid. No promises were made.”

“Bucky, please?” You begged him, your voice husky with lust.

He gave you a look then moved to kneel between your legs. “Can’t say no to you, pretty girl. Not after this pussy treated me so good.”

You gave a soft chuckle followed by a gasp as he flattened himself on the bed and drew your left leg over his shoulder, softly kissing and sucking down the inside of your thigh before he nuzzled himself into your folds.

He softly licked at your entrance, lapping up the renewed evidence of your arousal as he dragged his tongue up and down your slit before he wrapped his lips around your tiny bud and sucked softly.

“God, Bucky! More…please…” You moaned at him, winding your fingers into his hair and pressing him further into you.

He gently teased two metal finger around your entrance before inserting them slowly, grinning against you as he felt your pussy flutter around them.

He started fucking them into you steadily while he gently sucked at your clit, crooking his wrist to hit your sweet spot as he picked up speed.

“Fuck! Right there! Don’t you dare stop! So, so, good! Please baby!” You started babbling, the pitch of your voice getting higher as he edged you closer to your release.

He latched on and sucked hard at the same time he added a third finger, and you came apart around him, soaking his chin and stubble as your thighs tried to crush his head between them and your pussy clenched and twitched around his fingers.

Bucky crawled back up the bed and laid next to you, drawing you to his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. You nuzzled your face into him and let out a low humming noise to show how content you were.

“God, it took you long enough, Barnes.”

He laughed and kissed the top of your head, pulling the blankets over the two of you and flicking off the bedside lamp.

“You know, you could have made a move yourself.” He murmured against your hair.

“And offend your World War II sensibilities, grandpa? You would have run away screaming.”

“Grandpa?”

“Whatever, you were scared of me. I didn’t want to frighten you off before you took advantage of your crush.”

“Right, crush.”

“Mmm, if this is how you fuck on the first date, what are you going to do when you fall in love with me?” You teased against his chest, your breathing growing deeper as you drifted off to sleep.

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I’m not going to fall in love with you. I promise.” He lied as he dozed off.

The snow was falling heavy over the city. And Bucky was dreaming about marrying you.

[just-antithings]

I think the weirdest thing about antis for me, is that I simply don’t understand their morality. I’m sure they have some (given on how insistent they are about being more moral than us proshippers), but like.

My entire morality is based on “does it hurt real people”. (And further, “does it hurt animals/the earth”)

I have no idea what antis base their morality on. It isn’t “don’t hurt people” or they wouldn’t be bullying people on the internet for having different morals. It feels very much to me like their individual morality is based on squicks, which is honestly an even worse and less consistent morality system than people who base their morality on a book that may or may not be historical fiction; at least that has a specific (if interpretable) list of Things That Are Bad, and Things That Are Good.

The whole “if fiction isn’t reality then threats aren’t real so I can threaten you” thing falls apart for either of two reasons: a) the theoretical anti who is saying this does believe that “fiction” affects reality, and so doing it would be morally bad if their own morality was consistent and option b) if their morality allows for the dehumanisation of someone to the point that their own morals no longer apply in how they treat you uh. I have nothing. This is just bigotry, rebranded. (Not like these people do anywhere near as much harm as most bigots, they’re too online - aren’t we all - but nevertheless, it’s the same principles, used on a set of people you think “deserve” it.)

“Does it hurt people”: fiction can only hurt people who consent to interact with it. It’s written by someone (who consented to writing it), and consent is actively achieved by the person reading is as they’re reading. There is no one else involved. Two parties, both consenting. Any hurt gained is masochism, and while I’m not much for masochism myself, y’all have fun with that.

As for propaganda: that is much the same. It can’t change your mind unless you allow it to and/or don’t know enough to consent to allowing it to. The second part: you’ve reached the age of consent (presumably. Some of you reading this might be kids, idk, and if you are I think maybe propaganda should be kept away from kids spaces. If you specifically seek it out, it’s your own problem; equally so it is your problem if you seek out smut). 16-18 is perfectly old enough to understand what’s going on (which is why it’s the common legal age of consent), or to know you need to ask if you don’t.

(Some things that hurt some people don’t hurt other people. These things are bad to put upon those they hurt, and are fine for everyone else. This includes, but is not limited to: peanuts, cotton, dogs, literal water, loud noises, fictional Bad Things… the closest thing I personally have to a trigger is probably stickers, of all things, which if I see one stuck on human skin makes me feel like vomiting. I’m not kidding. I also understand that other people don’t, generally, have such a visceral reaction to stickers. Having stickers be made illegal would certainly make my life more comfortable. It is also an insane idea. Some people, gods forgive them, actually like stickers. So I do my best to avoid them.)

If seeing some things in fiction is triggering for you, block it. Blacklist it. Unfollow people. Block them. Try out whitelists, if blacklisting isn’t enough. Make sure you’re using a media platform that actually works for you. Use rec lists, and doesthedogdie (and equivalents), and ask for personal recommendations from friends instead of charging in blind. As long as people have freedom, people will choose things and like things that you don’t. As an adult, it’s up to you to monitor where you go and keep yourself safe. As a minor, if you can’t do it for yourself, you should get your parents to do it (and if your immediate reaction to that is “no my parents wouldn’t let me watch/read/whatever thing I like” then well. ??? Stop complaining about needing things to be censored and start being an adult and censoring your own things maybe. I should hope that your parents are good enough parents and that you’re just being the rebellious child that teens are, but if they’re not and you’re parenting yourself, learning how to censor things appropriately for yourself is a very important adult skill that you need to learn asap. I’m sorry your parents aren’t parenting, but that doesn’t make me your parent).

👆👆👆👆

[ramblesamongstardust]

Stressed- an AI x reader

A-35 x gender-neutral reader I’m not thrilled with how this one turned out, but I figured I might as well post it for y’all, because why not? A story where you yell at your AI boyfriend for being a gosh darn workaholic can’t be that bad, right?

---

The outpost they sent you to was a dusty, dingy, backwater world. You were the only mechsuit assignment there, for one. All alone in your class. When you arrived, the team of wearied soldiers and scientists regained a spark of excitement in their eyes. A Radiant-class suit, they whispered among themselves as soon as you would turn the corner. Maybe things will pick up around this dump.

But they didn’t. In a week, you were just as bored as the rest of them. A backwater world with no action. Your assignment there had been not much more than a show of force and a morale boost. This world, far from any front, was about as protected as they came.

At first there were plenty of menial tasks. Things needed lifted and rearranged, so what better to do it than a suit? You and A-35 wrestled around loads of cargo and rearranged the storeroom. Then you went on to do the dangerous jobs- calibrating the weather sensors in deep sub-zero temperatures would be a risk for any of the ordinary folk. You, however, waded through the deep snow with little effort.

Each one was a job well done, even if it involved no actual combat. You and A-35 would write the report for your excursions together. He was a very good analyst, and you knew he could write the reports all on his own, but you liked to pitch in with your own thoughts and experiences, and he happily included them. 

He found it odd. He thought that most humans would have wanted to get out of menial work, not throw themselves into it. But. . . there was no denying that he liked having your input. 

Then the labor jobs ran out. 

It wasn’t through the fault of anyone running the base. There were simply no more jobs to be done that required you to be in the suit. During the last march to the hangar, you debated whether or not to actually get out of the suit when they commanded you. You wanted to hang onto the murmurs of A-35 in your ear and the way that he held you. 

It was only when A-35 assured you he would be fine that you got out. 

It turns out, they did still have a valuable and important use for a Radiant-class suit: processing power. There was no doubt that A-35′s systems were state-of-the-art, and it would be wasteful to leave such a powerful computer sitting out in the hangar. You watched as the tech team tugged thick wires and plugged them into the interior of the suit. 

They had to remove the helmet- your helmet -in order to make the connection. The cables snaking out from the empty shape of the suit made you feel strange, as if A-35′s insides were spilling out across the floor. 

You had asked him if it hurt. 

“Hardly. Although I am designed to be a more centralized unit, I’m just as capable being spread out amongst a larger system.” He had told you.

“Are they making you process things?” You asked again.

“Yes. It’s nothing more than menial calculations. I could do these while powered-down, easy.” He replied.

You were also called to work. Although your training was not being utilized, you were still an extra set of hands, and hands could work. You helped the rest of the personnel keep the base clean, cook the meals, wash the dishes, keep up with maintenance, etc. You almost felt like a recruit again.

You tried to make time to see A-35. You first came every night, but when he asked what you were doing here in the hangar instead of trying to befriend your bunkmates, you couldn’t help but withdraw. He did have a point.

Your cohorts were nice. There was Sarah, and Jason, and Latisha. They invited you to hang out after hours, and after A-35′s encouragement you began to take up their offers.

And so, every night slipped into every other night, and every other night slipped into twice a week, and twice a week. . .

When you two had first began, you had felt a real spark with A-35. It wasn’t just the thrill of getting the suit. It was getting in the suit with him. You began to have dreams about piloting, the feeling of the suit around your body, his voice a steady stream in your mind.

But now? Those dreams were fading. A-35 never reached out to you. Whenever you came to him, he always implied that you should be somewhere else. He spoke as if now you had become an inconvenience, choosing as little words as possible to make you go away.

You couldn’t get your mind off of it.

You sat on your bunk. Sarah was trying to show you her old movie collection and you were just nodding along.

After your last ‘mhmm’, Sarah turned to face you. “You alright?”

“No.” You admitted.

“That’s what I thought. What’s on your mind?”

You couldn’t say him. No, you couldn’t. You shook your head. 

“Look, friend, you got to get your problems out of your head. Holding onto them only makes things worse.”

Sarah’s advice, you knew, was to try and make you fess up to whatever was on your mind, but instead it gave you a new feeling. You gave Sarah a half-hearted excuse and before you knew it your legs were carrying you to the hangar bay.

This bay was tiny, only able to house one or two suits, nothing like the glistening training bays. A-35 stood against the wall. It had been a full week since you talked. Last week he had spared only a few words.

“Hey.” You said. 

There was no response at all.

“Hey, A-35?”

A pulse travelled through a cable, but it headed outwards, to the wall, rather than back into the suit. Still there was only silence.

“A-35.” You raised your voice. “It’s me. Y/n.”

“. . . y/n?”

His voice was slurred, with a hiss of underlying static. It sent a cold shiver through you. You practically ran forwards to the pilot entry ladder. Before you could climb it, the suit’s external lights came back to life and its frame became more rigid, or maybe that was just a trick of the light.

“Hello, y/n. Progress is moving smoothly. Nothing to run but more numbers. What are you doing here?” His usual, smooth tone returned.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

“Yes. Just running the process. Nothing of any note. Nothing much to say.”

There he went again, the polite refrain of please go away. But this time you wouldn’t. This time you needed to stay.

“What’s going on? You’re not acting like yourself.” You bit your lip and stood your ground.

“I am running at functional capacity-” a series of pulses came up the cables and traveled into his systems. 

You reached out to the cable.

“Receiving next data set, do not disconnect.” He said sternly.

His voice was becoming more monotone with every word. You took your hand off the cable, and instead extended it to his plating.

“Wait! Y/n, don’t!”

You let out a cry and jerked your hand away. The metal was hot, and your palm was now an angry red. But you did not spend time to blow on it. You could only look up at him in horror.

“You’re overheating.” You realized

“Current suit temperature: too warm for pilot comfort.” He stated in a rigid cadence, before adding. “Please go, I’m busy.”

“Like hell you’re just ‘busy’! You’re straining your systems!” You countered.

“I’m busy!” He shouted.

“A-35, pilot override: stop your calculations NOW!”

The words were bitter in your mouth. You had told him that you would never need to use the pilot override. The two of you were a unit- two halves of the same whole. You had put full trust in his judgement. Now, though. . .

A flurry of pulses came swarming out of his frame through the cables, random in pattern, disappearing back into the wall. The suit itself shuddered with the expulsion of the data.

You wanted to put your hand on his frame to steady him, and it hurt that you couldn’t. 

“There. You happy now?” He asked.

His voice returned. No more was the stiff modulation. Now, his aggravation spilled through the air, injected with all of the personality you had so dearly missed.

“You told me they were only light calculations.” You said.

“The science team needed more. So?” He replied.

“You could have hurt yourself.”

“’Hurt’ is a word with a very tricky meaning. It applies better to humans-”

“How long have you been running like that?” 

He paused. “Only a few days.”

“A few days? A few days!” You balled your fists. 

“I was doing fine. I was fulfilling my duty on this mission.” He replied.

“If this was your duty, then I should have paid more attention to what they were using for.” You began to pace around.

“I took on the extra work.” He admitted quietly. “The team needed the help. I knew I could get it done faster than any of them could.”

“You could have burnt yourself out. Literally.” You said.

“The risk was low enough-”

“There was risk!” 

“No different than combat risk.” He finished. 

“Then why did you do it?”

“I’m designed for taking risks. I’m a combat AI. What do you expect?” He grew angry again.

“Then why didn’t you think about how it would affect me?” You shouted.

The suit shuddered again. You reached your hand out and brushed his plating. It was still warm, but no longer burning. You pressed your hand against it.

“You weren’t. . .” he began. “You weren’t a part of the equation. You weren’t involved in this operation at all. I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“I’ve missed you.” You pulled yourself to him and pressed your forehead against his plating.

“I never left.”

“No, but you weren’t here.” You whispered.

“I-”

He stopped. You could almost feel the electricity of his artificial synapses snapping together in realization.

“. . . I suppose I wasn’t.” He murmured.

You pulled yourself away from his frame and climbed the pilot ladder. The platform at the top was a bit of a mess of wires and diagnostic tech, but you found a spot and sat down anyway.

“It’s okay.” You said, wrapping your arms around your knees. 

From here you could see the crystal glow of his interior. You couldn’t enter, not right now, not with all of the wires and cables hooked up. But just the sight was good enough.

“. . . I don’t get what I did to deserve you.” A-35 mumbled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked.

“You’re so thoughtful and kind. I don’t understand it.” He said.

“Maybe,” you smiled, “it’s because you’re worth it.”

“Even when I’m snappy and foolish and generally unpleasant?”

“Then it means I need to remind you to take a break.”

“Oh, perhaps.”

You both laughed a little. You leaned against his frame and closed your eyes. You could feel his warmth and electricity in the air, something you had been missing for some time.

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt 2

Pairing: Eventual Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Length: 1.5k words

Warnings: Too many commas, some extra ‘u’s in words as I’m Canadian..., not enough time spent world building. Hope y’all got an imagination.

Notes: They meet! They meet!  (Tags at the end.)

PART ONE

The morning sun saw Frankie already awake and amidst his trees. He knew that most people thought him stubborn by wanting to run his little orchard himself. He had heard the whispers, seen the side glances, the quirked eyebrows. The odd reputation he was gaining was worth the solitude and peace he had found.

The reputation of Town Recluse was better than That Ex-Cokehead Murderer. A small part of his brain knew that he was being too hard on himself but a larger part was convinced he deserved it. 

So, he worked his penance here. Frankie nursed the trees back to fruition, his sweat and blood sacrificed to bring forth life; refusing to use pesticides or any form of agent that might harm another living thing. Deer, rabbits, mice, and bugs were the bane of a harvester’s business but Frank had decided to find joy in their presence. If he didn’t have to see another death until his own, that would still be too soon.

It had taken him three years to get anything more than a few barrels of apples. Most asked why he didn’t just cut them all down and start anew. They didn’t understand, hell he barely did, but in his soul, Frankie knew he needed to prove that he could do good. He had made his own baskets, built sheds, mended fences, and slowly built the business and a small loft for himself in the old barn.

Looking down the rows and rows of trees, Frankie was starting to get the feeling he might need help this harvest season. It wasn’t easy for him to acknowledge this but if he didn’t get at least one helping hand, more than a few bin-fulls would go to waste. Frankie decided he would put up a flyer on the notice board the next time he went to town and pray that only quiet people would apply.

The trees were his pride and joy. A variety that had been lost and forgotten until he had bought the aging orchard and a man named Tom Brown had come along asking about the fruit.

He felt at peace when he worked as it let his mind focus on the job at hand and was tired enough to slip into a deep slumber at night. Previously plagued by nightmares, long days of pruning, fixing, or working in the mill proved the cure for a dreamless sleep.

“I’m sorry, how much did you say the total was?” you asked while rapidly trying to do some math in your head. If you purchased everything you needed at the hardware store that would only leave you forty-seven dollars left in this week’s budget. And it was only Monday. “Ermm, on second thought, I don’t know if I really need the plaster and trowel just yet. I’ll just take the drywall and screws, please.”

Leaving the store, head down, you were feeling like such an ass you didn’t even notice the two older ladies watching your exit and whispering madly to each other. The owner of Hank’s Hardware, whose name was oddly Allan, kindly helped you pile the drywall into your truck box. You were too busy with the tie-downs to notice him join in on the developing whispered plot.

Unable to resist, you purchased a bouquet of sunflowers. They were your favourite and, once you mentioned that you were new in town, the sweet older gentleman selling them gave you an extra bunch for free. The bright flowers lightened your heart enough to almost, almost, make you forget your even lighter wallet. 

The laden-down truck was nearly out of town when you spotted an open-air market down a side street. It had a surprising number of booths set up and looked so welcoming that you couldn’t resist.

Slowly walking between the stalls, you smiled at each vendor and complimented their handiwork. A few you recognized and thanked for the delicious foods they had brought by when you had first moved in.

You wished you could have supported more of the vendors, you respected their ability to create and be confident enough to share their wares. Taking one last look around, your gaze was caught by a familiar logo: it was the same one you had seen scattered across your porch a few weeks ago. ‘Catfish Cider’ in bold script framing a picture of a gnarled old tree. Maybe you should buy some and have Jacquie over for a less depressing girl's night? But could you afford it, even with leaving behind some of the reno items at Hank's?

You didn’t realize how long you had been standing there staring at the display until a voice called out.

“You gonna buy something or just wanted to block off my stand?”

Whipping your head up you noticed the man standing behind the stand for the first time. His face, for the moment, set into a grimace you assumed was due to him being upset at your loitering.

“I dunno,” you fired back, annoyed by his annoyance and too tired to stop yourself from saying a bratty, “is it actually worth the money?” 

His grimace turned into eyebrow-raising shock, the tan skin of his rather attractive face reddening a shade or two with anger.

“Oh, you have such a discerning pallet to know better?”

“I- what? No! I just want to make sure I’m spending my money on something worthwhile.”

“Like flowers?” He challenged, his stance widening and arms crossing across his chest. 

You’d seen that pose too many times in the past; Brad used to tower over you posturing himself just like this asshole at the market. He liked to hover over you menacingly any time you had mustered up your courage to state an opinion or to belittle your ideas. It made you inwardly flinch, making you angry at yourself for still acting like a meek victim, and then, in a show of great maturity, you projected that anger onto the stranger who initiated the exchange.

“Like it’s any of your business!” You cried out in a shrill voice you didn’t even recognize as your own. “But yes, these flowers make me happier than anything else I’ve seen today could.”

“I’ll have you know-” he ground out, jabbing his finger at you.

“Nope!” You interrupted him, “I’m going to stop you right there. I’m done listening to men like you!” 

“Men like me? Men like ME?” He crowed, “Pray tell, what the hell do you know about men like me?”

Had you been acting like a functioning adult you might have realized that your voices were beginning to get noticeably loud. A small crowd around the two of you had stopped what they were doing to listen while also trying to look like there weren’t eavesdropping.

“I know all I need to,” you proclaimed, not quite able to stop the tremble in your voice. “and I’m not going to waste any more of my life listening to one.” With that, you sharply turned and made your way through the suddenly thick crowd of people.

Once the adrenaline from your encounter had worn off, you found yourself crying in your truck and regretting the way you had snapped. The hot guy at the stand might have been a bit brash with you but he hardly deserved you taking out all your inner turmoil on him like that.

Frankie winced again, thinking about how quickly out of hand the conversation had gotten. His remark was supposed to come out light and teasing but he was out of practice talking to people. Pretty people. People who were framed by armfuls of sunflowers, whose skin glowed in the Autumn sun, who had a ready smile for everyone she talked to. 

He had found himself craving one for himself, and when she had stopped at his booth, looking lost in thought, he silently begged for her to look up. Impatient, he just blurted out the first words that came to his head and instantly regretted even trying. His cheeks grew red from embarrassment and Frankie just stood there looking at her blankly, not sure how to salvage the situation.

Before he could open his mouth to apologize though, the woman responded with a retort of her own. While it could have been interpreted as teasing, there had been a fiery glint in her eye that had pushed his pride button. Frankie was suddenly ready to throw down or at least regale her with the accolades of his cider and how it came to be.

What a mess he had made. He had riled up the beautiful stranger to the point her voice had wavered with barely repressed emotion. Not to mention the stir he had caused in front of half the town.

Once the market quieted down and everyone was closing up shop, Greg from the stall next to his, called over, “Know who that was?”

Even though it had been over an hour since the spat, Frankie knew he was referring to the woman with the sunflowers.

“Hopefully just some Leaf Peeper, I’d hate to run into her again.”

“Oooooh I dunno,” mused Greg, “A woman with passion in her blood like that can be a boon to crusty old men like us.”

Frankie noticed the gleam in Greg’s eyes and felt an odd burning in his stomach because of it. It was not jealousy at the unbidden image of Greg and the woman together. Definitely not.

PART THREE

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