#... and still this took me a while to get to because i am. kind of going through it but that's fine. alright. goodnight...

[inkskinned]

i'm still trying to piece together the truth of it. when you left, you said: feel free to spin this narrative however you want. i have no idea if you were being cruel or if you just genuinely don't remember what you've done to me.

it's hard because i'd done so much of the work for you. i had seen the parts that flaked off, the rust underneath. i started separating you into two people - the one i loved, and the one who hurt me. i had this fantasy version of you - my partner - and then i had this stranger, a third person who would show up randomly to shatter me. i am deliriously glad i'm no longer with "the stranger". i miss the gentle (unreal?) "other" you terribly.

at first, i was so strict about my boundaries. i remember telling you to get the fuck out of my house if you were going to talk to me like that. by the end: i would justify your behavior for you, accepting even your mistreatment as "my fault" in the grand scheme. i look back on the person i was before you - smart, independent, confident - and i feel a strange sense of detachment. i don't even recognize me.

even in one of our last conversations, you said: if you want a partner that always talks warmly to you, find someone else. there was a time that a comment like that would have made me leave. and instead, somehow, i just placidly accepted that kind of thing. you were literally telling me that i wasn't allowed to have a reaction to your cruelty - and i just took it, because you'd so fully turned things around on me.

when people are faced with irrationality, a rational brain tries to make sense of it. this is the trap. they're lovely in the morning, gentle and blue-eyed and sweet. like nothing even happened, they breeze around the house and kiss you on the mouth. but at night; who is that? they snap almost randomly; flying into an impotent rage about just-about-anything. it just doesn't make sense. so the problem must be me, and my brain, and how i think.

the traumatized brain just wants peace. so maybe i'm misremembering. maybe you were just having a bad day. maybe it's actually me.

you eventually would fully turn on me and start implying that i am the bad actor in our relationship. that's what happens, right? that's literally in the playbook. you went to therapy for all of a month, told her a half-truth, co-opted therapyspeak. you figured out how to reframe your actions as "seeking peace." any time i stood my ground, i was "gaslighting." when i asked you to be more gentle, you said i was "tone policing." you said, randomly, i had emotionally manipulated you - i still have no idea what that's even specifically referring to. maybe my consistent requests for calmness and empathy?

and while i literally know better, and i'm sitting here, trained by you, thinking: wait, fuck. was i actually the person you made me out to be?

and the thing that scares me is that i literally do not know if you ever actually saw what you were doing to me. when you'd tell me how you remember arguments, you'd always summarize them in a way where you come off as gentle and easy: "i was trying to set an important boundary." what had actually happened was 15 minutes of you shouting at me i know you did something shady, just admit it already. eventually you'd say my reaction to your shouting (when i finally reacted, which usually happened around hour three) was inevitably "disappointing" and "another way i'm silencing your feelings."

how many times did i ask you - beg you - to just take accountability? looking back, i don't think i ever heard you say: you're right. the way i talked to you was wrong of me.

i am trying to tie together the two people into a full version of you in my head. yes, you made my coffee and made me laugh and spent hours on the phone with me. and yes - you would scream at me until i had to run away and hide behind something.

i wish i did have a narrative i could pull out and shape to my whim. i wish i did have some semblance of reality. instead i just stand here, strange and vibrating, wondering: what the fuck just happened?

[kxsagi]

Bllk boys with an s/o who somehow manages to make them fall asleep just by blasting sleepy phonk like they'd be wide awake and then sleepy phonk and they're knocked out cold and they question why every time ( kaiser, rin, shidou and anyone else you wanna add )

“𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐤 𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐥”

a/n: I THOUGHT THIS REQ WAS FUNNY

but i’m not really sure what sleepy phonk counts as, is it like the instrumental of roi by videoclub or the lost soul down by NBSPLV??? 

ft. kaiser michael, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, karasu tabito, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, bachira meguru

kaiser michael

you play one of those slow, mellow phonk songs with the deep bass and hazy loops, and he doesn’t think anything of it. he’s literally in the middle of dramatically trash-talking isagi when his body just… starts betraying him. 

his voice fades. eyelids droop. his upper body sways. 

“what the f– … why am i…” BONK. slumped sideways on the couch, dead asleep. 

you didn’t even notice, you were too busy wiping crumbs off your shirt. when you turn around he looks like someone hit him with a dart tranquilizer. 

wakes up four hours later like “who drugged me?” and you’re like “uh. the speaker?” 

absolutely refuses to believe it's the music. keeps blaming it on bad sleep or low blood sugar. 

tries to fight it like it’s a challenge. he’ll stare at you dead in the eye and go, “i won’t fall asleep this time.” cue you playing it again. three minutes later he’s dozing off mid-smirk. 

one time he got so mad he threatened to destroy your speaker. (he tripped over his own feet on the way and knocked himself out before he could.) 

itoshi rin

rin is fully convinced this is psychological warfare. 

he’ll be standing, talking to you normally, then you press play and suddenly he’s blinking slow as hell like he got rebooted. 

“wait. no. you’re doing it again.” 

tries to leave the room. doesn’t make it past the hallway. collapses dramatically like a fainting goat. 

once fell asleep in the middle of washing dishes. the faucet was still on. 

absolutely hates it. thinks it’s “unnatural.” starts researching “subliminal music control” and asks if you’re brainwashing him with some kind of audio hypnosis. 

he once accused you of trying to assassinate him with music. 

“turn that off. turn it off. my nervous system is shutting down.” 

refuses to let you have aux ever again in the car because last time he woke up in a parking lot two hours from home with a blanket on him and no memory of how he got there. 

shidou ryusei

cackles the first time it happened, he thought you laced his food. 

“you’re telling me you just played this… and my brain factory reset?” 

every single time he hears that beat drop, he immediately yells “NOPE NOPE NOPE. NOT THIS DRUGGED UP COWBOY MUSIC AGAIN–” then collapses mid-sentence like a tranquilized bear. 

literally wakes up mad. throws your speaker across the room while still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes like a grumpy toddler. 

tries to act like he’s too wild to be affected, then you catch him sleeping with the same sleepy phonk playlist under his pillow like it’s a bedtime lullaby. 

“listen i don’t need it, it’s just a vibe. you wouldn’t get it.” 

will absolutely start calling it your "sleepy black magic tape" and pretends he's scared of you. fake shivers and all. 

“my body associates your music taste with comas now. thanks, babe.” 

itoshi sae

you start playing it during a late-night drive, and within five minutes he’s gone. head slumped against the window. breathing soft. soul left his body. 

wakes up all confused like he just took a power nap in another dimension. 

“how long was i out? …why do i feel like i’ve been asleep for twelve years?” 

every time you play it again he tries to stay awake out of pure ego, but he gets so annoyed at how heavy his limbs feel. 

mutters a whole paragraph of insults under his breath before slipping into REM. 

eventually starts using it intentionally but won’t admit it. like he’ll go “i guess it wouldn’t kill me if you played that stupid zombie song again” right before bed. 

“i’m not addicted. i’m just being efficient.” 

pretends it’s annoying but secretly has the playlist saved on his phone under the name "🤨" 

karasu tabito

BRO STARTS DANCING TO IT AT FIRST. 

you’re like “karasu no” and he’s like “karasu YES.” 

and then two mins later he’s laying face-down on the floor like a body outline at a crime scene. 

wakes up, rolls over, and goes “yo did i die for a second orrrr…?” 

loves it though. finds it hilarious. he’ll literally set it as his own alarm so he wakes up and falls back asleep in a loop. 

“you don’t get it, babe. this music is laced. this is phonk fentanyl.” 

sometimes just asks you to play it to prove to people that it works. like he’ll invite bachira over and go, “watch this,” then collapse 60 seconds in like it’s a magic trick. 

he becomes the #1 believer that you’re a sleep witch. 

“this woman is dangerous. protect her. or let her drop a mixtape. either way we all win.” 

isagi yoichi 

isagi thought it was a coincidence the first time. “oh maybe i was just tired.” 

second time? “okay maybe i’m still tired.” 

third time? “wait a damn minute.” 

he gets so serious about it. starts journaling his sleep patterns. literally charts the timestamps of when the music plays and when he loses consciousness. 

“this is a phenomenon. i need answers.” 

he keeps trying to test it under different conditions like it’s a science project. “okay play it while i’m exercising.” falls asleep doing jumping jacks. 

one time he tried to fight it by drinking three energy drinks beforehand. the music still knocked him out. woke up with a headache and heartburn. 

“what is this sorcery?? this is stronger than melatonin AND ASMR combined.” 

eventually surrenders and asks you to play it when he has trouble sleeping. but only if you’re there. otherwise he gets paranoid and thinks he’ll wake up in an alternate timeline. 

nagi seishiro

honestly? he was already halfway to unconsciousness when it first happened. 

but the moment you played that dreamy, floaty phonk beat? instant deep slumber. like you enhanced his default settings. 

he didn’t even say anything. no reaction. he blinked slowly like a sleepy cat and just laid down right where he was standing. 

you were like “bro you good?” and he mumbled “yeh…” then snored 0.5 seconds later. 

he now refers to your playlist as the “ultimate sleep cheat code.” 

uses it on nights when even he feels too lazy to fall asleep naturally. 

“just play the thing. the lo-fi cowboy drug one.” 

weirdly enough, he becomes your personal sleep ambassador. 

you bring it up once around the blue lock team and he goes “it’s like being gently sedated by cloud ninjas. 10/10 experience. would die again.” 

if you’re gone and he can’t sleep, he’ll text: nagi: can you send the playlist nagi: the one that knocks me out nagi: i’m twitching like a windows xp shutdown screen over here 

has lowkey gotten emotionally attached to it. if someone else tries to play sleepy phonk, he gets offended. “no. only she can do that. it’s different.” 

bachira meguru

bachira thinks it’s funny as hell. 

“i’m like a dog with a whistle. only this one is a sleepy cowboy beat.” 

the first time he heard it, he got weirdly invested. like “oohh this is a vibe! what’s it called?” proceeds to pass out mid-groove like a light. 

you turn around and he’s in the fetal position under the table. 

he wakes up grinning like “that was so fun!! what happened?? do it again!!” 

he starts treating it like a carnival ride. asks you to “put him to sleep” like it’s a magic trick. 

“close the curtains, bring me a snack, and hit me with that sleep sauce 🛌🧃✨” 

you accidentally make him fall asleep in public once (you were just playing it on your phone during a train ride) and he collapses onto a stranger’s shoulder. 

you’re mortified. he wakes up three stops later, bows and goes “thank you for being my pillow today :)” 

he names the playlist. something like: “cowboy dream juice vol. 1 💀🐴✨” 

sometimes tries to rap over it and see how long he can stay awake. his record is one minute and 14 seconds. 

“this music is like a lullaby made by sleepy ghosts on synths. i love it.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[r66dusthewriter]

The forbidden fruit

Pairing: Simon Riley x fem!reader

Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

a/n: I had to close my legs while writing this.

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Little to no plot. Explicit sexual content (18+), voyeuristic themes, masked man, dry humping, (sort of?) paid sex, strip club setting.

Word count: 1.3k

You’d been a night dancer for four years, moving from uneasy to owning it, with a found family of women nearly as close as sisters. The job paid well, the security was tight and after a while, you realized you liked the power, the control of where eyes landed, who got close and when. With that power in mind, you chose to only dance and maybe talk. Ironically, that restraint, that refusal to be available on demand, only made you more desirable. 

For the last six months, everything about your nightly stage felt different because of him.

He always sat at the back and the same table. Massive, masked and imposing, the kind of man who drew stares even in a club built for spectacle. He never drank, never accepted a dance or even a chat then. 

But two months in, after seeing a creepy customer cross a line with you, he stepped in with just enough force to make the message clear. From that moment on, everyone started calling him “your guy” and he acted like it, tipping hundreds just to sit there two hours and say nothing at all to anyone but you.

“Y/n… your guy’s back,” Ani grinned as she strolled into the changing room, her voice sing-song with mischief. Around her, a chorus of teasing sighs and shoulder shimmies erupted from the other girls. You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile.

“He’s not my guy.”

“Oh, but he is,” Ani shot back, stepping closer with a raised brow. “He doesn’t pay for a single service, won’t even take a drink! Just sits at your stage like some brooding statue. Won’t look at anyone, won’t talk to anyone except you.”

She leaned in, voice dropping playfully. “Right now, he’s out there looking like a lost puppy because you’re not on yet.”

Laughter rippled through the room as a few of the girls chimed in their agreement.

“That’s your guy,” Ani said, winking.

You shook your head, brushing the last bit of powder from your face and rising from the makeup chair. You couldn’t suppress the warmth curling in your chest, though you kept your tone neutral. 

“Same table?”

“Same table,” she confirmed, still smiling.

When you arrived, he offered quietly and for the first time ever, a seat beside him. His raspy voice and thick accent sent a shiver up your spine.

“Nice to see you again,” he simply said.

You flirted, you bantered and let the tease slip into your eyes but every time another customer tried to pull you away, you saw the way his gloved hands tensed on his thighs and how his shoulders squared. And when you stood up to go chat with another client, he dropped five grand onto the table, flat and easy. “What does that get me?”

You arched your brow, heat coiling in your belly. “What do you want?”

His eyes glittered behind the skull mask. “To talk.”

Except the game changed when you suggested the massage room. Inside, he stripped off his shirt and your breath caught. His body was scarred yet beautiful with tattooed muscle on pale skin even under harsh light. You took a deep breath and let your hands roam, learning every inch as you straddled his lap.

You massaged his chest with slow, lazy circles, feeling his heartbeat thumping strong under your palms. His gaze burned into you, unmoving.

“I don’t usually do this,” you whispered, voice shaky, suggesting to get one of your coworkers to give him a proper massage.

“It’s good,” he rumbled, voice thick with want.

You grew bolder then. His hands found your thighs, strong and warm on your skin, thumbs pressing just enough to make you gasp and accommodate over him. That’s when you felt his cock, hard and hot under you, causing a sharp ache to throb between your legs, making it hard to ignore how you’d been starved and untouched for so long it almost hurt.

His fingers tightened, pupils blown out as he met your eyes. “Want to get off?” he asked, low and serious.

You shook your head, breath trembling, but not with fear.

His gaze lowered to your parted lips, ears straining to hear how you softly sighed. “Or move?”

Your hips answered for you. Slowly at first, you rolled against him, feeling every contour of him through your thin panties and his jeans. Even like this you could tell his cock was hard, thick and impossibly big. The friction quickly sent a bolt of pleasure straight through you, causing you to tilt your head back and moan aloud.

He groaned at the sight, a raw and needy sound while his hands gripped your ass under your ridden up dress, guiding your movements. It was obscene, the slide of your slick center over his clothed cock, the drag of denim against silk and the unmoving eye contact, all while every grinding thrust sent waves of heat through you.

The air soon filled with desperate sounds, your soft whimpers and sighs mixed with his deep grunts and the harsh rasp of his breath behind the mask. You pressed closer, grinding down harder and his cock twitched against you, leaking through his jeans and making a delicious wet spot that matched your own. 

Your hands rested on his firm, toned abdomen, the heat of his skin grounding you as you moved. You took your time, savoring the moment, every rise and fall of your hips a slow climb, every subtle shift drawing you closer to the edge. His muscles tensed beneath your palms, each breath he took syncing with yours, heavy and hungry. You rocked against him with growing urgency, letting the minutes stretch, letting the pleasure build until your body trembled with the promise of release.

He tilted his hips up to meet your rhythm, his grip strong but worshipful. You could feel yourself getting wetter, soaking through your panties with every pass.

“Fuck—” he growled.

“Uhhh!—” You moaned, walls contracting around nothing. Being an absolute slut for vocal men didn’t help your case, you couldn’t hold it back any longer. Sparks shot through your core, pleasure mounting higher and higher while your clit ground perfectly against the ridge of his cock. “Fuck, I’m—”

“Let go,” he ordered roughly. “Want to watch you come for me.”

Your orgasm hit hard, knees shaking and body shuddering while a strangled moan tore from your throat as you ground down and rode the wave out on his lap. You felt yourself gush even more, soaking him and your panties, the heat between your bodies almost unbearable.

He cursed again, grabbing your hips and rocking you harder against him, forcing you to match the pace burning in his blood. His cock throbbed against your soaked panties as he did, keeping a sinful rhythm until he went rigid under you. With a deep, muffled groan, he came hard. His body tensed beneath you, cock straining as his orgasm surged through him. The heat of it soaked his jeans, messy and uncontrolled but he didn’t care. His head fell back with a heavy exhale, fingers still gripping your hips like he couldn’t quite let go, like he didn’t want to.

You slumped down against his massive chest, catching your breath while his hands stayed on you, fingers denting your flesh.

For a long moment, the only sound was your ragged breaths and the steady thump of his heart against your cheek. You’d never been this undone without a single piece of clothing truly removed, never felt so wanted or so fucking satisfied.

“Simon,” he panted, the name falling from his lips like a confession, knowing you’d never ask due to the rules of the club.

“Pleasure to meet you,” you murmured against his skin, voice threaded with something dangerously close to comfort.

“Likewise.”

If anyone had heard the sounds coming from behind that closed door, they’d know whose girl you really were now.

[mortal-ethos]

The first time I started figuring out my gender, I felt very fluid, but due to the rise in transmed ideology and being a kid in an oppressive household and society, I tried so hard to be a man. I thought I had to be a man, and I felt like shit because I constantly was questioning myself, constantly insecure, I did everything I was "supposed" to do and be as a "man" both by the standards I grew up with, and the modern standards I had begun to see and still continue to see amongst "progressive" circles (which was doing everything by myself and taking abuse from my partners because the idea of men standing up for themselves or taking a single second to themselves is pushed as abuse and laziness, so I just. Did everything. And took all of it).

I was the handy man, I Mended the garments, I cooked every meal, I cleaned the house and did the dishes, I was the only one working, I put aside any issues or emotions I had for every person/partner, I was constantly told anytime I showed emotion that I was scary or that I was wrong, that I wasn't allowed to feel the way I felt, that I made problems all the time out of nothing, so I stopped and when I would keep my emotions down during conversations I was told I wasn't talking like a real person, any time I tried to talk about mental health issues I was made fun of so I stopped, any time I had a need I was degraded for wanting something so I stopped expressing a desire for closeness and emotional connection while being told that I needed to talk about my problems more even though they were constantly ignored, I was my partners' wallet, I couldn't have my own interests and always had to engage others with theirs while mine were judged and belittled, not even getting into how much pressure there was on me to "look" like a man. I did fucking everything I could until I broke.

I used to think if I just was a Good Man, if I just did everything asked of me, everything I was told, if I did everything right, if I was only ever gentle and kind and vulnerable, I would be happy. The pain would go away, I could be myself, and I could make everyone else happy. I could show what a Good Man was, I could be better. And I tried so hard. But I broke. I wasn't a good man. I couldn't do it. I broke down wondering what was wrong with me. Why was it no matter what I did, it wasn't enough. I would never be gentle enough, kind enough, skilled enough, strong enough, communicative enough, stoic enough, happy enough, rich enough, I would never be enough. So I gave up and I asked myself, who was I trying to be enough for? For people that don't know me? For people that don't care about me? For people that would never understand me anyway? Why was I never happy, even when I did everything asked of me... Why was no one ever happy with me?

Why was I STILL NOT MAN ENOUGH.

So I said fuck it. Who am I being a man for. My gender shouldn't feel like a fault in my personhood. And I let myself sit with it for a while. I asked myself, why do I still connect with my womanhood, with the lesbian community, with girlhood, why is this feminine rage still inside me intricately entwined with my masculine transness? Why, when I talk about women's issues, why do I have to choke down saying "we" and "us?" Why, when I feel like a man, is it strongest when I'm helping the ones that I love? What about those days I feel like neither, the days I feel more connected to the moss beneath my feet, to the shadows of tree branches, to the smell of rain, to the sound of boots on pavement, to the metallic taste of blood, to the ones that wear masks? What about those days I feel like I don't want to decide, I don't want to settle on one thing, where I feel like the planets in orbit, all circling each other simultaneously, each rotating themselves? The days where I see myself on this earth as intimately woven into the fabric of existence, when I experience creation and make myself into a new person for that moment, a new color unseen, a new emotion unfelt, a new breath never shared?

I'm not a man, or not just a man. I'm not just a woman, I'm not just non-binary. I tried fitting my experiences, my existences, into one singular label. Into the label that was supposed to be right, the one that was easy, the one everyone else is. I felt like my gender queer experiences were a gender failing, a pathetic flailing attempt at transness. I wasn't man enough, but I had to be because... I thought that was my only option.

Anyone thinking being non-binary, being gender fluid, being agender, bigender, gender queer, is all just part of the process of eventually settling into a binary identity is so, so wrong. I am not lost or confused. I didn't lose myself, my transness, my queerness, in the fluidity. I found my way back home.

when nonbinary people discover they are actually transgender binary, i wish them all the best, but i cannot STAND when they dismiss their previous identity as illegitimate. sure, maybe it wasnt you, but nonbinary is still real and valid.

i remember when a nonbinary content creator i really resonated with came out as a trans man instead, he started saying that nonbinary is "only a stepping stone to being the opposite binary!!" and that its "just a pipeline effect and nothing solid :)" i had recently separated from my long term partner due to identity related reasons and i was feeling insecure, finding community online. i questioned myself for months then, forcing the idea of being binary onto myself in what was admittedly an ocd spiral. its not his fault but i feel if you make queer content you kinda owe it to your audience to not spread false and harmful narratives about it

this is exorsexism.

i've seen it time and time again that previously-nonbinary content creators come out as binary trans and suddenly become really exorsexist in their stance, behaviour, language. this stuff never hurts their following though and nonbinary people who point this out usually end up being accused of transmisia and "being too sensitive". meanwhile people act like our genders are time bombs.

[abarbaricyalp]

From that list “I got you a present” Sambucky. Please?

Not me having so many ideas about this I kind of threw them all together and still didn't cover everything

Like The Birds Do

It started off with fast food. Sam was working late on some strategy planning, which was mostly poring over old debriefs and trying to find a connection. Joaquin had long since gone, out for the kind of weekend Sam was getting too old to enjoy. So he wasn't expecting anyone to come through the door just after ten and turn on one of the tall lamps.

"Hey, I brought you a present," Bucky called, appearing around the small half wall that led into his office. He was carrying two large bags of fast food and Sam's stomach growled before the smell even reached him.

"It's late. Where're you coming from?" he asked. He stood, pulled over a chair to the small table and couch on the far side of the wall and took a bag from Bucky.

"Threatening people is scarier in the dark," Bucky said with a shrug. "No, actually, I was working too. My assistant texted me and told me to stop uploading stuff to the cloud folders. She gets an email when I do, I guess."

Sam snorted and sorted out fries and chicken and burgers. "Look at you, holding down an office job."

"Yeah and what's this place?" Bucky teased back, swapping one of the burgers in front of Sam for one with a 'spicy' customization sticker on the front of it.

"Hey, I still get to jump out of planes, if I want to," Sam defended with a laugh. "If you're still in the working mood, I could use your help with something."

"Eat first, Wilson," Bucky ordered around a mouthful of fries. "Then we can talk about getting in the mood."

Sam rolled his eyes and grabbed the spicy burger.

. . .

The next time, Sam was monitoring bugs from a temporary safe house when he was interrupted.

"Got you a present!" Bucky greeted again. Then, "Stop kicking me."

Sam pulled the headphones off and turned around in time to see Bucky dragging one of the Serpents into the room. The man had his hands tied behind him, but his feet were loose and he was, in fact, kicking Bucky's ankle with every step.

"Are you following me?" Sam asked skeptically.

The Serpent scowled, but shook his head. "Not you," Sam corrected. "Him."

"Me?" Bucky asked, far overshooting innocent. "I've got better things to do with my time. I just happened to be in the area. I knew you were looking for some of these assholes. Sorry, I don't remember your name."

"Copperhead," the man hissed, like he'd already said it a few times.

Bucky grimaced. "I don't like snakes."

"You've mentioned." Copperhead turned his attention back to Sam. "I'm not working with Sidewinder no more."

"That's not what your comings and goings suggest."

"I ain't," the man insisted venomously. "I'm working with a new crew. We're..." He looked around conspiratorially. "We're going after Sidewinder too."

"Do they usually just give you their plans?" Bucky asked Sam.

"I'm telling you, Buck, if you talked things out, you'd avoid a lot of black eyes," Sam said. "But I still don't believe you. You've been slithering back to the den while you're trying to depose him?"

"Cute," Bucky complimented. "How long have you been waiting to use that one."

Honestly, long enough. It was starting to annoy Joaquin. Sam had to get it out of his system now. "Tell me more. What did Sidewinder do?"

. . .

"I bought a present," Bucky told him, coming into Sam's bedroom without knocking.

"What? Why?" Sam asked, shifting how he was kneeling on the other side of the bath tub.

"Because you've been all grouchy and upset about getting hurt," Bucky answered.

Sam looked away from the ice bath he was holding his arms in, over his shoulder towards the door. "Is it a topical anti-venom?" he asked drily.

"Better. It's homeopathic."

"Bucky, you know I don't--"

"If he's sick, am I gonna get sick?" another voice asked.

Oh. That kind of homeopathic remedy. Sam stood up from beside the tub and patted his swollen arms dry gently.

"Nah, he's not sick like contagious sick. He got a little bit poisoned."

"That's why you should be careful running around barefoot outside," Sam added as he came into the bedroom.

Cass and AJ both beamed at him and ran over for hugs. For the first time in four days, he didn't mind the additional pressure on his arms. This was much better than bandages and shots and trying to go about daily life.

"What happened?" Cass asked. "Did you get bitten by something? Here?"

"Was it a poison frog? Did it jump on you?" AJ continued.

"How come you didn't have your Cap suit on?"

"Yeah, or the shield? Was it a snake?"

"Did you know it was poisonous?"

"Someone had poison tipped darts," Sam hushed quickly. He sat down on the edge of his bed. AJ climbed up next to him and Cass remained standing, but leaned against the baseboard of it, leaning closer. "But, yeah, it was snake poison."

AJ gasped and leaned on Sam's shoulder as he jumped in excitement. "Like in the movie!"

"Do you feel weird? Did you feel weird? What was it like?" Cass asked. He was peering at Sam's face, which was probably better than staring at his bruised arms.

"Are you writing a book about it?" Sam shot back, amused.

"Maybe! I could!"

"Was Bucky there?" AJ asked. This was mostly directed towards Bucky. "Did you get bitten?"

"I wasn't bitten," Sam repeated.

"I wasn't there," Bucky answered. He was leaning against the dresser, watching everything unfold with amusement. "Do you think I could've stopped it?"

The boys thoughts about it, then Cass said, "Probably not. Uncle Sam's smart all by himself."

Bucky clutched at his chest. "Ouch, kid."

"Well, maybe!" AJ added. "If they'd shot you with the dart instead."

"Ouch-er," he added.

"Are you gonna get snake powers now?" AJ asked, turning back to Sam.

"No," Sam said firmly. "And that's why you two should be careful outside. You don't get powers from snakes, alright? Just look out for them and leave them alone."

"Okay, but what if--" Cass bargained.

. . .

"Okay, so, I got you a present," Bucky said, sounding like he was defending himself.

Sam looked up from the side fastens of his suit. "What?" he asked. "Now?"

Bucky was already dressed, but, to be fair, this was how he dressed at least thirty percent of the time anyway. He looked fidgety and nervous, which was pretty out of character for him right before a fight. He zoned in faster than anyone Sam knew.

"Well, since you keep insisted on wearing the new suit and haven't asked for full sleeves yet, I got these made." He held out dark red wrist gauntlets. They weren't vibranium, Sam could tell, so he hadn't gone to the Wakandans for this. Which, fair, Sam had seen first hand the stink eye Shuri could give for a stupid suggestion during the design process. Still, they were a good material. Body armor grade, and the good stuff, not the market stuff.

"I don't need you getting bitten again," he added. "Your arms are the only things uncovered, and that's right where they aimed last time. I can't..." A muscle jumped in his jaw and he looked away.

"Hey," Sam said softly. He stepped over to Bucky and put a hand against his cheek. "Thanks. I'll wear them, okay? They look good with the blue, huh? You could be a costume designer if the whole superhero thing starts to bore you."

"Or you could just wear the suit I designed," Bucky added.

"It's a stealth mission. I'm wearing a stealth suit," Sam sighed.

"There's no such thing as a stealth Captain America suit. You've got a giant star on your chest."

Sam sighed again, long suffering, but slid the gauntlets on, then held his hands out. "Come on, charming. Help me clasp the necklace."

Bucky didn't say anything, but he was preening in a quiet, self satisfied way. He did up the fastens quickly, like he'd been practicing, then pulled the edge of Sam's sleeve down over the top. It was a perfect fit. Sam shouldn't have expected anything less.

He turned to look at himself in the reflection of a glass wall, curling his arms in front of himself, then stretching his fingers, swinging his arms, and throwing slow moving punches. "These look really good," he conceded, throwing a grin over at Bucky. "Thanks, man."

"Yeah, sure, of course," Bucky agreed, a blush dusting across his cheeks. "Try not to get poisoned this time."

. . .

Sam still wasn't used to the adrenaline crash. In his head, he was still twenty-two and invincible. Back then, a win meant days of partying. Unconsciousness was a far flung thing.

But his body continually reminded him he wasn't twenty-two. Hell, it had been reminding him of that since he was twenty-seven, if they got down to it.

He hadn't been able to eat more than half a sandwich one of the medical teams had handed him after putting neat little bandages around his eye. He'd barely been able to shower and every temperature was too much. Too hot on his sweat soaked skin. Too cool in the frosty AC of the hotel room. Too weak in between. Crashing into the bed had been the only thing he'd done well since the media debrief.

So he wasn't really surprised when there was a knock on his door approximately ten seconds later. Timid and too well timed, like the person on the other side knew he'd just finished falling apart.

He shoved himself up again, didn't bother with finding a shirt or appropriate pants because he knew who would be on the other side of the door, and opened the door.

Bucky had already taken off the bandages that had been put on his face and arms. He argued about it every time they wrangled him near a medic, but the medics were pretty used to him and they sealed up and covered his wounds while he told them he didn't need them to. He also looked like he'd already showered. His wet hair was held back by a small clip that Sam knew he pretended to hate but kind of loved.

As usual, it took him a few moments to react to seeing Sam. He always had to stare for a few seconds. Let his eyes track down Sam's body until he was sure Sam was still in the same amount of pieces he'd left him in.

"What's up?" Sam asked, to draw Bucky's gaze away from the bruise on his chest from someone's mechanical tail.

Bucky dragged his gaze away like it actually weighed something. "Can I stay in here?" he asked sheepishly. "The AC creaks in my--"

"Yeah, yeah," Sam accepted before Bucky could get far into his meandering rabbit hole of excuses. He stepped back and let Bucky take the door. No use telling him which locks to use. He'd use them all. "I almost expected you to have brought something," he added, teasing. "Seems to be the only reason you show up anymore."

"That's not true. I also kidnap your nephews."

"Willing victims that they are," Sam agreed. "You okay?"

"'Course I am," Bucky assured. He sat on the second bed, stiff, kicking his heel against the bottom frame of it. "They gave you a double? They told me if my sheets weren't clean, I could pull out the couch."

Sam laughed in surprise. "Well, I guess being Captain America has its perks sometimes."

"Sometimes," Bucky agreed without any real conviction in his voice. He kept picking at the scrapes on his knuckles that had already scabbed over. Then he stood again and reached for Sam's wrist.

Sam blinked and stood as well. It felt strangely formal for them. Like an old romance movie. Compared to the nights they'd lay on the floor beside each other, or keep up a conversation on the phone while both doing something else, or be poring over intel at separate desks, always talking until they fell asleep finally, standing to talk was weird.

"I did," Bucky said. It sounded like a scratched record. An abrupt stop to something that should've continued. "I mean, I did bring something for you. I just...don't know if I should give it to you."

"If it's snake fangs, I don't want it," Sam defended quickly. "I don't need any trophies."

Bucky rolled his eyes and his shoulders relaxed by about twenty percent. "It's not snake fangs. I've never even heard of people doing that until your friend Darriel asked if I kept any teeth from that gator I wrestled out of the pool."

Sam hummed fondly at the memory. "Then what is it? If it's not important, we can just wait until tomorrow."

"No it's...it's kind of important. To me. I've been meaning to give it to you for a while."

Sam's head ticked to the side a little, stealing a mannerism from the man in front of him because Bucky's eyes had suddenly darted away and Sam wanted to be in his eyeline. "It doesn't have to do with tonight?"

"Well, no. Not really," Bucky admitted. "It's not that." Sam realized Bucky was still holding onto his wrist because now he was holding Sam's hand and he was shaking. Just a little bit. Barely perceptible. But Sam knew Bucky well enough to notice something like that.

"Buck," he started to say, putting his hand over Bucky's to stop the shivering a little.

Then Bucky kissed him, fast and unsure, more of a collision than he assumed it was supposed to be. Then he pulled away, just as fast, looking for all the world like a little kid.

"Oh," Sam breathed.

"Oh?" Bucky repeated, strangled.

"That's what you were waiting on? Why?"

"Why?" he repeated again.

And they'd get nowhere if all he did was keep copying Sam. So Sam copied him instead, holding Bucky's face this time so they didn't break each other's noses, and kissed him softly, but firmly. "Why would you wait?" Sam clarified when Bucky started to make little needy sounds against his mouth.

"Uh...I don't know? I had other things to give you first."

Sam smiled and shook his head. "You're kind of an idiot," he said. "Come give it to me again," he suggested.

Bucky smiled, like raincloud parting around the sun, and gave Sam another kiss. A few more actually. It was a good present.

. . .

Hello, did you know that Kingfishers, great grey shrikes, and jays will bring food to prospective partners during courtship rituals? That penguins and albatrosses give pebbles as gifts? That several birds partake in allopreening? That crows bring interesting objects to people who take care of them, and cedar waxwings will do so with each other? That building nest structures, or exchanging nest materials, will sometimes come before mating? I just think it's interesting.

[dioslesbianwife]

Hello, can I get part 4 jojo gang with a reader who's like Noelle from Genshin. Someone who is extremely strong, stubborn, reliable, and willing to endanger her life in order to help someone in need. With the reader's goal of becoming a Police officer

hi, sure! hope u enjoy and thank you for requesting :3

Josuke Higashikata

Totally in awe of you.

He first sees you one-arm lifting a scooter off a crushed puppy like “Oh thank goodness, it only got bruised!” while YOU’RE bleeding out and smiling like it’s no big deal.

“UHHH GIRL- ???”

He constantly has to heal you because you have zero self-preservation. “Y/N, you can’t protect the town if you’re dead!”

Thinks your goal to become a cop is noble but quietly worries about how reckless you are.

“You’d be the best officer ever… just please don’t run into burning buildings anymore.”

Lowkey gets flustered when you carry him bridal-style after a fight. 

Okuyasu

HE’S OBSESSED WITH YOU.

You’re strong, loyal, AND nice?? His dream girl?? His soulmate???

“You wanna be a cop?! That’s SICK!! I’d visit your station every day!!”

Tries to keep up with your workouts and fails miserably. You carried a vending machine once. He passed out after five pushups.

You once took a hit for him and he cried right there on the sidewalk.

Gets very emotional when you talk about wanting to protect Morioh. “Damn. You’re like a superhero. Like All Might, but, like… cuter.”

Koichi

Extremely impressed and extremely concerned.

The first time he sees you carry an injured jogger 3 miles back to town without breaking a sweat, he’s like 🧍‍♂️😳

“Y/N… you’re amazing. But maybe… slow down? Just a bit?”

Tries to talk you out of putting yourself in danger every time but you just smile and thank him for worrying.

“You’re way too good for this world,” he says, genuinely.

Thinks your dream is incredible and will support you 100%- makes you little flashcards for the written exam 

Rohan

Annoyed. Until he’s not.

“Ugh, you again. Charging into danger like some self-sacrificing anime cliché- ”

But the second you block a falling beam from crushing him and say “Are you alright, Mr. Kishibe?” he just stares at you.

He writes a character based on you. It becomes insanely popular.

Pretends he’s indifferent, but always keeps an eye on you during fights.

"If you die doing something stupid and noble, I will be very upset. That’s not permission. That’s a threat.”

Jotaro Kujo

Knows your type immediately.

“She’s gonna get herself killed,” he mutters. “...She’s also going to save this whole town.”

Watches from the shadows like a worried dad. Pretends not to care.

You: getting thrown into a wall

Jotaro: “Yare yare daze- ORAORAORAORA- ”

He actually admires your dream to be a cop, even if he thinks you’re too soft-hearted.

Trains with you sometimes. Quietly impressed when you flip him over once.

“Good. Just don’t die. You’re more useful alive.”

Yukako

Girl you are her IDOL.

“...She’s like some sort of noble girl knight…”

After she’s sure you’re not into Koichi, she latches onto you like glue. Will support your dream.

“If anyone stands in your way, I’ll hold them hostage while you do your paperwork.”

She gets scary protective though. If you’re bleeding and still trying to run into battle, she hair-tackles you to the ground.

“You WILL rest. You are NOT disposable. Understand?!”

Reimi

She’s so moved by your kindness she tears up.

“You’re exactly the kind of person I wish had been there for me...”

You visit her at her alley often, sometimes cleaning up trash or watering the flowers nearby.

Reimi thinks you’re the kind of soul that changes fate.

She 100% believes you’ll become a police officer and help protect Morioh from things no one else sees.

You’re her favorite visitor. You always listen to her stories, and she tells you, “Don’t ever stop being you.”

Tonio

IMMEDIATELY TRIES TO FIX YOUR DIET.

“Signorina! You cannot survive on instant noodles and bruised knuckles alone!!”

Every time you come into his restaurant he’s like “You have dark circles. I am making you soup. SIT.”

He loves your kind spirit and even customizes your dishes to help you recover faster.

You once collapsed from dehydration after lifting a car off a kitten and he NEVER lets you forget it.

“You must treat yourself with the same love you give others!”

Shigechi

Thinks you’re SO cool.

“Whoa!! You’re like a muscley version of Koichi!!”

Tries to show off by helping you help people- like “I can use Harvest to get this lady’s purse back!!”

He’s your biggest fan tbh. Follows you around and asks questions constantly.

“Why do you wanna be a cop? Are the hats comfy?? Do you get snacks?”

You gently explain your sense of justice and he just goes 🥺

Starts calling you “Detective Y/N” and tries to draw you little fake badges.

[bloopitynoot]

Reading TGCF: Extra 2, Chapter 137

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

The air conditioner is working overtime and yet, I am still here craving that hot beverage.

With today's chapter I have a dirty chai with milk and sugar.

Let's go chapter 137!!!

This is so painful. San Lang is really going to make him say they slept together while Xie Lian is in crisis thinking he was assaulted. p216

Okay but it is kind of cute that Hua Cheng's people took up a custom of tying red strings to their fingers because of the their love. p217

jeeze. Seems like the entire city is in on this plot though (they are not at all). p219

My heart! "He must accompany his beloved, who has apparently fallen unwell recently." p220

The reverse gege!!! p221

"San Lang-gege, shall we go to your house now? Or later?" god. the way this 100% unlocked something in Hua Cheng. Feral as hell. p222

I wonder how many times Xie Lian has had encounters in the bath throughout these books. Add this one with e-ming and Hua Cheng to the counter! p223

oh okay. Something did this to Xie Lian, it wasn't a cnc situation with Hua Cheng doing spells or some shit. p227

This is going to be a disaster. Xie Lian has no power or memory and he's leaving to go on a sneaky solo mission p227

Gender excellence, "What's with that pretty boy?! He looks so gentle, so how is he such a brute?!" 229

oh no. The village has little Xie Lian statues of the scrap collector and Xie Lian is so confused. p231

Poor buddy just found out about his whole life from random people. p233

I weep! "In my heart, you are the only god" p238

That "...we meet again" stirred my emotions. What the fuck, I'm feeling way to much about it. p239

Okay, but good for Xie Lian for calling Hua Cheng out on his bullshit. He really did make some bad calls during those couple days. p241

Amnesia plot- Check.

I am low key glad to be out of this set of extras.

It is cute that their love is eternal and soul deep, but my god, in most amnesia plotlines that center around undying love- it get's icky. This was a bit ick for me.

[tookishcombeferre]

It's so funny you tagged me in this.

I was literally just cleaning up a section where Roland talks about Elena potentially recognizing Cedric and trying to "tease" him back into the way she remembered him as a child when Tilly had the Amulet. I also think that her having been exposed to that much magic for that long made her more conscious of magic inside others, so as you said @shychick-52, I think she could tell Cedric wasn't all bad.

I also kind of described it in that section as Elena "drawing Cedric back" to Sofia because she knows their destinies are intertwined in the same way hers and Alacazars were.

Additionally, I'm also working out some bugs in a conversation between Cedric and Roland where Cedric describes his desperation to get Sofia out of the Amulet coming from the fact that Elena was **technically** born 3 years before Cedric. Cedric explains that it's hard for him to hold the reality that the record of Elena's birth would state that she was born in the same calendar year as Cordelia, and, yet, to him, she looks like a child and has all the lived experience in this Realm that a sixteen-year old child would have.

For according to what Sofia has/would have told Cedric at that point, Elena was unable to age, and she couldn't have any meaningful lived experiences outside of what she could perceive from the Amulet while she was inside it. Elena lived *FORTY-ONE-GOSH-DARN-YEARS* as a SIXTEEN YEAR OLD in COMPLETE fracking ISOLATION!

I'm sorry.

I can't get over this fact.

Like, as someone who is now thirty, I cannot imagine, and I am APPALLED, by the idea of being SIXTEEN for FORTY-ONE freaking years, under any circumstance. Sixteen/Seventeen was the *worst* year/years of my *ENTIRE* life, so that might be part of it. (Truly, when they say it gets better, it does, in fact, get better kids.) However, still, being sixteen for forty-one years in solitary confinement should be grounds for murder.

How is she even mildly sane?

Needless to say, Cedric wasn't about to let Sofia watch everyone around her age from inside that death-trap only to come into a world where her parents didn't exist, and Amber and James were Roland's age, or quite likely, closer to Baileywick's age. For, if that came to pass, when Sofia was finally removed from the Amulet via ritual, she would still be just twelve.

Cedric couldn't live with that. He wouldn't. So, he didn't.

I think *that* might be what Cedric and Elena end up talking about.

Like the absolute insanity of what Cedric did for Sofia and why he did it.

The whole first episode is about getting to Avalor because there's a ritual that needs to be done in order to get Elena out of the Amulet. The ritual can't just *be done* by anyone anywhere. There are parameters to this ish.

Like, the *amount* and *specificity* of ritual that it took to get Elena out of the Amulet to retake her throne was both highly specific and intense.

I think they ended up trying ... twice?? ... maybe they got it on the first try? I can't remember.

(We haven't watched that one in a while because it's a little hard for Squish to follow, and they're just starting to hit the "things in TV actually scare me because I understand just enough to make them scary" stage of development. So, Shuriki has real fear factor for them.)

But, regardless, Cedric's like: "Nah. Who needs a ritual? I've got a spell for that. I'm just going to pull her out. Why not? Bonus points, I'll bring Prisma with her. Can't be that hard." (I mean ... it was ... but like ... also ...)

So, to me, I feel like that's the thing they discuss. She's, like, on paper as old as Cedric is, or even as old as his sister.

Elena OUGHT to be an adult.

She should have been allowed to grow up with her "peers," who are now old enough to be her parents. The world must feel so woefully confusing.

Thankfully, she still has some ties to the life *before.* She still has some consistency through her sister and grandparents.

But, is it enough?

Or are those lines still blurry?

And, I think she needs someone who would just *listen.* Someone who wouldn't try to put her in her place. Someone who wouldn't tell her that they need her to figure out this, that, or the other thing. Someone who would ask the question and just give her the space to talk about the blurry lines between the past and the present, and the person she might have been, the person they all could have been if it hadn't taken forty-one years for things to line up.

Cedric is good for that.

She knows this.

As put out as he sometimes pretended to be, he always listened. To his crotchety bird, to the twins, to people complaining about him to his face, to Sofia, Cedric always listened.

So, for once, Elena allows herself to be listened to.

And, Cedric just says simply.

"This confirms that I would do it again. Even if it killed me, I would do it again."

And, Elena realizes that she was right to just tease him because he was never really bad. He had curses enough. He just needed someone to mess with him, to remind him of the pranks he pulled, and to help him recall better days.

And, so, they stand there. Together. Better for it.

The two characters from Elena of Avalor I would have loved post-redemption Cedric to meet are Mateo (both royal sorcerers, both have overbearing mothers, both have young girls as their apprentice) and Elena herself (I would think it's obvious why, heehee)!

[soft4changbin]

Bagged feelings

Jiung x bestie!reader

Summary: Jiung goes shopping with his longtime girl best friend, battling his growing feelings and hoping she’ll finally notice the love in his eyes.

Word count: 1,520

“You’re lucky I love you,” Jiung muttered, tugging the beanie lower over his messy hair as he followed you into yet another clothing store.

You glanced over your shoulder, beaming. “I am lucky. Who else would give up their one day off to help me find the perfect outfit for my cousin’s wedding?”

Jiung’s heart stuttered. You said it so easily. Love, as if it was nothing. But for him, it was everything. He’d been holding onto this ridiculous crush for… well, way too long. Long enough that even his members had started making comments about how whipped he was.

Still, he smiled. “It better be the outfit of the century,” he said, trailing after you between racks of pastel dresses and silk tops.

You pulled a few options and held them against your chest. “Too much?” you asked, showing him a blush-pink dress.

Jiung took a moment too long to answer, eyes lingering on how the color made your skin glow. “Not too much. You’d look good in anything.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Even in a trash bag?”

He chuckled, trying not to sound flustered. “Especially in a trash bag. Very fashion-forward.”

“Stop being a simp.”

If only you knew, Jiung thought, but he just grinned. “I call it honesty.”

You disappeared into the fitting room with a handful of clothes, leaving him to scroll through his phone and pretend he wasn’t a walking heart emoji. A few minutes later, you called his name.

“Jiung! I need your opinion!”

He looked up quickly, almost dropping his phone. “Coming.”

When he stepped into the fitting area, you stood in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem of a deep green satin dress that fit you a little too well. Jiung froze.

“So?” you asked, spinning slowly. “I like it, but I don’t know if it’s too… much?”

He blinked. “It’s not too much. It’s perfect.”

You smiled, cheeks flushing. “Really?”

He nodded, hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out. “Yeah. You look… you look amazing.”

Your eyes met his in the mirror. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.”

You looked away, suddenly shy. “Okay, well. I’ll try one more just in case.”

Jiung nodded, stepping back like he wasn’t about to combust. He sat down on the little bench in the waiting area, dragging his hands down his face. This was torture. Not just the shopping, but being this close to you, watching you twirl in dresses, watching you not see how much he adored you.

You reappeared again in a different dress, and he gave you the same answer—beautiful, stunning, flawless. Because you were. You settled on the green one eventually, because “if Jiung said it was perfect, it probably was.”

After checking out, the two of you wandered through the shopping center, sharing a boba tea while Jiung carried your bag like the gentleman he always was.

“Thanks for coming with me today,” you said, nudging him lightly. “I know it’s not the most exciting way to spend a Saturday.”

“I didn’t mind,” he said quickly. “I’d follow you around a hundred stores if it meant I get to hang out with you.”

You stopped walking, making him pause beside you.

“What?” he asked.

You tilted your head. “You’ve been acting kind of… sweet lately.”

He laughed, a bit too nervously. “Haven’t I always been sweet?”

You shrugged, but your eyes searched his. “Yeah. But lately it feels different.”

Because it is, he wanted to say. Because every day that passes makes it harder not to tell you that you’re all he thinks about. That being your best friend is the best and worst part of his life. That he watches you fall asleep during movie nights and thinks how could she not know?

Instead, he cleared his throat. “Different good or different weird?”

“Different…” You looked down at the half-finished boba in your hands. “I don’t know. It just feels like something’s changed.”

He panicked a little then, nervous she was catching on. “Do you want it to change?”

You looked up again, frowning slightly. “Do you?”

His heart skipped, skipped again, then slammed hard against his chest. It was now or never.

He exhaled. “Yeah. I think I do.”

You blinked. “Jiung…”

“I like you,” he said softly. “I mean, I really like you. And I know we’ve been best friends forever and this could mess everything up, but… I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel it anymore. I love hanging out with you, but it’s not just that. It’s the way you smile when you find the perfect outfit, the way you share your fries even though you pretend you’re not hungry, the way you laugh when you’re embarrassed. It’s all of it. I’m in love with all of it.”

You stared at him, eyes wide. And for a second, he was sure he’d said too much. That you’d laugh or tell him he’d ruined everything.

But then you smiled.

A soft, slow, shy kind of smile.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to say it.”

Jiung blinked. “Wait… what?”

You laughed under your breath. “I’m not completely clueless, Ji. I’ve noticed things too. The way you always remember my coffee order, or how you always text me goodnight, even if we’ve been on the phone all day.”

“You… you noticed?”

“I did. And maybe I wasn’t ready to see it before, but I am now.” You stepped closer, brushing his arm with your fingers. “I like you too.”

His breath caught. “Seriously?”

You nodded. “Seriously.”

He grinned, completely unable to hide it. “Does this mean I get to kiss you now?”

You raised an eyebrow, playfully. “Are you asking as my best friend or my… something more?”

He leaned in, barely a breath away. “Something way more.”

You met him halfway, lips soft and familiar and sweet. And when you pulled back, cheeks warm and eyes shining, he swore he’d never felt happier in his life.

“Well,” you said, fingers laced with his, “good thing you came shopping with me today.”

“Best decision I ever made,” Jiung replied, heart full, hands full—finally—of you.

[cassielsunstone]

Say hello to the new OC I have been chipping away at for over a month You can guess what I spent my entire surgery trip watching

[tofics]

I finally made time to listen to this and I am so glad I did. Let's dive straight in, shall we?

This was my very first time hearing your voice, and I feel the need to point out what a pleasant voice you have, Alex! And I do mean this in the most sincere way, coming from someone who can be very very picky about what voices to listen to. I know this wasn't the point of the podcast, but I had to let you know :)

I took notes while listening, so I'll just be going through them and kind of sort them into something more tangible as I go.

It was awesome getting to hear so many "behind the scene" thoughts from you about your writing. There were a couple of small things you mentioned that I wanted to comment on just for the fun of it:

Something that draws you to a fanfiction is if characters are canonically written. It's funny you should say that, because your characters are some of the most in-tune-with-canon characters that I have ever read. I've mostly consumed your Dean stories, and even in an AU setting (I'm looking at you, Smoke Eater) he is 100% Dean as seen on the show. As far as fanfiction goes, that puts yours on a pedestal imo.

You considered doing something with Dean and Yellowstone for the Jacklesverse Bingo. (insert gif of me hysterically crying and hyperventilating) I've only just started watching Yellowstone this year and I am obsessed. I think you would have fried all my synapses if you had gone down that road, in the best way possible 😁

Hearing you talk about your friends on Tumblr and knowing you've included me in that group felt so so special! I'm so proud to be able to call you my friend on here. 🥹🫶🏼

But now! On to the actual topic of the episode :)

First of all, I found it very interesting that despite your own heritage, you grew up with a white reader in mind. Just goes to show how predominantly a white person is and has been the main character in so much of media that that's what your brain defaulted to.

I also thought your discussion about what makes an OC an OC and where a reader insert stops being a reader insert suuuper interesting. Because that's a genuine question! Where does a blank slate stop being a blank slate, and how much character do you have to give to the reader role in a reader insert fic for the story still to work, right? I loved to hear your take on it, especially where you said that writing reader inserts is basically like writing OCs without giving them a name. - I had never thought about it that way!

But of course, you're right. Because a reader that is an active participant in a story can't be a completely blank slate. They have to be assigned certain traits, not necessarily body-wise but character wise - if you're doing more than a drabble, imo. For there to be dialogue and a story that feels full, that feels alive, the reader has to have some sort of character to be a character.

Which brings me to my next point: projectability is always a thing of perspective and the ability to put yourself into someone's shoes. As far as fanfiction goes, the reader insert genre tries to make that as easy as possible by offering a mostly blank slate (that is very often white-coded, unfortunately, but that's not the point I'm trying to make in this paragraph). I have seen people complain more than once about the character!reader being unrelatable because of certain character traits and/or backstories that were assigned to them, and I wonder: people, where has your media literacy gone? Do they not teach to adapt to a person's perspective via literature in schools anymore? Must all media cater exactly to your every taste, down to each very nuance?

And I write all of this distinctively separating characteristic traits from body traits. I am not at all talking about the lack of ethnic representation within the x reader genre.

I love how you give personality to your reader characters, Alex. Especially when it comes to your own representation. You said in the podcast that you were worried about how the traits you assigned to your reader in the Midnight Espresso-verse would be received by your audience and that you received great feedback. I want to reiterate that by saying how despite myself not having the same background as you, I could absolutely relate to the plus-size aspect of the reader, as well as her love for cooking. You said it so beautifully in the podcast, that this version of the reader is one that came from the intent of Dean having a (Latino) girlfriend that nurtured him in the same way he nurtures the people around him, and I fully 100% could relate to that as well :)

Which might be my very complicated and long way of saying: Please do not worry about how much the reader can adapt to the traits you're giving to the character!reader. If most character!readers have been predominantly white for the longest time and so so many people that where not white made it work, then so can we white folks when we are given a reader that does not fit all of "our" typical criteria.

It made me very happy to hear that you're seeing more and more diversity within the SPN fandom these days. I've spent most of my time in the PPCU fandom this past year and all across it, but specifically in the Joel Miller fandom, there have been too many racist instances. It's great to hear that it's going better in other fandoms!

Which brings me to my next point - the anon request you got that led you to writing Unravel Me 👀 Wow. I haven't read it yet. It was on my TBR list anyway, but hearing you talk about how it came to be and how much thought you put into it (understandably so) it's now an absolute must-read for me. (Sort of unrelated but still related: I've seen your playlist covers for the story, and - wow??? A masterpiece??? Visually, I mean?! The EFFORT. I'll be speaking about this in a second, but I needed to mention it now in case I forget! Gorgeous!)

Another point that had me thinking a lot was the question about how much of an immigrant's identity should be kept and how much should be adapted to the country they've moved to also captivated me. I know US politics in regards to immigrants are ""problematic"" atm to say the least, and it's been a widely discussed topic over here in Germany for years now as well, especially with the heavy influx of immigrants over the past years. I can't imagine how complicated it must be, figuring out a sense of self that both fits to where you live and still keeps the core parts of who you are and were before coming to said country.

I want to wrap this up by saying how incredibly impressed I am every single time I hear/read about how you prep for your stories. I think you are by far the most in-depth fanfiction writer that I know. You put so much research into it, and not just for The Honorable Choice, but everything you put out. I'm struggling to find the correct words to properly express how admiring I find it, especially for a story like The Honorable Choice where you take on the perspective of someone of a different ethnic background than you.

You are an inspiration, Alex. Truly.

Thank you for welcoming me into the writing space when I came back. Thank you for answering every question I had, and thank you for the work you put into all of your stories.

To you, to your talent, your inspiration and work ethic, and to many more stories to come! 🩵

Racial & Ethnic Representation in Fanfiction

[🎙️ Podcast Interview]

Hey, friends! Sandra and Kasey, the lovely hosts of @idlingintheimpalapodcast — the podcast for all things SPN and fanfiction — invited me back on the pod for an interview on a topic that's very close to my heart…

With @rubyvhs, we talked about the fun moments and challenges about reading and writing fanfiction that represents specific racial and ethnic cultures, being bicultural/multicultural, the immigrant experience, and much more.

I offered my own experience as a Latina POC writing in the fandom space, specifically Supernatural and The Boys (and adjacent Jackles fandoms).

Check it out here: ⤵️

Interview Timestamps –

(Plus fic recs, SPN writer/reader shoutouts, and more! Links to all the fics we mentioned are at each time stamp.)

2:54 – When did you start writing fanfiction, and when did you join SPN fandom?

⟡ You can check out my first author interview with Sandra and Kasey over here. We chatted about Dean Winchester and Jensen Ackles’ early roles, the best and worst seasons of SPN, the joys and pains of writing Soldier Boy, and much, much more. For all the timestamps of key moments, fic recs, and SPN writer shoutouts, see this post (you'll find the link to the video there too).

6:18 – What is your ethnic, racial, and cultural background? (And how me and Sandra bond over “food and family” ties between Hispanics/Latinos and Italians.)

13:05 – The immigrant experience in America, what you take with you from the “Motherland,” the struggles of bicultural identity, my personal experience being a second-generation child of an immigrant family, and Sandra’s experience as a first-generation child of Italian immigrants.

16:58 – What do you look for when you’re reading fanfiction? (Canon-compliant, AU, romance, etc.) Does the length of a story matter?

19:52 – Bonus: The merits of drabble writing vs. long-fic writing.

25:54 – Have you ever actively searched for fanfiction that represented your ethnicity? (Whenever I do, it’s like finding gold.) Plus, the challenge of writing reader characters, the “gray area” of writing reader characters like OCs.

32:38 – The inherent “bias” of reading and writing reader characters as White. The concept of diversity being “cool” in popular media, TV shows, and movies is still pretty new.

36:36 – Why I started writing reader characters that might have a specific body type, race, and/or ethnicity.

Examples:

⟡ Midnight Espresso – Dean Winchester x Plus-size Latina!Reader

⟡ If I Stay – Dean Winchester x Plus-size!Reader

⟡ 10 ‘Til Midnight – Professor!Dean Winchester x Plus-size Grad Student!Reader

⟡ Unravel Me – Soldier Boy x Afro-Latina!Reader

⟡ The Honorable Choice & Outlander – Cowboy!Dean Winchester x OFC

40:14 – The fun challenges: like giving Dean a partner who takes care of him as much as he takes care of others in Midnight Espresso.

45:28 – The BIG challenges: like writing Soldier Boy being himself with a “person of color” (POC) in this new series, Unravel Me. What even is a POC? Where do you start with Soldier Boy, the Sandra-proclaimed “bowl of fishhooks?"

51:38 – Is there ever an element of fear when you publicly post a story that represents your culture, which is something very personal to you? What happens when you get haters in the comments?

1:05:33 – When and how did you begin to break out of the “ingrained biases” in your writing? (AKA: Always assuming my own characters are White.)

1:08:04 – When did you decide to explore writing plus-size!readers?

1:13:20 – What has your experience been in writing a race/culture outside of your personal experience? The Honorable Choice and Outlander, a western AU where Dean Winchester falls in love with a Native American Lakota Indian. (Shoutout to @jacklesversebingo!)

Plus, the ethical responsibility to “do no harm” when you represent different cultures, and answering question of not only can I write this, but should I write this?

1:32:42 – What advice would you give a writer interested in writing about a culture outside of their own that they don’t have first-hand knowledge of? How can a writer avoid cultural appropriation if their goal is cultural appreciation? How important is a sensitivity reader/beta reader for this effort?

1:40:35 – Final thoughts on diversity and representation of culture in fanfiction, whether it’s your own or someone else’s:

“Write what you know. Write what you can research. Write what you’re interested in. Remember that words have power, so be careful how you use them.”

1:45:30 – Sandra and Kasey’s outro: The importance of representation and diversity in fandom.

I hope you enjoy the ride!~ 💜

💗💗💗 Shoutouts to some of my beautiful friends and lovely readers who've supported my attempts to explore ethnic and cultural diversity in my writing:

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @waynes-multiverse @rizlowwritessortof @roseblue373

@tofics @deanwinchesterswitch @deanbrainrotwritings @deansbbyx @waywardlatina

@supernotnatural2005 @wayward-dreamer @spnwoman @waywardxwords @mostlymarvelgirl

@chevroletdean (shoutout to your 500 follower fic challenge at around 19:52 😘) @siampie @bettystonewell @wvffles

@iprobablyshipit91 @my-stories-vault @littlesoulshine @thatonewriter15 @jessjad

@deans-spinster-witch @winchestergirl2 @kazsrm67 @chernayawidow @jackles010378

@jollyhunter @leigh70 @foxyjwls007 @beakaleak32 @alwaystiredandconfused

[commsroom]

i wouldn't be surprised if you've posted about this before (and that's awesome) but i wanna know more about how you think eiffel sleeps. side sleeper? back sleeper? curl up? take up a lot of space? move around a lot? do you think he wakes up in funny positions? does he need light and noise to fall asleep or do light and noise prevent him from falling asleep? aaaaand anything else you can think of

oh, definitely moves around. he gets himself cozy and wrapped up under the covers, but he's generally sweaty and kind of a human space heater, so he ends up kicking everything off the bed in the middle of the night and then wakes up sprawled in the optimized position to give himself a cramped neck all day. sometimes this means he wakes up cold in the middle of the night and repeats the process. snoring loudly, of course. he canonically snores. has probably snored loudly enough to wake himself up before. drools at least sometimes. he's a restless sleeper and he never feels properly rested when he wakes up.

when he first moved out on his own, i think he liked the idea of being a guy who sleeps in a hammock, but he didn't think about the logistics of it at all and it made him miserable. he probably wanted a waterbed, but avoided whatever disaster would've happened if he'd actually managed to get one. he's a mattress on the floor with no bedframe type of guy. multiple pillows. sleeps in his underwear, at most, if he doesn't just pass out in his clothes.

he has a hard time falling asleep when he intends to sleep - he's overcaffeinated, his mind is always going, and he self-sabotages - but he can still somehow fall asleep just about anywhere, and once he's out he's completely dead to the world. he definitely doesn't like complete darkness/silence; if there's one thing eiffel is not good at it's being alone with his thoughts. he's probably used to falling asleep with the tv on; he's fallen asleep on the couch many many times. the background noise on the hephaestus takes some getting used to.

he definitely talks in his sleep; i think he's the kind of person you can have a full conversation with while he's responding from within his dreams. hera finds it really amusing to ask him questions while he's sleeping, and when he wakes up he'll tell her she was in his dream, and she'll just be like, "oh, really?" when he shares a bed, he's a full-body cuddler, but he still manages to steal the entire blanket and - again - throws it off the bed in the middle of the night.

[polite-pandemonium]

I am just somehow OBSESSED with Takeru DRIVING. Like is he a bad driver? He speeds past the gang waiting outside of Daisuke's restaurant (or the restaurant where Daisuke works, whatever), so maybe? Is that his mom's car? Or is it his car? Why does he NEED a car? What is he doing that requires him to drive? Is it going to be a plot point in the movie? Is Takeru being a BAD DRIVER going to be a plot point? I need to know.

Ken and Miyako are also visibly startled when Takeru speeds past (Miyako JUMPS!!!!), while Iori and Hikari don't even flinch. What does that say about DYNAMIC?! Are Iori and Hikari more used to Takeru's (presumably bad) driving? That would make sense, no, cause they are (canonically???) closer with him? Just such a small interaction and I can interpret so much and draw so many conclusions!!! How fun!!!

There's just something really so fun about watching characters you've loved your whole life continue to grow - to see new details about them spring up, new traits, new things to add to canon. It's the most delightful thing about the Digimon Adventure franchise to me. Sure, the stories they have told over the last decade have mostly been all various shades of mediocre, but the character moments - goodness, the character moments just don't hit the same in any other media for me. It's so special to me.

ETA: WAIT, looking at the screencap, Iori looks slightly concerned. Only Hikari looks calm (though she does turn her whole body to look at the car once it stops). Does this mean HIKARI is the only one comfortable with his driving? Cause Hikari is closest to him? (I don't even think their closeness is something that is debatable - I feel like it is PRETTY CANON that they are closest with each other???????????)

HERE'S HOW TAKARI CAN STILL WIN.

[polarfarina]

Made some easy meat tomato sauce for dinner and mmmmm even though the tomato part was pre-done it was still so so good and satisfying. Look

So filling. So delicious

[voidimp]

maybe now that i have adhd meds i can attempt Language again

[sevicia]

I wanted to make a cleaner summary of last week's classes and also review the classes I have this week since the material is already uploaded beforehand but I was feeling so horrible throughout the day that when I sat down I was just gonna look at the ones for tomorrow but I think I'm just gonna go to bed because I just gave my little numbers game a few tries and not even the joy of tribial elementary school-level math games is bringing my brain cells and/or full sentience back