#Bullet points for accessibility

[aeldata-usa]

Do Bullet Points Help with Accessibility?

Improve clarity with bullet points! Learn best practices for structuring content, enhancing readability & accessibility.

[musubiki]

recently thinking about oscars old quirk where he is a professional conspiracy theorist (picked up from his uncle) and as a result ended up keeping several notebooks worth of weird ideas and evidence he finds. complete with nice handwriting and illustrations/diagrams/etc.

when mochi sees his notebooks (and after he finds out correctly guesses that shes a witch), shes like "Wow, your notebooks are so nice and organized!!!!!" and asks him to become the guild scribe. general purpose of the job is to help mochi fulfill her witch duty of writing spellbooks, since his handwriting/diagrams are so much nicer than her bubbly and incoherent spell rambles

(she makes good spells, but mochi (who doesnt pay attention in school, and so sucks at writing) is awful at describing them and writing instructions. even when she looks back at her old things she cant decipher what she was talking about. its like reading a recipe with vague instructions that makes you want to cry.)

[dullahandyke]

ill b real i thought we all knew that emailing staff with support tickets was the best thing u could do for a change and that @ ing them would do nothing. and we just weren't talking abt it

[professor-rye]

I've been thinking about this a lot lately and wanted to add some stuff that I've learned since accessibility became my job.

All of the above is true, but only if you want to bring attention to the image in question. If a post is just about art, then being descriptive is perfect. But, if a post is more about other things and the image is just supplementary, it's better to be short and to the point with IDs.

This is mostly applicable in situations where images are more for background and filler, like on digital brochures and websites and stuff, but it can also apply to social media posts as well, depending on the context of the post.

If you would want/expect people to take a moment to actually look at the image, then please be descriptive. But if you'd want/expect them to glance at it and pass, then give it a description to match.

yknow i never noticed the sheer rareness of images having ids or alt text on this website until i started adding alt text to my art (and trying to remember to add it to any images i post in general, especially text screenshots) and that makes me kinda sad

[apatheticsunday]

Gotham TikTok

AKA "Danny moves to Gotham and records TikToks with absolutely deranged captions. He films Get Ready with Me in Gotham videos, fit checks, and even A Day in the Life of a Ghost in Gotham! Except everybody is freaking the fuck out in the comments" prompt idea!

No, you don't understand, I'm obsessed. Like, what if Danny's idea of "safe" is just... anything that doesn't actively try to kill him? So Metropolitians, Star City, and Central City citizens are literally biting their nails and sweating bullets every time he posts, because what if he gets merc'd by the "Eight Heads in a Duffel Bag" Red Hood?? And that's one of the nicer villains in Gotham. And Danny's just like wow, this place is niiiiiice, I haven't even been murdered yet!

Maybe Jazz took a 12-year-old Danny to Gotham to escape their parents. Gotham's cheap, dirty, and doesn't ask questions: it's the best place to go to disappear because damn near half the city's population are either super villains, hostages, dead, or vigilantes. She gets a job at an understaffed hospital as a clinical psych intern. She enrolls Danny for online schooling because she's scared a public high school would be too easy for their parents to track.

Which leaves Danny alone for hours. He makes a TikTok account called "Danny Phantom" because, c'mon, he's a kid. And, like most kids, he doesn't really comprehend the idea of a digital footprint or that his account is public, accessible by literally anybody.

He's also a little shit. So, the first TikTok he uploads is of a man getting carjacked, but the caption reads: love to see people helping each other. remember it's always okay to ask for help! it's okay, I don't know how to parallel park, either :)

And you just see this guy in a mask shove a businessman away from his car, gesturing with his gun, before getting into the driver's seat. Except the car is parallel parked so the carjacker just slowly inches back and forth between a Prius and a Honda until he can wedge himself out of the parking space. And then gets stuck in stand-still traffic. The TikTok goes viral. It's talked about on the Gotham news and Gothamites are losing their shit, pointing out the exact moment you can see the carjacker start to soundlessly cuss through the car's windshield or the way the businessman is just... standing on the side of the road, watching with a deadpan look.

Danny doesn't know about it being on the news, but he sees all the comments, likes, reposts, and feels something. He wonders if this is what Ember feels every time people listened to her music. So, he keeps posting. Usually, it's short three-second videos of a hilariously unexpected situation with an even more deranged caption. But then he's accidentally caught in the reflection of a store front while recording and doesn't know, posts it like he always does; only for this TikTok to go viral, too. Because "Danny Phantom" is a child??

He doesn't notice the shift in his comments, but the public opinion quickly changes from wow, Gothamites are just like that huh lol to what the FUCK, kid, get inside!!! anytime he posts.

Except Danny never gets hurt. Even in the most dangerous situations, when you'd think this kid is a goner for sure, he's just happily yapping in the background. He's so different from Gothamites because he lacks that dead-eyed, despair-inducing aura of someone who's lived in a hellmouth their whole lives. (A couple people post that Danny kind of reminds them of Golden Boy Brucie Wayne, all air-headed and unrealistically optimistic, and suddenly there's memes of "what happens when you've never gotten shot in Gotham" or "how i act when Commish Gordie accuses me of shoplifting again" with them side-by-side.)

And then Danny's posts go viral again and again. Danny doing a fit check with a blond-haired woman with a checkered outfit, she ruffles his hair and kisses him on the cheek. A picture of him wearing an old jean jacket with a bright red lipstick smear on his cheek is trending for weeks. Spoiler, fully suited up in an all-purple vigilante attire, and him shoving gas station hotdogs in their mouths. He even has videos of him clearly in Killer Croc's lair, with comments of are you in the sewers??? DANNY??? and he responds, no, i'm in mom & dad's basement :) (Waylon Jones is actually sitting behind him in one of the videos, intently watching a TV show on an iPad.)

Everybody adores Danny - Rogues, Gothamites, even the Bats. (There's at least six videos of Nightwing teaching Danny how to do backflips, handstands, and other acrobatic moves. Even the youngest Robin has been caught on camera quietly talking with Danny, a shocking lack of violence that left half the city's population suffering from cuteness aggression for the kids.)

So, yeah, Danny belongs to Gotham.

But the internet is widely accessible and Danny made it so, so easy to find him. Jazz obviously didn't know he was posting videos of himself publicly; she was too tired after back-to-back 12 hour shifts at the hospital that she hadn't even checked social media in months. Otherwise, she would've told him to be careful, to never show his face or post his real name on the internet. Then again, Jazz would never have expected all of Gotham (and Superman himself, totally endeared by the kid after Kon and Jon showed him a couple TikToks) would beat the absolute shit out of anybody going after Danny.

Imagine GIW's surprise when they track down Amity's former residential Ghost only to find an entire city frothing at the mouth to protect their Phantom.

[eliotquillon]

think it's important to note for posterity's sake that hester's sudden attitude shift in witherward compared to wayward isn't just because of the whole gedeon fiasco or because she just woke up one day and decided to start being a cunt to everyone (although she'd be well within her rights to do that), but because she is in constant, life-altering pain. assuming ollivan's explanation of how to stifle sorcerer magic also applies to changelings, then the reason why hester can't shift after the attack isn't just to add extra 'flavour' to her sudden lack of motion - it's because she's in so much pain that she can't concentrate long enough to shapeshift successfully. it's alluded to in her first scene when cassia says that hester won't be asleep even though it's so late at night, and explicitly confirmed in the safe room scene when she offers ilsa the vemanta. of course she's angry and bitter about it. of course she isn't the same woman she was eighteen months before.

[nebulations]

[ID: Fanart of an actor AU for Naruto.

In the first, Neji and Tenten sit on a tree, Neji looking serious while Tenten crouches and covers her face as she breaks into helpless laughter.

Neji: You bucolic nonentities think you're all that because your soni...

Tenten: Snort.... ahahahahah.

Director: Tenten we are going to take you off the scene.

Tenten: Nooo I'm sorryyyy

In the second, the two are giving an interview, no longer in costume. Neji looks helpless as he exclaims loudly, "Bucolic nonentities!! God! Who put that in the script!" Tenten, covering her mouth and tearing up with laughter, says, "We had to repeat the scene like 20 times because I couldn't stop laughing."

A story posted by Neji_thetensai which shows a large purple-white contact lens balanced on his fingertip, captioned "I want you to see the size of our contact lens. Is insane. @Hinata.blush".

A shot of Lee in the air, ready to kick an off-guard Gaara in the head with a "Wachaaa!!!" Next is them interviewing out-of-character. Lee says, "That fight was so difficult, because I had to hit the air and fake that there was a sand wall." Gaara exclaims, "Talk for you! I hardly moved in all the fight."

Last, Sakura (@/Sakubloom<3) posts a story, angrily looking at the camera and holding up a page of the script. It's captioned "@the.sharingan.dude Look at my fucking lines." The script has Sakura's lines highlighted, which exclusively say "Sasuke-kun" and nothing more. End ID]

Naruto actor AU, chunin exams version because yes

[nezuscribe]

you should be here.

you really shouldn’t be here.

but you were a good friend, maybe too good a friend one would argue, and one of your girls heard about this underground gig (boxing, fighting?) going on and roped you into going.

and knowing you, this was way out of your comfort range. she was shocked you agreed to it, but you were tired of being perceived as the sheltered on and decided to bite the bullet and tag along.

but now you realize that you should’ve just stayed home and rewatched some stupid show.

because this place was giving you all sorts of signals to just get out.

it was in what seemed like a dingy warehouse that could only be accessed through some sketchy alley. you truly have no idea how she found this place and your betting that it wasn’t some ad she told you she saw on someone’s story.

the vast room was barely lit, with only a few lights flickering as they struggled to stay on. you felt like you’d catch an undiscovered disease if you sat anywhere and opted to stand, but that was another issue.

despite how destitute this place seemed to be, it was packed.

there were so many people standing near the ring, everybody yelling praises or shouts of anger as somebody took a punch. you could hear skin hitting skin, could hear the breaking of tissues and bones even from where you were.

your friend dragged you by the arm, seeming as if there was no worry about this place, and it was too late to go back even though the alarms in your head were going off.

fuck, you start thinking, what is this place? what if you bump into someone weird? what if the cops come? what if the location gets leaked? what would happen to you two? what if….

your mind trails off as your friend wiggles her way through an empty spot, bringing the two of you closer to the ring.

you look at the fighters, mouth going dry at the sight.

one of the fighters, the one facing you, seemed bloodied to no return. his eye was black and weeks shut, nose dripping with blood. his face was salted with bruises, his body sagging as the other fighter, the one with his back to you, took another fighting stance.

“he’s who i wanted to see,” bri mutters excitedly, pointing her finger to the fighter with white hair, “i’ve heard he’s really good,”

you nod slowly, looking around in a skittish way. you knew you should’ve said no, but you really cleave no choice but to support her and her dangerous side quests.

he plants another fist to the injured one’s face, making him stumble back as the white haired fighter angles his body sideways, letting you two get a look at his side profile.

he seemed fine, a little bruising on the cheek but nowhere near the damage of the other guy. he must be as good as bri says you guess.

the people around you hoot and holler, pushing you further into on of the poles as you wince in discomfort, your face twisting in pain a little as some of the men behind you push forward with no concept of personal space.

you look over at bri but she’s just as engaged, shouting for the white haired guy to continue beating the other man up in ways that could only be described as primal and very, very illegal.

it’s only a few more minutes before the match is ended and the two fighters are pulled away from each other, the battered one looking like he was one punch away from becoming limp.

the yells around you grow louder and louder, the sound rattling around in your head. you wince, trying to smile for bri as she jumps up and down. you know this is only the beginning of the night and can’t afford to bring the energy down.

the white haired one turns around, raising his hands as he asks for the noise to grow louder, a smile on his face as his bandaged hands curl into fists, one pumped victoriously in the air.

but that’s not what takes you by surprise.

your eyes widen in shock when you see his face, mouth dropping almost comically when you realize this isn’t a random street fighter,

but the nerdy boy who sits next to you in your neuroanatomy class.

and judging by the way gojo looks around until he sees you, the proud smile on his face faltering for a second before his eyes cloud with utter confusion,

he wasn’t expecting to see you here either.

[littlelovelunette]

Hiiii! im not sure if youve made something like this but could you write like sevika x reader having rough possessive sex in front of someone? like a stalker-ex of reader or some guy thats been eyeing reader too much during one of sevikas gambling games. I really love your writing btw!! and sorry if it doesn’t make sense

Duality & Gunpowder

Dark!Sevika x Fem!Reader

Sex, dark!Sevika, exhibitionism, restraints, Sevika having duality, praise kink, murder, gun, stalking mentioned, threats

Sevika had you bent over the table, wrists tied together as she squeezed your ass, "We have a viewer today, darling," she said, her voice low and soft.

You were clothed, and so was Sevika, yet she had on the strap harness. You had no panties on underneath her skirt through, so Sevika could access you easily. You nodded, slowly looking up to see your ex tied to a chair, with his mouth duct taped shut. He struggled against the ropes but it was useless.

Sevika chuckled, shaking her head, "Eyes over here, pretty boy," she taunted, her gun pointed towards his head as her strap's head teased your wet cunt from under your skirt.

"Wasn't the best idea stalking your ex, now, was it?" Sevika laughed, a low rumbled from her chest before she pistoned her hips forwards and the toy disappeared in your pussy with a squelching sound that made you blush.

"O-oh, Sev..."

"It's okay, angel, shush, I've got you," Sevika whispered in your ear, her other hand gently rubbing your back, thumb tracing patterns on your clothed behind while her hips continued their motions.

Her pace wasn't too fast or too slow, deep and calculated was the phrase for it. Sevika's eyes were fixed on your struggling ex-boyfriend who mumbled something incomprehensible in the gag but none of the both of you cared enough to really listen. Sevika slammed the strap inside suddenly causing you to let out a small squeak of surprise and tighten around the silicone. Sevika was never rough with you, she adored you. You were her light, her angel, her little flower, her everything.

Every good thing she had in life had to be correlated to you. Or it simply wasn't good enough. The tough life in Zaun hardened Sevika enough to know she needed to cherish someone like you in her life because it wasn't easy to come by love so pure. She needed to protect you even if that meant putting a bullet through your ex's skull.

"You're so tense, my love," Sevika gave your lower back a firm rub, "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah, please, keep going," you said, eyes closing and head tilting back.

Small moans and gasps left your lips as your back arched feeling the big strap shoving all the way inside and then back out. The thrusts were deeper than before, your hands quickly scrambling to grab the edges of the table so you could anchor yourself properly, you were almost melting in her arms.

"Eyes here, boy," Sevika barked at your ex who was trying to look away, unable to bear the sight in front of him, "You either look this way or I make you look this way."

You let out a loud moan as if punctuating her words, and showcasing just how much Sevika was capable of doing. Sevika smirked, voice softening once she spoke to you like it always did.

"Yeah? Enjoying, my angel?"

Sevika took a deep breath before fastening her pace, causing the table to rattle on its legs. You doubted it could hold the both of you up for too long, so you tried to push back only resulting the toy to sink further inside you.

"Your cunt is so pretty," Sevika whispered in your ear as she continued thrusting, her gun hand still fixed at its form, pointing towards your ex.

"S-Sevika, I'm close," you whimpered and Sevika smirked, starting to thrust harder than before making your moans louder.

You whined and gripped onto the table for support, crying out as you felt her ram into you from behind. You were on the verge of tears due to the overwhelming pleasure but Sevika's thrusts knew no end. Your mouth was open, gasps issuing and moans escaping. With one final thrust, you came and Sevika held herself inside for a bit. The loud gunshot went off, your eyes widening in shock as you whipped your head around to take a look. Sevika's expression was as hardened as ever, gazing at your ex-boyfriend's now dead body in the chair. He was slumped in the chair, eyes wide and empty, drool running down the gag as if he'd been trying to silently plead for his life through the gag but of course, none of the both of you really cared to listen.

You looked at Sevika, feeling uneasy about the corpse in the room, "Sevika..." Your voice was a faint mewl.

Sevika nodded, "I know, baby, I know."

The strap pulled out of your pussy with a wet pop making you whine at the sudden emptiness of your hole. Sevika didn't waste any time and picked you up bridal style. She walked up the stairs of the basement, face still as unfeeling as ever when it came to the ruthless murder of your ex. But for you? Sevika was all soft and sweet for you. Her top priority now was to run you a bubble bath and tuck you in bed before she went to dispose of your ex.

[brokenbarnes]

Steady Mind

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Separate from Haunted Eyes, after being taken by Hydra, Bucky identifies you as his handler. You teach him that not all handlers inflict pain, bringing him back to the present.

Warnings: mentions of canon level violence

It had been one month, three days and twelve hours since they took Bucky.

A routine mission that turned out to be not so routine. An abandoned HYDRA base awakened like a sleeping giant, putting a bullet in your leg, dragging Bucky away after he had been knocked unconscious by two large goons. You screamed for him, they left you to bleed out in pool of your own blood.

You had to return to the compound without your partner in crime, sobbing until they put you under for surgery. The last thing you remember was Steve holding your arms down as they slid the needle in your arm, his eyes sad as you’ve ever seen them.

Despite the healing hole in your leg, you insisted on sitting in on every meeting about Bucky’s whereabouts, limping onto the Quinjet to accompany the team to scout out any possible locations.

You had barely slept in a month, lying awake in the bed you shared with the missing person. Every time you looked in the mirror, you could see the heartbreak and exhaustion clinging to you like a wet blanket. Shadows under your eyes that looked like bruises, shoulders slumped, your mind fuzzy; spinning a million different directions.

This time Steve didn’t protest as you limped onto the jet, it’s destination a newly discovered hidden HYDRA base. You slumped in the copilot seat, you were past getting your hopes up. At this point, it was just to check it off the list.

Steve steered the jet south, landing in the dense forest, somewhere in the Andes Mountains of South America. You saw on the computer screen, a hidden base carved into the steep mountain side.

The team left the Quinjet, armed with whatever they could think of. There was so much uncertainty, nobody knew what to expect.

You were left behind in the jet, sitting down in front of multiple monitors. Part of your agreement was staying behind was that you could be their eyes and ears on the ground. Your leg was not quite up to speed yet and you didn’t want to hold the team back. You got to work accessing any local cameras, finding those inside and outside the base.

The team worked silently, efficiently. You listened to them over the comms, there were no jokes, no laughing, only efficient communication. This was Bucky, it was different.

You monitored cameras as the team cleared the base, making sure there weren’t any surprises like last time. Surprises get people killed. This must have been an old base, because there were very few cameras inside. You had one of Tony’s robots take a scan of the building, at least you could monitor where the team was inside. An hour went by before Steve addressed you and the tone of his voice gave you chills.

“Y/N.”

“Go ahead, Steve,” you responded, legs going numb.

“We need you.”

You stood up abruptly, your nearly healed stitches screaming in protest. You grabbed your utility belt, clipping it around your waist with your weapons. With your heartbeat pounding in your ears, you hit the button that opened the ramp of the Quinjet.

It was a moderate hike to the base entrance, but you don’t remember much of it. Ignoring the pain in your leg, you stumbled over the rocky cliffs, damp soil catching on the back of your tactical pants as you ran.

Steve met you at the entrance of the base, his face pale and shaken. The intense sun doing little for his ashen complexion.

“Steve! Is he in there?” You gasped for air, slowing to a stop in front of him. “Is he alive?”

He dipped his head, nodding slowly. With his thumbs hooked in his belt loops and his shoulders hunched, he looked as small as he once had.

“What are we waiting for?” You went to push past him, into the entrance of the labyrinth like Theseus but without Ariadne’s string. “Let’s go get him out of there!”

“Y/N, wait,” his voice was hollow, grabbing you by the arm.

“What?”

He took a deep shuddering breath, looking you in the eye. “It’s not our Bucky.”

Realization settled in your chest, the only reason they would want him would be to activate him.

“I want to see him,” your voice was low.

“He’s dangerous.”

“He’s Bucky,” you insisted. “Take me to him.”

Steve became your string, leading you through the dark maze that was the HYDRA compound. The main hallway led you past a variety of rooms, some looked like a war room, some looked like an interrogation center, other’s a sterile doctor’s office.

His gait slowed in front of a heavily locked door, it’s appearance similar to a bank vault. Your stomach twisted.

“He’s in there?” You whispered, disgust lacing your tone.

Steve nodded, “it’s for everyone’s safety.”

“Let me in there,” you reached for the lock.

“Y/N, he could hurt you,” he grabbed your arm but you shook him off.

“I need to see that he’s alive!” Your voice turned raspy, ragged with the thought of being so close to him. “Please, Steve.

His resolve crumbled, he reached for the lock to the cell door. As the door opened, Steve moved in front of you, blocking your view into the cell. You weaved around him, attempting to catch a glimpse of your soldier.

When you did, your stomach dropped.

He stood in the far corner of the cement cell, his posture defensive, eyes empty. You breath caught in your throat, he had fading bruises around his eyes, blood dried down his chin and throat.

“Bucky,” you darted around the captain before he could stop you.

The Asset’s eyes flickered to you, then over to Steve quickly. As you approached, the muscles in his face tightened, as if he was anticipating a beating.

“Bucky,” you whispered, slowing your approach. “Are you hurt, Honey?”

He eyed you apprehensively, as if he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. You knew that this was not the man you last saw, defending you until the cattle prods had knocked him unconscious.

“Soldat?” You willed your voice to carry a different tone.

He nodded curtly, “handler.”

It felt as if all the air had been punched from your lungs, your boyfriend has just uttered the term that haunts his nightmares. The multiple people over the decades he was under the thumb of Hydra that have caused him inexcusable pain.

Now, he’s identified you as his handler. Eying Steve suspiciously, as if he wasn’t sure if he could trust him or not.

You tried against in English, Russian vocabulary lacking considerably. “Yes, I am your handler. And I am going to call you Bucky.”

He tilted his head at you, confused, but nodding eventually to agree with you. You were unsure about your role as his handler, making it up as you go.

“Bucky, are you hurt?” You tried again; your voice devoid of its usual warmth.

He shook his head, eyes focusing on the wall over your left shoulder. When you turned your head to follow his eye sight, you could see a drying brown stain, rolling down the wall and finishing in splatters on the floor.

You looked at Steve, who was trying hard to keep it together. “Cap, let’s get him outside. He could use some fresh air.”

Steve nodded, turning stiffly towards the door and leading you back into the maze. Bucky followed, a few paces behind. You let him follow the two of you, not wanting him to feel as if he was being chased.

He followed like an obedient servant, only a few paces behind you, foot steps completely silent. You had to turn your head over your shoulder to make sure he was still behind you.

Outside in the intense sunlight, Bucky was pale as a ghost. He was watching you with careful eyes, awaiting his next orders.

“Take a seat, Bucky,” you pointed to a downed Polylepis tree. The curled, twisted trunk, half rotted from age and weather.

Apprehension crossed Bucky’s face, but he sat. To you that was evidence your Bucky was still under there, the Winter Soldier had little emotion on his face.

“Do you know who I am?” You asked, squatting down in front of him.

His hands shook, clasped together in his lap. “You are my handler.”

Another stab to the heart, you wiped your face of any devastating emotion and nodded. “Status report for your handler. Are you injured?”

The gears were turning in his mind, his beautiful blue eyes flickered from side to side. He couldn’t come up with an answer.

“That’s alright,” you said gently. “We’ll get you checked out by medical when we get home.”

“Home?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, resisting the urge to reach out and sooth your hand over his arm. “I want you to understand something.”

He nodded obediently.

“When you are with me, nobody will hurt you,” you spoke softly, gesturing back to Steve. “You have to trust me.”

He hesitated, but nodded. “Yes, Handler.”

“Call me, Y/N.”

“Y/N.”

Bucky seemed better under the sunlight, instead of the harsh, florescent lights of the cell he abandoned in. Despite the blood and the bruises, he had some color back in his cheeks but the same hollow look in his eyes.

Back on the Quinjet, he flinched as the others moved around, getting ready to return home. Usually, after a successful mission there was never a silent moment in the jet. It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

You told Bucky to sit on the bench seat as you fetched a first aid kit. He’s eyes flitted around to everyone nervous without you there, assessing them and diagnosing who would be the biggest threat.

The jet lifted off the rocky alpine surface as you returned to Bucky. You clocked the anxiety crawling into his eyes and called his name gently.

“Remember what I said? You’re safe with me, nobody will hurt you.”

He nodded, although you knew this Bucky would find that extremely hard to believe. He flinched as Steve dropped into a seat beside him, running a hand over his tired face.

You flipped open the latch of the first aid kit, trying to steady your mind. “Alright soldier, tell me what you need.”

“The asset is not hurt,” he spoke, almost robotically.

“Hm,” you hummed, tearing open an alcohol pad and turning toward him. “Let me clean you up, then.”

As you reached toward him, you watched him fight a knee-jerk reaction. Every muscle in his body stiffened, expecting a blow. You moved slowly, trying to give his body enough time to catch up with his mind.

Your hand smoothed along his cheek, getting him to turn his head toward you. The alcohol pad probably stung as you wiped around his mouth, down his chin, but Bucky showed no reaction. His piercing blue eyes focused intently on your face as you worked.

Wiping away the blood revealed no open wounds, what was there had probably long healed over with the serum pumping through his veins. Your hand cupped his cheek, the other wiped down his neck and swooping around his hairline.

As the rest of the team started to drop off, laying down across the benches for a much needed nap, curling up in the copilots chair with the jet on autopilot; silence had settled over everything like a coat of dust. Steve tipped his head back and shut his eyes, although you weren’t sure if he was asleep or not.

You took your time, taking his hand into yours and wiping away any evidence of the cruelty he faced. You noted his knuckles were covered in fading bruises, defensive wounds. It made you smile a little bit to know he didn’t go quietly.

Bucky was confused, he had told you many times that he was not injured, he did not need care. And this was definitely not the handlers job.

“Why?” He asked quietly, just heard over Sam’s snoring across the aisle.

“Why, what?” You replied, without looking up from where you were attempting to get grime off his knuckles.

“Why are you doing this?” His voice was fragile, almost scared to use it in fear of what might come next.

You looked up into his eyes, stilling your restless hands. Bucky had a hard time reading the emotion on your face, sadness, guilt, and something else that wasn’t familiar to him. Something warm, something kind.

“I don’t want you sitting in your own blood,” you spoke carefully. “It’ll make it easier for the medics to check you over.”

“I don’t… I don’t want…” his words died off, almost regretting starting to speak.

Your Bucky was also hesitant with doctors, his checkered past involved plenty of awful experiences with medical staff. 70 years of poking and prodding, little anesthesia and dubious consent.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” your thumb was sweeping gently over the inside of his wrist. “But I want to make sure you’re alright, even if you feel fine. You’ve been gone from us for a long time.”

He tilted his head in confusion, “how long have I been gone?”

“About a month,” you could feel how tired you were with that statement. It had been too long and now he was finally here, maybe not all in one piece but he was safe.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wincing in a way that made you sit up straighter. “You… You were hurt.”

“Yes, Bucky.”

“And I… And I…” he shook his head, his hand clenched in yours. “My head-“

“Don’t worry about it, Honey,” you could see the headache forming behind his eyes as he struggled to recall memories. “Why don’t you try and sleep?”

The stubborn man still somewhere inside him shook his head. But he let you tip your head down onto his shoulder and close your eyes for the duration of the flight.

When the Quinjet touched down at the compound, Bucky followed you off the jet and into the building. He refused to go to the infirmary, but agreed to follow you up to the residential floor to shower.

The bedroom you shared with Bucky was a safe haven, soft lighting, comfortable bed, books covering both nightstands; dogeared and annotated by the both of you. So many nights spend together in comfortable silence, sometimes reading aloud a line for the other to hear.

“Recognize this place?” You asked, setting down your duffel bag down beside the dresser. Unclipping your utility belt, setting it on top of the dresser where you usually left it.

You watched as Bucky turned in a slow circle, taking in each and every detail he laid his eyes on.

“Maybe,” his lips moved.

He seemed overwhelmed, frustrated with the unfamiliarity of the bedroom, probably the aches and pains that covered his body. You helped him make a decision.

“Bucky, why don’t you take a shower,” you suggested, heading toward the closet for a clean set of clothes. “I’ll get you something comfortable to wear.”

Not wanting to be away from him, you grabbed a bundle of clothes, tucked it under your arm with a clean towel and returned to lead him to the bathroom.

After setting the clothes and towels on the counter, you reached inside the shower and turned it to a comfortable temperature. Bucky watched you carefully, swaying slightly on his feet. You wondered when was the last time he slept.

“Come feel, does this temperature work for you?” You asked over the noise of the shower, gesturing him closer.

Bucky shuffled forward, sticking his flesh hand under the spray and nodding to approve the temperature.

“I’ll be just outside-“

“No!” Burst from his mouth before he could stop it. “Could you please… Could you please stay?”

“Of course,” your eyes stung with unshed tears. “I’ll stay.”

You turned around while he undressed to give him some much needed privacy. He undressed efficiently, leaving his clothes in a neat pile on the bathmat. The glass door opened and shut before you turned around.

Sitting cross legged on the counter, you thought about how many times you had done this for your Bucky. Showering together was intimate enough, but sharing the space, just knowing you were on the other side of the door was enough.

You let yourself relax for a moment as he showered, exhaustion settling into your aching bones and the healing pain returned to your leg. All you wanted was to shower off the nervous sweat you accumulated from the last 24 hours, pull on your favorite pajamas and curl up next to your Bucky in bed.

Bucky opened the glass door, you handed him a towel and he dried off quickly. He seemed to be relaxing a little now, in his own clothes and no longer smelling like he hadn’t showered in a week.

“This is what you do usually after you shower,” you reached for his hair brush, pressing it into his hands. You laid out his tooth brush, beard trimmer, deodorant and anything else you could think of.

It was probably muscle memory at this point, he brushed the tangles from his hair, brushed his teeth with his left hand and trimmed his unruly scruff short. Using his left hand told you there were still remnants of the Winter Soldier lingering around in his consciousness.

While he cleaned up, you took a quick shower and scrubbed the day’s worries from your body. Per your request, Bucky brought you a fresh towel and a pair of pajamas. His cheeks were pink as you got dressed, rubbing a towel through your hair.

“Your leg,” he murmured, eyes straying to the pink, raised scar on your leg.

“Mhm,” you nodded, hanging both towels up to dry. “I’m okay.”

Guilt crossed his features, you reached out and held out your hand, palm up. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Bucky fit his warm hand into yours, letting you lead him back out into the main room. He watched as you flipped open the covers, turning on the lamp beside the bed.

His mind felt fuzzy, watching you pad around the room, hair wet and in soft clothes. A headache like a lightning strike burst behind his eyes, making him press his hands to the bridge of his nose.

“My… my head.”

“I know, Sweetheart,” your voice was soft. Sweetheart, was that him? “Come to bed.”

He laid his aching body on the soft mattress, letting his handler – no, his love, cover him up with heavy blankets. His head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, but somehow it didn’t matter because he was laying next to you.

He closed his heavy eyes, feeling his body relax for the time in a month. Next to you, sleep came easy.

The next morning, Bucky blinked slowly as the bedroom came into focus. The bedsheets were tangled around your legs, twisted up after a good night’s sleep. A heavy weight on his chest kept him anchored to the present, not reliving the past month, you were asleep on his chest.

He reached out and stroked your hair, enjoying the feeling of the silky tendrils running through his fingers. You stirred your sleep, pressing your face into his soft sleep shirt. You rubbed the fabric against your nose as you woke up, blinking up at him in the soft light.

“Heya Doll,” he murmured.

Your lips curled up in a smile, sliding your hand up the center of his chest. “Bucky,” you breathed.

He pressed his lips together in a way you knew meant he was struggling. “I’m sorry you had to see me as him.”

You sat up, turning around to face him. There were still shadows under your eyes in a way that made his stomach sick. He slid his heel up the mattress, letting you lean against his knee under the covers.

“What do you remember?” You asked.

“I remember thinking you were my handler,” he mumbled.

You nodded, reaching out for his hand. He enjoyed the way your hand felt in his, nothing had ever felt more right.

“Thank you for taking care of him,” he murmured. He had been working on this habit of separating himself from the Winter Soldier, it helped to refer to him like he was completing separate from his body.

“Of course, Honey,” you nodded.

“Nobody has ever taken care of him before,” he whispered, eyes turning wistful. “You are the nicest handler I’ve ever had.”

You tried to smile, lifting the corner of your mouth up but it fell short. He tugged you forward, until you were laying on top of him. He loved the feeling of your weight holding him down, keeping him in the present.

“I’ll always be here for you,” you whispered, pressing your face into his neck. He shivered at the feeling of your breath on his skin. “No matter who you are, no matter what happens.”

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, feeling tears sting in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

If he had to choose anyone to be his handler, he would pick you in a heartbeat. Aside from Steve, you were the only one to never doubt him, to show him unconditional love in a way he hadn’t felt since the 40’s.

“No matter what,” he whispered quietly, letting his eyes close once more.

[sukiyurii]

waxplay w/ ambessa (drabble)

wrote this in bullet points bc i've been hella unmotivated recently, pls don't hate me. also not proofread. good luck.

(waxplay, r!receiving, fem!reader, afab!reader, praise, degradation, very little dacryphylia, bondage, spreader bar, ambessa refers to reader as "pet" and "little thing.") as always, men and minors dni!

oh you are absolutely in for it, good luck.

she has you sprawled out so you're up towards the head of the bed, but your head is facing the side of it as she's standing against you at the edge. (ur like... laying the wrong way) (this is just so she has access to the table)

she'd bind your pretty wrists behind your back with a thick, red, silky ribbon.

she'd keep your panties stuffed into your mouth, (will take them from you after and keep them.)

your calves are tied to your thighs which are held open by a spreader-bar or something equivalent.

point being— you're entirely immobile and completely at her mercy. which is the only way you ever should be.

sadistic? she sure is, but she isn't cruel to you. she doesn't mind spending the extravagant price on the finest and softest candles for you; she'd never want to genuinely hurt you.

she'll spend some time massaging the tension from your body, using a softly scented body oil to do so.

"you need to loosen up, pet. if you stay tense, you're going to make it hurt even more." she says, gripping a little extra hard on your thigh. "but maybe you'd like that, hm?" she teases.

she grins wolfishly as you moan pathetically, writhing against the bed. she slides a large hand up the back of your thigh, chuckling as she feels the muscle twitch under her hand. she presses it against your chest roughly, forcing the fronts of your thighs to hit your chest

you whine through the makeshift gag as she detaches her hands and reaches over you. she grabs the candle and lighter from the end-table and settles back on her feet.

she lights the candle and lets it burn briefly, trailing a calloused hand down your body as she waits. she gropes your tits and pinches your nipples between her thumb and forefinger as you pant out.

"are you ready, pet?" she asks, but only to listen as you mumble through the soaked fabric between your lips. she finds your desperation cute-- endearing, even.

after you nod eagerly and respond with a "yes, please," that's greatly muffled, she places a rough hand on the inside of your thigh.

she tilts the candle slowly, watching you with low eyes as she pours the liquid onto your abdomen first. "does that feel good, doll?" she asks, obviously knowing the answer as you whimper and twitch beneath the hot liquid.

and her patience for this is excruciatingly good. she could watch you whimper, cry, and tremble for hours if she had the time.

your cries are the prettiest thing she has ever heard, and she makes it known as she forces you to repeat yourself. she tugs your legs up by the bar, granting herself access your chest.

"aw, yeah? it feels good? how good?" she taunts, splattering the wax over one of your nipples. she grins darkly as she listens to you sputter and gasp around the gag.

"that's it, my pretty little thing, tell me how you feel," she encourages, pouring the wax over your other tit.

she continues to pour the hot wax over your body, even moving up to your throat-- relishing in how you moan as it meets your oversensitive skin.

"you want more?" she teases, dragging her fingers down your body, her middle finger over your clit gently. once she gets an affirmative nod, she covers her finger in your slick before slowly pushing it inside of you, making sure you don't get too overwhelmed.

"relax, my sweet," she says gently, her low voice washes over you. "there you go, just take it like the good girl that i know you are," she says, slowly pumping her finger in and out of you.

it's not long before she slides her ring finger in, dripping the wax down your chest as she does so. "you look so pretty for me, such a desperate little thing, aren't you?" she adds on, watching you whimper and twitch.

"aww, are you gonna cry?" she mocks, but there's no actual heat behind it. she simply gets enjoyment out of watching you writhe in pleasure.

the teasing does bring you over the edge, finally releasing the tears that had been building behind your eyes from the onslaught of pain and pleasure. she continues the slow pace, one that is fast enough to bring you the pleasure you need, but nowhere near what you need to actually cum.

she continues to work her fingers inside of you, curling them perfectly against your gummy walls. "are you getting close, my love?" she asks, smirking as you whimper a loud, "yes, please, please,"

she blows the candle out and sets it back down on the end table. she pulls the panties from your mouth and stuffs them into her back pocket.

she reaches for the latch on the bar and pries it off of both of your ankles, continuing to move her fingers inside you all the same.

"look at how good you look," she says, bracing one of her knees on the bed as she reaches forward and tangles her hand in your hair. she grips the strands tightly before yanking you forward, forcing you to look down at the red splotches covering your body.

"haa— fuck," you whimper and squeeze your eyes shut. more tears leaking down your cheeks at the harsh grip in your hair.

"i said look, you brat," she demands, giving your hair a tug.

your eyes shoot open and obey her, watching as her thick fingers move in and out of you-- creating utterly obscene and disgusting sounds. your slick is dripping into the palm of her hands and onto the silken sheets. you look utterly debauched, wrecked, and entirely out of your mind.

"do you wanna cum?" she asks again, holding you up by your hair. it's uncomfortable, but she holds you up regardless.

"please, please, i need to cum so bad," you whine, writhing in the bed and rolling your hips down.

"i'm sorry, what'd you say?" she asks, grinning as you release another whimper. "please, i've been so good, please lemme cum," you slur, wet tears coating your face.

she picks up her pace, the palm of her scarred hand rubbing up against your clit as she moves her hand. "c'mon, pet, let me watch you," she murmurs, pulling your head back so that she can look down at you.

"i wanna watch while you fall apart like the desperate whore you are," she says, holding your eyes with hers as she pulls you over the edge.

you release over her palm, whimpering and moaning loudly. "oh—mmm, thank you, thank you," you gasp out, clenching down around her fingers.

she slows down her movements, choosing a more languid pace as she helps you ride out the high.

she pulls her fingers from between your thighs and sucks them into her mouth, moaning as your taste hits her tongue. "there she is," she murmurs, leaning forward to press her lips to yours.

you moan at the taste of yourself, starting to squirm in your binds.

"come here, sweet pet," she coos, wrapping a hand your back as she helps you sit up. she works the ribbon off of your wrists first, stroking her thumb over them soothingly.

as you bring your hands up to run over her biceps and shoulders, she works diligently on getting your legs untied, as well. she helps you stretch them out, gently stroking her hands over them.

"you took me so well," she compliments, pressing her lips to yours gently once again. "what do you need?" she asks, slowly beginning to peel away the now dried wax.

"just hold me?" you request, which earns you an immediate nod from her. "let me clean you off first, my dear. you're going to get uncomfortable and grumpy if the wax stays on you for much longer," she chuckles.

and so you let her scrape the wax off, using a dull blade.

she'll scoop you up into her arms and settle back down on the bed with you, supporting your shaky hands as she makes you drink water.

once you're both comfortably lying down, she'll pull you on top of her, keeping a hand on the back of one of your thighs, and the other cradling the back of your head.

tag list:

@lexi2000 @supalcina-3 @pearldaisy

[callahanisms]

all you need is more radaway

save a horse. ride a cowboy. ;)

anyways i really loved the tv show and i love the game. and ghouls are just chef's kiss. or maybe that's because i love monsters. sad that i finished it so quickly. :(

perhaps i can put what i learned in my western class to good use lol

character: cooper howard aka. the ghoul

it's never easy surviving the wasteland. you don't know how you managed to survive for this long. perhaps because you seemed to have been blessed with incredible luck.

and building up endurance, of course.

you felt little to no side effects from the radiation of the food you were eating. which just meant you had a lot of radaway and rad-x stocked up.

to make ends meet, though, you had to start hunting. scavenging and scrapping by wasn't enough. you needed the extra caps.

thus your rivalry with another bounty hunter was born.

"well, well. aren't you far from home, sweetheart?"

you were used to comments about your outfit. a vault suit. yes, you came from one. you had been exiled after your father was revealed to be managing the experiment behind it. the child pays for the sins of the father always.

"you're not the first and you won't be the last." you pull the head off the body as clean as possible.

"now i don't know if you should do that."

"and why not?"

a bullet flies past you and burrows itself into the ground. you finally look up. a cowboy hat. the face of a ghoul. his gun pointing right at you.

but you weren't afraid.

"because he's my target." he pulls out a piece of paper. "and he's mine."

"seems unfair if i did all the work. and you just collect his head and the prize." you pull out the same piece of paper. yours is a little more worn out though. and covered in dried blood.

"that's the way of the wasteland sweetheart."

"if you believe so."

your hands were fast. two bullets lodged into his right left and when he looks up, you're gone.

of course, you learned from the best: western holotapes. you really liked them when you were growing up. claimed to want to be a lone hero.

in some ways, you were. the wasteland was just a new version of the wild west, wasn't it?

"spaghetti? like...the pasta?"

more like spaghetti western. he knew that, of course. but no one in the wasteland knew what a spaghetti western was. they were remnants of a past long gone and one only accessible by holotapes in the vaults.

"that's their name." the person says. "why? you have business with them?"

"perhaps." the ghoul was looking to return a favor.

"don't even try. they're far more formidable than you think."

"we'll see about that."

your rivalry was an exchange of bullets, more often than not. thankfully, you always stocked up on bloodbags and could make a stimpack from your heavy (but useful) travel chemistry kit. you were smart like that.

surprisingly, it became something to look forward. mostly because the ghoul preferred if he tried killing you, so he managed to get you out of a tough situation by killing the other people trying to kill you.

and you returned the favor. there was something satisfying about lodging a bullet into him again.

unfortunately, this left you two stuck on a job once. captured by raiders. you had been knocked out with a drug. and he had collapsed from...something.

"fuck." you mutter, pulling at the ropes binding you. your luck had run out for the day it seems, because your arms were tied to the ghoul's around this godforsaken pole. the metal was also uncomfortably rubbing up against your skin.

"you got a knife or anything sharp?" he looks over at you. it's rare to see him without his cowboy hat. his head was rather smooth.

you chuckle a little.

"something funny?" the ghoul asks.

"nothing. you're just...shaped like an egg."

"very funny."

"let me guess. your answer is no?"

"i don't have a knife up my sleeve, sadly. think they took it."

"shame." the ghoul shimmies something out of his own sleeve. he flicks the blade out and begins sawing at the rope. "watch your fingers."

you keep your fingers tucked in. eventually, the rope on your wrists comes undone and one arm soon after. the rest comes off and you rub your skin. "fuck these guys. always hated raiders."

"well, we both got sold out. we need to find that thing now. or else we'll be dead by sunrise." he tugs on the door of the jail cell and clicks his tongue.

"i don't have sharp objects. but i do have these." you pull out the bobby pin taped on the inside of your sleeve, alongside a mini screwdriver.

the lock wasn't very complicated, so you picked it with ease.

as you both are grabbing your equipment, you hear footsteps up above. light ones and heavier ones. and the sound of a muffled, altered, robotic voice.

the brotherhood of steel was worse than raiders, honestly.

"you go left, i go right. how does that sound?"

"i don't usually like taking orders from my rivals." he reloads his gun. "but for you? sure."

the event left the both of you soaked in the blood of your enemies. on the other hand, you guys left with plenty of loot and an idea of where your target was: dead. at the bottom of a lake.

it was a journey to get there, wherein you learned the details of each other's lives. you didn't think he was paying much attention to your sentences. after all, you came from a vault.

and yet, you saw a hint of sympathy in his eyes.

he seemed less keen on sharing details about his life, aside from his former name. cooper howard.

undeniably, as a fan of westerns, you recognized his names. from the holotapes.

"they had those?" cooper shakes his head, taking sips of water. "no way."

"yes way! it's where i learned to shoot."

"from watching my movies?"

"yes!"

"that is...a pleasant surprise." cooper leans back.

"that also makes you over 200 years old."

"that it does. something wrong with that?"

"no. the wasteland changes people." you maintain your attention to your suit, sewing a tear up. "just...you're looking for something, aren't you? everyone's always looking for something up here."

"are you looking for something?" his voice hardens and he sits up straight.

"i was. and then i found it. and i stopped." you tie the thread to seal the stitch and then tear the thread with your teeth. "i hope you find what you're looking for though."

"well, that's awfully kind of you, sweetheart."

"i have a name, you know."

"what is it?"

"(y/n)."

getting personal in the wasteland was something cooper wasn't adamant about. but the circumstances seems to call for it.

"guess we're even now."

the body of water was daunting. it was murky and dark. you pursed your lips and dumped your bag. "well. guess we have no choice."

cooper looks over at you then quickly turns around when he sees what you're doing: taking off your suit and going down to your underwear. "what are you doing?"

"i'm going to go get that head. that's how we get paid, right? easy three thousand caps. 15 hundred split evenly." you stretch.

"i think you might die."

"i'll be fine. i've done it before." Aquaperson perk.

"i can also swim, you know."

"i'll be fine cooper." you pop a rad-x pill just in case. "be back in a bit."

you dive like a swan, making minimal splash into the water. your form disappears beneath the darkness.

you're gone beneath the water for over an hour. cooper's heart was beating against his rib cage. you should be out by now. it should not be that hard. did something get you? things lurked beneath the murky waters always.

"fuck!"

he drops his equipment and begins stripping down, until he is just in his pants. he would need to dive after you. if you were dead, then so be it. it was fun while it lasted.

suddenly, you emerge. you take in the oxygen of the surface and hold the head up high. "got 'em." you swim over to the shore and walk out of the water.

there was something about how...wet you were that got him feeling hot and bothered.

"something happen down there?"

"couple of mirelurks. no big deal. which reminds me." you set the head on the ground and go back into the water. within minutes, you're pulling out the bodies of the mirelurks you had killed. "dinner."

while cutting the mirelurks open, you observe the way he walks around you. his muscles bulging a little as he cuts a mirelurk open and takes the meat. he was kind of...attractive?

"were you going to come after me?" he stops cutting hearing your question. "in the water, i mean."

"so what if i did?" cooper averts his eyes.

"that's sweet of you. i didn't know you had a soft spot for me."

"i don't."

"sure." you can tell he was lying through his teeth.

dinner was a nice, cozy meal. it was delicious. a nice surprise considering the nature of the wasteland.

cooper notices the way you're looking at him. and he looks at you the same way.

though how does this work exactly?

"do you want to..." you try to find a decent way to say this. fuck is a good term. but it felt a little vulgar in the moment.

cooper already knows what you're asking. "absolutely. if you can handle it." he smirks.

it's so cute when he smirks.

you glance over at your bag, looking at your stash of radaway. you had plenty. plus your stash of rad-x too.

"i absolutely can."

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

I Put A Spell On You.

(Part Two)

Smoke and Rosetta got some makin’ up to do

It was a reflex for him to reach for his revolver. The sound of a withering floorboard caused Smokes to jump up from his sleep and grab it from the side table swiftly.

Click.

He was ready to aim and shoot down. Smokes’ unwavering gaze in that dimly-lit room cased out every dark corner and his ears listened for any signs of an intruder. He had good form and a lethal mental. He’d heard the sound again and instantly he aimed for the floor, finger on the trigger ready to pull.

A low meow followed by a pretty tabby-cat relaxed his tense muscles. Smokes lowered his weapon with ease before silently putting the revolver back on the night stand. His brandy-colored eyes tracked the movements of the cat between his legs, trying to get a feel of who this stranger was. Eventually, the sound of music on the jukebox and Rosetta’s soft snoring helped to steady his breathing and lower his pulse. Smokes reached to flick off the lamp light and carefully settled back into the rickety mattress. He took one look at Rosetta’s sleeping face before staring up at the ceiling.

Imagine rainfall, accompanied by the sound of a warm guitar slowly picking away at the layer of your sorrows, haunting, yet beautiful. A sense of serenity entered his mind, extinguishing the flames that burn his soul. For a moment, Smokes could feel, and think nothing. So brief, yet so long, he felt at ease. The melody carrying him across distant shores, feeling weightless in its entranced groove. He flew with the progression of the song, eyes closed, allowing his emotions to guide his path. Up and down his chest rose. Beyond the murky sky, the white glow of the moon shown through the window.

A dainty hand touched his chest. Smokes reached up to grasp it, rubbing it with his thumb. His bare dick against his thigh began to grow. Smokes brought her hand to his plump lips and kissed her there gently. The bed creaked beneath them. Smokes glanced down within the darkness, his eyes connecting with the sleepy, doe eyes of his Rosey. Her naked silhouette entranced him. The dip of her hip and the way her breasts hung from her chest aroused him to no end.

It was the way her long, deep wavy hair fell over the pillow. The pearls around her neck made her look ritzy and those red-tinged kissers made him salivate to taste her again. She was breathtaking. And Smokes didn’t lie when he meant she’s the most beautiful in N’awlins. Rosetta sat up and Smokes looked up into her heavenly face. Her fingertips danced across the ridges of muscle on his torso, her eyes never leaving his.

“Can’t sleep, daddy?” She says, voice soft and warm.

“That cat of yours woke me up out my sleep, gal…”

“Not you afraid of cats now…”

Rosetta giggled. Smokes chuckled slightly.

“I ain’t afraid of no fuckin’ cat…I’m just…been out there in some shit, baby. This the first time I had decent sleep.”

Rosetta looked towards Smokes’ revolver. Smoke followed her eyesight.

“I want one. My own gun.” Rosetta said.

“Oh?” Smokes sat up, “is that so?”

“Mhm. You can show me how to point that thang since you back home. Remember, you said you would…”

“I did.”

Rosetta sat up and Smokes situated her between his legs with her back against his chest. Grabbing the revolver, Smokes pointed it in a safe direction. A safe direction means that the gun is pointed in such a way that an accidental fire would not cause any harm. Rosetta watched with great interest. Smokes accessed the cylinder, emptying the bullets before clicking it back in place.

“Aight, Rosey…wrap your dominant hand ‘round the handle…use this hand for support.”

Arms outstretched, Smokes helped Rosetta point the revolver straight ahead at a wall covered with peeling paper.

“Straighten ya elbows, doll…no need to cock it, but steady ya breath…finger on the trigger…”

“It feels…heavy.”

“Hm. Imagine it with bullets.”

Smokes grazed Rosetta’s neck with his fluffy lips. The lingering smell of amber and sweat against his broad nose.

“That’s how you do it. I’ll take ya’ out to shoot soon…”

The urge to stuff his fat dick in her again created a tickling sensation just beneath his navel. Smokes felt at ease being with his woman again. He’d never leave her side again. Even if Stacks got in the way.

Smokes gave Rosey a wet sloppy kiss to her neck. She tilted her head and his thick tongue grazed over the rapid pulse in her neck and directly over that spot that got her wet every time. His thicker fingers were groping her breasts. Rosey released a breathy moan before looking back at Smokes, one hand on the back of his neck, forcing his lips against hers.

Their tongues moved in tandem, the squeaky springs of her not so sturdy bed surrounding them. Rosetta spun around and straddled his lap. Smokes kicked the sheets away from him, adjusting his large body to accommodate Rosetta. The wobbly, metal headboard banged against the wall when she flopped down into his lap.

One hand around her neck, Smokes tugged lightly, bringing Rosetta’s lips to his again. His other hand reached between her meaty thighs to feel the heat and dampness of her folds. Smokes growled against her lips. His dick was cast iron hard and read to fit inside her tight snatch again.

“Tilt ‘dem hips…atta, girl,” Smokes tapped her pussy with his big dick, “Time to fuck on this dick again, baby…”

“Yes, Papa…”

Rosetta wiggled her hips down onto Smokes thick pipe and her mouth dropped open in surprise. Smokes popped her on the ass hard, his way of telling her to get all the way down. Fully stuffed, Rosetta grabbed onto Smokes shoulders and with a whirl of her hips and a bounce she rode him on that rickety bed like it was her last time.

The fullness stretching her out made her shout Papa, Papa, Papa over and over. Smokes was too damn big for that bed but he made it work. He dug his heels into the lumpy mattress and with both hands he kept her cheeks spread while pumping up into her as she dropped down. Wet, skin slapping noises mixed with the way the bed jumped and creaked beneath them.

The steel of the revolver pressed against Rosetta’s knee each time she bounced. It was rough like she needed it. Deep dicking in her bedroom beneath the moonlight. Smokes slammed up in her so good Rosetta spread her thighs more to feel it stretch her. She craved the soreness, the way it tugged on her clit, the slight sting of his heavy balls slapping her ass.

Pop pop pop

Smack smack smack

Clap clap clap

“Damn, Rosey, gettin’ real whacky on that dick, fuck.”

Smokes grabbed her hips and helped her bounce on his length like a good little fuck doll. Her wavy hair shielded her eyes and those pretty titties swayed in his face.

“You hittin’ my spot, Big Daddy…you hittin’ it so good…make your pussy cum…make your bitch pussy cum…”

“Rosey–”

“Dig deeper, Papa–”

“Grip this dick and wet it up with that sweet nectar!”

Rosetta choked his dick with her walls and her cum trickled down his dick and over his balls. Hand in her hair, Smokes slammed his lips against hers while thrusting deeper.

He needed her more.

Smokes put Rosetta on her back and her legs in the air. He dived back in that pussy with his toes planted against the mattress. Rosetta clawed his back up and they both watched it go in and out. Smokes savored her nipples with his lips and tongue, ignoring the hollow dents in the wall from the headboard.

He grabbed a foot and stuck her red–painted toes in his mouth. Rosetta was super soaker wet on that dick, creating a large stain beneath her ass.

“I just wanna eat you up and fuck you…”

Smokes stared down at that hairy pussy with her leg thrown over his shoulder. He released a breath that came out like the hiss of a locomotive. That shit looked beautiful. If he could paint a picture of the way his dick all big and long spread her open he would. The sweat and humidity in that room made it hard to breath. All he wanted to do was be in his woman. They’ll crack a window eventually.

Well, I’ve got a meat grinder, it belongs to me

It's got good movements, I use it constantly

I’ve got a meat grinder, it belongs to me

It's got good movements, I use it constantly

You don't like good grindin', you ain't gotta bit of sense

It's been going on ever since the world commenced

If you don't like good grindin', ain't gotta bit of sense

‘Cause it's been going on, ever since the world commenced…

“That’s it, Big Daddy, cum all in your fat pussy…”

“Oh, yeah?”

Smokes folded Rosetta in half and pounded the fuck outta her. She furrowed her brows, chewed on that lip hard, and spread her pussy lips with those red nails like she wasn’t open enough already.

“Smokes! Yes! Don’t stop fucking me! Don’t stop fuckin’ your creamy pussy! Milk it, Daddy! Fill me up! Papa! That good hard dick!”

“Ahhhhhhhh–”

“Smoke…oooh…yes…yes…right there, daddy…don’t stop…ooooo shiiiit, daddy…fuuck….get it, da–DDY…”

Smokes gave Rosetta a heated glare and just like that he was filling her to the brim with his thick semen, painting her walls heavily. Dick slipping out, he painted her clit with more. Smokes rubbed his tip between her folds, eliciting a creamy noise. Their tired breaths mingled. Smokes slipped from the bed and stumbled on his way to the bathroom.

He ran a bath and took a piss. Rosetta perched her gorgeous frame against the doorway, body glistening from sweat and cum. She was a sight to behold. Smokes is a lucky man. A bar of Palmolive sat untouched on the edge of the claw foot tub. While Smokes shook the access urine from his dick, Rosetta opened a jar filled with lavender, rosemary, and chamomile herbs, sprinkling it into the tub.

It was big enough to fit the both of them. Smokes slipped in first and then Rosetta settled in front of him. They used a soap sponge to clean each other off thoroughly. This was serenity. Encased in her sweet embrace.

“I love you, Rosey.” He whispered.

“And I love you…”

——

The smell of bacon and butter wafted Rosetta’s nose that early morning. She sat up, messy hair in her face while she stretched her tired arms above her head. Smokes being gone told her that he was cooking up some breakfast. Rosetta threw her sheets back from her body and snatched a satin robe from a coat hanger next to her bed. Feet sliding into a pair of house shoes, she looked down and noticed deep scratches in the wood paneling.

She would need to cover that up with a rug or get someone to buffer that out. She didn’t want her mama to have a fit.

Rosetta made her way into the kitchen, the tea kettle whistling as she approached. Smokes moved about the small room with a blunt between his lips and his dick out and swangin. Rosetta admired his tight ass before her eyes swept over his muscular back. She could see that he was making bacon, buttered toast, eggs, and grits. Smokes sat the cast iron on the stove and looked back when he’d heard footsteps.

“Mornin’ sunshine…”

He pecked her lips.

“Smells real good in here,” Rosetta stole a slice of bacon, “I’m hungry from all that sex.”

“Gotta feed you then, huh?” Smokes winked at Rosetta.

Rosetta stole the blunt from his lips and took a hit.

She coughed slightly, Smokes chuckling.

“Careful wit’ that there, Rosey…”

She took another hit and blew smoke towards him to taunt him before sticking her tongue out. Smoke tapped her on the booty.

“Sit that pretty tail down. I’m a plate this food up.”

Rosetta settled in a dining chair. She noticed the news paper and fresh milk on the table. He must of gone to grab it. Rosetta grabbed the paper and opened it to read. She crossed one shapely leg over the other blunt between her fingers as she held the paper up.

“A train hijacking?” Rosetta announced with surprise.

Smokes glanced over at Rosetta while her brown eyes were glued to the paper. He packed her plate and walked over, placing it in front of her. Back at the stove, Smokes poured her a cup of tea.

“Jesus, killed everyone on board…”

“Gimme’ some neck…”

Rosetta tilted her lips towards Smokes and he stuck his tongue in her mouth. The grip she had on the paper slipped. Smokes snatched it from her grasp and placed it on the table with a loud slap.

“Eat, girl.”

Rosetta grabbed her fork but her eyes remained on Smokes. He could feel her staring while he situated himself across from her.

“Level with me, Smokes…you know ‘bout this?”

“Don’t know from nothing, gal. Eat.”

“I’ll eat when you talk to me.”

“Ain’t nothin to share, baby. Everything is copacetic…”

“Did Stacks do this?” Rosetta questioned.

Smokes’ fork clashed with the table. He gave Rosetta a pointed look of warning. Letting her know to drop it.

“Wasn’t Stacks. Wasn’t me. Wasn’t nobody to get all worked up over. I’m good. We’re good.”

“Smokes…I don’t want you gettin’ yourself in trouble. It’s enough that Phonzo wants you dead—”

“Phonzo punk ass already dead. Might as well call it what it is.”

Rosetta bit her tongue. She knew arguing wouldn’t get her the answers she needed. She didn’t want Smokes to return and get himself into deep shit. She knew he was more than capable of handling himself, but Rosetta needed him alive, especially if she planned to marry him and have his butterball babies.

They ate in silence, the food tasty. Smokes sensed that she wanted more, so he filled her plate up again and Rosetta thanked him with a small smile and a kiss. Smokes watched her eat while smoking his weed and when she finished he cleaned. Rosetta drank her tea with those smooth and thick ol’ gams teasing Smoke’s eyes.

As he scrubbed, Rosetta spread her legs in that chair and spread her lower lips with her fingers. Sweet pink graced his eyes. Smokes watched her stroke her clit. He was high and horny again. Dick stood out like a flag pole.

“You want daddy to eat that pussy…”

“Mhm,” Rosetta licked her plump lips.

Smokes dried his hands and marched over to Rosetta. He picked her up and walked her to the couch.

“Wait, not here—”

“This Miss. Doris’ good furniture,” Smokes laughed, not caring at all about the sofa, “Good thing it’s covered in plastic…”

Her legs parted like the Red Sea. Hips aching and inner thighs burning. Smokes wasted no time slurping on her pussy with a wet tongue and thick lips. Rosetta palmed the back of his head and mushed his face in it. He had a habit of being loud while eating pussy. She could feel herself creaming on his chin when he latched onto her clit to suck.

“Yes, oh, fuck, mmmm….”

Rosetta frowned her pretty face. She had a face that belonged in movies. A rare beauty. Smokes never took his eyes off of her, not even when she came in his mouth. He stuck his tongue so far up her pussy to catch it all. Her robe had spilled open, revealing that hot body to him again. Smokes reached up and rolled her nipples between his fingers while continuing to feast on her overflowing pussy.

Smokes popped his lips off her clit to stare down at his work, “you betta cum again,” He sucked again before stopping, “Cum in my mouth before I stuff you again,” He slurped her up again and Rosetta moaned out, “You know who this pussy belong to. Not Phonzo, not no other nigga…”

Rosetta had to pick her lip up to stop herself from drooling. Her eyes crossed as another orgasm rocked her body. She closed her thighs around Smokes head, unable to take the licks he was giving her.

“Got me ready to fuck again,” Smokes took it upon himself to bend Rosetta over the couch, “Bend that back…atta girl��daddy’s good girl,” Smokes spread her ass cheeks wide and grunted, “Shit, Rosey…”

He hunched his body and with the power of his hips he sank into that good twat. Rosetta rode his tip before he could even fit in. He popped her on the ass with his wide palm before thrusting up and deep. Already she was creaming on his dick. Smokes had her by the arms as he pounded.

Rosetta had that IT like no other. Pretty ass voice, pretty ass doll, perfect pussy, perfect face. Smokes watched her head loll back and forth from the momentous pounding he was giving her. That back arched and that ass jiggling. Her knees almost slipped from the sofa so Smokes had to fix her and put his hand in the middle of her back to keep her stationary.

“I’m a fuck a baby in you.”

Rosetta moaned and clenched his dick.

“Like that? Like when I tell you how I’m a get you pregnant? Like that, sweet baby? Make me a Daddy?”

“YES!”

“All wet on Big Daddy’s dick.”

“Oh, Jesus!” Rosetta yelped when his hand wrapped around her neck from the front, bucking those strong hips and slapping those big nuts against her clit.

Smokes growled deep and with two staggering strokes he came inside of her again. He abruptly turned Rosetta’s head and plunged his tongue into her mouth.

Crack!

Smokes slipped out of Rosey fast and stood tall. Rosetta turned onto her backside quickly, staring up at Smokes with wide eyes.

“Fuck was dat?”

Smokes moved with a brisk pace towards the window within the kitchen, he peered down past the small glass panel at his car.

“What is it, Elijah?”

Rosetta stood behind him with a worried look etched into her beautiful face. Smokes took deep breaths before exiting the kitchen, Rosetta on his heels. He entered her room and grabbed up his pants, uncaring that his underwear sat on the floor.

“Elijah!”

“Stay here…”

Smokes grabbed up his revolve and loaded it up.

Click.

He stormed out of Rosetta’s apartment and down the small staircase leading into the boutique. As he drew closer, his eyes became wild with anger. He unlocked the door and stormed out into the smelting heat with his gun raised. There, a brick lay at his feet. Smokes bent down to pick it up, his cognac eyes following a trail of broken glass until he came upon the shattered window of his Cadillac.

Some people gathered outside to see what all the fuss was about. Smokes peered at them, eyes accusatory and rageful. He knew it had to be someone from Phonzo’s crew. A cheap shot, but still…Smokes was furious. Chest puffed out, he tossed the brick and entered the shop. Locking it up tightly, Smokes turned to find Rosetta staring up at him with a fearful glance.

“They busted out your window…”

“Ain’t nothin’ I can get that patched up…”

Smokes grabbed Rosetta by the elbow, turning her back towards the stairs.

“Daddy gotta go handle some thangs…I want you to stay put and out the way—”

“I’m coming with you, Elijah—”

“No—”

“YES! Yes the fuck I am!”

Rosetta snatched her arm from his hold and stood firm as she glared down at him on the steps.

“I’m tagging along whether ya like it or not.”

Smokes clenched his jaw. Their eyes danced between each other before Rosetta turned her back at him, climbing up.

——

“Scotch…”

Smokes accepted his glass, adjusting Rosetta in his lap. He sat across from his twin, Stacks, the gold in his mouth gleaming. They were sitting in a bar, the sound of distant chatter and glass in the background. The smoke from the cigars they were smoking billowed out like a thick fog. Rosetta wore a chocolate–brown Blondell dress with pantyhose and embroidered T–Straps on her feet in gold. A cloche hat that had covered most of her hair and much of her face was a last minute accessory since she didn’t have time to fix her hair after sweating it all out fucking.

Smokes’ 8-panel hat sat over his own messy hair and he wore his button down shirt untidy with his white beater on display. Stacks looked dapper in his double-breasted mahogany suit with shiny silver buttons and matching cufflinks. Copper silk tie, and black and brown woven Oxford shoes complete the look. His fedora sat on the table next to him.

The Big Cheese took a sip of his own scotch.

“How was your night with that snow bunny?”

Stacks chuckled, “As good as yours was I’m sure, brother. Lay it on me…Phonzo askin’ to go war? Does he not know who he fuckin’ wit?”

“You know dat nigga stupid, Stacks,” He checks his dominoes, “I got word that he’ll want to meet up tonight. I’m not much for talkin’…”

“Hm,” Smokes puffed on his cigar before speaking, “You thinkin’ the corn field?”

“Dig a ditch or two,” Smokes threw out.

“I’ll get Monty on it.”

Rosetta listened to the twins discuss killing and burying Phonzo and whoever else in a corn field. She shivered within Smokes’ lap.

“How ya been, Rosey? Still singing?”

“Of course,” Rosetta smirked at Stacks, “Still gettin’ into trouble I see.”

“You mean your man here,” Stacks pointed towards Smokes, “He’s the trouble.”

“How so?”

“Go on and tell her how you was in Texas.”

Rosetta quirked an arched brow. Smokes shook his head.

“Takin’ his word over mine ain’t the way to go, baby.”

“Uh-huh.” Rosetta wasn’t fully convinced.

She grabbed Smokes’ glass and took a sip. Rosetta watched the twins play another round of dominoes and catch up before Stacks made his leave. He had to make sure things were in order before tonight. A jazz ballad played and Rosetta swayed her hips in Smokes’ lap. She could feel him poking and the thought of sliding up and down on that pole sent chills down her spine.

“Careful there, Tiger,” Rosetta lifted his chin with her finger, “I still gotta cook you dinner.”

“A meal before I bump off? My kinda lady…”

Josephine Baker–I Love My Baby started playing, her voice projecting in a way that emphasized a higher frequency, leading to a brighter, more nasal tone. Rosetta caressed Smokes’ handsome face while staring deeply into his eyes. She sang along to the words, husky breathy tone drawing him in.

Sometimes we quarrel and maybe we fight

But then we make up the following night

When we're together we're great company

I love my baby, my baby loves me

The spell she had on Smokes brought him to his knees before her. He stared at her with those bedroom eyes and a half smirk while she sang to him in his lap. That smoking hot chassis was enough to make him fuck her right there. Smoke tapped his foot and rocked his head while she serenaded him. Others in the bar watched with wonder while balancing liquor and ciggs.

When the song faded out, Rosetta gave Smokes a slow kiss. A wolf whistle echoed and Smokes removed his hat to shield them from view so he could tongue his woman down.

“If it’s a girl, I wanna name her Ella, after my mama…”

“That’s a beautiful name, Elijah.” Rosetta smiled against his lips.

“If it’s a boy,” Smokes took a sip of his scotch, “Emmett.”

Rosetta swatted his bicep with her dainty hand.

“What was that fa’?!” Smokes protested with a dimpled grin.

“I was thinkin’ the same thing!”

“That’s why you my woman…”

Smokes kissed on Rosetta’s neck causing her to giggle. They were both pleasantly faded.

“Is that Smokes?”

“Ida Mae…”

The curvy dame settled in front of them, dolled up and doused in perfume. The smell of Bergamot, Orange Blossom and Lemon burning Rosetta’s nose. Her back stiffened as she surveyed the woman with her sultry eyes and chandelier earrings. Her dark red lips quirked up into a flirty smile.

“When did you high tail back into Nola?”

“A day ago. Why’s you askin’?”

Ida Mae locked eyes with Rosetta for a second.

“Just missed ya’ that’s all. Stacks back too?”

“Ya’ know it.” Smokes replied, caressing Rosetta’s waist, “This is my woman, Rosetta. Rosey, this here is Ida Mae…”

“Pleasantries,” Ida Mae tilted her head in greeting.

Rosetta’s lips remained sealed.

“She owns that whore house in Storyville.”

“Is that so?”

Rosetta cut her eyes at Smokes.

“Yes, a good business if ya’ ask me. Selling pussy is on the up and up, especially these days. Got too much shit to stress about.”

Was he dipping in pussy she didn’t know about? Why the fuck would Ida do some disrespectful shit and flirt with her man in front of her? Smokes had some explaining to do.

“Well, just wanted to say hello. Good seeing ya’ Smokes…tell Stacks I said don’t be a stranger…”

“Will do, Ida.”

She walked away with a tantalizing sway of her hips.

“You wanna tell me what that was?” Rosetta cut to the quick.

“I ain’t fuck nobody else if that’s what ya’ asking.”

“You fuck Ida? Don’t lie to me Smokes…”

“Rosey, cut it out. Ida and Stacks used to fuck ‘round. Probably still do.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m no sappy bird I can tell. Prolly made a stop to that whore house before coming to me. Been writing Ida to keep that pussy ready—”

“Rosey, shut up.” Smokes said through gritted teeth.

“Shut up?” Rosetta kissed her teeth before pushing off of Smokes’ lap, “Go after her!”

Smokes narrowed his eyes at her.

“I ain’t lying to you, Rosetta.”

Rosetta stomped away towards the exit. Smokes followed after her, catching her before she could open the door. He walked with her in his grasp outside, the afternoon heat unbearable. Already he was sweating profusely. Smokes turned her around to face him. Rosetta pointed her gaze over his shoulder, refusing to look at him.

She could be so damn stubborn sometimes.

“I love you. Only you. You need to understand that and quick,” Smokes spoke angrily so close to Rosetta’s face his breath laced with liquor and a hint of chocolate and black pepper from his cigar wafted her nose.

Rosetta pouted. Smokes gripped her chin tight to make her look him in the eye. He needed her to know he was serious.

“Stop it, hear me?”

“Okay…”

She looked from his eyes to his lips.

“So damn hard–headed…”

He kissed her lips before popping her on the ass.

“I’m a drop you off at the shop, okay? I gotta get this window fixed.”

Smokes made sure Rosetta was settled in her seat before he got in. The drive was less than ten minutes. Smokes made sure she was situated, blowing her a kiss through the glass door of the shop before driving off.

Rosetta’s doe eyes followed Smokes’ retreating car.

She wanted to believe he was loyal to her and only her. He’d always been. Maybe it was her mother’s words making her feel insecure. Her mother hated Elijah. Rosetta planned to cook up a steak dinner for Smokes. Ready to get to it, she climbed the stairs and before she opened her door, she noticed a kitchen knife sticking out of the keyhole.

Rosetta gasped, hand covering her mouth. Fear consumed her as she stood there, staring between the crack of the door and into a pitch black abyss. It was eerily silent. Rosetta took a chance and pushed open the door. The light from the stairwell flooded the room. So far, as she peeked inside, she couldn’t see anyone.

Rosetta stepped over the threshold and grabbed the handle of the knife, tugging it to release. She held the knife out in front of her, hand shaking with nerves. Her glossy eyes bounced left and right. She fully stepped inside, frantically moving her hand along the wall until she felt the string of the lamp light. A pinch of relief flooded her veins when the room brightened.

That was all stripped from her just as fast when a gloved hand slipped over her mouth and the weight of a gun pressed into her hip.

——

Hope ya’ll enjoy part two 😏😌

@hearteyes-for-killmonger @imagining-greatness @chaneajoyyy @uzumaki-rebellion @lisayourworries @ratedbadgal @bombshellbre95 @cancerianprincess @dameshaemonique @6lack-1otus @thickemadame @thickeeparker @stinkalinkkkk @ehniki @electrixt @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @bxolux @sweet2krazee @seyven89 @ispywithmylileye @geemamii @nubianbabee @adoreesun @blackpinup22 @nayaxwrites @cocoa-puffs @dersha89 @honeytoffee @thickianaaaa @modelmemoirs @queenfaithmarie @angelicniah @soulfulbeauty19 @aijha @novaniskye @callmemckenzieee @blowmymbackout @lahuttor @momobaby227 @blackerthings @kenbieee @princessxotwod @palmstreesallday @kokokonako @coolfancyone @soulsparker @richgirlaesthetics

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Expect the unexpected

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps) Alien talk show host: So you doubt my powers?

Human: I do.

Alien Host: You know that the theme of this show is bringing on people such as yourself and proving that I can in fact predict the future.

Human: I have watched your show and I’ve seen how you use your scam to convince people that you can predict the future.

Audience: Ooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!

Alien Host: If it has been proven right so many times how can you still claim it is a scam?

Human: Because you have never had a human on your show until now to disprove it.

Alien Host: Bold words but we’ll give you a shot.

Alien Host: What have you got in store for me to disprove my abilities?

Human: *reaches into pocket and pulls something out*

Human: I’m going to flip this coin and you will tell me which side it lands on.

Alien Host: That’s it?

Alien Host: That’s your grand plan to disprove my skills?

Human: Half of it.

Human: You find out the other half after I flip the coin.

Alien Host: Ominous; I always liked that about you humans.

Alien Host: Very well, flip that coin and I predict it will be heads!

Human: *Flips coin*

Alien Host: *Watches coin spin upwards*

Human: *Pulls out gun from jacket and pulls the trigger*

*Gunshot goes across the table and hits the alien host in the arm*

*Audience begins screaming as human sets the gun down on the table*

Human: You can all relax, that was the second part of my plan.

Alien Host: WHY DID YOU SHOOT ME!?!?!!?

Human: *Calmly* Why did you not see the bullet coming?

Alien Host: You said you were using the coin toss!!

Human: I said it was the first part and that you’d find out the other half during the flip.

Human: If you can see into the future why did you not dodge the bullet or attempt to stop me from pulling a gun and shooting you?

Alien Host: Who could predict such madness!?!?!?

Human: Exactly.

Human: You can “predict” the future as you call it because you are a master of probability, not a fortune teller.

Human: That’s why you were so confident you could accurately predict how the coin would land and claim you saw it in the future.

Human: But no one could predict a random act of violence without any forewarning signs given.

Alien Host: You did all of this just to prove me wrong!?!

Human: I mean, isn’t that the point of the show?

[vaspider]

Measure 110, or the Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

So if y'all aren't local to Oregon, you may not have heard that the Oregon state legislature just voted to -- essentially -- gut Measure 110, the ballot measure which decriminalized all drug possession and use in the state. It turned all drug use into a citation instead, and the citation and fine could be waived by completing a health screening. The entire point of Measure 110 was replacing jail with health care and services to help people instead, and while I could probably write a very long side post on the imperfections of that approach, it was at the very least a move in the right direction after decades of the pathetic failure and absolutely racist mess that is the "War on Drugs."

You may hear this pointed to in coming years as a reason why we have to just throw people into jail for using drugs, because Measure 110 failed. And like... it did fail, kinda. Sorta. It failed in that it did not manage to fix everything immediately, and it created some new issues while also exposing older issues more sharply.

It also saved the state $40 million in court costs prosecuting low-level drug offenses, kept thousands of people whose literal only crime was putting a substance into the body of a consenting adult (themselves) out of jail, put at least one addiction services center in every county in the state, invested $300 million in addiction services, and an awful lot more. See the end of this post for more reading.

But where it failed, it failed because it wasn't supported. Police and advocacy groups both asked for specific tickets for this new class of offenses which had the phone number to call to go through the health screening and the information about how going through that health screening would make the ticket go away printed on it prominently - lawmakers declined to fund this. Governor Kotek budgeted $50K to train officers on how to handle these new citations and how to direct people to the treatment and housing supports, but lawmakers thought that training officers on this new law at all was a waste of money. Money moved extremely slowly out to the supports that were supposed to come into play to help people obtain treatment or get access to harm-reduction strategies. People freaked the fuck out about clean-needle outreach, fentanyl testing strip distribution, Narcan training, and other harm-reduction strategies.

And at the end of the day, Measure 110 gets called a failure because it wasn't a silver bullet. Never mind that thousands of people are not sitting in jail right now for basically no fucking reason. Never mind that people have gotten treatment, harm has been reduced, overdoses have been prevented...

So, yeah. You'll probably start hearing this trotted out as proof that, well, we triiiied decriminalizing drugs, but look what happened in Portland! Well, what happened in Oregon is that we got set up to fail, and still didn't fail, just didn't totally succeed.

Measure 110 highlights, quoted directly from Prison Policy Initiative:

The Oregon Health Authority reported a 298% increase in people seeking screening for substance use disorders.

More than 370,000 naloxone doses have been distributed since 2022, and community organizations report more than 7,500 opioid overdose reversals since 2020.

Although overdose rates have increased around the country as more fentanyl has entered the drug supply, Oregon’s increase in overdoses has been similar to other states’ and actually less than neighboring Washington’s. A peer-reviewed study comparing overdose rates in Oregon with the rest of the country after the law went into effect found no link between Measure 110 and increased overdose rates.

There is no evidence that drug use rates in Oregon have increased. A cross-sectional survey of people who use drugs across eight counties in Oregon found that most had been using drugs for years; only 1.5% reported having started after Measure 110 went into effect.

There has been no increase in 911 calls in Oregon cities after Measure 110.

Measure 110 saves Oregonians millions. Oregon is expected to save $37 million between 2023-2025 if Measure 110 continues. This is because it costs up to $35,217 to arrest, adjudicate, incarcerate, and supervise a person taken into custody for a drug misdemeanor — and upwards of $60,000 for a felony. In contrast, treatment costs an average of $9,000 per person. The money saved by Measure 110 goes directly to state funding for addiction and recovery services.

There is no evidence that Measure 110 was associated with a rise in crime. In fact, crime in Oregon was 14% lower in 2023 than it was in 2020.

Further reading/sources:

[celestialowlbear]

✨♡ Gale NSFW Drabble ♡✨

Pairing: Gale x Fem!Reader (Tav)

Summary: Gale indulges in you. Hehe.

WC: 1200

Warnings: 18+, NSFW. No plot. Just smut. Face riding. Female receiving oral. Mention of PiV sex. Established relationship. Reader/Tav not described. Bulleted list.

A/N: Now it’s Gale’s turn for thots I just needed to get on a page. It became longer than I expected, haha. He’s an oral king. I don’t make the rules. Enjoy!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚

You lifted your gaze from your book, sneaking a glance at Gale who sat on a comfortable loveseat across from you.

You weren’t surprised to catch Gale staring right back at you with a peculiar twinkle in his eye.

You knew the look, his brown eyes drinking in your form from where he sat.

He quietly shut his book, placing it to the side.

Gale stood up and settled by you on the plush couch you were lounging on.

He kissed your shoulder as you tried to pay attention to your literature.

You already knew what he wanted, but you loved making him work for it.

“Don’t mind me, my love,” Gale whispered, his voice already husky with desire. “You know I can’t stay away from you for long.”

Gale’s skilled hands wandered as his lips did the same, kissing up your neck and letting his fingers dance under the hem of your top

You smirk, no longer paying attention to the words on the page, your body immediately pliant under his touch.

“We’ve been in the tower all day…you haven’t been far from me at all.” You teased quietly, tilting your head to give him better access.

Gale hummed against your skin. “Still not close enough, I’m afraid.”

One of Gale’s hands was fully under your top now, caressing and teasing your breast.

“I want to taste you if you’ll allow me the privilege.”

You let out a soft sigh, Gale’s beard tickling you as he kissed your neck, nipping at the points he knew made you melt.

“How can I deny such a request?”

Gale lifted his head from your neck, pressing his lips to yours in a deep kiss, his hand cupping your cheek.

“Let’s get comfortable then, shall we?” Gale pressed his forehead to yours, muttering something under his breath.

In an instant, you were lying on your shared bed with Gale next to you, both of your clothing gone.

The perks of being in a relationship with a wizard.

“Come here, my love. Take a seat on your throne.” Gale smirked as he gestured at his face, lying on his back.

You settle on top of him, your thighs surrounding his head.

Gale squeezes the fat off your thighs, looking up at you with a wild hunger in his eyes.

“You are stunning like this.”

Gale brought his lips to your folds, not giving you a chance to respond.

You gasped his name instead as he slowly kissed your thoroughly wet cunt, probing his tongue at your entrance.

You gripped the bed’s headboard, your thighs already trembling around his head.

You could feel his beard wonderfully scratch against your inner legs, adding more pleasurable sensations to what he was already doing.

Gale was taking his time, still lazily kissing at your folds as he would your mouth.

You wanted to rock down onto him desperately, your clit beginning to throb with need.

Gale was purposefully avoiding that part of you, drawing out your pleasure.

Gale also didn’t want this to end too quickly, thoroughly enjoying servicing you just like this.

“Gale…” you ground out. “More…please…”

Gale hummed in response, tightening his grip on your thighs.

“Patience, my love.” He murmured, grazing his nose against your clit. “Like a good wine, you must be savored. You deserve such treatment.”

You let out an airy laugh at his comparison, feeling him smile against your swollen folds as he picked up the pace, swirling around your clit.

You whined, his tongue providing the relief you were so desperate for.

Gale gently probed at your clit, alternating between your entrance and swollen bud.

“Ah…Gale…!” You cried out as he began massaging your clit with his tongue, his composure quickly crumbling at the sounds leaving your throat.

Your trembling body, his name leaving your lips in broken moans, feeling your clit swell with each pass of his tongue, it was all absolute perfection.

No magic could ever compare to having you like this.

Gale released one of your thighs to cup your ass, giving it a hearty squeeze as he continued his meal, obscene sounds filling the room as you rocked your hips on his face.

Gale was completely lost in you, your scent filling his nostrils, your arousal coating his beard, your soft skin now damp with sweat under his fingertips.

The molten pleasure was building in your spine, Gale finding a rhythm he knew would have you shattering above him before long.

Your fingernails were digging into the fabric of the headboard, bucking your hips against his lips in time with his tongue, which was now fully focusing on your clit.

“Gale…don’t stop…please…I’m…” You were breathless, opening your eyes that had been squeezed shut, looking down between your legs.

Gale was once again already staring at you, his eyes dark and blown with lust. Strands of his hair were stuck to his forehead, looking disheveled.

His eyes weren’t just filled with lust, but pure passion. Love. Unwavering commitment.

You crashed over the edge, locking your eyes with his as your orgasm rocked your body.

Ecstasy blossomed from your core to every nerve, intense and mind-numbing.

You chanted Gale’s name like an incantation, your entire body convulsing and shuddering above him.

Gale moaned loudly into your pussy, keeping up his pace, wanting to taste and feel every bit of your pleasure.

Gale lapped up the gush of your release, your cunt pulsing with your orgasm against his mouth.

Gale could feel his cock aching between his legs, his body ignited with desire, knowing he could make you feel this way with just his mouth. He couldn’t help the bit of pride that swelled in his chest.

You came down from your high, ragged breath and limp body, sliding off his face to lay next to him.

Gale was breathing heavily too, his beard dripping with your release.

He turned on his side to face you, a smile gracing his features.

“Thank you for letting a wizard indulge himself.” He traced his hand over your flushed cheek.

You chuckled, bringing a hand down to his rigid length, caressing it ever so gently.

“I should be the one thanking you, love.”

Gale’s eyes closed as he let out a low moan.

You captured his lips with yours in a fiery kiss.

You could taste your tangy release on your lips, his beard soaking with it. Your tongues danced momentarily, desire burning between your legs once again.

“I don’t think we are done indulging in one another, my dear.” You purred, gently pushing Gale over to be on his back once again.

You climbed on top of him, positioning yourself over his cock.

Fire danced in his eyes as he gripped your hips, lifting his own hips ever so slightly to push his leaking tip into your tight entrance.

Gale entered you with no resistance, both of you groaning in bliss as you took him to the hilt.

You both sat there momentarily, taking one another in. You leaned forward, entwining your fingers with his above his head for leverage.

Gale let out a deep rumble, something between a chuckle and a growl as he felt you clench around him.

“Oh no, my love. We are far from being finished. I’d say we are just getting started.”

-ˏˋ⋆ Thanks for reading, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! ⋆ˊˎ-

Tagging @ladyzirkonia as requested 😘