#I feel like I'm stuck in 2016

[aussiegunsmoke]

You know, back in 2014-2016, I used to roleplay FNaF nightguards with people on Wattpad and I miss that SO much. I found my old account on there, but everyone is just gone... It makes me feel incredibly lonely. I know that people move on and whatever, but I wanna find where that community went...

[autisticchangeling]

I love that the disability Community exists, but sometimes when I see debates about what counts as disabled versus just an impairment versus whatever...

I wish there could just be a community I could join for people with -whatever- that wouldn't cause me to constantly have to question and prove that I'm really disabled and "I promise I'm not too happy to count as oppressed" and whatever. I don't know, I just sometimes want to be able to share community in the ways the disability community does without having to watch the debates about who really counts and always worrying I'm next.

If there was something for all the people who aren't "struggling enough" to belong in the disability community, I would join it just for the relief from the hypervigilance

[curiously-questing]

*me when a 30 year old follows me on any other social media" woAH WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH WHAT ARE YOU HERE FOR *block*

*me when a 30 year old follows me on tumblr* Hello sir!! would you like a place to sit and rest your frail legs? we have a senior discount on everything here!!! of course you can pet my cat while you stay!! and my dog too!! let me grab another chair while you tell me the stories of your childhood and the internet :)

[endless-ineffabilities]

The Bolter (part five)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / (Bucky Barnes x f!reader)

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : In present day, the reader and Bucky get closer - will one of them finally slip up? We also see what happened in 2018, during the battle in Wakanda.

themes/warnings : pining, unrequited love, Bucky dealing with ptsd, brief mention of violence, language

word count : <2k

masterlist ▪︎ previous chapter ▪︎ next chapter

📝 a little bit of an explanation on the timeline : 2016 - Civil War ▪︎ 2017 - post Civil War / Steve and reader on the run ▪︎ early 2018 - Infinity War ▪︎ 2018 to 2023 - the lost years / post-snap ▪︎ late 2023 - Endgame / Steve's departure ▪︎ 2024 - present day / Falcon and the Winter Soldier period ▪︎ 1950s - where Steve went back

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

You win. Again.

By now, you're convinced Bucky is actually letting you win in Battleship. Each guess he made had been wrong, so it must be deliberate.

"James Buchanan Barnes," you sigh.

His lips form a sly smirk. He isn't even trying to deny it.

You reach across and lightly shove his non-vibranium arm. "It's no fun if there's no challenge."

He shrugs, "Maybe I like the way you react when you win. You get so... expressive." Another smirk. Damn him.

What could possibly be so amusing about the way you practically screeched and stuck your tongue at him the first time you won?

"Yeah, but you let me win four times in a row."

"Deal with it, doll."

"You suck."

He grimaces, "Suck?"

Right. You keep forgetting he is an very old, very ancient centenarian.

"It's an expression."

Something flashes across his face, and you can't really make out what it is. "Do you suck, too?"

"What?" you exclaim. "I just said it's an expression. It means you're annoying."

He holds your gaze for a moment, before laughing, eyes visibly crinkling at the corners. "I'm messing with you, doll. I know what that means. I'm old, not unaware."

Damn him again.

And damn the way the rare instances of his laughter is slowly growing to be a thing you yearn for. Bucky has a playful side, you've come to realize. You get this feeling of lightness, because you're proud of him. The more it comes out, the more it shows how much he has healed.

You blink at him, shaking your head, before bursting into laughter yourself.

Damn it all to hell.

It takes a beat for you to collect yourselves.

Then for a second, it's there. That fleeting shift in his expression. A pinch in his eyebrows giving way to a look of shame. Just for a moment, his mind drifts back to the long list of names in his notebook. To Yori's son. To the crimson in his ledger.

You notice, and you don't hesitate in taking his hand, squeezing gently. "Hey," you say, catching his attention. "I'm glad we get to do this."

I'm glad I have you.

Glancing down at your hand wrapped around his, he smiles, slowly, like a sun rising and casting its glow over the horizon.

"Let's play one more time," Bucky says as he begins rearranging the pieces on his side.

You were about to protest, but then he adds, "I won't let you win, I swear."

Fifteen minutes later, you do indeed win again. He laughs at the incredulous expression that must be plastered on your face.

You take it. Because maybe you did win, fair and square.

Or maybe because his laughter feels like winning.

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The days have blurred into weeks and into months.

It feels like time is passing quickly, every second feels less and less like the lash of a whip, reminding Bucky of past pains. Of loss. Of all his sins.

Life almost feels normal. The kind of normal he is afforded in his life, at least.

Sessions with his court-mandated therapist. You. Dinners with Yori, desperately unable to tell him the truth. You. Sleepless nights, glimpses of his darkness haunting him. You. Sleepless nights, tempting images of you.

Behind all the laughter and the times you would spend playing Battleship on the floor of his barely furnished apartment, Bucky gets a sense of something gnawing at him. Something not unfamiliar, but unwelcome all the while.

It's fear. He has something to lose, once more. A friend or a kindred spirit. Whatever else you will find in each other. It's there and it's real, and it makes him feel like Bucky again.

He doesn't want to lose it, whatever it is. He's already lost Steve.

He's not going to lose you too.

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early 2018, Infinity War

After you and Steve left the cabin, it's like the universe was sent a go-ahead signal of some sort.

The world slowly descended into chaos, and the Avengers were needed back into the fold.

Your group had to rush to Scotland to rescue Wanda and Vision. Then it was back to the Avengers compound.

"You think all is forgiven?" Senator Ross asked, the threat evident in his tone. "You think you can just walk back in here like nothing happened? Romanoff has been leading my team on some wild goose chase - "

Natasha merely scoffs, unamused.

" - and Huntress has been actively aiding and abetting her fellow fugitives around the globe."

You were about to say something snarky, but Steve had already taken a step forward, partially shielding you from Ross' view.

"We're not looking for forgiveness, and we're way past asking permission," Steve declared.

In that time, life became drastically different from your days in Alaska. You barely had a moment of repose, worried about the fate of the world.

But you found comfort in the blonde super soldier who was constantly hovering over you. His eyes would meet yours before a decision would be made. His hand sometimes pressed at the small of your back as you walked beside him. Time and again, you found him watching you, a silent question in his eyes. You'd nod back, I'm okay.

You didn't notice, but in one of those moments, Wanda had witnessed the exchange.

And she felt it. That something. Much like what she has with Vision.

But it just wasn't the right time.

It is a bit hard to face the truth that you might be in love when the whole world is burning.

"I guess this is our normal, after all," you wistfully remarked to him one evening, after everyone else had left. The plans were laid. You all were to go to Wakanda the next day.

Steve felt a sense of bitterness arising from him upon hearing your words. It really isn't fair. He has always done everything right, but he's losing count of how many joys he's had to sacrifice.

He lost everyone once. His mom, his sister, Bucky, his fellow soldiers, Dr. Erskine, Peggy. He'd buried himself in ice, only to wake up again in a world that wasn't his anymore.

What else does he have to lose, who else, before he is finally allowed to be happy?

His smile was pained when he replied, "I think I figured out the kind of normal I want."

Despite your exhaustion, you smiled back and curiously asked, "Oh yeah?"

Steve hopelessly tried to commit you to memory. The lilt in your voice, the shape of your lips. That undying spark in your eyes, which remained even when everything was cast in gloom.

Just in case he would wake up one day and find his whole world taken from him once more.

"Yeah," he finally said.

The world is ablaze, but he's grown used to it. He knew he would lay his life down on the line again if that means it would be saved.

But everything be damned, he allowed himself one selfish thought when he confessed, "We never should have left that cabin."

I'm in love with you, were the words caught in his throat. His heart screamed it, yearning to be heard.

And you did.

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It was a cruel twist of fate. But Thanos deemed it destiny.

Was it always meant to happen? Were they always meant to lose?

Steve didn't know how long he stayed on the ground next to the pile of ashes that used to be his best friend.

Bucky was gone.

Steve barely heard the screams. Anguished voices calling out the names of their friends, still searching.

All that would have been unbearable. The sounds of distress enough to drive one mad. But Steve heard nothing. He had nothing.

It's not fair. Inside, he felt like that sickly kid who was always dealt the worst hand. It does feel like he's a kid again, petulant and angry. It's not fair, he thought over and over, I don't deserve this.

Bring Bucky back to me.

Maybe it was all his fault. Maybe if he never took that damned serum... maybe... maybe...

"Cap," he heard someone break him out of his haze. Rhodey stood to the side. "Steve," he repeated, pleading, but Steve still could not find the strength to get up.

Then from the distance, he heard Natasha calling out for you. He stumbled to his feet, his head spinning. Casting one last glance at the spot where Bucky vanished, he turned and started running.

He found Natasha immediately, but not you.

"Where is she?" Steve growled, and his voice sounded rougher than he's ever heard before. Natasha would have recoiled in surprise, if she didn't possess nerves of steel.

"I'm looking," Natasha snapped impatiently. You would have been her loss too.

Steve felt as if he had already scoured through the whole field twice, his body threatening to just give in and crumble to the ground once more, as the hope of finding you dimmed.

Then he heard your faint voice, weak and weary, standing out among all the others.

"Steve?" There you stood, your face half-covered in dried blood and soot. "Did we lose?"

He swiveled around and took you in, a deep breath of helpless relief exiting his lungs. He was angry and defeated.

He wanted to throw Captain America to the wind, and surrender everything.

He wanted to hear his mother's voice singing to him again. This world is cruel, and he wanted to go back home.

But there you were.

There you were, and Steve knew he had not lost everything.

"How did it happen?" you asked as he approached. "Steve, what do we do? There must be something - "

His mouth crashes into yours with such bruising intensity that it makes you stumble backward, but his arms were quick to catch you.

He was right.

You never should have left that cabin.

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2024, seven months after Steve's departure

The nightmare is different.

It's worse. Much worse.

Bucky bolts upright on the floor of his living room, having chosen to bypass the comfort of his bedroom. He thinks this is because he needs to keep his TV on in the background, something to muffle the noise in his mind late at night.

Another reason, one he hasn't confronted yet, is how comfort feels so foreign. It feels wrong, like he doesn't deserve it.

Perhaps that is why he can't find comfort even in his dreams.

It flashes before his eyes, like a broken montage.

It's almost the same every time. He's the Winter Soldier. He's on a mission. There are faces swarming around him, bodies either racing to attack or running away. But he doesn't see any of them. He doesn't feel anything as he makes every single one of them crumble.

But it's different this time. The Winter Soldier does not so much as falter or show any hesitation as he wraps his metal fingers around your windpipe.

The Winter Soldier coldly watches as you expire. Bucky helplessly watches, unable to stop as he loses everything.

Thankfully awake, in this world where he still has you, Bucky's chest feels like it's about to implode.

So much for being a superabled freak.

The clock reads 3:13. It's late, but he needs some air.

He walks for 10 minutes, aimlessly. Then for 20 more, his mind having made a decision on its own. He soon finds himself standing in front of a familiar brownstone building, where your apartment is situated on the top floor.

You don't seem confused when you answer the buzzer. It wouldn't be the first time he has shown up unannounced.

"Can't sleep either?" You're a welcome vision when you greet him at the door, cheeks flushed by the white wine you usually drink at these hours.

She's still here, Bucky reminds himself. The only comfort that he won't deny.

Instead of walking past you, straight into your apartment like he always does, he takes one step closer.

And then another.

He shuts the door behind him.

You watch him carefully, scanning his every movement. There's something here, something different. He takes another step and he has you pressed against the wall.

His eyes betray the storm of emotion brewing inside. He has to remind himself that you're here, and he has you.

"Bucky," you whisper, and it's all he needs.

He leans in and finally touches his lips to yours.

Read part six here ~

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My emotions!!!!!! Hahahaha this chapter is a whole mess and so are our protagonists 🔪🫀

yes yes, expect that the next one is 18+ --- but I still won't say exactly with who --- maybe it's a trick? Maybe it's neither of them? Oh well, honestly some of you have got it bang on already 🤷🏻‍♀️

As always, I am keen to hear what you guys think!!

[goodgirlofglory]

Ambrosial / One-shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 7,1k

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit content, mutual pining, scent kink, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, barely-there-handjob (like, not really at all), coming on clothes, a little bit of sweat kink? Sort of filth kink (not scat or anything like that but like, Bucky likes it messy), Bucky worshiping reader.

Summary: With his heightened senses, Bucky knows no peace when it comes to his olfactory system. Sweat, rotting food and sewage – the smells of the world surrounds him day in and day out. His only reprieve is the carefully curated space of his private quarters – and you, the sweet, new member of the team. With your unique, mouth-watering scent, it’s all he can do to not lose control around you. What happens when you unexpectedly cross that line between the two of you, and Bucky gets an opportunity to do more than just smell?

Note: My first Bucky fic eyooooo. He's a simp. It's weird, I feel like I'm so stuck in 2016 mcu. All I can picture is newly liberated-from-Hydra Bucky at the compound post civil war. But I reeeally liked this concept, and scent kinks really get me going. Anyone agree?

Your media consumption is your own responsibility, but I advise you not to interact if the contents of the warnings upset you.

Minors not welcome.

My work is not to be distributed outside my blog.

Replies, reblogs, likes and messages are amazing<3

Coffee, petrol, rusty iron, wet dog, shit, blood and old toothpaste. For as long as Bucky could remember, he could smell really well.

All his senses were heightened. The serum that made him a super soldier saw to that. But of all the senses, smell affected Bucky the most. Whether it made him think of a memory, alerted him to danger, gave him pleasure or was a bother. Most often it was the last one. Garbage, old sweat, farts and rotting food was a constant discomfort to him, assaulting his poor olfactory system wherever he went.

And no one, save for Steve, seemed to get why Bucky preferred to keep his rooms in the compound so clean. He feared Sam would never stop laughing that time he found the scented candle in Bucky's bathroom.

"You're killing me here, Buck! Lavender and rose petals," Sam had choked out between fits of laughter, wiping tears while clapping Bucky's shoulder.

"First of all, don't call me that, and second, fuck off," was all Bucky could say to his own defence. Steve had given him a look of understanding sympathy, while you had only chuckled at Sam's amusement. Bucky let Sam have his laugh and kept the candle.

You were the newest addition to the compound, and though you and Bucky hit it off in a polite and respectful tone, Bucky didn't really know you outside your skills and specialties in the field (which he had mostly learned from reading your file - not actually talking to you). The two of you didn't seem to have much in common besides a shared love for food. Your rooms were just near the kitchen, like Bucky's, so whenever something good was cooking, you both would come sniffing.

So, Bucky didn’t really know much about you, except that you had the sweetest scent he’d ever smelled. Rich, slightly spicy, a mix of dried herbs and honey mixed with warm skin. It made him think of lazy mornings in soft sheets, quiet, content walks in lush forests, and sex. It was so appealing to him, he’d started to guiltily look forward to every time he got to smell it. He couldn’t ever let you know that, though. Couldn’t let you know how deeply he subtly pulled your scent into his nostrils at times, and how much it sizzled within him. How it sometimes made his cock grow half hard and sensitive in his pants. You smelled so good. 

He was horrified by his own reaction, how he couldn’t control it. Bucky could control everything, held himself so tightly leashed he sometimes didn’t remember how it felt to react naturally to something. The semis you gave him were a direct threat to that control. 

Bucky could faintly remember being quite the ladies man back in the day. No more, though. He barely knew how to talk to people these days, let alone women. Let alone gorgeous, cute, good-smelling women like you.

He had most of the scents of the compound down by now. Natasha's caramel lattes in the morning, Steve's burnt toast and black roast. Wanda's paprika dishes and Clint's cheesy pizzas. At noon every day the hallway would smell with the fresh sweat of the joint training sessions. Sam would enjoy popcorn on Thursday’s movie night and a strong, musky cologne on Friday's club nights. There would always be the smell of liquor in the air when Tony was around, and more often than not, the smell of smoke as Steve went to cool off on his bike soon after.

Only Vision had no smell at all except a very faint hue of fresh, clinical rubber. Eerie, Bucky often thought to himself. Sometimes it was the only reminder that Vision wasn't human.

There were rarely any new smells for Bucky to note. Rarely something he didn't know what was, until one particular evening. The compound was quiet. A larger group were off on a mission, and the rest had scattered away, some leaving the grounds for a few days leave. Bucky had left his room to scavenge for snacks when he turned the corner into the kitchen and bumped straight into you. 

“Oh gosh! Hi Barnes! You scared me,” you said with a surprised smile after giving a little yelp, nearly dropping the bag of chips and steaming cup of tea in your hands. 

Bucky felt his body flush, partly embarrassed that he hadn’t sensed your presence before nearly tackling you off your feet, and partly because you were standing very close. Closer than he’d ever been.. Then your scent hit him, and a new wave of warmth spread in his body. It was…heavier than usual. Richer, with an overwhelming tangy note - the warm skin and lazy mornings in soft sheets he’d mentioned earlier - and it coursed through him like a comb through wet hair, leaving him momentarily stunned by sensation. He swallowed the sudden excess of saliva in his mouth and fought to not close his eyes. You were right there, for Christ's sake. 

Don’t be a creep! 

Bucky pointed to the items in your hands and said “snacks”. 

Stupid!

You looked down to where he pointed, momentarily puzzled before smiling and raising your cup in a small toast as you seemingly understood what he meant. 

“Way ahead of ya,” you said, then you sobered and when you met his eyes your cheeks had gained a strange hint of color. “You haven’t been out tonight? I thought I was all alone here,” you said, and Bucky was almost too distracted by your scent to realize you were nervous. 

“Ah, no. Not for me,” he said, and then added “going out on town and stuff,' cause his communication skills were truly atrocious. 

“Oh. Yeah, me neither,” you said, smiling softly at him, looking up through your lashes in a way that had him squirming in his skin. Bucky let his gaze track down to notice for the first time that you were only wearing a huge, oversized t-shirt and fuzzy blue socks. He could see your bare knees. So cute. 

Don’t get hard, don’t get hard, don’t get hard…

And then, as Bucky tried to will his cock not to swell in his sweatpants, he realized what he was smelling. It was arousal - your arousal. Or rather, that which came after your arousal. The smell of you post arousal. Bucky swallowed thickly again. You’d been masturbating. Or maybe you had a visitor. No, those weren’t allowed in the compound. 

You’d been self-pleasuring then, while you thought everyone was away. Which explained the rosy cheeks and nervous tone of voice - and the slip of control that had blood rushing to Bucky’s cock right before you. He resolutely fought the mental images away with a proverbial stick, shook himself quickly from his stupor and stepped past you, running for the fucking hills before you’d notice the tent forming in his pants and be forever creeped out by him. You didn’t deserve that, fucking hell. 

“Well, enjoy the rest of your evening,” he called over his shoulders and didn’t look back as he entered the kitchen. A long moment later you stammered out a “y-you too” before Bucky’s advanced hearing caught your feet slipping on the floor as you made your way back to your rooms. 

Later that night, hot with shame, Bucky laid in his bed, hard and aching as he remembered your smell, the way it had lingered in the hallway, and the way your cheeks looked with that adorable blush. But he didn’t touch himself - refused to be that way, knew he wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes again if he did. 

§

That scent haunted him from that day forward. Each time he passed your room he would automatically look for it, each time he passed you he would scrutinize the nuances of your scent, trying to figure out if you’d been aroused recently or not. Not able to help himself, he would try and decipher if you were wet right then and there, if your scent changed during the brief time you were in a room with him. This was usually during mission briefings or the missions themselves, so it wasn’t often he ever caught your scent marinated and warm and potent like he had that day in the hallway. 

But then the day came where Steve, your usual sparring partner, was on a mission, and out of nowhere you asked Bucky if he could step in. 

“It’s just, with the serum and all, you might be the closest to Steve in terms of the level of challenge we’ve been working up to,” you said, looking down, hands behind your back as you stood before Bucky where he sat on the bench, having just finished a bench press set. 

He’d been resolutely not looking at you from the moment you unexpectedly stepped into the gym. Because he was concentrating on his routine, and because he was giving you space to concentrate on yours. But also because it was hard enough to keep his eyes reigned in when you weren’t sweaty and flushed, your compression shirt clinging to your toned torso, your tights hugging your thighs and oh god, plump, rounded ass perfectly. 

Bucky felt at home in the gym. It was a safe space for working out his surplus energy and jittering nerves, and fresh perspiration was a hundred times better than the stank of old socks and musty boxers he got elsewhere. He always felt a bit grimy, a bit uneasy in his own skin, with the way his bulky body and gait moved him through the delicate spaces of the compound. In the gym, he could just be loud and forceful in his grimy skin and everyone else was too. 

But now, with you so polite and sweet and shy before him, Bucky felt at a loss. He couldn’t damn well say no to you when you gave such a good reason for asking him. He didn’t want to be an asshole. You were supposed to be teammates. Colleagues.  

“What she means to say is that no one else is good enough for her,” Scott Lang chimed in from the bench next to Bucky when Bucky remained quiet a second too long. 

A familiar, rosy blush stole across your cheeks as you batted a hand towards Lang. 

“Maybe if you spent half as much time working your biceps as you do your mouth, I would’ve asked you,” you retorted, and Bucky didn’t bother to quell his snort of laughter. It wasn’t often he got to see your sassy side, though Steve had told him about it. 

You looked back and smiled a little at Bucky as Lang exaggerated a shocked gasp and got up from his bench. 

“You know, you shouldn’t be so nice all the time, Y/N. I would like to see you being a little mean,” he said as he grabbed his towel and headed for the gym exit, smiling all the while. 

“Try me, Bug-man.”

“I just might, ordinary human woman,” Scott threw back as he pushed through the doors. 

You looked back as Bucky, who was still recovering slightly from the smile you’d given him. 

“So, what’s it gonna be, Barnes?” you asked hopefully. 

“Yeah, sure,” he heard himself say, and almost immediately his heart kicked into gear. 

This is a stupid idea, he thought to himself as he joined you on the sparring mat. Your scent, alive with your fresh, warm sweat, wafted in a trail directly behind you where Bucky followed, trying not to take too noticeable pulls of air. You stretched for a bit and Bucky did the same so he wouldn’t end up staring. 

“So,” he started as he raised himself from a forward hamstring stretch, “what have you and Steve been working o- oof!”

His words were cut off as you launched yourself on him, landing a kick to his midriff that had the breath momentarily stealing from his lungs. Then his mind slipped into combat mode, and he lunged for you. 

It seemed like hours passed as you sparred. You’d come a long way in your training, and Bucky found himself receiving quick punches and efficient kicks unexpectedly several times. You’d already been sweaty when you started, and it didn’t take long for your mixed perspirations to clog Bucky’s nose, adding a layer of distraction to the mix. 

You wrapped your thighs around his head in a move eerily reminiscent of Natasha, and Bucky nearly blacked out as he came face to face to the source of that intoxicating scent. He might be gross, but he didn’t care. It smelled so fucking good. 

And then, as he grabbed you by the hips and flung you to the mat, catching your head from breaking against the floor and lowering himself to his knees between your legs to dampen the impact, you let out a surprised little squeal that had him flushing for entirely new reasons. 

You stopped short, panting furiously and looking up at Bucky with wide eyes, face red, hair clinging to the sweat on your forehead. You were utterly gorgeous, and Bucky was powerless. He couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. You were a dream like this, alive and blinding, so beautiful and so close. It gave him a sort of reverent pleasure just to be allowed to look at a woman like this. A lucky reward he was completely undeserving of. 

You stayed like that. You on your back, arms limp on the mat over your head, legs loosely draped over Bucky’s thighs as he sat on his knees between them, metal arm bracing on the mat by the side of your head, the other, softer one, cradled between the back of your head and the mat under it. 

And then the unmistakable, elusive scent of lazy mornings in bed, sex and spice hit his nose. Your arousal, mixing with your sweat to a lethal potion. Bucky couldn’t for the life of him stop the instinctual indraw of breath, feeling himself instantly getting a little dizzy of it. The appreciative sigh escaped him a moment later. 

Your mouth parted slightly like you understood what he was doing, your eyes momentarily going wide before your eyelids drooped, pupils expanding. 

Then, in a move Bucky would never anticipate, your head lifted off his hand, and you slotted your mouth to his, warm lips meeting his in a hard kiss. 

Wait, what?

Even as Bucky’s thoughts scrambled to keep up with what you’d done, his body responded in kind, lips returning your kiss after only a beat of stunned shock. 

Muscles rippling with lightning bolt of unleashed need, his body surged forward, pressing your head back into the mat, dragging his flesh hand up to cradle your jaw as he deepened the kiss. 

You’d kissed him. He’d kissed you back. You were kissing. No, making out now, he thought fervently as your mouth opened to not so shyly pry your tongue against his, swiping slick and hot in a way that had his breath catching in his lungs.

Lust rippled through him, making even his bulky frame shudder.

With the cutest, neediest whimper that made Bucky’s blood rush in his ears, you grabbed his wrist with both your hands and brought his hand, the one made of flesh, down to cup you between your legs.

The surprised grunt that escaped him was entirely unplanned, and the one that followed was downright unhinged, escaping his control. Before his mind had completely caught up to what had happened, his hand had started to move back and forth on it’s own, rubbing you over and over, and fuck – you were wet, so wet it had soaked through the fabric of your leggings, making his hand damp.

Bucky’s breath burst out of him, and you suddenly wrenched away from the kiss, your head falling back with a dull thud on the mat. Your hands let go of Bucky’s hand and you covered your face with them.

“Oh God, sorry! I’m sorry, that was so thoughtless of me, what if you don’t want to, and I…and, maybe we should stop, I mean you don’t have to if –“ you rambled, shrill voice muffled by your own hands, and Bucky had to refrain from screaming in protest to this stopping. He brought the hand he’d awkwardly stilled between your legs up and pried one of your hands off your face.

You had the most adorable, crimson flush high on your cheekbones, and your face was all scrunched up from embarrassment. The sight of you being so small and vulnerable beneath him had a surge of protectiveness welling so fast in Bucky’s chest it physically pained him for a moment. He suddenly felt entirely sure he wanted to do, would do, anything to stop you from fretting, from worrying about anything ever again.

You were still mumbling faintly about not wanting him to feel pressured and how inaprorpriate it was of you to come on to him like this. Bucky would have none of that. Emboldened by his newfound emotion and almost panicked by the notion of this ending before he could touch you and kiss you just a little bit more, he lowered his face to capture your lips again, if only to shut you up. You whimpered into his mouth, eagerly reciprocating in contrast to your attempt at rationality. 

Fuck rationality. Bucky was starving, had been starving for months.

When he broke away, he leaned his forehead to yours, trying to catch his breath, to get order to his thoughts, but they were a jumbled mess of possessive, filthy wants that had his self control ripping at the seams. And your scent, God, your fucking scent was tinged with fucking ambrosia, like an aphrodisiac designed specifically to make Bucky’s vision go all loopy and his damn civility to shrivel to dust. 

“I want…I…fuck, you have no idea how much I want,” he blurted inelegantly, and then words escaped him all together, for there were no words to describe the profound ache that settled deep in his loins, the sheer carnal need to feel your skin on his, to touch you, to be the provider of every moan and keen of pleasure he could - to keep you wet and shivering and wordless from pleasure. 

His mind short circuited as he landed on the mental image of hearing you come with his cock deep inside your weeping cunt, and he pounced on you without really meaning to.

His mouth sought out the soft skin of your elegant neck, and he licked it before giving it an open-mouthed kiss, covering it in saliva. He felt your body twitch and writhe as he latched his teeth and tongue onto it, moving messily down to the collar of your compression shirt. He wanted to pry it off you, to tear it to shreds with his teeth, to lather the skin of your breasts with the attention of his tongue and lips, to nip and bite and suck on your nipples till they grew hard and red and puffy for him. But that would have to be later, for he had one goal he was working towards, that spot between your legs where he had already felt how much you already needed him. He would not let you go another minute unsatiated. 

Unceremoniously and frenzied, he kissed over your clothed torso as he crawled down your body. Your hands were in his hair, tugging and gripping as he went, the most decadent, breathy moans spilling from you panting mouth as he (rougher than he intended) manhandled your legs over his shoulders and then your hips off the floor, wrenching your leggings and underwear down so hard your whole body jolted, and fuck, he was telling himself to be more gentle, to not scare you away when you had given him this fucking gift of letting him get this far.

But he needed it; was desperate for it. Desperate to bury his face between your legs, breath in your warm, sweet scent where it was most potent, to taste you and feel your pulsate on his tongue. He needed you to come in his mouth, all over his face, so he would smell you there for days, lingering like the most illicit secret. Fuck, all his blood was rushing south so fast he felt almost faint.

You let him do what he wanted, laid down again naked from the waist down, so small and fragile and beautiful and Bucky wanted to eat you alive.

And then he was on his stomach between your legs, pussy inches away and it was glistening with how wet you were, your patch of dark curls wet too. Your whole body was shivering slightly, and your hands flitted about the mat for something to do, something to hold on to, a nervous gesture, or an excited one. Fucking hell, Bucky hoped you were half as excited for this as he was, and promised he would do anything to have you as addicted to his mouth as he already was to your scent. 

It was baffling how magnanimous the moment was to him, to have the absolute honor of being allowed this close to your sweet pussy, to have you trembling and flushed on your back, allowing him, socially stunted, unelegant and most of the time awkward as hell, between your glorious thighs, allowing him to touch you, to try and bring you the most pleasurable experience you could have. 

It had been a long time since Bucky was a religious man, but -

“Christ,” he muttered as he saw your pussy clenching under his gaze, more of your slick seeping out under his watchful gaze. 

In a moment of unexpected (and impressing) clarity, Bucky looked up to find your gaze on his face. 

“Is this okay? C-can I?” he asked, or rather rasped, for his voice was all husky, more growl than anything else. His cock was so hard in his pants, throbbing, and he had to push his hips down into the mat to alleviate some of the ache as he watched your face avidly, fearing for his life that you would do anything but consent enthusiastically. Suddenly he wasn’t sure how he would survive if you said no and he would have to tear himself away from you. 

To Bucky’s relief, a needy whimper escaped you and you bit your lips nodding before gasping. 

“Yes, please, please Barnes, I -”

Bucky didn’t let you finish your sentence. The minute he heard you say yes and oh lord - plead for him to do it - he surged forward and sucked your pussy into his mouth. He heard the air catch in your throat as he licked his tongue flat against you from weeping hole to your clit, the nub swollen and hard already. He flicked it with the tip of his tongue and your body jolted, a small sound escaping you. 

He did it again, flicking your clit teasingly, the little nub growing harder and bigger under his attention. He was ravenous, wanted to work you until your whole body felt like one big overstimulated nerve, contracting and throbbing with every touch. He wanted you soaked in pleasure, so hazy with it you could do nothing but come back to him for more. 

You let your sounds spill freely as he went, pretty, needy whimpers and unashamed moans.

God, yes, Bucky thought, hoping you always were so reactive, vowing to drag more sweet sounds out of you, his blood sizzling with how downright nourishing they were to him. 

You were writhing so hard on the mat you nearly squirmed away from his mouth, and Bucky hooked his metal arm around your thigh as he draped it over his shoulder, securing you firmly in place as he lavished your whole dripping pussy with his spit, letting it mingle with your own slick and coat his chin and lips in it, probably dripping down onto the mat. Bucky didn’t care, he couldn’t get enough. You tasted even better than you smelled, and his vision went blurry with how ecstatic he felt buried in the hot, soft flesh between your legs. 

He sucked your clit into his mouth, bullying it with his tongue as he peeked up at your sweaty face. He drank in the almost reverent look on it, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted, drool at one corner. 

Your hands still flitted about looking for purchase, for something to grab. He grabbed you gently by the wrist and led your hands to his hair, still working your clit with his tongue in rhythmic swipes, up and down, up and down. You instantly grabbed fistfuls of his dark locks in tight clasps and your eyes, blown and glassy, met his as he lowered his head to lap at your hole again. You whined, lifting your hips slightly to grind against his mouth and Bucky hadn’t thought this could get any better but the feel of you smearing your juices on his face, riding your clit mindlessly on his tongue, using him to chase your own pleasure - Bucky nearly came in his gym shorts and he couldn’t even be bothered by it. 

He fit his hands on your hips, just resting them there as you grinded on him, your brows drawn together in concentration. Bucky groaned into your flesh as more of your sweet slick dripped out of you onto his tongue, and you jolted against him, whimpering so adorably as your hips sped up to frantic bucking. 

Bucky started flicking his tongue to help you out, to drive the movement higher, faster, and you gasped hoarsely. 

“Yes, fuck, just like that, oh my god Bucky!,” you exclaimed, practically screaming into the empty gym. And hearing his name like that, so intimately and fervently, desperately as you praised him. Bucky downright snarled into your pussy, and that seemed to drive you that last bit off the edge. 

You threw your head back on a choked whine, whole body seizing tight, trembling like a leaf in his arms. Bucky kept his flicking licks on your clit, feeling it jump and throb as the waves of your orgasm rode your body. 

He kept licking until your voice returned to you in jolting little squeaks, and tried to keep going even as you pulled his face away from you by the roots of his hair. 

Bucky wanted to protest. Wanted to shake your hands off him and push his face into your cunt again. He wasn’t ready for it to end. He hadn’t gotten nearly enough of your addicting, heavenly taste. He kissed and licked over your thighs, smearing your slick and his spit all over them, nibbling on the soft skin and making you all messy, a preening sort of satisfaction settling warm in his chest at the sight. He wanted to see you come again, hear you come again, feel the way your muscles seized as you reached that pinnacle of pleasure. He wanted to make you come again. So he did just that. 

With renewed, almost feral fervor, Bucky shot to his knees and hunched over your lower body. Easily prying your hands off his head, he pinned them to your sides on the mat as he pushed his tongue against your hole, lapping up the gush your orgasm had created. A rational, though very small voice in the back of his mind told him he probably sounded and acted like an animal, but he didn’t care. He pushed his tongue as far inside you he could and felt your walls throb and clench around the muscle, driving his fervor higher. 

He kept your hands pinned to your sides a while longer, though it didn’t take long for your squeaks of overstimulation to turn back to sweet, needy whimpers of “fuck, yes, more, please, yes, God”.

Bucky wanted to feel more of you from the inside, and when he felt more secure in the fact that you would allow him more time between your legs, he let go of your wrist and brought his flesh hand down to your hole. His fingers trembled slightly as he swiped through your messy folds, coating them thoroughly before resting them just on your opening. 

Your hand returned to his hair, carding through and then tightening. 

“Pleeease,” you whined above him, and Bucky’s breath went short and puffy at how completely and ardently you submitted to him, gave yourself over and begged him. He wanted to hear you beg more, but he was too impatient to get inside you, if only with his fingers. 

His cock jumped at the thought of getting inside you, too, but he ignored it. He wanted you to come, right now. 

He pushed two fingers into you and groaned at the tight, wet heat that enveloped him. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before, and if he used to do this sort of thing back in the day, he couldn’t remember it feeling like this. 

Your back arched off the mat on a garbled gasp. Bucky took the opportunity to wrap his other arm under your back and practically drag you into his lap as he sat back on his haunches, getting his mouth back on your clit. 

He flicked it fast, alternating with messy suckling, and curled his finger inside you to hook against the roof of your stretched cunt. He had no idea where all his moves came from. He hadn’t so much as seen a naked woman since coming to the compound and didn’t remember much other than fragments of his sexual escapades before the war. It must have been muscle memory, some hard attained skills locked deep in his mind. It seemed to be working well with you, and that was all that mattered to Bucky. 

You were keening and whining under him, half in Bucky’s lap with your shoulders still on the mat. Your hands grabbed and scratched on his knees and thighs below you, and Bucky fucking loved it.

He was aware he was acting like a brute. No finesse, no manners, just a primal and instinctual need to get you off, to feel and hear and taste you fall apart from his touch and tongue. And have that heavenly scent of your arousal fresh in his mind for the rest of the day. 

You came again quickly with Bucky’s fingers added to the mix, screaming his name as your legs went rod stiff, body spasming that same, incredible way it had done the first time. Bucky felt high on your juice, licking up the fresh gush with reverent licks.

He had the absurd urge to keep going when he felt your hand tap his thigh twice. Tapping out. 

Bucky looked up your body, or rather down it where your bum was held up by his arm in his lap. You were panting, your eyes half-lidded and shining. You smiled at him, and his heart clenched weirdly in his chest. He was coming back to himself slightly, and suddenly wondered if he should prepare himself for embarrassment and horrified rejection after the unhinged way he’d just acted. But your hands, so gentle and elegant, reached for his face. 

He bent forward to insinuate his jaw into the cradle of them, and slowly lowered your lower body back to the mat as you gently pulled his face to yours, kissing him on the mouth almost chastely after what he’d just done. He could feel himself tremble a little as he hovered over you, kissing you again and then again, deepening the kiss a little to slow swipes of your tongues. He wondered if you could taste yourself on his tongue, if you liked your own taste as much as he did. 

Your head plumped back down on the mat and a trill of laughter flitted effortlessly from your mouth. 

“Oh my fucking God, Barnes,” you said, eyes closed and a broad smile on your face. Bucky could feel himself blushing a little, though he liked it better when you’d called him Bucky. 

Taking a purely selfish chance, Bucky quickly backed down your body to lay on his chest between your legs again, resting his head on one of your spread thighs. Your hand absentmindedly came to lay on his head, stroking his hair lightly. He stared at your pussy, swollen and pink and messy  with the mix of his spit and your slick. He could stare at it for hours. He took another selfish chance and slowly leaned in to swipe his tongue over your slit.

You moaned, though a bit critically. 

“If you don’t let me catch my breath, you’re gonna kill me,” you said, but you were still smiling. 

“I don’t want that,” Bucky admitted honestly, and you laughed again. 

“I’m glad.”

Bucky went back to staring at your messy pussy, taking in that perfect scent that had all his other thoughts muffling to a peaceful hum. He leaned forward, watching you to see if you would stop him, and took another slow, almost soothing swipe over your pussy. You jolted slightly, then hummed contently, eyes closing. He did it again, for he was an animal with no self-control, and this time, your thighs came up to bracket his face, stopping him half-way. 

“Barnes,” you warned, and Bucky had to admit defeat. He crawled back up to hover over your body, hoping you would drag him back in for kisses, or just touches, or just some form of physical contact. His skin was prickling all over from the pleasantness of just feeling warm skin to his. 

Luckily, you did, pulling him back down to kiss him again, and he let his body lower to lay splayed on top of you, making sure not to put too much of his bulk on you, but plastering himself to you all the same. 

You gave a startled little noise and broke from the kiss, looking down with wide eyes. 

Oh shit, Bucky was still sporting a raging hard-on, which he had unceremoniously pushed into your stomach as he laid down on top of you. About to jump away, Bucky again readied himself to reign himself back in when your hand snaked down, grabbing him over his gym shorts, keeping him put exactly where he was. 

Your hand around him, even with the fabric between, drew a raspy gasp from him. 

“Can I”? You asked, looking up at him through your lashes. 

Bucky swallowed thickly, looking down at your dainty hand barely reaching around the bulge in his gym shorts, and his cock gave a noticeable jerk as his mind flooded with images of all the things he wanted you to do to his cock. He could feel his balls tingling, drawing up, his sack tightening in warning. He was already on the edge. 

“I won’t last long,” he admitted, barely daring to meet your gaze again. 

You smiled, biting your lip slightly. 

“That doesn’t matter, as long as you want to,” you said. Bringing your other hand to draw his face down, he shivered as your hot breath tickled his ear. He was so overworked on sensation, he was surprised his arms hadn’t given out yet for how weak and sensitive he felt all over. 

“I want to make you feel good,” you whispered huskily in his ear, and Bucky bit his lip to try and stifle the embarrassing sound crawling its way up his throat at those words. He wasn’t successful, and he sounded almost like a wounded puppy before giving up and pressing his flushed face into the crook of your neck, nodding rapidly. He hadn’t even given a thought to you reciprocating anything. He’d been more than happy to just use the memory of this as masturbation fodder for a long, long time to come. 

“Yeah?” you asked in a honey sweet voice, God, you were just so fucking sweet, and Bucky melted against you. “Roll over on your back,” you told him, and like a tamed beast eager to please, Bucky immediately obeyed, rolling off you to lay on his back on the mat. You followed, moving swiftly to get on your hands and knees between his spread legs, one hand moving teasingly up his thigh to wrap around his bulge again. 

Not able to help himself, Bucky rose to a sitting position to claim your mouth as you held him by the cock. He wanted you closer, everywhere. You kissed him while lazily touching him over the fabric of his shorts, sliding the tip of your finger up his length to the tip and Bucky jolted, grunting uncontrollably into your mouth. His breathing was picking up, his nerve endings spiking and sizzling. 

While thrusting your tongue into his mouth, Bucky’s hands cradling your face like the most precious jewel, you reached inside his shorts and took his cock out, wrapping your hand around it and letting it just sit, rock hard and leaking generously, between you. 

You broke the kiss, gave Bucky the most devilish smirk he’d ever seen, and licked your lips before lowering yourself to take him into your mouth. The anticipation burned like a lightning bolt straight down his body to his cock. 

Bucky exploded before you even got your lips to his tip. Cum spurted out of him, spraying his t-shirt, some going as high as his chin, and some getting on your shocked face. Bucky groaned as the orgasm wrecked through him, riding through him in wave after wave, the most intense one he could ever remember having - and you hadn’t so much as jerked him without his clothes on. 

Mortified and still trembling slightly with aftershocks, Bucky gathered the courage to look at you, and found you staring at his cum-covered chest. Your hand was still wrapped around his twitching cock, your knuckles shining with his spunk, and despite how Bucky had no clue where to go from here, the sight had hot satisfaction spreading in his chest. It was like he was marking you with his cum the way you had marked him with your slick (though that had mostly been Bucky marking himself by literally rubbing his face in it). 

He watched with rapid attention as you brought your wet hand up to your face and licked a stripe of cum off your knuckle, sucking your own thumb into your mouth. You met his gaze, and Bucky swore under his breath as his dick throbbed with renewed interest at the sight. 

Your mouth ticked up at the corner before you leaned in and kissed Bucky softly on the mouth. He shivered with excitement as you pried his lips open with yours to swipe his own taste into his mouth. Fuck, he’d never done that before. It was filthy and possessive and dominating and Bucky had never thought he’d be so fucking turned on by it. 

You broke the kiss with a content hum that had Bucky’s blood rushing in his ears. 

“That was really fucking hot,” you murmured, going back in for another kiss. Bucky felt his nervousness dissipating, replaced by a sort of ecstatic elation. A laugh bubbled up and out of him, and he kissed you back. Pulling you closer with his hands on your face, neither of you cared about the mess on his shirt as you laid down on top of him, kissing again and again, slowly, exploringly. 

There was a calm inside Bucky, a sort of sated comfort he could scarcely remember feeling, and he knew it was all because of you, the sweet, wonderful woman in his arms. He could lay like this forever, simply kissing you, holding you close, smelling your scent and feeling your warmth against him, your grounding weight on his chest. His cock had other thoughts though, already starting to fill, lodged between the two of you. 

You raised your head and cocked a brow down at Bucky, and he could do nothing more than shrug and blush. And then, as he started thinking about dragging you up to sit on his face, a booming voice came from the door to the gym. 

“Please, for the love of all things good and holy, vacate the gym room now! You’re keeping it hostage at this point!,” Sam shouted, and Bucky glanced over your shoulder to see him standing outside, facing the other way as he held the door open to shout through. 

Oh. Right, you were still in the very public gym of the compound. 

You squealed as you scrambled off Bucky to retrieve the leggings and underwear he’d ripped off you and thrown to the side. Bucky got on his feet and in between you and the view of the door, trying to shield you from view while you frantically redressed - he could at least try to be a gentleman after having devoured you like a hungry animal and then cum all over himself and you. 

You turned to face him once you were fully dressed, and your eyes bulged as you glanced down. With frantic, fumbling hands, you reached forward and tucked his cock, hard and proud and still jutting out over his shorts, back inside. Bucky grunted at the touch, seeing the lovely crimson blush on your face, stretching to the tips of your ears and down your neck. He grunted again, appreciatively, when he noticed the splotches of his cum still drying on your chin and cheek from when he’d busted in your face. 

Bringing his thumb up, he gently wiped his mess off your skin, wiping his hand on the back of his shorts. 

“Sorry about Sam and…” Bucky trailed, gesturing awkwardly to the mat and around the room. His communication skills hadn’t improved by the earth-shattering orgasm, then…

“It’s fine. It was I who jumped your bones, after all,” you said sheepishly, but you were smiling. God, so sweet. 

Bucky was about to lean in to kiss you once again when Sam’s voice cut in. 

“Don’t you dare start up again, I don’t have all day! And bring that mat with you. Matter of fact, burn it!” he shouted. 

Giggling like teenagers, you scrambled to get your belongings and exit the room. Bucky gave Sam an apologetic look as he passed him, and though Sam was clearly pissed off, Bucky saw the way his mouth was ticking up at the edges, approval shining in his eyes. 

You grabbed Bucky’s hand once you’d left the gym, and Bucky happily let himself be dragged along down the hall. He was already working on his plan to lure you into his room, and subsequently rub your scent on everything he owned. For though the intensity of smells were mostly a nuisance for Bucky, having a strong sense of smell wasn’t so bad when it came to you.

[commandermahariel]

actually i really don't fucking get the whole ''anders was better in awakening" circlejerk. "sealene you have posted about this several times already isn't it enough" NO IT IS NOT

anders in awakening is a cliche funnyman guy whose motivations aren't particularly interesting or compelling. oh he likes cats and doesn't like templars and wants a pretty girl. truly revolutionized writing. it doesn't help, of course, that awakening is only like 15 hours long if you do all the side content, and really none of the companions are that fleshed out.

idk man i don't have any screenshots or long professional essays about character analysis i'm not that kind of blogger. i'm just some guy who finds the da2 version of anders much, much more interesting and compelling as a character. "oh they ruined him in da2" it's called fucking character development?????????????

anders in dragon age II is far from being a flawless person. some might even say he is a bad person, and while i don't really agree to that, i do see where those people are coming from. but he is an interesting character, one that provokes heated discussion even 13 years after the game's release. how often is there any meaningful discussion regarding awakening anders that isn't just "hur dur he was better back then"?

i don't even dislike awakening anders he's a fun little guy wish he wasn't voiced by fucking greg ellis tho but come on man would this man really be an interesting companion in something longer than a 15 hours long dlc with very little companion interactions

edit: i have a feeling this post might breach containment so in case it does -- i wrote this while being kinda sleep deprived and without thinking too deep, i was just pissed at dragon age reddit being stuck in 2016. i could have articulated my point better and with less generalization towards daa anders but i won't bother rewriting the post now because most people likely won't see the new version anyway

[squarebracket-trickster]

9 People you want to know better

Huge thank you to uhhh *checks drafts* @words-after-midnight - their post here, @bluberimufim - her post here, @touloserlautrec - his/their post here

Currently reading: City of Bones by Cassie Clare. I never read it during it's peak when I was literally the right age demographic and I feel like I missed out. It's not the strongest writing in the world but I am enjoying it so far. It's been interesting to go back and reread a bunch of "older" YA - like pre-2016-ish. There is so much more filler, banter, character moments than in the post-2016 stuff, especially post-2019. Like it was right around that time that publishing shifted to the "everything has to advance the plot and be super fast paced" mentality. And tbh... I like the old stuff better. It spawned larger fandoms with more staying power - I mean, how many post-2019 booktok popular books have more than 100 fanfics on AO3? I think I'm not the only one who misses the slower, more character focused YA.

Last song I listened to: Avril Lavine's Keep Holding On was on the radio while I was driving home from work. 10 year-old me knew all the words. 20-something me still does.

Currently watching: I haven't watched any TV or movies is so long oh my gosh. But! I did go see murder mystery play with my friend last Friday night!

Current fic I'm reading: [do I confess to having a secret whump blog here? My anxiety is pretty bad rn. Which means I have been devouring and regurgitating whump like no tomorrow. I have read and written so much holy]

Current hyperfixation (changed from obsession because I don't use that language. I do, however, have ADHD): yeah... uhhh... whump.

Favourite colour: Green, specifically the shade of the underside of a maple leaf caught in the sun. But I am also very partial to any rich blue or pink.

Spicy, sweet, savory, or salty? A little bit of everything. I like it when dishes are made with really high-quality ingredients that speak for themselves and don't need to be disguised with sugar, spices, or salt.

Relationship status: *cries in single* where meet men in my city????

Last thing I Googled: hypothermia whump... yeah... (also apparently I googled the word lapel to make sure it meant exactly what I thought it meant)

Song stuck in my head: OH I am the QUEEN of getting shit stuck in my head! I once had "In Flanders Fields" the POEM - not even a song - stuck in my head in both English AND FRENCH. It wasn't even November... Currently, it's the "I had a little turtle, his name was tiny tim" song... it's been days help

Favourite food: Kiisseli (a Finnish stewed berry dessert.) I am also partial to a very juicy steak.

Dream trip: I wanna go to Ireland so bad. But I need to know some Irish person willing to teach me harp techniques first.

Gently tagging (you don't have to answer all of these. I just chose to combine three tags in one): @nacricissa *ahem*, @malapertmarquess, @ditzydisko, @dyrewrites, @toribookworm22, @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @blackrosesandwhump, @beloveddawn-blog, @unhingednovelist

[meowmeowriley]

Anybody else see that art on Twitter of Soap as an Animal Crossing villager, and then the other art of that Soap sitting on Doom Guy Ghost's shoulder? Anybody else feeling so incredibly normal about it? Anyway. Have this.

***

"C'mon uncle John, would it kill you to smile? Pretend you wanna be here?" Soap was doing his best, he really was. He loved his nephew, and when his sister Isla said he couldn't go to the convention because it was too far away and he didn't have an adult, well what are uncles for?! But he hadn't taken into account that 1) he's never been to a cosplay convention and 2) he's seriously out of his depth when it comes to the colorful characters around them. If anyone asked he'd be mortified to admit that he'd spent the better part of his leave following his nephew around, taking pictures of him with characters from various video games and anime. No, he'd be keeping this experience to himself.

"I'm not not enjoying myself." Andrew rolled his eyes. "I just don't know any of the characters. I haven't played a video game in ages, and I've never watched anime." Plenty of other soldiers did watch anime, and there was nothing wrong with that, he'd just never joined in.

Andy snorted. "What was the last game you played, old man?" Soap resented that. He wasn't even thirty yet.

"I dunno, Halo maybe?"

"The original?!"

"Think so." Soap said with a shrug.

"So the year I was born. Got it." Yikes.

Suddenly Andy was excitedly pointing at a large man in green and gray armor, in the middle of a crown. "Oh you have to recognize that guy!" And did he ever. How could anyone not recognize Doom Guy? And he was holding the BFG.

"Ohhhohohoho yeah. I know Doom Guy." John had nearly forgotten how much he'd loved the Doom games as a kid. "And before you say it, those games are old, even for me."

"They redid the games in 2016 and 2020. It's relevant again." Oh. And with that Soap was once again being dragged toward some random person in a costume.

Something this guy was getting right was that he wasn't speaking. He'd nod, wave, aim his gun, but he didn't utter a word. Soap couldn't see a thing through the helmet visor. I wonder if he can even see outta that?

The guy caught sight of them, evidently he could see, and tilted his head while looking down at Soap. "That things pure dead brilliant." He found himself marveling at the BFG in the man's armored hands.

It looked like it was actually made of metal. And it actually glowed! How the man had gotten the green lights to work, he was dying to know. Trying to configure it in his head, he nearly missed when the man held it out slightly for him. "Can I?" He asked, just making sure. Oh he'd kill for something like this in the field. Pure devastation. Doom Guy nodded and John took the gun. Holding it, it was a hell of a lot lighter than he'd imagined. The fuck is this thing made of?

Andy popped up beside him. "Can we get a picture with you mate?" To that, Doom Guy nodded. Maybe Soap would tell people he'd been here, he wanted a picture of him holding this gun hung up at his desk.

Andy backed up, people kindly stayed out of the way as the picture was taken. Doom Guy posed, crossing his arms over his massive chest. Soap held the gun as best he could like he would a rifle. Not aimed at anyone, but ready. "We're good." Andy called. Doom Guy  held up his hand to stop him, then stuck out one finger and swirled his hand around. "Huh?" Andy thought for a moment. "Another?" Doom Guy nodded and gave a thumbs up. Really taking his character seriously. Who were they to deny him, this was cool as fuck. Soap readied himself to take the next picture, giving the camera a feral grin, just like the first, when Doom Guy placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned down.

"Enjoying the convention Johnny?" Startled at the use of his name that he knew he hadn't given the man, he whipped around, instinctively pointing the gun in his hands at the chest of the other man.

Then it dawned on him. "Ghost?!" He asked incredulously. There's no fucking way.

The man in question began laughing. He reached up and removed his helmet. Shaking his head, Ghost's messy, dark blonde hair flew in every direction.

Unlike Las Almas, he wasn't drenched in sweat, there was no grease paint, and light brown hair was longer and curled slightly. Shit he had freckles. Shit he was cute. Dangerous thoughts, John.

"I didn't think this was your kinda thing, Johnny." Ghost said with a crooked grin that perfectly framed his crooked teeth.

John was no saint. He'd been flirting with Ghost since they met. Secretly really wanted to have sex with him, but he'd only seen the man's face that one time, and now his mind was going a million kilometers an hour trying to take in every inch on display. Thoughts both pure and impure ran through his head, and the only thing that managed to make its way to his mouth was "Where'd you get this thing?" Normally he was a better flirt, but normally he was flirting with the visage of death. Not a pretty man with freckles. Well he was, but not really.

"I made it." Ghost shrugged, armor clacking as his shoulders rose and fell. "Same as the suit. It's all EVA foam and 3D printing."

"You made this?!"

"Yeah? I made my masks too. What, you think I bought those?" Ghost smirked.

Andy had jogged back over. "I took a video, so we could take screenshots." He handed the phone over to Ghost.

"I'm absolutely keeping this, Johnny." He said as he typed in his number and sent the video to himself. Damn, Andy got Ghost's number before he did.

"Johnny?"

"Shut it, Andy." He warned. "We work together. Never in a million years thought I'd see him out here though."

"I go to any convention I can make. It's fun. I have other suits. Isaac Clark from Deadspace, Master Chief from Halo. I like to wear them and make people smile. I don't get to do that often." He seemed lost in thought for a second, face darkening. Just as quickly as it had happened, the expression was gone. "You go to conventions often?"

"First one. But I could be persuaded to go to more." John smiled his best flirty smile. Andy snickered, and earned himself an elbow to the ribs.

***

Now I desperately wanna see Soap at a con dressed like Isabelle while holding the super shotgun.

[tboyswagging]

Recently I have been making a kind of trans memory box of important things from my transition and as someone who lives in a fairly unsupportive environment I'm finding it really healing in a way. Like even despite it all I'm finding elements of me. I saw someone do this on Instagram a while ago so I definitely stole the idea. I'm just putting it in a random shoebox but I hope I'll look back on it one day when I'm in a better situation and further transitioned and like,, feel emotional about it. But this is what's in my memory box so far:

- my diary from 2016 which is the year I came out to everyone, it starts in May and I came out to my parents in January so I don't have their reaction but from the fact they gave me the notebook and they wrote a dedication to me which says "dear [deadname]" we can infer they are not on board (they still arent). But I've written entries about coming out to other people and talk about my life. Also I was in an abusive relationship later on in 2016 and its interesting to hear abt that bcs a lot of my memory has gone. I was in year 7 and its just crazy to think how my life has changed.

- old binder, not my very first binder bcs idk where that has gone I don't think I still have it but it's the last gc2b binder I had I've been getting spectrum since 2019 and its very stretched out bcs once I wore it for 8 consecutive days and nights (very very unadvisable). But its the longest ago binder I have so it'll have to do

- zine I was in when i was 17 that I hid from my parents bcs its Trans Themed

- my deedpoll

- letters from the GIC clinic from 2019 and 2021 (the second one telling me I have been put on the adult waiting list). I am literally nearly a year and a half on T and I still haven't got a GIC appointment it's a joke. (I started T priv but then transferred over to a nhs dr)

- First ever testosterone bottle packaging that I have stuck both my private prescription label and nhs prescription label to

I think I am gonna print out my gender dysphoria diagnosis if I ever have the opportunity (it is very funny bcs when I got diagnosed w gender dysphoria I was 3 months on T and had been identifying as trans for 7 years so i was like. Yeah no shit) and a photo of me the day I came out but I'm trying to think what other things I can put in it

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! Thank you for the countless times you've recommended my works, I appreciate it 🥹 I wondered if you have any short, fluffy oneshots with domestic husbands kissing. There can be smut, I'm indifferent. I just really want some domestic husbands kissing and being cute and adorable

Hi! We have lots of fics on our #fluff, #domestic fluff, and #kissing tags. Here are some short fics to add to the collections...

Home is just another word for you by Onomatopoetikon (G)

Crowley has never understood the human obsession with the concept of home. For millennia he has heard humans tell stories and sing songs of home – leaving it, finding it, building and returning to it – but he has never understood it. Not until he almost lost it.

The Quiet Moments by My_Dialect (G)

Aziraphale and Crowley spend a quiet afternoon together, enjoying each other's company and reflecting on their long history together.

Drunk (and not so drunk) Shenanigans by Fire_Traveller (T)

Since it's a rainy day, Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves stuck in the bookshop with nothing better to do than to get thoroughly sloshed and ramble on about nothing in particular. They will eventually sober up, though...and Aziraphale might just have another idea what to do to pass the time with each other... Things turn rather suggestive at the end, but there is no on-screen smut here - we'll leave that to the privacy of a certain angel and demon...

Baby, You Can Drive My Car by CopperBeech (T)

Avert the Apocalypse? Check. Move to the South Downs like respectable retirees? Check. Break a six-thousand-year habit of careful distancing? Not so fast. But Aziraphale does have one thing he'd like to check off. “Crowley, are you going to let me try this or not? You said you had nothing on today. We don’t live in London any more, the omnibus only runs three times a day and twice on Sundays, it’s completely unfair to expect you to ferry me everywhere. I just need to learn the basics. Once I’ve mastered them I’ll choose an automobile of my own. I wouldn’t presume to take the Bentley out any old time."

Just an ordinary day at last by 5ftjewishcactus (G)

Books, Food, and Crowley. Aziraphale's most favorite things. And he gets to spend an entire day enjoying all three. Just a normal day in a post-apocalypse world for an angel and his favorite demon.

to us, fortuni by enbymegumi (G)

Aziraphale feels himself start to sweat. He looks down at his rippling, steaming tea. “Crowley and I… we’re not actually married. We’re just friends… I think. Best friends. Partners.” There’s a long silence. It’s been a while since Aziraphale had sat through something so awkward. The last time had been when he’d dragged Crowley to see the film Sausage Party (2016) in theatres, only to find out that it was not, in fact, a deeply moving children’s cartoon about food. “Now, that can’t be true.” Madame Tracy’s voice is quiet. --- or: everything's always been so easy and comfortable between aziraphale and crowley. until aziraphale begins feeling the pressures of human standards and definitions of love... help comes from an unexpected quarter!

- Mod D

[watermelonsugacry]

Oooo what about bandmember and The Weeknd Grammy performance to save your tears and Harry’s there. I need a harry and Abel meeting. ilysm girl

ok so YN and Abel first met in late 2016.

She was in a recording studio in LA after finishing up a session with another artist. On her way out, she saw fellow producer Ali Payami. Besides formally being in the most famous band to date, YN was getting more and more recognized for her producing skills.

So after extending a hand out to help the producer in need, she's then introduced to Abel. They vaguely knew each other from commercial success but they actually spent a good hour or so just talking and getting to know one another—she's a firm believer in getting to know the artist behind the music before working with them.

Conversation came easy and a friendship was effortlessly formed as they bonded over their love for music, producing, and knowing how to speak in different languages.

Not long after, she's shown the song he had been working on before he got stuck. And she goes back to her roots: harmonies.

With a suggestion and demonstration of harmonizing with his vocals in his verse:

When I get you moaning you know it's real Can you feel the pressure between your hips? I'll make it feel like the first time

she finds herself in the recording booth laying down vocals for her own verse and chorus for the song.

The two had so much fun making music together that over the next few years, they made three more songs together: Off The Table, Save Your Tears, and You Right.

Harry has only seen Abel a small hand full of times in person. The first time the two met was during the recording of Off The Table back in 2019.

Harry had just taken his keys out of the front door of YN's home to find the open space absent of her presence. He did get there an hour earlier than he initially told her for a nice surprise after she's had a long day in the studio working on her album.

He walks all around her house in search of her and doesn't spot her in her usual spots: living room, at home gym, her bedroom. Suspecting she still must be working, he takes the small walk to her connected guest house she converted into a home studio.

A fond smile tugs itself on his lips at the sound of her laughing but a crease quickly forms in between his eyebrows at the sound of another man's laugh. He knocks on the glass door before entering to find YN in front of the large studio panel with The Weeknd sitting on his own swivel chair beside her.

YN doesn't invite just anyone to her home studio. Aside from Harry and Lizzo, no other artist has recorded in her sacred space.

"Hey b-Harry," YN smiles at her secret boyfriend, pleasantly surprised to have him home earlier than expected.

"Oh shit," Abel laughs in disbelief with a fist in front of his smile. "You're Harry Styles."

"What the 'ell, you didn't seem that excited when yeh first met me," She playfully scoffs.

"You weren't as cool then," Abel teases, making her laugh and Harry's chest burn. Putting on his media-trained persona, Harry takes the artist's outreached hand in a firm handshake, "I'm Abel. Nice you, man."

"M'Harry," He smiles a closed-lipped smile and YN bites one back as she immediately sees through her love's front. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?" Harry asks, the skin on his arms beginning to tingle from not having her in them yet.

"Not at a—"

"Actually," She interrupts Abel and looks to Harry with an amused smile. "We were in the middle of something. If yeh don't mind waiting another half hour or so, we should be wrapping up soon," She advises, making it seem like Harry was there for a recording session rather than anything else.

It really takes everything in her to stifle her giggle at the sight of her boyfriend trying his hardest to keep his front up, knowing full well how much he wants her to be in his arms, pressing her lips to his so lovingly, and having a cuddle.

"Not at all," Harry nods when every fiber of his being is telling him to throw her over his shoulder and ditch the other artist who's taking up her time instead of being with him. "But do you mind if I talk with yeh for a quick sec?" He nods his head over to the other room.

He grows even more frustrated when she hums in contemplation before scrunching up her nose, "Can it wait? M'working."

Harry takes a glance at Abel who's sitting there completely oblivious, clearly not fighting against spending time in the studio with his close friend.

"Of course," He reassures with a smile that YN can quickly tell is forced. "Nice meeting you, Abel."

"Same here, man."

And with that, he's softly closing the glass door behind him when he really just wants to slam it shut.

He waits an hour and a half before Abel finally leaves. Once she comes back into her home after walking him out, she's quickly pressed up against her door by her boyfriend pressing his mouth feverishly to hers.

"Why are yeh laughing?" He asks against her mouth. "There's nothing funny."

"You," She holds onto his cheeks, pulling him back so she can finally get a breath in, "You're cute."

He's quickly attaching his mouth to her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses at the spot her neck and shoulder meet and she hums happily. He makes his way back up her neck, her jawline, and back to her mouth.

"Missed you," He says, his hand already crawling and dipping into the front of her shorts to where she craves him. She gasps against his mouth, titling her back to thump against the door but since he towers over her, he keeps his lips ghosting over hers.

"I missed you," She pants as he keeps his body pressed against hers. She whimpers when she feels his fingers dip and curl up into her.

"You missed me?" He taunts, his hand only picking up speed. His dimples dig into his cheeks when she nods meekly, her hand quickly gripping onto his wrist. It's moments like these where he basks in the way that behind closed doors, he can make this headstrong, stubborn girl turn into putty in his hands. He even contemplates edging her, leaving her high and dry, and having her wait the same amount of time she did to him.

But the satisfaction of having her writing against him, panting and moaning his name, knowing exactly how to make her feel good, and knowing that he's the only one that can make her feel like this is just too perfect.

"Then show me," He bites at her bottom lip, his own eyebrows furrowing with passion as he watches her tip over the edge.

So needless to say, whenever she and Abel get together—whether it be through making music, meeting up through awards shows, or going to see one another at their shows—Harry gets undoubtedly possessive and jealous. He knows that bottom line, the two are good friends and that she's allowed to be close with people other than him, but he can't help it. Especially now that there's no more hiding and sneaking around since their relationship went unexpectedly public on New Years 2020.

And even after her six-year friendship with the other artist, he still can't shake off the uncomfortable twist in his stomach at the sight of them on stage. Especially her surprise Save Your Tears duet performance at the 2021 iHeart Music Awards.

There's no denying that she looks absolutely gorgeous when she comes out on stage in her plum-colored satin outfit, posing with a jut of her hip and singing so effortlessly as the crowd screams out in a mix of excitement and disbelief. The stage is truly her happy place and it shows as she performs; like everyone else watching, he's excaptivated by her.

So much so, that he almost misses the way that when she sings:

And you deserve someone better

Abel points to her and then himself.

So can he be blamed when he stays extra quiet when he meets her back in her dressing room?

"And it was just so cool to hear the crowd scream like that," YN giggles as she removes her necklaces to place on the vanity.

"You deserve it, lovie. It shouldn't come as a surprise at this point," He looks at her so fondly from his seat on the leather couch.

"I honestly wasn't expectin' that type of reaction but it was..." She takes a second glance through the mirror at her love. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see how supportive Harry is to his girlfriend, being with her any way he can and exuding a love for her that is truly unmatched.

But it does take his best friend of 11 years to see that something is up.

She walks the short distance over to him and cups his jaw in her hands and has his gaze meet hers, "Hey."

"Hi," He muses.

"I love you, yeah? Not Abel, not some other musician, not anybody else. You."

Harry huffs out a laugh through his nose, slightly shaking his head in disbelief at how well she knows him. He gently takes a hold of her forearms and leans up to rub his nose against hers, "I love you."

And when he closes the gap between them to capture her lips with his, how can he even entertain the thought of her having eyes for anybody else?

SINCE 2010 masterlist

Taglist:

@wobblymug @be-with-me-so-happily @ashtongivesmebutterflies @kiwiskiwiskiwi @darlingdesire @obsesseddd @hopefulwastelandcreation @cacapeepee @breezie-b00 @harrysfolklore @theekyliepage @sunshinemoonsposts @nervousspiderling @tbslonelyhes @tenaciousperfectionunknown @harrystylesrecs @certified-nalayak @itsjustsel @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @gviosca @behindmygreyeyes @twobluejeans @allisonxmcu @theemeraldbutterfly @jean-love @marvellover-sam @b-reads-things @reveriehs @rach2602 @thurhomish @perrypughstyles @luvonstyles @mxltifxnd0m @teamspideyman @c00chiemonster @juiceboxrry @s8tellite @folklorehrry @illicithallways @claramllera @eunoiaax @hoya122 @nichmedder @sleutherclaw @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @harianaswhore @teawithcyb0rgs @vrittivsanghavi @vc55bughead @futuristiccroissantlampsludge @onecrazydirectioner @valluvsu @itsgabbysblog @awkwardbisexuall @rosehel @sucker4angstt @isalove @diorchives @mrshiddlestyles02

[lovelybrooke]

Is it just me or is the whole discourse around whether or not Hobie Brown is a minor just used as a way to distract from the REAL-LIFE racists who dislike Hobie for no reason other than he's black?

Like not trying to rain on people's parade, but Hobie Brown in a fictional character and it doesn't matter who you ship him with because him and Mile Molares aren't real. Like, personally I think he's a teenager (around ages 17-18) and don't ship him with Miles, but I think there's better things to worry about other than whether or not its ethical to ship a fictional character with another fictional character especially when I can just not interact with people who ship them together.

And while we're on the topic, can people please stop mischaracterizing Hobie. You people need to understand that just because someone says that they don't like labels it doesn't mean they are not loyal or would cheat. Like at most Hobie would communicate with his partner about what he desires in a relationship and not continue perusing them if they're uncomfortable. I get you guys want to write your edgy rocker fanfics, but like I've said before, writing ooc characters are fine as long as it doesn't completely change who the character is.

Sadly, a lot of the mischaracterizations come from racism. I want to say first that I am a white passing mixed person. I have tried really hard to get the characterization of Hobie correct, but I know it will never be exactly perfect. However, even I understand that writing Hobie as toxic, possessive, or aggressive, is just plain wrong. Throughout the entire movie, Hobie is kind and helpful to the people who need it, like Miles or Qwen. He lets Qwen stay at his place for fuck's sake. Like sometimes I even question if we even watched the same movie.

I feel like the Spiderverse community needs to stop hyperfixating on the fictional age of this fictional character and instead start calling out the actual racism happening with in the community. So many black authors and content creators (because this isn't just a Tumblr problem) have called out actual issues, and instead we're all stuck in 2016 with the pro/anti-shipping discourse. If someone wants to ship Miles and Hobie, let them. And if someone views Hobie as an adult, let them. It literally doesn't affect you or anyone else. You know what does affect people? RACISM!

I understand that I'm part of the problem because of my privilege and understand that my characterization of him probably isn't the best. But even though I actively write yandere/dark fics, I will always try and make sure his characterization is true to his movie counterpart and I'm always open for criticism about how I write any of the characters in my fics. Other, specifically white authors, need to do the same.

[bengiyo]

Alright, new question, I know how much you enjoy your Sad Gay Boy Hours. What shows, besides Until We Meet Again, because I know how much you love it, satisfy your Sad Gay Boy needs?

The Boys Who Suffered

The big thing about The Knowing is The Suffering. There is a melancholy that seeps into you and makes you think you aren't enough. These characters are hard to watch. I know you asked about shows, but I'm doing some movies as well because I've been thinking about genre history lately. For this it's about whether or not the quiet sadness in me connected to the quiet sadness I perceived in a character in this show.

Moonlight (2016)

He is the saddest boy in my heart. This is the moment that breaks him forever.

For The Boys

Jamal, Syed, and Anthony have suffered for being who they are, and they are hurting. They cling to each other and it's often too hard.

Weekend (2011)

This man is so lonely even if people love him. I feel melancholy for days any time I watch this film.

Big Eden (2000)

I don't know who taught him shame, but there's this sense of surrender in Henry that has haunted me for fifteen years.

A Single Man (2009)

Colin Firth and Stanley Tucci play some of the saddest gay men who have ever existed. This entire project is about grief.

180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us

Inthawut is the saddest man in BL.

Given (2019)

The reveals about the depths of sadness in this boy are really some of the best I've experienced.

Eternal Yesterday (2022)

He was suffering even before Koichi died, and it saddens me so much that the world bent to let him say goodbye to help him grieve.

The Pornographer Series

I just knew there was something fundamentally off about Kijima and the rest of these men.

The Day I Loved You (2023)

I keep meaning to write something about this show, but there's something special about going into a relationship you know won't be forever because of external factors, and also choosing to make that time as special as possible.

Tokyo in April is...

Ren suffering for Kazuma gets me every time.

Like in the Movies (2020)

I'm never getting over Karl and Vlad. I'm sad we'll likely never see them again because in so many ways the specific pieces of melancholy in each of them are why they didn't walk away together.

To My Star 2: Our Untold Stories

These two were not left at HEA and they didn't end there this time, either. Both of these two are carrying some heavy shit in their hearts, and I find comfort in seeing them stumble and keep trying.

What Did You Eat Yesterday?

Shiro makes me so sad sometimes, and I'm so glad he found Kenji.

The Eclipse

Every boy in this show is a sad mess.

The Eighth Sense

I'm glad Jae Won found Ji Hyun, because that country twink won't give up on him.

Kabe-Koji Nekoyashiki-kun Desires to be Recognized

I recently rewatched this and feel so much about Mamoru and Issei.

Our Dating Sim

Lee Wan was wrong, but I get him.

We Best Love

"Yes, I'm in love with you, but that's none of your business."

Stuck On You

The Philippines crushed the pandemic. This is quietly one of the better ones about people who were already suffering.

Blueming

Hwang Da Seul's oeuvre always seems to hit my sad boy core.

Sing My Crush

Every time Han Baram says Im Hantae's name I lose it.

[animebw]

Seasonal Reflection: Winter 2024 Anime

My feelings on the first anime season of 2024 can be summed up thusly: Most of my favorite shows from winter 2024 were continuations of shows that were already great from last season, not new entries. That's not necessarily a bad thing, and there were plenty of new anime I at least enjoyed watching. But it became clear about halfway through the season that aside from a couple fall 2023 holdovers, there was barely anything truly exciting going on here. Most of the adaptations I watched didn't do much to truly elevate their source material, and most of the few original series we got ended up the worst of the bunch. I can't say nothing good came out of winter 2024, but if this is any sign of how the rest of the year is gonna go, we may be in for a slog. For now, though, let's take stock of the anime I watched this season, and which ones are worth your time.

Metallic Rouge: 3/10

If you asked me what the worst show I finished this season would be at the start, I never would've guessed Metallic Rouge. I mean, it's a cool-ass original sci-fi anime from Bones with slick 2D mecha animation, surely that's gotta be at least a little cool, right? Sadly, no. Because this is, without question, one of the most baffling scripts I've ever seen in anime. Almost every single detail of its world and plot are barely explained, if at all, and the mechanics of what's even supposed to be going on are so nebulous that every attempt at a plot twist feels like a twist on something that never actually existed. Characters are plopped into the story without even an introduction. At times it feels like whole scenes have been cut out entirely. The only thing I can compare it to is the original Suicide Squad movie from 2016: a story so cut to the bone in the editing room that you can barely tell what's supposed to be happening half the time, and yet enough of the original story remains to suggest it was never any good in the first place. The one thing it gets right is the prickly chemistry between its two leads, and then it fucking keeps them separated for like half the damn runtime! How do you even unforced error that badly?

Bucchigiri: 3.5/10

Man, this was not a good season for original anime. Bucchigiri might not have been as staggering a writing trainwreck as Metallic Rouge, but its sin is arguably even worse; it's boring. It's a wacky, colorful high school delinquent romp with rainbow-haired Jojo's punks beating the snot out of each other with genie powers, it's sort of a re-imagining of Aladdin, it's got freaking Hiroko Utsumi at the helm, and it's boring. Why? Because this show gets absolutely stuck in the quicksand of its own status quo and refuses to budge an inch. Character growth is nonexistent, the protagonist is an aggravating loser wimp who never learns his lesson, and nothing of actual meaning happens from the first episode to the end. Literally everything you think is setting up a character arc where someone learns a lesson or grows as a person, all of it amounts to nothing. It's a limp, inert world that perpetuates the same overdone jokes and contrived, misunderstanding-based drama over and over again until all the outsized Utsumi visual personality feels like a tacky coat thrown on top of a lifeless corpse. What an utter waste.

Urusei Yatsura Season 2 (1st Cours): 5/10

I'm still not quite sure what to make of the Urusei Yatsura remake. is it charmingly dated? Annoyingly dated? A welcome throwback or a sign that some things should stay in the past? If nothing else, it never fails to get at least a couple chuckles out of me every episode. But the more it tries to lean into being actually sincere, the more its inherent cheesiness and lack of depth starts becoming a problem. I'm sorry, this cast of characters is just too abrasive and purposefully insane to take seriously, and none of their relationships are healthy enough to unironically root for. Lum and Ataru are not a couple I want to see actually get together, at least not unless Ataru stops being such a fucking shithead. And if him being a jackass could be charming in season 1, then this season is really starting to test my patience with him. It's one thing to be a serial skirt chaser, but his actions this season regularly cross a line from womanizing to unambiguous sex pest, and there's only so many wooden mallets he can get knocked over the head with before it stops feeling like like he's getting punished as much as he deserves to be.

Undead Unluck (2nd Cours): 5/10

Good news, everyone: Undead Unluck finally gave up on those awful groping gags that were ruining its central romance! Bad news: at the same time, it spontaneously developed one of the worst cases of recap padding I've ever seen! I'm not just talking overlong recap segments at the start of the episode, I'm talking constant flashbacks to events we just saw just moments before, straight up playing the same footage again just minutes apart, all climaxing in a truly unforgivable episode that spends seven goddamn minutes on recycled footage. Not even Tokyo Revengers was this bad with its time-wasting. And to add insult to injury, once it finally gets its feet unstuck and returns to a reasonable amount of recap for the final arc, it's probably the best arc of the entire show! It's some of the most bonkers high-concept emotional storytelling I've ever seen attempted, let alone pulled off so spectacularly. It's proof that there is so much brilliance to Undead Unluck, if it could just get out of its own way. But as long as it continues suffering from such massive systemic flaws, it's only ever going to be an also-ran.

Solo Leveling: 5.5/10

Okay, look; is this show dumb as a bag of rocks? Absolutely. Is it as nakedly an adolescent power fantasy as any anime has ever been? Ditto. Does it solely exist for dweeby incels to feel like swaggering douchebag chads getting revenge on all the normies who looked down on them by becoming The Bestest Strongest Chadliest Awesomest Of All Time? You know it. But god dammit, it's actually fun. I cannot pretend I'm too mature and sophisticated to enjoy a big, helping heaping of dumb edgy schlock when it's actually done well. I'm the one person on the face of the earth who still caries water for Akame ga Kill, for crying out loud. And Solo Leveling makes two really smart storytelling choices that keep it (mostly) on the entertaining side of dumb fun: building a genuinely interesting and intricate world that exists well beyond the scope of the protagonist's actions (for now, at least), and making sure that no matter how stupidly overpowered Jinwoo gets, his opponents are always just a little bit even more stupidly overpowered, so he's still pushed to his absolute breaking point and barely scraping together a win by the skin of his teeth every time. There is an art to edge that's too often taken for granted, and this show is proof that being the living embodiment of a twelve-year-old boy's wet dreams is no excuse not to be at least a decent version of that. That said, let's be real, Jinwoo was so much more attractive before his supposed glow-up. Give my boy back his scraggly rat locks, you cowards.

Bang Brave Bang Bravern: 6/10

What happens when a campy, cartoony 70s-style super robot anime crashes headfirst into a much grittier real robot anime? Well, what happens is Bang Brave Bang Bravern, the latest ten-car pileup of mismatched genres from the Cygames masterminds behind "What if horse racing but idols?" Take a desperate war story of survival against impossible odds, airdrop a skyscraper-sized superhero into the mix, and watch him completely shatter the original tone one cheekily ironic powerup and power-of-friendship speech at a time. It's a beautifully bonkers sendup of mecha tropes that has some of the funniest individual moments in this entire anime season, and the absolutely wild twist it pulls with the titular robot's identity in the back half is more than worth the price of admission on its own. Unfortunately, if it wanted to be as perfect a parody-until-it-isn't mecha series as Akiba Maid War was a parody-until-it-isn't mob flick, it probably should've tried being as long as most mecha series tend to be, i.e. more than just twelve measly episodes. There's just not enough time to develop any of the characters or world beyond the most essential parts, resulting in huge chunks of the supporting cast hanging around with nothing to do but take up space. And it leads to this show, which is trying to be so big and over the top, instead feeling so small and half-formed. Also, the secondary romance is gross. Like, really gross.

A Sign of Affection: 6/10

I think this show has helped clarify something for me: I'm really getting tired of how quickly modern romance anime get their main couple together. As much as we rag on the endless will-they-won't-they of ages past, taking so much time to build up the characters and their relationship before they finally make it official can result in some truly one-of-a-kind storytelling when done right. I might agonize over how long Sawako and Kuronoma take to get together in Kimi ni Todoke, but the payoff is so transcendent that none of those complaints matter. Whereas Yuki and Itsuomi getting together so quickly in A Sign of Affection... I mean, they're cute, I guess? His cool demeanor plays off her sincerity very well? But it feels like the show's in such a rush to get to the good stuff- and so determined to make Istuomi the dreamiest, most perfect boyfriend ever- that it skips over so much of the careful character-building that makes all the best anime romances so special. It's a sugary sweet confection, but wipe the frosting away and there's just not that much cake underneath. Honestly, I find the side characters a lot more interesting because they're allowed to have messy internal conflicts with a bit more meat on their bones. But hey, props for putting a deaf heroine at the center of your shoujo romance and taking so much time to explore how that affects the way she interacts with the world. That's a cause well worth celebrating.

Sengoku Youko: 6.5/10

Rejoice, everyone, we finally have an adaptation of a Satoshi Mizukami work that doesn't look like absolute garbage! After the flaming disaster that was Lucifer and the Biscuit Hammer's barely animated hackjob production, Sengoku Youko has arrived to give the cult fave manga artist a chance for his work to actually shine on the silver screen. As someone who only knows him through Planet With, I've always wondered if Mizukami deserved the reputation his manga gets, and with White Fox delivering as tight and intense a production as they gave Re:Zero, I guess it's time to finally find out. And the answer is... mostly? Like, the biggest problems in this sci-fi/feudal fantasy mashup are the characters being a little too eager to state the themes out loud and one pretty crummy death that's about as hamfisted and over-telegraphed as I've seen in a while. But there's a shockingly gripping narrative underlying it all, a story about the scars trauma leaves on people, of characters making bad decisions and facing real consequences for them, of hatred and poisonous ideology forced to reckon with the more complex reality of the world as a whole. And it all climaxes in an absolute barn-burner final episode that knocked my score up a half point all on its own. If future seasons can make good on all the potential this first season has set up, then I may just end up a Mizukami fan myself when all is said and done.

Blue Exorcist Season 3: 6.5/10

I'm of two minds about Blue Exorcist's second return after a six-year gap between seasons. On one hand, it's clear the new staff is just nowhere near as talented as the folks who first brought this series to life at A-1 Pictures. The action is abysmal, the storyboarding is clunky, and the animation feels like it's constantly fighting for its life to maintain a passable standard. And it sucks that a series that once brought such great life to its story is now held back by such a mediocre production. But on the other hand... holy fuck, am I glad Blue Exorcist is back. I once described The Devil is a Part-Timer as the mathematical average of anime as a concept, but if you were to ask me what the best possible version of that mathematical average looks like? It would be Blue Exorcist. This is, hands down, one of the best straightforward shonen action stories in the whole medium, a reminder of why all the most generic and overused tropes were once powerful enough to become generic and overused in the first place. It's proof that even the simplest of "superpowered teens kick demon butt with the power of friendship" concepts can result in a wonderful goddamn series when handled with good old-fashioned storytelling fundamentals. And not even the rough-as-hell production is enough to keep season 3 from delivering on the thrills, tears, laughs, and cheers that make this series so magical. Just, please, give the next season more time in the oven so it doesn't feel like it's wading through molasses to hit those heights. Okay?

Delicious in Dungeon (1st Cours): 7/10

Delicious in Dungeon's biggest problem is that it takes a while to really settle into itself. The opening scene of the protagonist's sister being devoured by a dragon sets the tone for an intense and desperate rescue mission, but the actual series that follows this harrowing opening is as lackadaisical as can be. And it's jarring to be thrust into a gag-filled, character-driven fantasy cooking comedy where the harsh tone of that opening scene and the ticking clock of Falin's digestion completely disappear from the characters' heads in favor of how beast to cook and eat the various fantasy monsters they encounter in the dungeon. Yes, it makes a little more sense once the mechanics of death and resurrection are explained later on, but it's a weird note to start on. Which is a shame, because once Delicious in Dungeon gets a handle on what kind of story it's trying to be, it's really fun! Its sense of deadpan comedy coupled with Trigger's expressive animation makes for some really unexpected gags, and the way it explores its fantasy cuisine is genuinely some of the most creative stuff I've ever seen in the cooking anime genre. Plus, with the dark tone coming back in at the end of the first cours- and landing much more naturally this time- I have high hopes for how this series will marry those two sides of itself moving forward. If the manga fans' reactions are any indication, I think we're in for a damn good time.

Frieren: Beyond Journey's End (2nd Cours): 8/10

So remember in my last post how I said that it was kind of disappointing whenever Frieren turned into an action show because of how disconnected the fights were from the beating heart that makes this show so special? Well, apparently the writers heard me and decided what I meant was I wanted this peaceful, meditative tale about grief, change and the passage of time to turn into the goddamn Hunter Exams for ten episodes straight. It's one of the most shockingly ill-advised storytelling swerves I've seen in an otherwise good show, discarding all this series' strengths in favor of a half-baked tournament arc with tonally jarring grimdark elements and a bland, overstuffed cast of characters who only start becoming interesting in the rare moments they're allowed to stop slinging spells at each other and just, like, talk about life? You know, the stuff that Frieren's actually good at? Not this brainless slice of shonen envy that only avoids being a complete slog thanks to how spectacular the action is across the board? Ugh. Look, Frieren is officially the most beloved anime on the goddamn planet right now, and its best moments are so incredible that I wish I could join that chorus as well. But it's so disappointing to me that a show this singular and special has so often chosen to be the least interesting version of itself.

The Dangers in My Heart Season 2: 8.5/10

It's official: director Hiroaki Akagi is the master of middle school rom-coms. No other creator so perfectly grasps the specific blend of immaturity, awkwardness, cringe, and heart-on-sleeve sincerity that defines the love stories of early adolescence. That was already clear with his work on Teasing Master Takagi-san, but now that he's pulled it off twice, there's no room left for argument. And just like with Takagi-san, the second season of The Dangers in My Heart takes a show that was already shockingly good and catapults it into all-time greatness. This is a coming-of-age triumph, a soaring tribute to embracing your own cringeworthy self, flaws and all, and sharing that self openly with the people who matter most to you. Ichikawa's journey toward maturity, Yamada's journey toward self-love, and the way their romance sparks the best in both of them is the stuff that dreams are made of. I laughed, I cried, I squealed like a little girl, and I felt my heart grow three sizes by the time it was done. This is a new gold standard for anime rom-coms, and if you can stomach a bit of groanworthy fanservice, it more than deserves your attention.

The Apothecary Diaries (2nd Cours): 8.5/10

Most of the time when I cover a two-cours show on these seasonal reflections, I end up in a pretty different place by the end of the second cours than I did at the first. Either it sort of fell apart in the second half, or found its footing and took it to the next level, or it changed in some interesting way that affects how I view the show as a whole. But The Apothecary Diaries has stayed the course from the first episode all the way to the end. Start to finish, it's remained pretty much the same show, with the same ideas and attitude, exploring the same themes in the same ways. And you know what? When you're as good as The Apothecary Diaries ended up being, there's nothing wrong with that. This is a spectacular historical drama that builds such a rich, compelling world for its equally rich, compelling characters to inhabit. It's a powerful exploration of how old society treated the disadvantaged- women, poor people, people with all severities of disability- and how one deeply abnormal girl carves her way through this viper's den with her body and soul intact. It's the kind of mature, thoughtful series we so rarely seen done this well, and with the announcement of a season 2 already confirmed, we may well end up with close to 50 episodes when all is said and done. That, folks, is what a true shoujo/josei renaissance looks like. And I'm so happy such a deserving series is leading the way in reminding us how damn good women's stories can be when they're given a chance to shine this brightly.

DROPPED

Cherry Magic: Dropped at 2 episodes for looking like butt and the central romance feeling pretty lifeless.

High Card Season 2: Dropped at 1 episode because I realized I didn't care anymore.

Ninja Kamui: Dropped at 2 episodes for being dull tryhard edgy bullshit with overdone fight scenes that are impossible to follow.

[sweetqueerinthesummer]

Taylor Swift and the closet

The closet is one of the most widely known parts of queer culture, and Taylor has been investing it for so long in her art, so I wanted to draw up a list of the way she has been using it, trying to be as exhaustive as possible, so here is everything I noticed:

I Know Places performance

On the 1989 world tour, for the I Know Places performance, which is probably one of the queerest songs by itself on 1989 and one of the first songs in which Taylor talks about a secret relationship, Taylor decides to perform the song surrounded by closet doors behind which she hides, to avoid the media and protect her relationship.

Look What You Made Me Do (part 1: the music video)

In the Look What You Made Me Do music video, Taylor presents herself as locked up, again. She is in a golden cage that reminds us a lot of the visuals from I Know Places on the 1989 world tour (the cages were swinging in the visuals, and she is even on a swing in the music video). She is dressed in a full orange outfit, which is speculated to be the color of Karma, an album that would’ve been released in 2016 had everything with the West/Kardashian family not happened. It is interesting because it will not be the last time this imagery can also be linked to things that happened in her career against her will, but also because we sometime think of Karma as an album where she could have been more free (gay) than in reputation (this should be taken with a whole spoon of salt, the existence of Karma is, to my knowledge, far from proved, and its content is completely unknown, it’s just a theory).

Ready For It music video

Ready For It, as well as its music video, would deserve a dedicated post seeing how interesting it is in terms of closeting and how it lightens reputation as an album and a lot of what comes after. But I'm just going to say that:

Here, on the left, the robot naked locked up Taylor is her true self and on the right is her closeted public persona. 

This is, to my knowledge, the first time Taylor uses the imagery of the glass closet, in the music video of a song about bearding (if you don't know what I mean, go see the difference between the way Taylor describes “he” in the verses and “you” in the chorus). The music video seems to confirm that the song is about the difference between her public persona (and relationship) and her private one, instead of being a love story (no love interest can be seen in the music video), and it ends with the closeted Taylor being free, and the public persona being destroyed...

So It Goes

"Gold cage, hostage to my feelings" She is trapped in a gold cage (like in the LWYMMD music video), because of her feelings that keep her imprisonned... if that doesn't sound like the closet, I don't know what does honestly.

The Lover era

The closet imagery is almost completely absent from the Lover Era, which fits the timeline: it's the era during which she was supposed to come out.

The only appearance I noticed is in the Lover music video, where her closet is full of yellow clothes, which is mainly significant in the fact that yellow seems to be the color Taylor uses to symbolize closeting now.

seven

seven is often interpreted (by gaylors) to be about a young gay love ("your braids like a pattern love you to the Moon and to Saturn"). In that regard, the lyrics "I think you should come live with / Me and we can be pirates / Then you won't have to cry / Or hide in the closet" can be understood as a proposition to run away and go live somewhere they could live their love freely.

willow music video

In the willow music video, this moment is incredibly significant

Child Taylor goes through the door and emerges as an adult in a glass closet. There, she immediately knows that she is supposed to start singing, and then, when she tries to join her lover on the other side of the glass, she can't leave and she is stuck in it… I believe that it speaks for itself. 

cowboy like me

"And the skeletons in both our closets / Plotted hard to mess this up"

In a song about feeling connection to someone because you recognize them as a part of your group that break the rules ("bandit"), the mention of the closet as something that keeps you from being with them is interesting, I would say.

Look What You Made Me Do part 2: the Eras Tour Performance

Since the beginning of the Eras Tour, the closet/glass closet/imprisonnement imagery is more present than ever, both in the concerts and in the music videos she put out since then.

In the Look What You Made Me Do performance, the imprisonment of Taylor's old selves (in glass closets) is understood widely to be a metaphor of her stolen masters, and it probably is in part her intention. There could be more than one meaning to that idea, even in Taylor's mind and one does not contradict the other. But here specifically, it seems to be confirmed that Taylor didn’t (only) think of that while imagining these visuals, since every single one of her album is present including the ones she has owned since they were released (Lover, folklore, evermore, Midnights):

(I don't have enough images left but some of the dancers are in Lover and folklore outfits too)

Lavender Haze visuals

Several times, in the visuals of the tour during the performance of Lavender Haze, Taylor is very clearly in a closet:

Lavender Haze can also be interpreted as being about bearding, that much can be analyzed both from the lyrics and the music video. During the performance (you can check in this video) those visuals appear when she says "no deal the 1950 shit they want from me" and disappear with "i just wanna stay in that lavender haze", I wonder if the closet might be the 1950's shit she doesn't want anymore...

Karma music video

In the Karma music video, there is no reference to a closet per se but Taylor is once again kept locked up, in an hourglass and a light bulb, this time. I don't know if it is significant in a particular way, except that the hourglass appears the first time she says "Karma is my boyfriend" which could mean that it's not going to be her boyfriend for long maybe? I noticed this one without any particular interpretation to be honest, but I didn’t want not to put it here, just in case...

As for the bulbs, they end up exploding...

I Can See You music video

Last but not least since there are two references to the closet in the music video for I Can See You, but first, a few things:

The music video is obviously about her taking back her masters, there is no doubt about that, it is very explicit and it would be stupid of me to try and say that it’s not. But as I said in the part about the Look What You Made Me Do performance, some things can have more than one meaning, and just because there is an obvious way to understand this specific piece of art doesn’t mean that it’s the only one. 

Second, here we’ll need to point out that before and/or during the Speak Now era, she dated very publicly Taylor Lautner, who features in the video. Gaylors also believe that she dated Liz Huett, her backing vocalist on the Speak Now tour.

Now, in the music video, we see three people rescuing Taylor from the vault in which she is kept. A woman (Presley Cash) stays in a van, while Joey King joins Taylor Lautner to save Taylor. What is interesting is that the only character that is not, at any point, linked to the lyrics is the man (potential beard). Presley Cash’s character is, more than once, either saying or illustrating the lyrics: “I've been watching you for ages” (she’s always looking inside Taylor’s vault even though it’s not really relevant to what’s happening), she even says “I can see you” at the end. As for Joey King, she is the one keeping quiet when Lautner is loud, she throws her jacket on the floor, and she is quite literally “up against the wall” when she opens the vault… She is the only character linked to the muse for the whole video, and she is the one opening the vault (closet?) for her.

Adding to that, Taylor’s old selves (in this situation, her outfits of the era) are kept in… glass closets, that explode at the end. The thing is, if we follow the (Lover era) failed coming out theory, the way her masters were stolen may have been the reason she didn't come out at the time, so, could it be that Taylor feels like her stolen masters are what keep her from being fully out?

[satans-helper]

Scream for Me

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Jake Kiszka

Word Count: ~3300

Warnings: smut!! [kind of a variation of a fear kink? Praise, dirty talking, non-penetrative sex] 18+ only!

A/N: In honor of continuing my Halloween season slash fics, I present to you Danny getting turned on when Jake gets scared. Hope you enjoy ;)

P.S. I'm posting this quite early in the month since I'm very much in the spirit AND I have a Danny x Josh fic and a Danny x Sam fic coming later, both Halloween-themed <3

---

Danny couldn’t believe the theme of the haunted hayride, which Jake had neglected to tell him about prior to buying tickets. Not that knowing it would have stopped him, it was just, as he relayed to Jake, “so 2016.” “The Year of the Clown” was long gone as far as he was concerned, and the thought of being preyed upon by guys dressed up in rainbow suits and copious amounts of makeup just sounded like a variation of playing a show. Jake, on the other hand, was brimming with nervous energy as he made the decision to knowingly torment himself.

“Aw, Jakey,” Danny said with genuine concern, wrapping his arm around him. They were stuck waiting in line for what felt like ages already, the night air feeling exceptionally chilly while being trapped in such a wide open space. It was nice to see the stars so vividly, Danny thought as he looked up, and the moon, which was a shockingly bright globe in the obsidian sky. The perfect kind of spooky October night.

“I’m just cold,” Jake replied, but Danny knew the slight tremors his body kept going through were more than from just the autumnal chill. He leaned into Danny’s touch all the same, snuggling against the denim jacket that was keeping Danny perfectly comfortable. 

“It’s okay to be scared,” Danny assured him, his gaze wandering over to the few stands of treats, the scent of fryer oil and popcorn wafting through the air. “Clowns are scary. You want a funnel cake?”

“You said clowns are outdated,” Jake reminded him, looking up at Danny with flushed cheeks. “I think you also said ‘boring.’”

“They’re not my thing,” Danny said with a sigh, foregoing the idea of funnel cakes. Jake hadn’t even wanted to smoke before this event, too worried he’d become paranoid and freak out even more. For a while, Danny didn’t understand why Jake wanted to do these scary things every Halloween season. Their time in the haunted cabin had been enough for him to believe that Jake wanted to avoid ghosts, ghouls, goblins and whatever else, real or not. But the more they went to haunted hayrides and haunted houses, walked along ghost tours, sat through spooky stories and horror movies with Josh and Sam, Danny realized that when Jake got scared, Danny got turned on. He didn’t know why, nor did he want to know why. He accepted that, no matter how tortuous it seemed, Jake loved being scared and Danny loved seeing him scared.

He hadn’t told Jake that though. This was their first Halloween together. He was still nervous about it. Way more nervous about that than about some silly clowns.

“Like they’re my thing?” Jake said with a scoff, burrowing further into Danny’s side. “I still remember that one from the haunted house last year. You know, the one that came at us with a hatchet?”

“Hey, Jake,” Danny began, speaking the words softly against the top of his boyfriend’s head. “Do you also remember that the hatchet was plastic?”

Jake groaned. “Okay, yeah, sure, it’s all fake. But it feels real.”

“That’s the point. Besides, I know you like it.”

Jake looked up again, dark eyes even darker in the night. “What else do I like, Danny?”

Danny chuckled, rubbing his hand over Jake’s shoulder. He definitely knew what he liked–seeing Jake all flustered and red-faced, hearing him gasp and pant, feeling the squeeze of his hand when things got intense. He thought about opening up about that, actually, revealing how much it turned him on to see Jake so vulnerable and feral, but then the line was moving.

“We’re up,” Danny said, freeing Jake from his hold, but Jake immediately latched onto his arm as they approached the wagon. 

Even their guide along the ride spooked Jake when he hopped onto the wagon–not a clown, but a huge–in both width and height–man dressed in bloody rags with fake scars and cuts all over his face. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” the man boomed, and Jake squished himself into Danny’s side even more. With that, the wagon started to roll shakily over the grass, and the guide began his formal introduction into, yes, what was still, apparently, the year of the clown. 

There wasn’t much happening during the first couple minutes of meandering through the field, but whenever a distant shout, grunt or scream could be heard, Jake trembled. Danny held him close and watched–he wouldn’t get as scared as Jake would, but he could still get spooked, and he had to admit that the atmosphere was pretty chilling. 

“We must beware the apple orchard,” the guide said, his voice unnaturally low but quieter as he addressed the crowd huddled together on the edges of the cart. “What was once an innocent field of fruit now bears something insidious. Something demonic.” At that, Danny felt Jake stiffen beside him. “Unnatural creatures have made this place their home. If we move swiftly, we might just–”

A girl sitting nearby shrieked as something–a clown, of course–charged through the trees, swinging a bloody machete. Danny felt himself stiffen with anticipation while Jake hooked his arm around his middle, both of them silent. The clown that had terrorized the girl was making his rounds, bobbing around the edges of the cart and pretending to slash people with his blade. 

“Oh god, no!” Jake yelped when the clown thrust himself toward him and Danny, and Danny fought the instinct to kick the clown away. If it were a real threat, he thought to himself, he’d do anything possible to protect Jake. He hoped that his boyfriend knew that. 

What was just a few seconds must have felt like an eon for Jake, who was still shaking with adrenaline after the clown simmered and was left behind, waving the machete as the wagon moved onward. Danny let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his eyes roaming the apple trees as he asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive,” Jake said, bringing one hand to his chest. “But I might not be by the end of this.”

But Jake persevered through the apple orchard. He survived the small flurry of clowns that attacked with various weapons, shrieking and cackling and making the entire wagon shriek in response; Danny, meanwhile, found that he was paying far more attention to Jake than anything else. It was hard not to. He was so in tune with him–how tightly he was holding his breath and the sound of his voice, how it changed when he got scared, becoming a little higher and rougher. He was also very aware of how snugly Jake was impressed upon him, like he was permanently glued to him and Danny liked it that way. 

Even Danny felt a little uneasy though when the wagon came to a complete stop inside of a barn. It was completely dark except for intermittent splashes of red and white light, allowing him to see the fake blood on the walls, the bones and fake severed limbs, the eerie clown paintings. Everything was complete with a huge fake corpse hanging overhead. 

“A mechanical problem,” the guide announced. “Unfortunate to stop here, but I’m sure we’ll be moving again shortly.”

“Danny…” Jake said quietly, squeezing his hand around Danny’s wrist so hard it actually hurt. 

Of course, as soon as Jake said that, demonic laughter echoed from all around. Jake squeezed even tighter but Danny didn’t move. Jake needed him in that moment and there was nothing hotter than that, and not even the sudden onslaught of grating music and the laughter growing louder as an impressively large clown shot out from the darkness could take away his own thrills. Jake began clawing desperately at Danny’s arm with one hand and gripping his thigh with the other, squeaking and whimpering right next to his ear, but the clown decided to terrify the group of people on the opposite side.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Jake said with a hard exhale when the wagon abruptly started to roll again. But the huge clown ran toward it and Danny was shocked that the clown zeroed in on them next, trying to fake-slash at both of their legs. Jake squealed and really did try to kick the clown away, which made Danny laugh. Jake yelped again and begged, “Danny, help!”

The clown grinned wildly, teeth covered in fake blood, but the wagon sped up; Danny watched as the clown finally stayed motionless, which was actually more ominous to him than the man moving, giving Jake some room to breathe. Danny wrapped his arm around him once more. “It’s over, Jake,” he said. “I’m pretty sure that was the big finale.”

Indeed it was. All that was left were lingering screams and maniacal laughter, which kept Jake’s hands all over Danny until they were back to the beginning. Those hands and that tight little body so close to his during their short night of terror had elicited a different sort of adrenaline rush within Danny, so intense by the time they were getting off the wagon that he knew he needed to finally do something about it. But now Jake actually wanted a funnel cake, and patience was a virtue Danny proudly possessed. 

Jake was frantically munching on the fried dough, powdered sugar sticking to his fingers, while they sat on the hood of Danny’s car. Danny couldn’t keep one thing to himself much longer. “You’re so cute,” he said. It was ordinary, something any boyfriend would say, but when Jake looked up at him, he added, “Even cuter when you’re scared.”

Jake’s eyes widened and he paused chewing for a moment, looking perplexed. When he resumed finishing that bite, he shook his head before meeting Danny’s gaze again. “Cute when I’m scared?” he repeated with suspicion, narrowing his eyes.

Danny reached over and stole a piece of funnel cake for himself. “Yeah. You are.” Jake just kept looking at him, so Danny shrugged. “What? I can’t be the first person to point that out.”

“Uh, yeah you are, Danny.”

That sort of pleased him, actually. Danny looped his arm around Jake’s waist. “It kinda turns me on, honestly.”

Jake coughed into his arm, powdered sugar dotting the sleeve. “Really?”

“Yeah. You get all flustered. You hold onto me all tight,” Danny told him, still feeling the ghost of Jake’s hand wrapped painfully around his wrist. “It makes me feel like you need me.”

“I do need you.” Jake hopped off to toss the paper plate into a nearby trash can. He put his hands on his hips when he turned back around to face him. “But you didn’t save me from that last clown.”

Danny slid off the hood and went to him, circling Jake into a loose hug. “If a real psychotic clown were after you, I’d save you. I’d do anything for you.” One part of their relationship he was still getting used to because it scared him more than clowns or ghosts or demons ever could–PDA. He lifted Jake’s face to his and kissed him; Jake’s hands gripped the open body of Danny’s jacket, showing that, yes, he really did need him. When Danny pulled back, Jake looked calm again. “You really do turn me on when you get scared, Jake,” Danny told him, holding the sides of his face. “I guess that makes me weird. But, whatever. I’m glad you’re so into the spooky shit since it pays off for me.”

Jake pursed his lips a little, a quizzical look on his pretty face. “How come I never get to see you scared?”

“There’s only one thing that scares me.”

“Which is?”

Danny moved his hands to Jake’s shoulders. “Losing you. Losing Josh and Sam.” 

Jake’s hands gently squeezed Danny’s waist. “Oh come on, Danny. That’ll never happen. We’re way more likely to get attacked by a psycho clown.”

Danny laughed and began to steer Jake to the car. That reassurance meant everything to him. Sometimes he worried, felt that dreadful fear, that someday it would all be gone and nothing truly scared him like that thought. And now, still feeling residual arousal from Jake’s terror and the swell of love in his heart, he needed to finally get his own kicks tonight. 

“You’re brave,” Danny said softly while he walked behind Jake, reaching in front of him to get the back passenger door open. “You keep doing these things even though you know they scare you.”

“I think that’s called ‘stupidity,’ Danny,” Jake replied, then looked back over his shoulder. “Why are we going back here?”

“You got to feel such a rush tonight,” Danny told him, urging him to get in the backseat. With a curious look, Jake did, tucking his legs in, and Danny followed. “Can I get mine?” He kept moving forward, pushing Jake onto his back, and didn’t wait for a reply. He just kissed his beautiful, valiant boyfriend, gripping Jake’s sides to start feeling for the warmth of his skin beneath the layers of clothing.

Jake kissed him back, bringing his hands to Danny’s hair, tugging lightly. Danny took that invitation and ran with it, the rush of his own lust and love churning to life again; he kissed deep and slow, how his instincts often guided him when it came to Jake. He was so precious–the thought of ever losing him really did terrify Danny. Danny wanted to keep him safe forever, to make Jake feel nothing but completely adored. 

When Danny’s hand made it down to the fly of Jake’s jeans, Jake said, “Someone might see.”

Danny pressed his lips to his neck. “I’m not afraid of that.” Those soft kisses elicited the quiet little moans he was after; Jake was so responsive to him even if he was a little worried about catching a glimpse of what they were doing in the dark. Jake clutched to him fiercely when Danny got his fly undone and slipped his hand past the denim and cotton boxers, wiggling against the seat.

“You deserve to feel good after all that shit out there,” Danny said, lifting himself up enough to spit into his hand. Jake squirmed even more when that hand was brought down to his cock, growing harder with each stroke Danny offered. 

“What about you?” Jake asked between another exchange of lips and tongue; Danny was back to kissing him all that he could. It was all he ever needed sometimes, Danny felt–anything else was a bonus. 

“This is what I need. To make you feel good. To show you that I’m here,” Danny told him as Jake’s fingers raked through his hair. Jake moaned a little louder at that, arching into his touch. Danny’s urgency revved up at the enthusiastic response, and he wished for more of this, for Jake to be so vividly his all the time. They’d get there, he knew, and he was ultimately absolutely fine with taking things slowly. There was a beauty in that. And right now, he might not have been able to see much of Jake as he wanted, but he could feel him–the rapid flutter of his pulse, the rising and falling of his chest, the warmth of his skin which became even warmer after every press of Danny’s lips. 

Jake reached down, feeling more for himself, and Danny’s breath tightened at the slight squeeze around his own cock, still so stiff and wanting, trapped underneath his pants. “I wanna make you feel good too, Danny.” 

Danny couldn’t say no to that. He hastily got his dick out with one hand, sat back, feet on the floor, and brought Jake to a sitting position in his lap. “You make me feel good all the time,” he said, bringing his hands to Jake’s hips, urging him to ride as if they were actually fucking. Jake did, working into a steady sequence of shallow humps that rubbed their cocks together. Danny groaned softly, blinking through the dark, small space to see as much as he could. “Oh my god, Jake–my brave boy, so fucking hot.” The words were unconscious, instinctive–with Jake, Danny struggled to have a filter. He realized Jake actually liked it that way. “Love seeing you tremble. Love hearing you gasp. I love when you do it for me.”

“Who knew,” Jake began with a harsh roll of his hips. “That you were such a freak.” The sentence ended with a huff and he dove forward to smother Danny with wet, hurried kisses. He stuffed a hand between them, too small to wrap all the way around both of their leaking erections but Danny moaned with appreciation at the effort and the added friction. Jake touching him anywhere in anyway drove him crazy.

The sudden glow of yellow headlights behind them allowed Danny to see him more completely, and the sight of him with his pink cheeks, soft gaze from his dark eyes and crumpled collar just fueled his inner frenzy. “Fuck, you’re so fucking cute, so pretty,” he breathed out raggedly, fumbling with that disshelved shirt to get it unbuttoned. When he did, he cupped Jake’s hip with one hand and felt along his chest with the other, tweaking a nipple and making Jake shudder just like he wanted. “My brave boy is so fucking gorgeous, so fucking hot riding me.” The headlights disappeared and Danny pulled him forward, latching onto his neck with his teeth as he shot between them, a trail of sticky wetness on his shirt and Jake’s bare stomach. 

He’d fully intended for Jake to finish first. He grabbed Jake’s ass and started doing the work, grinding up into him and thrusting them together even harder despite his spent dick feeling a little just over the edge of being too sensitive. Jake’s increasingly loud moans and curses were music to Danny’s ears; those hands on his shoulder and in his hair were the grounding pull he needed to always feel. 

“So strong,” Jake noted quietly while Danny kept him in motion. He pressed his face to the side of Danny’s neck, the soft whimpers trickling through Danny’s ear. “You’d really do anything for me?”

Danny nodded, squeezing his ass. “Anything, baby. Right now, I wanna make you come.” He found the space between them and took Jake’s cock in his hand, stroking as Jake kept grinding on top of his thighs. “One of these days, I’m gonna make you scream for me.” 

Just as Danny lifted Jake’s mouth to his again, he stifled what Danny knew would have been a sharper, louder sound if they were somewhere private. Instead, a whimper escaped his lips and he stiffened, tightening up severely before he quickly went slack, body loose and heavy atop Danny’s own.

Not dissimilar to how it had been earlier in the night, Jake snuggled into him, resting his face in the crook of Danny’s neck with a sigh. “I’ve known you how many years, Danny?” he began, and Danny could feel him smiling. “Yet you continue to surprise me.”

Danny held him, stroking his hands along Jake’s back. “Hopefully in a good way and not like those clowns tearing out of the woods.”

Jake planted a big kiss to Danny’s forehead before sliding off to the side, tucking himself back into his jeans. “You continue to surprise me in the best way.” He sighed, resting his head in his hand, leaning against the seat, and smiled a little. “I know you’d do anything for me. For any of us. Same goes for us, to you, you know.”

Danny reached out, taking Jake’s other hand to hold between them. “I know.”

The smile grew, turning a little salacious. “So does this mean you’ll take me to that haunted house next weekend?” 

Danny lifted Jake’s hand to kiss his knuckles. “Anything you want. But does that mean we get to fuck around again after?”

Jake laughed, head thrown back. “Yeah, sure, as long as you protect me from all the monsters.” 

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Tagging: @mackalah @kissingthegoat @clairesjointshurt @bizzielisteningtogreta

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