#If you think this sounds like another post from a blog I may or may not follow its because THIS ONE (mine) WAS FIRST!!!

[little-bumblebeeee]

Steve learning sign because his hearing is getting worse due to the concussions

Eddie learning sign because talking and socializing is too overwhelming and nauseating

[vse-kar-vem]

how to write vent post title that does not come off as self-pitying and or accusatory (because it's NOT !)

[fixyourwritinghabits]

How to Tell If That Post of Advice Is AI Bullshit

Right, I wasn't going to write more on this, but every time I block an obvious AI-driven blog, five more clutter up the tags. So this is my current (April 2024) advice on how to spot AI posts passing themselves off as useful writing advice.

No Personality - Look up a long-running writing blog, you'll notice most people try to make their posts engaging and coming from a personal perspective. We do this because we're writers and, well, we want to convey a sense of ourselves to our readers. A lot of AI posts are straight-forward - no sense of an actual person writing them, no variation in tone or text.

No Examples - No attempts to show how pieces of advice would work in a story, or cite a work where you could see it in action. An AI post might tell you to describe a person by highlighting two or three features, and that's great, but it's hard to figure out how that works without an example.

Short, Unhelpful Definitions - A lot of what I've seen amount to two or three-sentence listicles. 'When you want to write foreshadowing, include a hint of what you want foreshadowed in an earlier chapter.' Cool beans, could've figured that out myself.

SEO/AI Prompt Language Included - I've seen way too many posts start with "this post is about..." or "now we will discuss..." or "in this post we will..." in every single blog. This language is meant to catch a search engine or is ChatGPT reframing the prompt question. It's not a natural way of writing a post for the average tumblr user.

Oddly Clinical Language - Right, I'm calling out that post that tried to give advice on writing gay characters that called us "homosexuals" the entire time. That's a generative machine trying to stay within certain parameters, not an actual person who knows that's not a word you'd use unless you were trying to be insulting or dunking on your own gay ass in the funniest way possible.

Too Perfect - Most generative AI does not make mistakes (this is how many a student gets caught trying to use it to cheat). You can find ways to make it sound more natural and have it make mistakes, but that takes time and effort, and neither of those are really a factor in these posts. They also tend to have really polished graphics and use the same format every time.

Maximized Tags (That Are Pointless) - Anyone who uses more than 10 one-word tags is a cop. Okay, fine, I'm joking, but there's a minimal amount of tags that are actually useful when promoting a post. More tags are not going to get a post noticed by the algorithm, there is no algorithm. Not everyone has to use their tags to make snarky comments, but if your tags look like a spambot, I'm gonna assume you're a spambot.

No Reblogs From The Rest of Writblr - I'm always finding new Writblr folks who have been around for awhile, but every real person I've seen reblogs posts from other people. We've all got other stuff to do, I'm writing this blog to help others and so are they, the whole point of tumblr is to pass along something you think is great.

While you'll probably see some variation in the future - as people get wise to obviously generated text, they'll try to make it look less generated - but overall, there's still going to be tells to when something is fake.

I don't have any real advice for what to do about this (other than block those blogs, which is what I do). Like most AI bullshit, I suspect most of these blogs are just another grift, attempting to build large follower counts to leverage or sell something to in the future. They may progress past these tattletale features, but I'm still going to block them when I see them. I don't see any value in writing advice compiled from the work of better writers who put the effort in when I can just go find those writers myself.

[hayakawalove]

Untouchable

Summary: Satoru stays out late one night so you're forced to punish him.

A/N: I fixed this up a bit and decided to post it to this blog! CW: Smut, Mutual Masturbation, Sub!Gojo, Readers kind of bitchy, Dom/sub, Hand Jobs, Dirty Talk, Voyeurism, Come Eating, Choking Mention, Humiliation, Praise, Gender Neutral Reader, AFAB Reader W/C: 2,138

You hate him. 

At least that’s what you told yourself every time he came home late. You knew it wasn’t true, not in the slightest. Every fiber of your being loved him, that’s why it hurt so bad every time he failed to show. 

More often than not it was because he got caught up at work. “Being the world's strongest sorcerer keeps you busy” so he put. Everyone wanted a piece of Gojo Satoru, and you couldn’t say you blamed them. You wanted a piece too. He was your husband, but you felt like you were begging for crumbs of him all the same. 

Tonight however, he was surprisingly free from work. That didn’t mean he wasn’t busy, though. He got invited to dinner with his friends from work; all of them were celebrating Nanami’s birthday. Satoru invited you to go as well but you didn’t feel like socializing. Truth be told, you wanted him to deny his invitation as well. You knew that was selfish. 

“I’m home!” His voice bellows from the front door. 

You lay in your shared bedroom, flicking through a book. It’s one you’ve read countless times; Satoru got it for you for your birthday last year. Sure, he may have teased you for it, saying something along the lines of “my little nerd”, but that didn’t matter. 

The door clicks shut and you can practically hear him deflate. Most nights you ran up to greet him, but perhaps you were playing hard to get tonight. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. 

Satoru calls out for you, his long limbs bringing him to the bedroom. 

His body fills the doorway, his height being yet another one of his strong suits. How annoying. You really want to stay strong tonight to show your grumpiness. You fight every urge to jump up and pull him in. 

“Oh, I didn’t think you were here. You didn’t come to the door.” 

You arch a brow at him, looking over the top of your book. You weren’t even reading it. You hadn’t been for at least an hour. 

“Am I some kind of dog?” You ask flatly. 

“Last time I checked, no.” Satoru walks up to the edge of the bed. His lithe fingers grab one of your ankles, rubbing slow circles on your skin. His warmth instantly spreads over you. You want to melt into his touch and never look back. 

“Sorry I got back so late, we were at the bar.” He sounds apologetic. The tone of his voice causes you to deflate a bit, but you force your walls back up.

“You don’t even drink.” 

His bright blues flick up to your eyes. 

“No,” a grin spreads across his lips, a dangerous glint in his gaze. “Why, you want me to?” You can see his eyes shining as he speaks. 

You roll your eyes and fight back a smile, snatching your leg back up and pulling it closer to your body. He always knew how to cheer you up, but tonight you weren’t going down without a fight. 

“Oh come on baby, I said I was sorry.” One of his knees dips in the mattress, his hands splaying across the bed as he crawls over to you. Satoru almost looks comically big as he traverses the sheets on his way to you. 

“You don’t seem sorry.” You say, pressing your foot on his shoulder to keep him from advancing any further. 

“No? What do I gotta do to convince you?” His voice is muffled as he turns his head to grab your foot, pressing gentle kisses into your ankle. He may be the strongest man in the world, but he treats you like porcelain. 

One of his arms shoots out and glides across your calf, sliding up and down your skin, sending shivers barreling through you. Your body instantly reacts, heating up the second he touches you. You bite your lip and resist the temptation to pounce on him. 

“Want me to make you feel good?” Satoru asks, his eyes locking with yours. 

Damn his long arms. He can practically reach your core from where he’s at. Satoru’s hand snakes its way down to your pelvis, the warmth from the pad of his finger seeping through your pajama shorts. He gets in one swipe before you wiggle your hips backwards out of his reach. 

“Baby.” His eyebrows furrow while he pouts. 

You place your book down and slip your fingers in the band of your shorts. “You’re not allowed to touch me.” The tone of your voice is smooth as you maintain eye contact.

Satoru’s mouth drops open in retaliation while you shimmy your shorts off. You’re left only in your underwear and a sheer tank top. Your legs spread wide open while your fingers dip down, rubbing against your clit. You can’t help but let out a moan at the feeling. 

“Baby, please-“ he begs. 

Your eyes drift closed while you immerse yourself in pleasure. His pleas fall on deaf ears as you continue working yourself. You can feel the fabric getting soaked even though it had only been a couple minutes. 

Fuck, it felt good. 

You needed more, body aching to pull down your underwear. But you didn’t think he deserved to see. 

“Feels so good, Satoru.” You murmur, hand pushing your tank top up to expose your chest to him. He could at least see that much. How generous of you. 

You open your eyes while continuing to rub your clit. You can see Satoru adjusting himself, his hard cock surely painful by now. The outline of his dick bulges through his pants, making your breathing stutter. You lick your lips and drag your eyes up to his. 

“Fuck, baby. Please let me touch you.” He asks, his voice straining. 

You don’t respond, too afraid that if you do your words will betray you. You stuff your hand in your underwear, needing more contact. Your fingers slip into your pussy, two of your digits not even comparing to one of his. Strangled moans fill the room; a mixture of yours and his. You’re sure there’s a wet patch forming in his underwear by now. 

Good, let him know what it’s like to be left wanting. 

“T-Think I’m gonna cum, Satoru.” Your fingers speed up. 

Satoru’s sitting on his knees now, eyes switching between your blissed out face and your fingers between your legs. 

“Yeah?” He asks breathlessly, as if he’s getting off to this just as much as you are. Knowing him, he’s probably enjoying himself more than you. 

“Yeah, fuck, feels so good!” 

Satoru lets out a mix between a sigh and a moan. You could hardly contain yourself any longer. 

“Satoru! I’m-“ 

“Yeah baby, come on.” He was just as invested as you were, encouraging you from the sidelines. 

With a moan you cum hard, your underwear drenched. Your hazy eyes trail Satoru’s body. His breathing is labored, his long fingers splayed over his knees. 

“Take it out.” You order. 

Right as you finish your sentence, Satoru is sliding his pants and underwear off, exposing himself to you. His cock looks harder than ever, the tip angry and leaking. The sight of it nearly has your eyes rolling in the back of your head. He makes a move to slide between your legs but you stop him. You weren’t finished yet. 

“Did you already forget what I said?” You question, the words clawing at your throat as you speak. Part of you craved the feeling of him between your legs, but you knew it would be much more fun this way. 

Satoru frowns. He was clearly aching to be inside of you already. 

“But-“

“What? You think you deserve to fuck me? You told me you’d be home hours ago.” 

His cock twitches at your tone. There’s a bead of precum dripping from his tip, begging to be licked up. 

“You’re mad at me?”

“Text me next time so I know that you’re at least safe.” You were concerned. Even though he was the best, that didn’t mean you didn’t care. As much as Satoru would disagree with you, he wasn’t invincible. 

He nods quickly, his eagerness wearing you down. Your body feels a bit lighter now that you’ve driven your point across. 

“Good. You still can’t fuck me though.” 

“What am I supposed to do then?” 

You think for a moment before a glorious idea pops in your head. You slide your underwear down and hold them out to him. His expression is nothing short of clueless. 

“Get yourself off with my underwear.” You say, hoping your voice doesn’t waver. Your heart pounds in excitement, the mere prospect of him desperately humping your underwear leaving you reeling.

“What?”

“You heard me. Make yourself cum with these.” 

His breath hitches in his throat, his hand grabbing the fabric from your fingers. He could feel how cum soaked they were. 

“You’re cruel, baby.”

“You’re lucky that I’m letting you have anything at all, Satoru.” The second his name falls from your lips you hear him exhale hard. You catch the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing from the corner of your eye. 

Satoru bites his lip and looks down, wrapping your underwear around his cock. It’s soaking wet from your cum, the damp fabric clinging to his tender skin. A shiver goes through Satoru’s body as soon as it makes contact. You can tell how sensitive he is from where you are. His hand starts to move up and down as he grips his cock, jerking himself off with your soiled underwear. 

“G-got so wet, can feel it- fuck, can feel it against me.” 

You could cum again from the sight of him. The world's strongest at your beck and call. 

“Want more, please let me have more.” He whimpers as his hips buck into his fist. 

“Poor baby, if only you were a good boy earlier.” You tut. 

Satoru whines, throwing his head back. His pale throat is on display for you, and it’s tempting to reach your hand out to choke him, but you refrain. The sight of him is nothing short of appetizing. His face is completely red, body shaking from how hard he’s breathing. Seeing the strongest person in the world crumble into a puddle because of you made you feel so good; you craved more. 

His hand speeds up, precum seeping into the underwear. 

“You should’ve just texted me earlier, now you have to fuck my underwear instead. How pathetic, baby.” Your voice is not your own anymore. It belongs to someone else, someone much more powerful and confident than yourself. 

Satoru’s eyes close from pleasure. A strangled whimper rips from the back of his throat, the sound making you shiver. 

“Oh no, that won’t do. Keep your eyes on me.” You instruct. 

He drags his eyes down to look at your figure laid underneath him. Your legs are spread, showcasing the strings of cum that cover your pussy and inner thighs. A sob racks his body, his shoulders begin to tremble from lust. 

“How does it feel?” Your sultry voice asks. 

“Good, so good- need more, need your pussy baby, please!” You almost feel bad at the way his voice cracks. 

“But you look so beautiful for me right now.” You coo, your fingers tracing your slit. “You’re such a mess.” 

Your eyes flick down to the clothing wrapped around his groin. You can’t see where your juices end and where his begin. Satoru continues stroking his cock, imagining your warm walls hugging him. It’s not hard enough, fast enough, tight enough. And you knew that. His hips desperately chase his hand, needing more. Even though it couldn’t compare, his high was building, bubbling in his stomach. It was so close, he could feel it. 

“Need to cum!” He shudders. 

“Gonna ruin my underwear, Satoru?” You hope he does. 

“Yes, yes, gonna ruin them, gonna ruin them just for you baby!” He winces and drops his head, eyes scrunching shut. You’ll let him off the hook for that. 

His moans fill the bedroom while he strokes frantically. You can see spurts of his cum shooting up, oozing into the fabric. His body relaxes once he stops, hissing at the way your underwear clings to him. 

“Did so well for me, baby.” Your words are hushed but full of love. You get up and sit on your knees in front of him, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

Satoru looks up at you, his fucked out expression irresistible. Poor guy, you’re only getting started. Your hand grabs at the underwear, pulling it off, and shoving it in his mouth. His eyes fly open, shock evident on his face.  

“Now, be a good boy and clean these up for me.” 

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Dirty Little Stories » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky finds out what a dirty girl Y/N is when he finds her Tumblr blog.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, fingering, (f receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, praise kink, metal arm kink, Bucky’s dog tags, name calling (slut), pet names (doll, babydoll, doll face)

Written on my phone so sorry if there’s any mistakes or typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

Getting used to modern day technology was difficult for Bucky, but with help from you, it was easier than he thought. Now he’s able to talk, text, and do whatever he wants now. As of right now, Bucky was catching up on stuff he missed throughout the years. As he was scrolling through Google, he came across a link that’s connected to Tumblr so he tapped on it to see what it was. That’s when he came across something interesting. He found a blog that has particularly dirty things, meaning the person who runs the blog writes a lot of smut. Bucky tapped on one of the links that took him to one of the stories. His mind was nearly blown when he finished it. He went back to read another one and another one. That’s when something caught his eye. He recognized the name of the person’s blog. The name “Y/N” was displayed in the bio of the blog. It didn’t take long for Bucky to figure out that the blog is ran by his girlfriend, who isn’t as innocent as he thought she was.

“Oh you’re in so much trouble when you get home, doll.” Bucky says to himself.

Bucky continued to read the stories you have posted on your blog. He didn’t like the fact that you were writing and fantasizing about other men, but he will admit that your writing is very well written.

“Bucky, I’m home!” Your voice echoed through the apartment.

You kicked the door shut with your foot and went to the kitchen to put the groceries away. Bucky shut his phone off and put it in his pocket, making his way to the kitchen.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky kisses your lips. “How was the store?” He asks.

“It was alright. It wasn’t as crowded as last week.” You tell him. “Anything interesting happened here?” You asked.

“Not really.” He starts. “I did come across something interesting.” He says, leaning against the kitchen counter and crosses his arms over his chest.

“What was it?” You asked, putting something in the refrigerator.

“Have you heard of something called Tumblr?” He asks.

You stopped in your tracks, nearly dropping the gallon of milk in your hands.

“I- uhh may have came across it a couple times. Why?” You say nervously.

“Well, I seen this blog on there and this person writes stories that are sexual.” He says.

“Oh, th-that’s cool.” You say with a stutter.

“The person also has the same first name as you.” He says.

Your eyes widened. Bucky noticed how you went quiet. He pushed himself off the counter and approached you. Your breathing got heavy when you felt his presence behind you. Bucky’s body was against your back. He placed his hands on the counter on either side of you, trapping you in between his body and the counter. You shivered when you felt his breath against your neck.

“Is there something you want to tell me, doll?” Bucky asks, whispering in your ear.

“N-No.” You say.

“Really? Cause it sounds like you do.” He says.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.” You say, playing dumb.

“Don’t lie to me, babydoll. You exactly know what I’m talking about.” He says.

You gasped when you felt his bulge against your ass. It took everything in you to not give in and tell him that you’re the one writing those stories.

“I think…” Bucky’s right hand slides down the front of your body, stopping on your clothed pussy. “You’re the one who’s writing those dirty stories.” He says, applying pressure to your clit.

“It’s me! I’m the one who’s writing them!” You blurted out, not being able to take it anymore.

“I would’ve never thought that my doll has such a dirty mind.” He says with a chuckle.

Bucky spun you around and threw you over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom. He dropped you on the bed causing you to bounce a couple times. He grabbed your ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed so your legs were dangling from it. His metal fingers tilted your head up so you were looking into his eyes that were once a beautiful blue which now were darker.

“I should punish you for being such a dirty girl, but instead, I’m going to have my fun with you.” He says.

You nodded. Bucky pulled your shirt over your head, revealing your lacy bra to him. He pushed you back so you were laying on the bed. He leaned over you, his dog tags dangling in your face. He placed kisses along your neck and shoulder. You gasped when you felt his teeth graze your skin. He bit down hard enough to create a hickey. His hand blindly found its way to your back and expertly unclasping your bra, discarding it somewhere in the room. His thumbs rubbed over your nipples. You let out a moan when you felt his metal fingers pinch your nipple, sending a new sensation through your body. He moved his lips further down your body, stopping at the waistband of your leggings. Bucky hooked his fingers in the waistband and pulled them down your legs, along with your soaked panties. He got on his knee next to the bed and spread your legs open, displaying your wetness to him. You moaned when you felt his fingers rub in between your wet folds.

“So wet for me.” Bucky says.

He moved his face closer to your pussy. His tongue slid in between your folds, moaning at your taste against his tongue. His tongue circled around your clit a few times before he latched his lips on it and began to suck on it. Your hands flew down to his head, tugging at his hair.

“Oh my god, yes!” You moaned, threw your head back in pleasure.

If you knew one thing about Bucky, it’s that he knows how to eat pussy. He took your pleasure seriously.

You were caught off guard when one of his metal fingers slid past your entrance. Your jaw dropped, breathy moans fell from your lips. The cool metal of his fingers against your walls felt better than any sex you have ever used. Bucky took his lips off your clit, but keeping his metal fingers inside of you, moving them at a painfully slow pace.

“When were you going to tell me about those dirty little stories of yours? Huh, doll?” Bucky asks.

“I-I don’t know.” You say.

Bucky stopped his movements with his fingers causing you to let out a frustrated whine. He chuckled at your frustrated state as he stood up. You watched as he took off his shirt causing you to lick your lips. You leaned up, touching his perfectly sculpted body. Bucky stopped you by grabbing your wrist.

“No touching, doll face.” He let go of your wrist. “Turn around and bend over the bed.” He orders.

You did as you were told and bent over the bed. You the sound of his belt hitting the floor causing you to look over your shoulder. You watched as he took off his jeans and boxers. You licked your lips at the sight of his hard cock.

“Face forward.” Bucky turns your head forward. “Spread ‘em.” He says, tapping your inner thigh.

You spread your legs apart, giving Bucky more access. Bucky rubs his hands over your ass cheeks, giving them a squeeze causing you to gasp.

“All this time, I thought my doll was a good girl.” Bucky says, rubbing his hand up and down your spine.

“I am a good girl.” You mumbled loud enough for him to hear you.

“You are, but as of right now, you’re a dirty little slut.” He says.

Bucky leaned over your body, his dog tags lightly brushed against your back. His metal hand went to the front of your body and down to your clit. His metal fingers lightly rubbed your clit in circles causing your pussy to clench around nothing.

“I know how much you love my metal arm so let’s see how long it takes you to cum just from me rub your little clit.” Bucky says in almost a whisper.

Bucky’s metal fingers applied more pressure to your clit and began rubbing it in circles. You gripped the blankets on the bed from the amount of pleasure Bucky was giving you just from his metal fingers.

“Bucky, please I want you to—” A moan left your lips causing you to cut your sentence short.

“You want me to what, doll?” He asks.

“Fuck me please!” You begged.

“Not until you cum on my metal fingers.” He says.

You opened your mouth to say something, but a moan left your mouth instead when two of his metal fingers slid past your entrance while his metal thumb continued to rub your clit. Your walls immediately clenched around his fingers.

“I know you want to cum. Just do it and I’ll give you my cock.” He whispers in your ear.

It didn’t take long for you to cum. Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head as you came hard on his metal fingers.

“There you go. Good girl.” Bucky praises.

You whimpered when he took his metal fingers out of your pussy. Bucky brought his metal fingers up to his mouth and tasted your juices, moaning at the taste. He then rubbed his cock in between your wet folds, his tip bumping your almost sensitive clit causing you to whimper. He lined his cock up at your entrance, slowly sliding it in, inch by inch until he was fully inside of you. He gave you a moment to adjust to his size. You nodded your head, giving him permission to start thrusting. Bucky gripped your hips and slowly pulled his cock out until his tip was left inside of you. With a hard thrust, his whole cock was back inside of you. His thrusts were rough, but loving.

“Such a dirty little slut, aren’t ya, babydoll? Say you’re a dirty little slut.” He says.

“I’m dirty little slut!” You moaned.

“You’re my dirty little slut.” Bucky practically growls.

Bucky leaned down, kissing along the back of your neck, working his way around to your lips. His right hand left your hip, his fingers gripped your jaw firmly and turned your head to capture your lips in a much needed kiss. One of your hands reached up to the back of his head to intensify the kiss. Your fingers ran through his hair, tugging at it causing Bucky to moan against your lips. Bucky’s metal hand left your hip and moved back down to your clit, rubbing it in fast circles.

“Bucky! Oh fuck!” You moaned.

“I love the way you moan my name. Keep saying it.” He says, kissing just below your ear.

“Bucky!” You moaned again.

The tip of his cock hit that one spot inside of you causing your pussy to clench around his cock making him moan at the feeling.

“I won’t last long if you keep doing that.” Bucky moans.

Bucky’s metal fingers applied more pressure to your clit, roughly rubbing it. Your hands clutched the blankets on the bed and your toes curled at the feeling. You felt your orgasm building up again.

“Bucky, I— oh fuck! Please let me cum!” You whined desperately.

“I don’t know if I should let you. You never told me what a dirty girl you are.” Bucky says teasingly.

“I’ll show you everything if you want! Just please let me cum!” You whined again.

“Alright then. Cum for me, doll.” He says.

Bucky’s fingers moved faster against your clit, helping you chase your high. Your orgasm came crashing down on you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came harder than you did the first time. Bucky was now chasing his high.

“Such a good girl for me.” Bucky praises. “Gonna fill this little pussy up till it’s dripping with my cum.” He says in your ear.

“Yes please!” You moaned.

“Of course you fucking want it.” He chuckles. “Dirty girl.” He growls.

Your name left his lips as he came inside of you. Bucky thrusted a few more times before stopping and leaning against your back, his arms caging you in. You two stood there panting and catching your breath.

“You still with me, doll face?” Bucky moved your hair from your face. “I didn’t break you, did I?” He asks.

“Mmm, I’m good.” You hummed. “Just a little sensitive.” You say.

“Let’s get cleaned up and we can cuddle for the rest of the day.” He says and kissed your cheek.

Bucky slowly pulled his cock out of you causing you to whine. You tried standing up, but your legs were so wobbly causing you to lose your balance. Bucky was quick to catch you. He picked you up bridal style, carrying you to the bathroom for a nice warm bath. After you guys got cleaned up, Bucky gave you one of his t-shirts and got underneath the blankets with you, pulling you close to him. You snuggled yourself against his side and laid your head on his chest. You played with his dog tags.

“Just out of curiosity, how much of my smut did you read?” You asked, tilting your head to look up at him.

“A few.” Bucky answers. “I have to say, you’re quite the writer.” He says.

“Oh god.” You say, hiding your face against his chest.

“I mean it, doll.” He says, lifting your head up to look at him.

You leaned up and kissed his lips sweetly.

“Let me know if you need any inspiration for your dirty little stories.” Bucky says against your lips.

“Bucky!” You whined, lightly smacking his chest causing him to chuckle.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[klxudykai]

the ugly part of reality shifting

as great as shifting is, its really fucking draining. like REALLY draining. its nice that people want to show the fun and positive side of shifting and all, but once new shifters (specifically) hit the stage where they're drained and extremely demotivated, they aren't going to know how to deal with these new overwhelming emotions. reality shifting takes a toll on our mental health even if we don't like to admit it. this may not apply to everything, but I know it applies to the majority.

ive been shifting since 2021 (if you saw my post Abt me starting shifting in 2019 that was wrong lmfao mb yall-). and I still haven't shifted. I used to think I'd shift within 4 years but surprise surprise. I haven't. I'm drained and demotivated. I don't completely believe I wont ever shift, but I don't think I can get what I want by manifesting or affirming or doing any of that. I think the universe will just randomly hand it to me. it sounds dumb but that's the weird luck I have. when I don't expect it, I get what I want. but when I try hard and I expect it, nothing happens or I get smth worse. i don't think that even when I put blood,sweat, and tears into this that I'll shift. I've discovered so much shit about myself yet I am still here with no experience of what its like in another reality let alone my dr. never saw my dr once. only in my dreams and my imagination.

im going to be completely honest when I say that shifting is not for the weak. I'm not saying this to get you to quit because shifting is one of the best things that I found. I just want you to know that its not always going to be perfect. you might feel desperate, you might feel homesick, you might feel exhausted mentally. and sometimes you'll make progress but then find another obstacle. quite frankly, fuck the obstacles because that's not the issue. its how you deal with them that really determine how your growth goes. and no I'm not saying it controls if you'll shift or not because it doesn't. but if you're a person that gives up easily, its going to be hard to overcome those blockages. I say that because I myself give up easily. which is ironic because I don't give up when it comes to certain goals I want to accomplish (one of those goals being shifting), but I refuse to get rid of those so called "blockages" and avoid them even though I know what's the problem. I avoid them because I don't know how to fix them and I just have this fear that's telling me I'll fail.

this post probably doesn't make a lot of sense but that's because I'm writing this in the heat of the moment so I'm not doing a lot of thinking, I'm just typing. what I'm saying is don't be that person that avoids the problems. be transparent with yourself because I'm telling you, the more you avoid it, the more drained youre going to become. it might turn into an endless loop where you think about your Dr daily but you have zero energy to shift. and it fucking sucks.

overall, please take breaks whether they're mental or shifting breaks, if you feel like there is an issue with yourself, fix it. this is a hard journey but it will be a lot easier once you're honest and overcome problems that need to be solved.

(disclaimer that this may not apply to everyone, just the people who are going through a rough patch in their journey. this is mainly just my perspective and what I've heard from a friend of mine since our issues seemed pretty similar. and if anyone needs someone to talk to, my DMS are open. I want my blog to be a safe space and that this is a place where not everything is perfect. I love y'all and please take care and don't stress yourselves <33)

also, fuck that toxic positivity shit that just makes mfs more drained. if you feel demotivated address it don't push it away

[discotitsposts]

my little secret

reader x mgg

she/her pronouns used (but you can imagine whatever you want)

reader has a secret tumblr account where she writes fanfiction about her husband

mature themes.

Matthew Gray Gubler walks around his house. Looking for his wife. She was nowhere to be found. He knocks on her office door. He knows she may not hear because sometimes she plays music loudly in her headphones so he opens the door and steps in. He sees her bopping her head to whatever song she may be playing and typing rapidly. He smiles at the sight.

Since the door to the office was behind her, she doesn’t see him creep up behind her. Perfect opportunity for a spooky scare. He’s about to scare her when he notices what she’s doing on her computer.

She’s on Tumblr. Typing up what looks to be a long story? He knows she’s an author but wow. Her fingers move extra fast over the keyboard and he senses inspiration was hitting her over and over.

Then he sees what she’s writing. A few lines stick out to him.

“He slipped his length inside of her slowly.”

“Her dripping heat.”

“She moans out, ‘Spencer’ and grips the blankets.”

She’s writing a smut story on Tumblr with a character named Spencer? Out of the ordinary. He thinks. She’s stopped typing to think for a second. Now or never. He thinks.

“Boo!” He yells and touches her shoulders. She screams so loud and frantically tries to hide what she was writing. She clicks save on the draft and closes the page.

“Whatcha writing.” He smirks knowing full well what she was doing.

“What..N..Nothing.” She stammers and stands up. “I’m gonna get a snack. Want anything.”

Matthew looks at the empty chair and sits down and opens Tumblr to see what she had written.

She screams, “NOO!! Don’t look at that.”

He laughs while going onto her blog. It’s a Spencer Reid fan account. She had revealed little details like her name and favorite music, but hadn’t notified her followers of her marriage to a certain man. She had also written fanfiction about Spencer that was, accurate, in terms of the size of a certain body part.

He clicks on a post with his name in it. It reads, Do you guys think Matthew Gray Gubler brushes his teeth in the shower?

“Hey, that was ONE time!” He says out loud.

She scoffs, “Twice, actually.”

Another one, a photo of his lap zoomed in on the crotch with the caption, “His wife must be happy.”

“She is.” He says out loud. She is absolutely mortified at his findings.

He keeps reading. Spencer, Spencer, Himself, Spencer.

“So you love Spencer more than you love me?” He jokingly pouts.

“Yeah I’m planning on leaving you for Spencer Reid. We’re running away together tonight.” She jokes back.

“I won’t let you!” He dramatically stands up and grabs her. They both hear a loud cry from upstairs.

“Someone’s hungry.” She says and leaves to the kitchen to get her baby’s bottle. Matthew goes upstairs to comfort their daughter. When his wife comes upstairs, the sight is so beautiful it should be framed.

Matthew’s in the rocking chair in the nursery holding his daughter and gently cradling her while she’s fussing. He’s whispering a poem to her. He sees his wife walk in and she hands him the bottle.

“There you go baby, see, you were just hungry sweetie.” He speaks in a voice sweeter than honey. He smiles down at her. When she falls asleep in his arms he brings her back to the crib and lays her down. Meanwhile, his wife puts on a relaxation cd that has lullabies, soft sounds and ocean waves. They exit the room quietly.

“Back to Tumblr I presume.” He smiles. “I thought you were supposed to be working on your next book.”

“I am, it’s just something on the side to keep my skills fresh.” She replies.

“Does the publishing company know about this ‘extracurricular activity’ of yours?” He takes her arm and they walk back to the office together.

“No, like I said it’s just something fun. Testing the waters.” She slips back into her chair and opens Tumblr again.

Matthew comes up right behind her and whispers in her ear. “I’m never letting you live this down.” He runs away but she grabs the water gun on her desk and chases him with it.

the end (they lived happily ever after)

just a silly little story

this man deserves a child i had to include him w a baby

@whoisspence this is one of the fics i was talking abt

[princecharmingwinks]

Thank you for tag, lovely @noyzinerd !! The snippet you provided on your post was brilliant! I have a few little fics on the go but this one is probably the closest to finished. Not named yet but it is a 5+1 Sterek where Stiles working at a bookstore slowly meets different members of Derek's pack who know Stiles is the perfect match for Derek.

It was a quiet Tuesday afternoon at Alpha Books, Stiles the only staff on while the bosses were away on their 2 year anniversary trip. He was happily humming along to the radio, reshelving when the bell jingled announcing a new customer. 

Stiles popped his head out of the aisle and smiled, “Welcome to Alpha Books, can I help you find anything today?” The new customer was a girl, maybe a few years younger than him and small in stature but her whole presence radiated Tough, with a capital T.

“What do you get your older idiot brother to distract him from the ridiculousness of his life?”

Stiles tried not to grin at the exasperated tone but it must not have worked because the girl’s eyebrows crinkled into a judgemental frown.

“Sorry,” He offered in apology before completely stepping out of the aisle. “What does your brother like to read?”

She huffed out an annoyed sound but Stiles wasn’t completely convinced it was aimed at him. “I have no bloody clue. How do you work out someone’s tastes?”

“Well, what’s he like? Maybe we can work it out together?” Stiles was getting excited now, he loved a good book hunt.

She nodded, taking a moment to think. “He’s one of those crazy morning people who actually enjoys jogging before 7am. But it also means he’s in bed like an old grandma by sundown. He doesn’t like anything too horror-y or gore-y. I guess maybe some kind of adventure series?”

Stiles lit up with excitement, this brother sounded like he may enjoy one of Stiles’ personal favourite series. “Has he ever read the Bean and Pennywise series?”

The girl frowned again, “Been what?”

Stiles held up his hand and ducked down another aisle, returning in a flurry with the first book in the series in hand. He offered it to the girl and gave her time to inspect both front and back covers, including the blurb.

“This Bean guy sounds just like his type.” She gave a small smile and Stiles had a feeling it was a rare sight he was beholding. 

He also had to fight against the blush that was probably forming when he realised he was about to admit that he related way too much to Bean. This girl was super pretty, if not also intimidating, and Stiles was sure her brother would be too. And based on her description, her brother sounded like someone Stiles would swoon over. Stating he was like the lead character in the novel who was apparently her brother's type was way too forward. 

“Awesome! I’ll ring it up for you.” Stiles took the book back and headed over to the counter, slipping the store’s bookmark that doubled as marketing for his blog inside the front cover.

Hope you liked this snippet! Tagging some mutuals since I'm not sure who has been writing lately or not. No pressure of course :) @fairytales-and-folklore @breakingjen @elisela @haletostilinski

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

I just made myself a cup of a new tea, one from a set that a friend sent me. I was super curious to try it with and without milk in it, so after I take a sip without, I'm going to add milk to my tea.

That may seem like such an inane little story to post on a blog, unless you have an eating disorder. I'm sure many of you know what a big deal milk in tea can be, and what an important act of self-love it is.

It was poured into many of our ears, approaching teenhood in the mid-2000's, not to "drink our calories." For those of us whose restriction was weight-based, many of us practiced filling ourselves with water, with our coffee black and unsweetened whether that was how we liked it or not, and with tea that never contained milk.

Like many people who've struggled with binge eating and with restriction, I struggle with creating anxiety-inducing rules about when is okay to eat, especially if I'm between meals and worrying if I should allow myself a snack, or if it's okay to quench my thirst with anything other than water. This is especially true between meals. For some reason my brain has accepted the "extra" caloric intake as part of a meal, but still balks at the idea of introducing these things independently into non-meal parts of the day. I would like to note that my chronic illness and my body's reaction to food has also influenced this weird relationship between me and my favorite treats, such as a piece of candy, or a beverage that might happen to contain a greater-than-zero calorie count.

But tonight, before bed, I want to try this tea. And it sounds like one that'd be super tasty with milk, as it has cocoa powder and vanilla in the blend. So I let my tea cool in the room with me as I type this, telling myself that I can get up and go back for milk after I taste it.

Now I have gone to the kitchen.

Now I have poured in a splash of milk and tasted. It's soy milk, as regular milk sometimes hurts my stomach and I don't want my sleep to be disrupted. Due to my chronic illness, this is still something I have to think about, and I'll be honest, I hate it. Things like this make it so hard to tell myself I can let go of my food fears, because my brain knows that some of my food fears will turn out to have validity, and so what if they all do?

Now I have poured in another splash. Tasted.

Now I have poured in a third, much larger splash. Tasted.

Oh, this is it. This tea tastes like a warm dessert. But now it's too cool, so I need to microwave it back to its best heat. I used to not want to microwave my food. As a teen I heard a hippie say that microwaves destroy the nutrients in your food because the radiation breaks down their molecular structure. This is absolutely false. In fact, it's been disproven that microwaves break down nutrients any more than other methods of heating food, but for a long time I believed it. And even after I learned the truth, I still found it hard to convince myself it was okay to use microwaves for a very long time.

I have just finished my tea in my room. I took the time to identify that I wanted it. I took the time to truly taste it in several different ways, consider how I felt I wanted it and bring it to those specifications. It wasn't planned for any specific time or day, but I agreed to give myself this the way I wanted it anyway. I've been drinking my coffee with milk every morning, too. I actually like black coffee, but I like it better with milk. And I give myself things throughout the day that I enjoy, to enhance my experience of my existence. Life is hard, and it's okay to allow yourself, to the fullest extent you can, the small joys that bring you through the day.

I wanted to share this with you. I hope you don't feel the crushing weight of morality when staring at a bottle of regular soda and the sugar-free, when you wake up with your morning coffee, when your self-care regimen includes a cup of tea. I hope you practice actively giving yourself the love you need this week. And I hope you give it to yourself exactly the way you need it.

[sgiandubh]

Fly-fishing weekend?

Yesterday, on the Avochie Estate, in Aberdeenshire. It does sound more like a business trip, though - of course, that does not preclude combining business and pleasure:

Several auction lots have been given by Sassenach Spirits for the Deveron, Bogie and Isla Rivers Charitable Trust (https://www.deveron.org/)'s dinner auction, next September 6 (https://www.deveron.org/sundown-on-the-deveron-centenary-dinner-auction-in-association-with-bowlts/- the whisky will be graciously provided by Bacardi, though 😎). Hookergate seems to have passed completely unnoticed by that (big and very serious) local NGO board: not exactly the kind of people to read JJ, to be honest, so it's all good.

The news was immediately dissected by another blog (ahem). It may came as no surprise here, however, that the Avochie Estate (https://www.avochie.com/) is a family-friendly destination - 'fun things to do with children':

No fishing on Sundays, though:

All of the three available accommodation options have very specific family-friendly amenities, by the way:

I am not sure if he stayed the night, though. I do not think the houses featured in the two pictures he posted on Instagram are a perfect match, but hey - I could be wrong:

Anyways, back to the Deveron, Bogie and Isla Rivers Charitable Trust. Its partnership links with one of the big global players in the spirits business, the Pernod Ricard Group (https://www.pernod-ricard.com/en), based in Paris, via 'The River Within' sustainable development programme, are more than obvious:

Even more interesting, the charity will release, at the end of July, a limited edition batch of its own gin. Proceeds of the sales will directly go into its coffers and help support its projects:

Clearly extending a growing business network, and perhaps spending a well-deserved weekend away from prying eyes, too. The guys featured in the pics are charity people: I doubt he spent an evening drinking his arse off with them, if you see what I mean 😉.

[wingwaver]

A few tips for new Tumblr users wanting to write here

Yo if you're here from Reddit or Twitter or some other site and just wanted to give this a shot you may have seen some blogs that are dedicated to writing headcanons or short fics or even original works for their own OCs and you may be thinking "hey I wanna give that a shot! I like to write!" then I have some tips to make it easier on you and people who see your content.

1. First off, if you're writing a pretty long piece the you should probably put it under a read more, it'll look like this on mobile

and this on desktop

or you can write :readmore: on a line by itself and press enter.

2. Now if you're gonna write for a whole bunch of different fandoms and you wanna make a master list then I suggest making an actual list with the fandoms you write for and then making more lists with the actual content as a you go along because you can only have 100 links in one post (I know that sounds like a lot but as someone who has around 300 Transformers things written trust me you fill up a post quicker than you expect, especially if you take requests from other people). The way I typically do it is like this

The first pic is the MASTER master list that lists everything I write for and when they're underlined like that it means they're links. The second pic is after clicking the G1 link, it's a separate post that has the actual fics and headcanon links. Note the 6/100 in the tags, this is how I keep up with how many things I've added. You can of course just use the numbers options from here

or just number them manually from your keyboard like I'm doing with this post. Adding links has no barring on what else you add to the post so you can add yourself some fancy header or divider pics if you want.

3. Adding links! Links can look like this https://www.tumblr.com/wingwaver/721887224846778368/test-post-for-reasons?source=share or like this https://wingwaver.tumblr.com/post/721887224846778368/test-post-for-reasons depending on whether you're linking from mobile or desktop/browser Just highlight the text you wanna add a link to and a the little chain will move to the end, click it and paste your url you want to link to and press add link, then press post/save draft/save (whatever the blue button says)

Now you've successfully linked a post to another post!

4. Tagging! To get your fics and headcanons seen to build an audience you usually wanna tag the stuff correctly. If you're posting a fic about Miles Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright from Ace Attorney then you'll tag it with #Ace Attorney, #Miles Edgeworth, and #Phoenix Wright in the tags area. But it's also a good idea to mention if it's a ship or general fic in the tags too. If so then putting ship names and #Miles Edgeworth x Phoenix Wright and #Miles Edgeworth/Phoenix Wright in the tags will help everyone know this is a ship fic. Tagging with characters or fandoms that aren't apart of the fic just clogs the tags for people looking for content of said characters and fandoms so it's very looked down on here and will likely get some of your stuff reported for spam so only use the relevant tags. Also tagging for triggers can be tricky here because of how fucky tumblr is but please don't tag censor tags. Tagging things like #a**** or #a*use or even #abu$e doesn't work here because people who have #abuse blacklisted will be able to see this content because it wasn't tagged properly. Also if you're writing for OCs or reader inserts it's common courtesy to tag those appropriately too. Someone looking for a reader insert may not want to read an OC and vice versa. Also many people filter those out so try to add tags like #x reader, #*fandom name* x reader, and #*character name* x reader for easier filtering. Also people cruise those tags too so it'll help people who fo want to read that content find your stuff!

[wellmetmat]

There's a post from a couple of years ago which I was reminded of and wanted to add to today, about nobody wanting to take the supplicant role in courtship, but it's unrebloggable due to some constraint the OP put on it, so I'll just quote my bit:

Being attracted to someone is distressing. I think the largest part of it is hunger to know someone (?); but when you can’t get to know them well, it ends up a stunted obsession: all that drive-to-know - enough to build a deep, detailed model of another personality - chewing over scraps of phrases and trivial actions, until you’re snappishly bored with your own mind. Your skin feels hungry and there’s nothing you can do about it: “touch starvation” is a phrase that comes to mind. The person’s absence and their presence both hurt: absence obviously, presence because once you’re there you find that there’s still distance, you still miss them. It’s rather like homesickness. Courting someone is wretched. It’s frightening and humiliating and full of agonising waiting periods and jarring mood switchbacks. It feels something like being dragged along on a fishhook, with the line attached to another person’s little finger. Liking someone more than they like you is a position of low power. The incentives are to be servile. You have nothing to bargain with: whatever they decide, you agree to with a smile. You always try to sound happy, because that’s what’s most appealing. You give up on areas of confusion instead of trying to understand, because asking questions annoys people and any annoying act pushes you closer to the cliff-edge of losing them. Any small disagreement feels like a large risk, so you distort your own opinions a bit. You can’t be spontaneous; your inner voice is always tallying accounts: how many days since the last message, too few, you mustn’t bother them yet / how many days since you came up with something interesting, too many, they may forget; don’t intrude so much, but simultaneously what have you done for them lately, how can you provide value to justify remaining in their life. It seems bad that we’re like this. I don’t imagine humans are especially badly formed or anything, it’s probably just as subjectively rotten for every animal that does courtship displays. But if anyone eventually makes robots with emotion-like motivational systems, they shouldn’t include anything like attraction. It’s so silly.

I feel like resurrecting this today to celebrate being out of it. In the last two weeks, somebody has given me the double gifts of liking me and of having the generosity to say so, and show so. All I want to do is be glad and be grateful, and try never to cause this person to experience anything described above.

But I stand by the description, it is a correct description, and we are so badly made it is infuriating. @nohoperadio's good post on the tragic stupidity of pain incidentally also works as a discourse on eros: if there'd been any intelligence involved in the design process, distress signals would come with an off-switch! (Hence my blog tagline.) But instead, evolution is a pitiless idiot, love is humiliation, nonviable attachments take years to starve to death, and there is no moral of the story. Absurd. A baboon could design a better emotional constitution.

Delightfully, this week ACX introduced David Pearce ("For centuries, philosophers have praised suffering as a necessary part of the human condition. For decades, David Pearce has told those other philosophers that they are bad and wrong"), who is doing his best to make a better emotional constitution available, and I approve of such a project so highly that it's been necessary to stack new levels of approval above my previous maximum to encompass how right he is. It's really exciting that any intelligent and active person considers progress of this sort possible and is working on it.

[stillenha]

new years kiss series: heeseung

heeseung x you; friends to lovers au, fluff

summary: you and heeseung are designated drivers for your friend groups at a new years eve party and you can’t tell if he was more drunk (in love) than you words: 2.6k warning: alcohol consumption a/n: writing a nye kiss series to start this new enha writing blog! a masterlist will be made soon once i post the other stories of this series. hope you all enjoy reading my fics! happy new year! ♡♡♡

The night was getting long. There was nearly an hour left before the new year and you finally found yourself settling down by the table counter in the kitchen after greeting other friends and joining groups for food and some chit chat time. You felt relieved that you went past the loud karaoke set that has been blasting all night since you arrived at the party. 

Your cup of fruit punch was set on the table in front of you, along with your phone.  You peeked out at the window of the porch and saw some people lighting up fire cracker sticks. You would join them but it’s too cold out and you didn’t have the energy to do more tonight. All you could do was sigh. You were exhausted and Heeseung noticed. He just got off from a pool game in a different room when he saw you there. 

You noticed a mistletoe up on the hall and wondered why it wasn’t put down yet before you even realized he walked through it. 

“So who are you trying to kiss tonight?” 

“What?” Your eyes widened at the question when Heeseung walked up with a cup of fruit juice in his hand and sat next to you. 

Heeseung, who you knew since high school, was wearing all black. It was his style and he had a leather jacket on, which didn’t really match winter. This was typical: he’s very different from others in a way that you kind of find him attractive at times. You wouldn’t call it a crush after all of these years. He’s just… really nice to be around with. 

When he saw that you were still staring at him with a shocked look, he looked at the mistletoe then back at you, and nudged his head at the decoration. You came to your senses and shook your head. “I just can’t believe they still have a mistletoe up here.” 

“It’s Jake.” Heeseung tilted his head, hissing a bit. “I think he’s still trying to kiss his crush.”

“Christmas is over though.” 

“His spirit is still up for it, for the new year at least.” Heeseung chuckled, noticing how some red decorations were still up in his house. He took a drink from his cup before setting it down. You laughed quietly along, then he asked, “I’m not really into new year kisses, unless the person I’m with feels the same as me.” 

“Sorry to break it to you but I may not be interested.” Though it would be nice to have someone to kiss, and it would have to be the same feeling as his. 

“It’s all good.” He grinned. “You seemed so busy earlier. Now, you’ve settled down?” 

“Finally, actually.” You had the biggest sigh ever and he followed your breath to the cup in front of you. 

“Oh, and you’re drinking fruit punch too?” 

“Yeah,” You chuckled at how excited he sounded. “I’m a DD tonight.” 

“Same.” Heeseung showed you his cup, then his lips twisted to the side uneasily. “Why are we so bad luck?” 

“You’re right.” There went another sigh. “When I think about the year, only the bad days come to my mind.” 

“You sound like you went through a lot.” Heeseung fiddled his fingers at his cup, and turned to you. 

He could feel how long you’ve thought about the year all night. You were everywhere, and he meant literally. Every spot he was, you were there, and Jake’s house was like a big mansion. It seemed like you just wanted to get the day over with, and that was probably how your year went. 

“How do you feel now?” Heeseung asked genuinely.

“Lifeless, but there’s an urge of fun trying to come out of me?” It felt like a confession, but you truly wanted to feel something and just didn’t know what to do for that to happen. 

“There’s some hope.” He nodded, whispering to himself. He noticed the confused look on your face and he grinned. “What I mean is, today can be a good day. You just have to remember that you get to choose whether it is or not.” 

You softly laughed, not because of how true his words were but the way his hand moved when he was making his point. 

“That is true.” Your smile died down and you sighed. “I wish I realized that sooner. It just seems easier said than done.” 

“Then, can I ask you what you want to do right now?” Heeseung suggested. He leaned onto the countertop and rested his head onto his fist. His blinks were slow, eyes stuck on you under that smile, so sweetly waiting. It felt like he was doing that the whole night, trying to listen to you. 

“I honestly want a drink, but I can’t. I want to be responsible.” You looked away, finding your friends having the best night with their lovers. You wondered why you even said yes to being their designated driver for tonight when you should be having fun too. Somehow, you couldn’t feel the joy to get up and join them. It could be this conversation you’re having with Heeseung but you also didn’t want to end it because you felt seen in his presence. He’s listening to you and you didn’t want him to stop. 

“You don’t have to be responsible.” Heeseung’s voice teased and you almost glared at him, then he continued. “I can be responsible for you.”

“Be responsible for me?” 

He nodded once, then he turned to you. “The choices you make tonight.” 

“How are my choices your responsibility?” You asked softly, hoping that you didn’t sound mad or crazy. 

Heeseung pointed his chin to your phone that vibrated a second ago on the table. “It looks like your friends don't need a DD anymore.”

Your face burned up in joy as something ignited from inside of you. Your shocking face made him grin widely. You shook your head, still in denial that what you read from their texts were true. “No, no. I probably shouldn’t.” 

“I said I can be responsible for you tonight.” 

“What about your friends? Don’t they need you too? I just think it’ll be a hassle to drive so many people-”

Your words got cut when Heeseung called out your name, a tiny laugh followed shortly. He sounded desperately tired of your complaints, but also as if he was teasing you again. 

“I promise you they won’t need me. They will leave with other friends later or end up sleeping here tonight. It happens every year.” 

“Really?” You’re not a party goer to confirm but you couldn’t believe him just yet. He nodded once, then you continued. “That means you’ve been to plenty of new year parties.” 

Perhaps, since you met him. You didn’t want to assume, and it hit you that he may have kissed plenty of people too. You could be slapping yourself for thinking that, but instead, you found yourself blushing.

“Yeah, but I don’t drink when it comes to big parties like these. Many friends can be irresponsible. I’d rather look out for them than get myself in some kind of trouble that I might regret.” Heeseung grabbed his fruit punch cup and took a drink before he cheered it at you. “Do you trust me now?”

“I’ll go get a beer.” 

Heeseung grinned, as you stepped away. In a way, he felt proud that you’re listening to yourself but little did he know, you were willing to drink just a little so you could stay sober for him. For a second, you thought how peer pressuring that was, but then again, you wanted to drink too. A beer won’t do much to you. As you grabbed a can from the fridge, you peeked at his back. You had no idea what he’s really up to but there’s definitely something on his mind. 

“What the heck?” Your voice jotted his head to you when you sat back down on the seat next to him. You set your drink on the table and leaned your head close to his hand to take a better look. “You made that just now?”

“Yeah.” Heeseung closed his fingers to tighten the napkin ring he made on his index finger. It had a butterfly at the top of it. His smile seemed to never leave the night as he adored how awed you were. “Do you want it?”

Without giving you a chance to answer, he took off the ring, held your hand up and slipped it through your finger. 

“It’s so cute, wow. You’re… you’re a wizard.” You complimented before you opened the can of beer. You took a drink of it in two big gulps to wash your burning cheeks away. 

“No one has ever called me that.” Heeseung laughed. You couldn’t tell if he liked it or if he was making fun of it. You just couldn’t help to explain. 

“I really mean it. You don’t see people going to parties and making tangible stuff like this. They just drink, dance, and be loud.” You were still awed at the artistry work he did that was now wrapped at your finger. “I want to learn how to make this.”

Heeseung was relieved. You were listening to yourself and didn’t shy away from what you wanted to do. “I can teach you.” 

In that moment, you met his eyes and the world seemed to stop around you. Heeseung began to lean in. Slowly, you followed his move. You didn’t keep track of the time or realize how close midnight was going to hit. 

All of a sudden, you both heard a shout of his name from the microphone where a few of his friends were karaoking from. You both moved back quickly and your eyes followed that loud voice. 

“Where is Heeseung? Where is he- OH THERE HE IS!” His friend pointed at him then waved his hand for him to come. “Dude, this is your song! You have to sing this! Come on!!! It’s Mistletoe!!!”

Heeseung shook his head as his friends laughed loudly through the room. You could almost tell this song seemed to be an inside joke within his friend group. You’d probably ask about it later because he looked so embarrassed right now. He got up from his seat and walked backward slowly, then he waved a hand at you with a shy grin. “I’ll be right back.” 

You nodded and watched him dash to his friends. They cheered for him as one of them played the song and the other handed him the microphone. 

As you watched him sing, you couldn’t tell if he was drunk or not. He seemed to blend in with his friends, and it looked so funny that you couldn’t stop smiling. Heeseung kept looking over to you, as if he was singing for you. With just that song, you felt like Christmas was still here. 

By watching him and knowing he’s in your presence, your face was clouded by something you didn’t recognize. Whatever that may be, you found yourself a bit calm from his smile, a bit unguarded from the way he talked, and a bit in love from that closeness earlier. You wouldn’t allow yourself to hold back anything else now because his words seemed to always be right. 

You applauded as the whole room cheered. One of his friends was announcing how soon the new year was going to be. Heeseung made his way back to you, just like his words. Your shy smiles mirrored each other. He didn’t sit back down on his seat because you stood up. A hand of yours hid in the pocket of your pants and the other, the one with the butterfly ring, held onto the counter as if you’re leaning onto it. 

“I always forget how good you are at singing.” You complimented again. Why is he so good at everything?

“Thanks.” His shy smile was still there when he looked down at his feet. 

Your eyes met again, somehow deeper than before. As your lips calmed, you wanted to take the initiative and follow your heart once again. 

“Say, what are you doing tomorrow?” You asked. 

Heeseung slightly tilted his head but his grin peeked out. “Why?” 

“I don’t have anyone to spend the new year with. I hope it will be you.” It was almost as if you were whispering to him when you confessed. Your words were slow and the silence between you both moved the same length. His chuckling nod said it all. 

“I would like it to be with you, too.” He said. 

Your sweet gazes were everlasting. You didn’t want this moment to end. How perfect it would be, you both heard a friend of his counting down to the new year before everyone else followed. Heeseung hadn’t left your eyes and he moved in close enough that you would feel the heat from this chest. 

“I know I said I don’t do new year kisses, but I want to kiss you right now.” He confessed, almost hesitating. 

“I think we feel the same way.” You played from his words earlier and he was amused. “Can I kiss you too?” 

“Since you asked so nicely… Yes.” He was teasing again. It made you laugh before he held an arm behind you and your ring-fingered hand gripped at the front zipper of his jacket. You felt breathless against his body and it’s contradicting how hot you were feeling when chills ran down your back. Heeseung’s nose could almost touch yours when he greeted you, “Happy new year.”

It felt silly to say it before it actually hits midnight and you almost laughed at the thought of it. The countdown was getting louder and your lips beamed. “Happy new year, Heeseung.” 

His smile turned into a sweet grin. You could feel his beating heart against your chest when your lips touched. His lips were warm, and they parted so he could give another smooch against yours. That kind of touch ignited sparks from your stomach. You lips brushed along with his and the venomous scent of his cologne made you dizzy. His hand cupped between your ear as he deepened the kiss and gripped your back tighter. You felt his hot breath tickling your cheek, fingers pulling him closer at the collar of his jacket. No one had ever kissed you like this before. He did more than you would, and you wished he wouldn’t stop, so your lips parted and kissed him a bit harder back, just like how he taught you earlier. 

The sudden loud cheers around you woke you up before you both pulled away, noses still close together. Your breaths were deeply soft and quiet. You both remained standing, arms still at each other. For a moment, Heeseung felt astonished by the things you were learning from him. It was worth opening his eyes to when he noticed your flushed cheeks. You both shared soft laughs before letting each other go, except your hand. He wanted to hold them all night if possible. 

As you both sat back down on your ‘designated’ seats, you had one thing on your mind: you should be doing this every year. Not the kiss because you couldn’t handle yourself, but the thought talk…

Just kidding, maybe both.

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 10

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?!?! I'm finally posting Part 10 after an unplanned/unexpected hiatus?

Yes. I am. Sorry for the long wait!

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Angst, HYDRA experimentation, mentions of death. (Dear sweet Hyunjin in the gif below also a CW for myself and other Stays)

Word Count: 3,075

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4][Part 5][Part 6][Part 7][Part 8][Part 9]

You hear Bucky’s key rattle in the front door and the soft snick as it closes downstairs. You’d arrived at your shared home only minutes ago, but that was plenty of time for you to race upstairs, lock your door, and start bawling into the pillow. You hiccup and choke, suffocating the sounds into the cotton fabric clenched between your teeth. 

Why?! Why did Bucky have to go and say that shit? As much as you had hoped and begged the universe for Bucky to say those words to you earlier this year, it responds to your pleas now?! You’ve spent months resigning yourself to having him as a friend only – that’s what he said he wanted! 

Why would he change his mind? Is it because he’s had a change of heart? Doubtful. Bucky was very certain in his decision to shut you down and out of his life. So what? Is it because you’re hanging out with Petre? Is he jealous? How? Why?

Bucky’s actions towards you tonight make no sense. Why would he say something that he knew would upset you? And if he didn’t think they’d upset you, what’d he expect? That you’d run and leap into his arms, no more words needed? Why the hell would he think that’s what would happen? He can’t just act like he didn’t completely eviscerate your heart that night in the alley and that morning in the kitchen. 

Those days are burned into your memory, not a day goes by that you don’t remember the way your words affected him and his response. He was so betrayed and angry that he lashed out at you for admitting that you wanted more than the no-strings-attached, friends-with-benefits situation that you had. 

But now – now! – he wants to say you could be together? Together in what way? As fuck-buddies again? Hell no. There’s no way that you will ever put yourself through that pain and hardship again. Not for him, not for anybody. You want something real. 

You’d wanted something real with Bucky, but he’d shot you down as soon as you’d brought it up.

Bucky’s footsteps shuffle from the front door and up the stairs, stopping just outside your door. You hold your breath but continue to flinch as your lungs spasm on unuttered cries.

A soft rap sounds at your door and Bucky murmurs your name softly into the doorjamb. You squeeze your eyes shut and keep your voice as calm and level as possible, but it still cracks when you say his name. “Leave me alone, Bucky.”

“Doll, I –”

“I don’t want to hear it!” You respond vehemently, chucking your wet pillow at the door. It smacks against the wood with a thwump and lands in a sad heap on the floor. It looks just like how you feel. “Just go away.”

You can hear Bucky suck in a shaky breath, but you refuse to picture his watery eyes and quivering lip. He has a right to feel like shit, but you are under no obligation to try and assuage his guilt when he’s the one that caused this whole mess.

His bare feet tread across the hallway and into his bedroom, his bedroom door barely making any sound as he closes it behind him. His shower starts up a few seconds later and stays on for nearly an hour. After that, his bed creaks and there’s not another sound to be heard.

You don’t sleep that night.

***

“I need to leave.”

“What?” Nat hisses through the phone. It may be 4 am here, but the team is having dinner together right now back in New York. Nat’s whispering voice is her attempt at keeping this conversation between the two of you while she walks away from the dining room to talk. You can hear her boot-clad leg thunk, thunk, thunk its way across the hardwood floors as she finds privacy.

“I need to get away from Bucky,” you explain further.

“What did that fucker do this time?” Nat questions menacingly, already gearing up to kick Bucky’s ass with no information.

You heave a sigh and watch your breath fog in the air, the cloud hanging heavy in front of your face before slowly dissipating in the humid, cold air. “He… he said something about us. As in, him and I. Like we could go back to how we were.” You bite your chapped lips and worry the dry pieces of skin with your teeth. “I didn’t handle it very well.”

Nat is silent for a long moment, the other end of the line buzzing over the long distance. Finally, she says, “He said he wanted to be friends with benefits again?”

“Well not exactly,” you hedge. “He got all weird and jealous when I was hanging out with Petre last night like I always do. We got into a fight and he said that it could be us sneaking off together like we used to and I just… I lost it.” You hurriedly wipe an oncoming tear out of your eye, surprised you’re even hydrated enough to produce anything after last night’s sob fest. You suck in a shaky breath and continue. “Nat, I can’t do it again. I can’t.”

“I know, honey,” Nat consoles, her voice soft as she shushes you. “I won’t let you do that to yourself again, either. You know I’m here for you – and so is the rest of the team.” You make a questioning noise at that last part and Nat explains. “Well… the whole team kind of knows why you left.”

“...they do?” You press the palm not holding your phone against your forehead, pushing hard to focus on anything but the embarrassment the situation makes you feel. You chuckle humorlessly and say, “Everybody must think I’m pathetic now.”

“We absolutely do not,” Nat states defensively. ��Wanda and I were giving him so much shit after you left and no one knew why – Bucky eventually had to tell everyone after I nearly put him in a coma when he finally found the guts to spar with me.”

You do crack a genuine smile and laugh at that. “You’re telling me Wanda was mean to him?”

“Well, I mean,” Nat laughs as well, “she didn’t put smiley faces on his pancakes when she made everybody breakfast. Trust me when I say everyone noticed her displeasure with him.”

You feel the overwhelming urge to wrap Nat and Wanda up in hugs that are long overdue. The love for your friends overflows from your heart and manifests in your words: “I love you guys so much.” It’s no substitute for the hugs you want to give, but it’s all you can offer at the moment.

“We love you, too,” Nat replies. You’re both quiet for a moment, you soaking in the silence of the frozen outdoors and Nat chewing on the question you can practically hear filling her mouth and pushing against her lips.

You sigh heavily. “Out with it, Nat.”

She sucks in a breath before starting. “You know I’m always on your side…”

“Uh-huh.”

“...but are you sure that’s what Bucky meant?” she finishes.

“Huh?” you question dumbly. “What else could he have meant? He accused me of going off and fucking Petre every time we left a room – TMI, but that’s exactly what Bucky and I used to do. So when Bucky said we could be like that, I don’t see how he could have meant anything else.”

You hear a smack from Nat’s side of the line and a grumbled ‘stupid motherfucker…’ before she composes herself and resumes the conversation. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Not particularly,” you respond. “I’d rather you just come and get me.”

“You know I would in a heartbeat, but this mission took a long time to set up…”

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh. “I wouldn’t actually leave over this, but it’s just nice to know that you’d come and get me if I asked.”

“Always,” she says. 

You and Nat chat for a little longer before you end the call, citing your need to head into ‘work’ soon. You hang up, feeling better for having spoken with your best friend. 

Your improved mood lets you ponder on what Nat was trying to get at about Bucky’s intentions. Does she know something you don’t? The answer is likely yes, her being who she is and all. But if she has reason to doubt your interpretation of Bucky’s actions last night, don’t you owe it to yourself to find out for sure?

Mind made up, you send a short text to Bucky. 

Can we talk?

A few seconds pass as you type out a follow-up message, but you’re interrupted by Bucky’s text.

You’re not here. Where are you?

You smile at the realization that Bucky had to have sprinted to your room, saw your empty bed, and then searched the entire house in record time before sending his text.

Your stomach fills with anticipatory nervousness, but you remind yourself that you’ve already gone through hell without Bucky once, so if there’s something in the way of being in each other’s lives you need to clear it up.

I’m getting an early start at work. I’ll call you during lunch?

Please. 

***

The morning rushes by in a blur. Your tasks take you up, down, and around areas of the HYDRA facility you’ve never had access to before. You can’t be seen lingering around any certain area, but you take every opportunity to peek inside rooms and hallways when no one else is around. 

There’s one particular hallway that catches your attention – not because there’s any screaming or moaning coming from the cells along the walls, but because there is a steady beep, beep, beeping coming from multiple heart rate monitors. 

You’re unable to investigate since a scientist with dark hair stands at one of the open cells at the end of the hall. His clipboard hangs down at his side as his other hand rests on the doorjamb as he watches whatever is happening inside. He’s too far away for you to get a good look at him, but his height and build seem… familiar. You stare for long seconds as he continues to linger, wracking your brain for how you recognize him, but footsteps down your hallway cause the man to startle and scurry away in the opposite direction.

The person who scared the man away rounds the corner towards you. You recognize them as the scientist that had sent you down here in the first place. Quickening your pace, you rush over to them.

“Hello, sir. Here are the materials you requested.”

“Yes, quite,” the man says as he takes the samples from your hands. 

He riffles through the sealed bags and paper work, a concentrated look on his face. You stand politely next to him, your hands folded in front of you while you wait for a dismissal.

“Argh!” the scientist exclaims in anger. “That absolute buffoon! She can’t even label correctly.” He looks up and pins you with a cold stare. “You. Go collect the bloodwork – and do it correctly!” 

He shoves a piece of paper with the subject’s ID number and location into your chest. You reach up quickly to catch it and bow your head in deference. “Yes, sir. Right away.”

He storms off, stomping his way to presumably berate the poor technician who collected the samples the first time. 

You sigh, glancing down at your phone. It’s well-past lunchtime and you need to call Bucky, but this task needs to be completed first. You’ll call Bucky soon and hopefully he’ll apologize and clear everything up. The anxiety from this morning returns and causes your stomach to tighten and a lump to form in your throat.

It’s okay, you tell yourself. He’s been trying to apologize since it happened. If he confesses the reason behind why he got weirdly jealous last night, you will tell him that he has no reason to be – that there hasn’t been anyone for him to be jealous over. Especially not a civilian during an undercover mission. 

Would that be too much? Would he think that if you haven’t been with anyone since you left that you’re still hung up on him? Even though you told him you’d never actually loved him (a massive, bald-faced lie), would he still accept your words at face value even when your actions contradict them?

Why did he say all that last night? 

If he doesn’t want to have any kind of intimacy with you, why’d he suggest being friends with benefits again? Did he suggest being friends with benefits again? It certainly seemed like that was what he was implying, but Nat’s words from this morning makes you doubt your assumption. 

If he wasn’t talking about reverting back to your situationship that you both clearly regretted – for different reasons – then what?

Ugh, you sigh. This is too much. You’ll figure it out when you call him.

You find the medical supply closet and collect the needles, tourniquets, vials, and labels necessary for the samples. Looking down the list, you see that the location is actually the hallway you were interested in earlier. Gathering your supplies onto a cart, you head out.

***

You’ve collected two of the samples when you run into Olaf, the contact you last spoke with when you first arrived. You had just left Subject #268’s room and nearly ran right into the man.

“Oh, hello,” you greet sincerely before registering the wild look in his eyes and his bloodless face. “What’s wrong?”

Olaf shoves you back into the room and looks around frantically. “I need to go,” he states, frightened. “I need to leave and I have to take my family with me.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you murmur, setting your hand on his shoulder. “Deep breaths.” You show him an exaggerated inhale and exhale, staring into his eyes and trying to calm him down. “Tell me what’s going on.”

The breathing exercise does nothing for him. Olaf grabs your hand and squeezes hard. “They know.”

“They know?” you question. “Who knows what?”

“They know that I contacted the Avengers!” He nearly shouts. You shush him with your other hand over his mouth, but he rips it away and continues. “They know I brought you here and that we’re trying to shut this place down.”

“Hold up,” you plead. Your heart races in your chest at the implications. “Why do you say that?”

“I heard them!” he rasps. “I heard them discussing the ‘rats in the organization’ and that they’re finally ready to get rid of them.”

“And you think that’s us? Why?”

“Why else would they mention my name and the Avengers in the same sentence moments later?!” Tears leak down Olaf’s face and his breaths heave in and out of his chest.

“Okay. Okay,” you say, a million thoughts and plans running through your mind. “Get out of here. Go get your family and run – it doesn’t matter if you look suspicious since they’re already aware of the situation.”

Olaf nods his head rapidly and starts to back out of the door and into the hall. “What about you?” he questions weakly.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say. “I’ll wrap things up here. Just go!”

He nods again and turns to run down the hall, but stops dead in his tracks. A horrible, gut-wrenching feeling invades you. You step out into the hallway and find…

“Petre?” you whisper.

Petre stands there, with his dark hair and clipboard – he’s the one you saw in this hallway earlier. Your brain short-circuits while trying to put all the information together. 

You hear Olar whimper behind you. You turn your head and mutter quickly: “Go.” Olaf bolts down the hallway and out of sight.

You turn back to face Petre, his eyes wide and breathing heavy.

“What are you doing here?” you ask him. “How much did you just hear?”

Petre hesitates for a moment before responding. “Enough.”

“Petre,” your voice is hard. “What are you doing here?”

“They…” his lip quivers. “They have my sister.”

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. “They have Sasha? I thought she was just sick?”

“She is,” he says. “They said that they’re the only ones who can cure her, so my parents… we agreed to their treatment plan. But then they started asking for more and more things – things mother and father weren’t comfortable with. But they said we have to comply if we want Sasha to get better – so I came here at their demand.”

You suck in a deep breath. Something about Petre’s broken, dejected demeanor sends a wave of foreboding through you. “Grab Sasha and run, Petre. You know who I am now. I can help you.”

Petre shakes his head sadly. “She’ll die.”

“No. No, Dr. Cho can figure out what’s wrong – she can help Sasha.” But Petre’s head continues to shake.

“They give her something everyday, something that will kill her if she doesn’t receive her next dose at the correct time. I… I’m sorry. I have to protect my sister.”

A tear slips down Petre’s cheek as he begins to back away from you.

“Petre, please,” you beg. “Give me five minutes.”

“I can’t,” he whispers, and takes off.

You curse and start running. The only thing you can do is get to the control room and wreak havoc. You thunder through the hallways of the compound, dodging scientists and slamming and locking the doors that separate different wings from each other. 

The lights shut off. A loud, blaring siren rings through the facility and emergency lights flash red. On, off. On, off. Your eyes try to adjust to the darkness, then are assaulted by the light only fractions of a second later – the strobing effect causing the scene to look like stop-motion animation. 

You recognize the area you’re in, realizing that the control room is only a few doors away. Shouting and the clambering of combat boots to your left catches your attention. A whole host of agents run towards you, weapons drawn. 

You put on a burst of speed, grabbing the control room door jamb and swinging inside. You close the door and drag a desk to barricade it – it won’t hold for long, but it’s better than nothing. You turn to find several men rising from their desks, startled looks on their faces.

Grimacing, you begin the arduous task of taking lives.

Tag list: @jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283 @terry2227

Part 11

[thatfrenchacademic]

OK so about this "34, unmarried and childless" article about Taylor Swift. Let me tell you about Scam Academia.

TL;DR: some mediocre dude had a half baked opinio nabout Taylor Swift that everyone hated, but like Mother Nature I let nothing go to waste.

Here is the take you have not heard yet, about this opinion: this guy is actually a good case study on how to develop your academic literacy, aka how to recognize a true academic from a scammer who presents themselves as an academic, but is just a crook. In a world of pseudoscience and pretend experts that have enough resources to organize their flat earth conference, let me walk you through the world of Scam Academic, where for a few thousand dollars, you too can claim to be a researcher with a doctorate! Follow me down a rabbit hole that I hate with my whole heart!

Preamble: I have zero skin in the TS game. I don't get the hype, the lore, the obsession with those 2000s bracelet or dissecting every single line or every single song.

But then. Some guy had to write an op-ed stating Taylor Swift was not a good role model for girls ("in the US and beyond"), and it is a terrible take on so many level, but here is the thing. Whiny conservative think-pieces about highly successful women who should get back to the kitchen and think of the children are nothing new. But this one is different.

This one is fucking terribly written. It's just an abysmally written blog post. Genuinely one of the worst thing I have ever read, and I read hundreds of undergrad essays every year for a living. It contradicts its own arguments in every paragraph. It over-explains concepts like it's a high school essay and he's trying to meet the word count. It says "this is a valid question worth asking" but does not actually explain why it is worth asking. It is so, so, so bad.

Conservative writers are usually more the "high brow, drowning you in grandstanding" kind of writers. They are, usually, good technical writers - it's the one thing that helps make their talking point sound legit and palatable. So an abysmally bad conservative writer? Ok, I am intrigued.

The author is one John Mac Ghlionn. I look up the guy on Google and...

Oh.

Oh no, John.

Spewing conservative bullshit at women AND a researcher? You're in my turf now, John. You could have continued to cover UFC Pillow Fight Championships, or alien technology and other riveting subjects, but you had try to connect two brain cells to argue a thing, and slap "researcher" on top of it. Now I'm offended, as a researcher.

1. I am sorry, researcher WHERE?

Ok so if one is a "researcher", it means one conduct "research". and contrary to what backyard conspiracy theorists think, "researcher" is an actual job. It is an actual professional occupation. You get an actual contract, and you are paid actual money. By an actual employer: public (University), private (Think tank, private company), or a mix of both (at Unviersity, but on a privately funded project, for example).

So where does our John Mc Ghlionn work?

Well. Nowhere, as far as I can tell.

John does not list any affiliation. Usually, when they write, academics will state their exact position (Researcher, Doctoral Researcher, Associate Professor, Chief Engineer, Head of Department, Research Director...) and where they work. For example:

That's what it is supposed to look like.

But John? Nope, no affiliation anywhere, on anything he ever published. That's a pretty massive read flag. Research takes ressources: at the very least, time and access to database and documentation, even in social sciences in humanities. You may not need a lab, but you sure as hell need money and full access to JStore at least.

So I thought he was just one of these "I google therefore I research" kind of dude. But then, out of nowhere:

I am sorry. He has a WHAT.

2. I am sorry, a Doctorate from WHERE?

So. One thing to claim to be a researcher when you are just a professional yapper. Another to claim a DIPLOMA.

And not any diploma. A doctorate.

Let's pause. "Doctorate" is actually a really broad umbrella term of all doctoral-level degrees. The most famous (and most prestigious, for better and worse) is the PhD, but a PhD is technically just one of many Research Doctorate of, theoretically, the same level (cue this helpful reddit post). A second category of doctorates are the Applied Doctorates, and while there is Discourse on where they sit vis-a-vis PhD, the easiest is to consider that they are not research-oriented. They are hands-on, practice-oriented degrees. For example: you can practice medicine with an MD. You don't need a PhD. You can still call yourself a doctor, though.

Alright, so which of these does our friend Johnnie has? Or is currently enrolled in? And in which University?

You will notice that John does not go by "John Mac Ghlionn PhD" or even "Dr John Mac Ghlionn", when you just KNOW he is the sort of person that would but that shit everywhere. And no shade here, because I, for one, do put that shit everywhere. Maybe he is just currently enrolled in a program and has not graduated. Fair.

Since John does not list affiliation, I had to switch from academic to internet sleuth, and dig out this article:

But we learn that in 2021, John was a "PhD Scholar" in "Parkmore Institute". "PhD Scholar" is not a title I am sued to, but it's also not raising any red flag: ongoing PhD researchers can be "PhD students", "PhD fellows", "PhD researchers"... It varies from country to country and from institution to institution, so why not "PhD Scholar".

Let's check out the Parkmore Institute.

Ok, they are not a traditional university, but they appear to be more of a postgraduate institution: offering only higher level degrees, not undergrad courses. Once again, not necessarily a red flag. They are usually very heavily research focused, and embrace the "research" side of academia more than the "teaching" side. In Germany, the Max Planck Institutes are research-only institutions who deliver PhDs. They conduct cutting edge research, in part because their researchers rarely have to spend time teaching.

But that is NOT the Parkmore Institute. First of all, let's see what programs they offer:

None of them are legit.

And I mean, none of them are recognize as even Applied/Professional Doctorate by the National Science Foundation (US based). And while a PhD in Human sexuality would be perfectly valid, but I'm going to on a limb and say I have some serious doubts about "Bodymind Healing" as an academic field.

These are not legit academic degrees.

What they are, is an excellent money-making opportunity for anyone working at the Parkmore institute. Students will pay, at the very least:

And 60% of this goes to their " faculty mentor". The Parkmore institute provides no research fund, no desk or office space (they are entirely digital), no access to any resources or library, not even a Zoom account. There is also no mention of any timeline: how long a PhD take to complete? Who knows. 6 months ? A year ? 5 years? What are the requirements to graduate ? Who knows ! And I would need to pay $200 to get in touch with them, so I sure as fuck won't know any time soon!

But let's get back to our friend John. Remember that he stated, in that 2021 publication, he was a "PhD Scholar" at Parkmore ? Well that's a shame because Parkmore does not deliver PhDs. Ain't that a bitch.

ALSO. Parkmore helpfully has page with all their Doctoral Recipients! And guess who is NOT HERE ! That's right, our Johnnie !

How can this be ? Well, three possibilities:

John is still not done with a PhD. After 4 years ? In a crank university where I am pretty sure I can submit the first draft of a litt review and graduate ? Nah

John never completed the thing. Boo, that would mean that John is lying, when he says he has a doctorate. Bad, bad.

John did graduate, and obtained his doctorate in [scrolls back to check] psychosocial studies, and then was not put on the website or was withdrawn some time before today, as Parkmore institute ended their affiliation with him, as per this bit in their application form

A shame, really. If John had been affiliated with the Parkmore Institute, it would give a shred of legitimacy to anything he writes to anyone just skimming.

Now, I would love to get in touch with the Parkmore Institute and ask to see John's doctoral work, which they DO have, since the application for also has this very interesting section:

(definitely very legit, very normal).

But I am not sure how I would even phrase that request without transparently going

"hey, would love to see what bullshit research is being done over there, since one of your graduate decided to go all Handmaid's tale for the last 2 years".

If anyone feels like sending that email, I am begging you to keep me in the loop.

3. Back up, back up, what's up with that article?

Remember the article where he was listed as a "PhD Fellow"?

Well, about that... No. Welcome to the world of predatory publishing, one more cog in the Bullshit Academic ecosystem.

First: not at article. It's a "commentary". Could be worth something ia good journal, but still would not be a piece of research. But that is the least of its sins.

Its sins are being published in a journal called "Sociology and Criminology-Open Access", by a publisher called "Longdom". Longdom publishing has a bunch of journals on a lot o different fields, with the particularly of being predatory; they will publish absolutely anything you send them, as long as you pay their Article Processing Charges:

There are entire lists of Predatory journals on the web, you can find on here and another here , Longdom Publishing is in both.

This is how John can publish this last minute, Redbull-and-weed-induced essay in an actual journal, with an abstract that, I kid you not, finishes with "Please find the paper attached." He slapped together a shitty essay about people in India are poorer and therefore more likely to exhibit psychopathic traits and therefore engage in corruption, purely base on vibes. It does not even deserve be given any consideration, not even to be debunked. There is nothing to be debunked. This would be a failing grade for a 1st year intro class.

CONCLUSION

On the surface, John Mac Ghlionn is the poster boy of failed edgelords who really wish they were Jordan Peterson, but unfortunately are just Doug, the guy for 10th grade who failed the Literature class and decided it was because litterature was too woke today anyway.

Beneath the surface, John is a case study in Scam Academia, and the proof that no matter how bad actual academia is, Scam Academia can always get worse.

A quick checklist to go through whenever someone claims be a researcher, an academic, a fellow, a doctor, a PhD or anything of the sort:

What is their affiliation? Is this a legitimate organization?

Do they have a PhD? Another doctorate degree? From where?

Have they published ? Where is it published?

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

Hello, and thank you for your blog and resources! I’m still reading through them, but I needed to ask you something.

I’m writing a story where the two main characters aren’t really the heroes of the story. They just happen to be the villain’s target, which is defeated by the true hero, and this hero almost doesn’t appear until the very end. My two little guys are only there to, basically, suffer.

How do you call that kind of “protagonist”, if they can really be called that at all? I thought they may be antagonists but reading your post about villan vs antagonist, they really aren’t. They’re just really unlucky to be caught up in the middle.

Thank you for your help!

Hi!

Thank you so much for asking this question. I'm so happy you asked. I'm glad you enjoy my blog. My goal is to provide resources for writers and help others on their writing journey.

I find your premise fascinating, and I would love to read it myself. I completely understand your confusion about your character's role. Personally, I have experienced that a few times in my writing projects.

Hopefully, this short blog post can help you understand a bit more about your characters and their roles.

Defining your character's role

When we discuss the role of characters in storytelling, it essentially involves labeling. The ability to define and assign these labels to your characters can sometimes be confusing. Storytelling roles are meant to provide a simple way to understand where your character fits and the actions they need to take in the story and the plot. However, there are instances where characters can't be easily categorized with just one word.

Storytelling thrives on complexity; it's not an easy thing to fit into one box, just like how you can't put a book into only one genre. You can't do the same thing for characters. Classically in storytelling, protagonists are often viewed as the "heroes" leading the story, plot or other side characters. But it sounds like your characters are in a different box.

First, let's brainstorm some unique ways to label your characters without relying on classic storytelling roles.

Protagonists in Distress

You might be confused and wondering why the word "protagonist" is used here. Well, your characters can still be considered protagonists even if they're not saving the day. "Heroes" and "protagonists" are different. Your two characters are the central figures of the story, whose struggles and experiences drive the plot forward. This means they are shaping the narrative from their own perspective, and if you ask me, that sounds pretty much like a protagonist.

Sympathetic Characters

These types of characters are not talked about enough; however, anyone who reads a story has encountered at least one of these in literature. They are the ones who tug at the audience's heartstrings, bringing the readers into your story in a sympathetic way. Even if they aren't out on a quest for glory, saving the day, or helping other characters, their suffering, struggles, and conflicts can easily illuminate the themes of our story or raise the stakes in a significant way.

Think of it this way: Let's imagine you have a favorite book. You obviously have the classic protagonist or "hero." They drive the plot forward, are in their perspective, and they're the first character mentioned in the synopsis of the book. However, you also have those side characters, perhaps your character's friends or allies. Their stories, personalities, and their role in the plot individually make you like the story even more.

a story isn't anything without characters, and a story with only a protagonist wouldn't be a story. Most times in literature, readers like side characters more than the main character.

Catalysts

Since you mentioned that the challenges your characters face set the stage for the true hero to emerge in the plot, they may actually be acting as catalysts for change, which is a very important role. Catalyst characters' experiences could kickstart another character's journey or emphasize the antagonist's cruelty/conflict.

Tips for Developing Their Roles

Now that I've pinpointed some roles that may relate to your characters, here are a few tips to help you flesh them out:

Backstory exploration: When creating characters, especially the ones that you are developing, it's important to delve into their histories. You need to be able to confidently state how they arrived at this pivotal moment and why they are the perfect characters for this role. A rich backstory can make their struggles feel more impactful and relatable, which are two elements that readers love in characters nowadays.

Emotional resonance: Focus on the characters' emotional journey, as this is key in creating a 'catalyst' type character. Their reactions to the unfolding events, and the special moment when the true hero makes a significant change to the story, can really connect with readers. Try exploring what they fear, hope for, and dream about. Adding depth to their circumstances can make your story even better.

Agency within Limits: Even if they find themselves in tough situations, I recommend you consider giving them moments of agency. Small decisions can really show their growth or resilience, even if they aren't the hero or undertaking heroic acts.

Relationship Dynamics: I will emphasize this because it's important. The bond between your main characters can add depth or moments of levity, which can really add another great, unique element to your story. The fact that you have two catalysts and a true hero already makes your story fascinating. However, building a relationship or friendship between them can serve as a bright spot amid all the chaos that goes on throughout your plot. This can showcase connection and hope which can balance the heavy themes in your story.

Thematic Focus: Every story needs a theme. That's why I recommend thinking about what the characters' suffering represents in the grander scheme of your narrative. Try brainstorming the perfect theme for your story. Is it a reflection on fate, the randomness of evil, or the nature of heroism? The themes surrounding their challenges can elevate their significance beyond mere plot devices and storytelling roles.

Your character may not fit neatly into the roles of "hero" or "villain," and that's completely fine! Please don't stress about emphasizing their complexity, and let their experience enrich your story. I hope this helps clarify their roles and sparks some inspiration as you keep writing! If you have any more questions or need any further guidance with anything at all, please don't hesitate to reach out to me!

Happy writing! - Rin T.

Before you go, why not join us at The Write Right Society? We're a supportive Tumblr community where writers lift each other up. Whether you're a newbie or a pro, we'd love to have you! Share your work, get feedback, and connect with fellow wordsmiths, writers and aspiring authors.