#and i feel like i do know stuff and understand some of it

[grotesquevi]

cw # 18+ mdni, jock!vi x ballerina!reader, gay situationship, yearning, public sex, babyagnst, spit, fingering, oral sex, based on a nonnie ask, long headcannons? dont know what the hell this is. wc: 3k

jock!vi who's giving you hell of a rough time lately after she admitted the fact she's not ready for anything serious, making you cut any tie that linked you back to her cause a heartbreak is nothing but a pain in the ass. tossing yourself to an exhausting routine you've been following religiously.

jock!vi who spends the first two weeks — or is it a month? keeping herself busy, cause she cannot afford being sentimental, admit that she needs you back, that she's actually scared of feeling anything else more than this anger that dictates her movements, something that will get her away from her comfort life.

"practice is closed to public," she deserves the coldness in your voice, the way your gaze is so quick to find hers through the mirrors and look away, still in that fucking uniform she loves—. "you can't be here."

ballerina!reader who's always wrapped in pink. pink uniform. pink nails. pink ribbon holding your hair there in a bun as vi once again find herself looking after her boxing practice. matches so damn good with her own hair it's almost a joke to remember how devastating you are in her eyes.

how did she get there anyway? when did her mind played tricks on her long enough to make her change the path to her bike all the way up to the ballet studio? like she already belonged there after all the times sneaking out the weight room to see you practice. she made fun of you at first, but now? fuck, it's so hot when you mention some movement's name in remarkable italian, making her big hands hold your waist when you're spinning in one leg and vi's mesmerized by the grace of it, the delicacy, how you seem to be everything she's lacking.

"no, don't go" the pink haired begs as she notices how you were already gathering your stuff, tossing your shoes to the gym bag still in your pointe shoes "don't go. i need to talk to you... please."

her mind drift away as she speaks, can't help it cause see you again is much like breathing a deadly flower. you're so quick to settle back in her system, ready to live under her skin if asked. you're sweaty, heavy breathing cause hell, you always push yourself harder than the rest, you always stay there an hour of two cause you can't stand disappointment, being less than you force yourself to be even when vi's repeating again how good you are every single time she's there looking, on a sleek suit (and a huge bruise in the right eye) making everybody stand up when you're up on the stage, nervous as ever when you pick up her bouquet of flowers in the end, holding it tightly against your chest.

"five minutes. you just have five minutes and i’ll leave. got better things to do."

fine, whatever. she can actually do it in fucking three.

jock!vi who thinks she's not going to be that pathetic for the first fifty seconds until her tongue takes over and she's spitting truth after truth without any filter at all: maybe she's tired, maybe practice leaves her dry and unable to think for herself, maybe you're the one who has that crazy spell over her, wrapped around your finger even when she tried so hard to avoid it.

"i miss you so much," the words came out of her mouth since her brain can fuck off right now, her own body making decisions on its own — "i'm so tired of pushing you away, of trying to turn off my feelings for you cause i like to pretend i don't really understand them. and i'm so fucking sorry for it."

"no more bullshit, promise to me" you state, and vi can see the tension still lingering on your shoulders, making you stiff and constantly stressed. "if you make me mad i will dump you-"

jock!vi who takes your words as an invitation when she's pulling on that little transparent skirt wrapped around your waist she don't understand at all, one that covers nothing, but its enough to get you closer, to make you shut up, give you time even, to pull away if you wanted to.

and her kisses are messy like everything she does, cause vi has no control over her necessity over you, on how it makes her hands shake almost of the withdrawal of medication, her mouth's all over — invading like a battle of the middle age, your knight who’s taking until you're out of breath and she can see how swollen your lips are, how your gloss rest now in her skin too.

"don't get any weird ideas, vi. not here."

"yes, whatever you say. now come here you fucking tease," she tries to be funny for a damn second, tries to be cool even when her tone is fileld with desperation, tossing her boxing gloves and her own gym bag to the floor. "won't do nothing weird, just need a few kisses."

her arms wrap around you like you're something sacred, a victim of her good intentions overshadowed by a layer of bad behavior, can't think of consequences or anything else more than how good you fit against her, how you keep her warm, complete.

"i can't stop thinking about you," vi's breathing against your neck before pressing soft kisses against the side of it, gentle bites cause she lacks of force now that she's sore and tired after practice, letting her own desires speak for their own, her mouth betraying her own brain — "i can't stop thinking about this, about us and what we have."

"and what do we have huh? i'm not really aware."

"i dunno. you tell me."

ballerina!reader who stumbles over her own words, nervous as ever cause vi's too close, too cocky, too confident for her own good. her teeth pull on the skin of your neck, and you're openly whining about your next presentation being close to the weekend and how you cannot be suffering from her hungry hickies.

"behave," you almost beg her, but it's too late for that already when she's nodding at your words and you know how it works: when she's giving you the reason but she's not capable of stopping herself from taking what she wants, when you cant remove yourself from her either since you have poorer self control as well. that would've explain why she's all over you still, why her hands are so quickly to grab your ass in response, roughly squeezing both cheeks only to get you closer to her.

"i am behaving," vi replies convinced she has it under control—. "you'd be in much more trouble if i weren't behaving."

"vi-"

"please, don't you think i've suffered enough already? that i've missed you long enough?" it's almost a plea, ready to beg if you wanted so. "there's no one around but you and me- don't make me beg, practice's over, this is my time and you're taking it away from me..."

how can you ever deny her special needs?

jock!vi who's touch get more and more demanding by the seconds, almost forgetting where she is still, like the mirrors don't replicate the image of her groping on all the right places, touching and enjoying the curves of your body, the smell you've been reeking after been jumping around, twirling and dancing your guts out.

"it’s the damn uniform" the boxer admits, almost ashamed of having to admit her lack of jurisdiction— "the fucking uniform-- s'making me think a lot."

“i can't change it, pretty sure its mandatory.”

"i'm not complaining. the designers here- really onto something. makes me think pretty nasty stuff when i see you," its a new confession when she's making sure to coax as close as possible, until there’s no more space and she’s all you can breathe. "stuff that would make you remember me we're in public and not in my dorm room in that voice of yours when you're mad" — "pulling a restraining order on me."

jock!vi who has trouble in not messing with you: how is she supposed to not pull the soft ribbon holding your hair only to watch it fall against your shoulders? you're furrowing your brows together but you cannot be mad at her when she's stealing a new kiss in response, not like this anyway.

"don't give me that look, it was already falling. sides i'm keeping it" doesn't matter how sweaty you are, how you scrunch your nose when her fingers get under the tight grip of your leotard that got vi mentally thanking on how summer makes you not wear those sheer pantyhoses you use in winter, cause your underwear's thin enough to be good as damn nothing and it gives vi enough access to touch — "i missed you. shit- i missed you so much."

tightening the grip in your waist, she's cornering you against the wooden ballet barre, almost making you see the tattoos on her back since she's wearing this damn tank top and hell; the mirror gives access to every detail, every muscle: if she's doing that on purpose? her success is imminent.

jock!vi who's turned on by the adrenaline rush, who's muscles burn after a rough session of training, after eternal minutes of running under the sun. vocal already cause fuck: this is medicine for the soul.

"gonna fuck you here so everyone knows who you belong to" she states, making your head spin, "if someone comes in, well they better be thanking me for keeping their star dancer in peak cardio shape. you're damn welcome too."

"interesting. are you always this horny after practice?"

ballerina!reader who contrary to all beliefs, it's actually very bad at remembering why it's a bad idea all sudden, when the cold mirror makes you shiver at the unexpected contact, the perfect excuse on why you’re experiencing goosebumps everywhere the jock's touching.

"ten minutes," vi promises already fond of the mirrors, of both of your figures mixing up in the image that repeated all over again in a room with such a rich space, so much that made it felt crowded even when there’s only two people there. "i promise, just ten minutes. no one has to even know."

"if i don't cum in ten minutes, we are finishing this in my room."

"the showers."

"i said. my damn room, needy mess."

"well. ten minutes it's actually a lot in situations like this. generous even."

jock!vi who's dropping to her knees seconds after, not as sign submission but devotion, of the love that flourished when she's making you rest your leg right against her shoulder. her hand push your waist against the mirror, and you have to hold the barrer cause vi catches you flying low, hella low when it makes your legs shake in nothing but the expectancy of it.

"amazes me how you stand there and have the audacity to call me needy when i'm not even touching you," you'd reply, sassy, intelligent as ever cause even when you're turned on, you can think still, at least until she's using a hand to spread you open, using the wet of her mouth to lick over the fabric of your ballet uniform until it latches to your cunt after, make it stick to your skin like's not there and you're too invested into looking to say anything at all — on how you need that leotard for tomorrow, how you should've accept her shower idea.

"you're needier than me, if that doesn't made it clear" you're mumbling something about needing her to shut up, however, vi's not playing around when her spit mixes up with your own arousal, covering her chin, landing on her tongue when spreading you apart with the skilled muscle of her mouth. just a few touches and its enough to pay special attention to your clit, to make your hips move slowly against her face.

so good. she's making the fabric of the spandex to the side and before you can say something about how she's testing her limits, she's coating two fingers with your own need, lubricating them to push them against your entrance.

ballerina!reader who keeps eye contact like a damn champion when vi admitted one time how much it turns her on, how her blue orbs stare at yours while eating you, her fingers slowly pushing inside until she's knuckles deep. she’s kind, nice even giving you time to adjust, to savor the moment as you cunt seems to squeeze her digits as a warm welcome, as a way of driving them deeper, somehow rougher.

"oh good fuck," vi moans when she has the perfect look of your pussy opening up for her fingers "fuck- this is so hot. so hot sucking my fingers until there's no space.”

"no fucking-"

"no fucking" she promises, lies lies lies—. "i don't see how this could be considered fucking. we'd call it quick fun from now on."

and the boxer's entranced by the smell of you right over her nose, how you move right against her face, looking down, burning holes in her skin through the reflection. vi’s her knees are sore, puffy lips, she's always been messy in general, but today? today it takes the fucking cake when vi's unaware of her own shirt being stained but the combination of fluids, a testament to the comeback, to the need of being one.

jock!vi who likes to make you watch. makes you entranced to the way her arm flex every time she thrusted her fingers inside, how the flesh disappeared and the room's filled instead with a wet, lewd sound that seemed to travel in space. she's having no damn mercy when her digits curve all the way in, when she forgets about the barrier of layers of your leotard and she becomes pussydrunk instead, starved and hallucinating on whatever hallucinogen you carried on your sweat.

"do you see that?" vi asks, voice rough, strings of saliva still connecting her lips to your swollen cunt—. "gonna fuck you in front of mirrors all the time now. see those pretty tits bouncing, the dumb expression in your face- mhm we're definitely fucking in front of the mirror in your dorm."

jock!vi who's a pervert every single time. who's panties dampen while impatiently trying to rub her legs together, soothe the ache. she's such a visual learner she gets off at the sight of you, from your erratic movements, the way she's using actual force to keep you standing, leaning against the mirror and not crumbling in her arms.

you try to be silent and it's so damn nice to see you like this, to know how she's reducing you to pieces when your biting your lower lip hard to muffle the sound of your moans, how you cunt suck her fingers until they're fully in, open, warm and inviting, vi’s ready to cum from the sight only.

you're so in control all the time, snarky comments, sarcastic as fuck, you always have something to say until she's turning your world to misery, until she’s tormenting you, consuming every thought, every inch of your being, installed in your lungs.

"c'mon stay on your feet," vi says, blushing at her own words cause she's supposed to be the one who's able to carry you around, used to always move you around at her needs — "m'tired too baby. do it for me."

her words slur together, her mouth's getting tired, her muscles burn now as they keep moving, keep fucking you against the soreness installing on her body after the adrenaline's already settled.

"yes-" you reply trying to be of help, pulling on vi's hair cause it's so long now you can actually play with it, tug it and wrap it around your digits. “i’m trying i promise, i’m trying.”

good girl. she'd try to vocally praise you, but vi's too invested in making a feast out of you, on have you making the most delicious sounds as she's pulling the leotard entirely to the side and her tongue finally swipes from all the way to your abused hole back to your clit, face-deep in your folds cause no. it’s simply not enough.

ballerina!reader who can't help but be loud when peaking. who's clumsy when falling, unable to hold her weight anymore. who got vi closer than ever when you finally cum, pushing her closer, rougher than before. half lidded eyes, drool on the corners of your mouth: that's the look vi wants to see on your face every day, the look of being throughly spend, used.

she's working you through it like it wasn't already enough. like she isn't pushing on your boundaries enough as she overstimulates you. insatiable, ravenous, eternally greedy when it comes to you.

"sweet fuck," you breathe out, tangled limbs, sticky and damn dirty at this point—. "do you think anyone saw?"

"no" she replies, but in reality, vi doesn't care about been seen "we were quick. pretty sure it was less then ten minutes also."

both of you're unaware of the camera hidden in the right corner of the room at least until next practice when your soul's leaving your body:

camera. she ate you out in front of the security camera.

so vi heard it multiple times already when she’s wrapping the pink lace of your hair now in her favorite boxing gloves: she has such good intentions, but she's a victim, as usual, of her bad behavior.

[kodigriffinofficial20]

As a writer, I have never used chatgtp for writing. When it came out, I literally didn’t know what it was, so I messed around with it and asked it tons of questions like most people did. And I would ask it to give me names for stupid things like characters, songs (that I never wrote), or movies that don’t exist. But never to write my stories. I was never tempted, it never came to my mind. It was just a thing to mess around with, a toy. Then, after a few days of having fun, I threw it away and never touched it again. Like I was a toddler that had just been given a toy, and after playing with it for a few days, slobbering on it and chewing on it with my barely-there teeth, I toss it aside for the arguably-more-fun cardboard box.

Then, I started hearing about writers feeling on chatgtp and it’s implications. I felt simultaneously guilty I even touched it and proud I never used it to write. I will never understand the obsession people have with wanting generative Ai to write for you. Using it to generate your entire books and stories. It baffles me.

Now, here’s where my opinion differs. This is gonna be very unpopular and a lot of people will probably hate me for saying this. I think Ai, should be fine to be used, in some cases.

For instance, Ai grammar checkers like Grammarly, which I use, should be ok and not be shamed, but they are.

Or, if there’s a name you need for your world, or something like that. I think Ai is fine to use for that. It’s the same as using a name generator imo. Just say generate me a name for my fantasy world. Or a name for a place, or a creature. Just something you can’t think of yourself.

Sometimes, in writing, there are things that people despise, like naming people, or backstories, or making up creatures, that end up preventing people from moving on in their projects. I feel like if you can just type “give me a name for my cyber punk, side character girl.” And after two seconds you can move on, why not?

Or, another scenario: two archeologists being chased in a jungle. What are they being chased by? I don’t know, let me sit here for twenty minutes thinking and googling about it, losing momentum and deciding to quit writing for the day and come back tomorrow. I now have writers block for two weeks. Or, “give me a possibly supernatural creature to chase my two archeologists in the Mayan jungle for my story.” And continue writing for the rest of the day.

I don’t understand why Ai helping in any way is bad. I do understand some of the horrible things that the Ai companies are doing. I know some of the bad data mining things they do, and the bad stuff Ai perpetuates. However, the shortcuts that I gave, are useful. And if we can find an Ai that isn’t as bad as the others, then we should share that Ai as the one to use for those reasons.

Now, the internet won’t actually read this part they will only hate me and just spew hatred, I don’t actually use Ai. I am a bit of a hypocrite here, because I am not using the examples given. Except for Grammarly, I use that. I have used Ai to give me character names a couple of times but that was a long time ago. I was just giving my opinion that using the Ai in those ways should be acceptable.

Having it write for you is too much. Let the Ai work with you, not instead of you.

"I know chatgpt is bad but you just don't really have any choice" you literally do. Don't use it. Have some moral backbone.

[written-in-knife]

Love love love you Floyd jump ring fic- the leech boys deserve more love 🧜‍♂️

Would you be able to do a pre relationship of similar epic misunderstandings with Jade, maybe with Yuu not understanding merculture and/or Jade GREATLY misunderstanding human courting culture in his attempts to learn about land culture, I die thinking about how merpeople might misinterpret sayings like “the way to the heart is through the stomach” or “gotta get that ring” when enthusiastically trying to court

Rocks and Flowers

Jade Leech x gn!reader, pre-relationship

they/them pronouns, fluff, miscommunications/misunderstandings, a single use of my dear, poorly translated french damn you Rook

Word Count: 3616

I'M HERE I'M ALIVE. I'm getting ~*Diagnosed*~ finally. Lots of appointments this past week im so tired lmaoo Also I'm changing out all the character banners, so lemme know what yall think as stuff comes out

Jade had a baseline knowledge of land culture, of course. Before they came to land to go to Night Raven, he, Floyd, and Azul had all gone to land camp. It taught them how to avoid social faux pas with the people they'd meet on land, various human traditions, even how to walk. What it did not teach them was just how many turns of phrases the common language had. Some made sense, some even overlapped, but some were... notably harder to understand. And why were so many of them about ways to kill animals? He never bothered to ask questions, he knew they were just phrases that land dwellers often used to get their point across, and most of the time the meaning could be derived through context clues. Most of the time.

When Jade realized his own attraction towards you, he was hesitant to act on it. Land camp had explained a few things about human courting, but mostly in the context of how to avoid making acquaintances feel uncomfortable. He wasn't sure how exactly to go about it. He spent a lot of time trying to look things up online-- a mistake-- and in books, trying to figure out how humans even started their courting rituals let alone what the entire process entailed. He wasn't about to go around asking, knowing anyone who would be willing to give him an answer in the first place would also be the most likely to give him false information. So he was stuck looking through various books trying to find answers for you.

And he had no idea you were doing the same for him.

It was easy to fall for Jade once you got past the subtle menacing aura that was always surrounding him, and you fell hard. You didn't fully realize it yourself until you found that you'd listened to him talk about the mushrooms he'd found on his hike to fill out his most recent terrarium for two hours. You learned more about mushrooms in those two hours than most people would want to know in their entire lives, and you were excited to hear more. When you got back to your room that night, you started researching merfolk romance online-- A MISTAKE-- trying to make sure you wouldn't do anything to insult him. The only people you could ask about the topic were Azul and Floyd. Azul would almost certainly make you sign away something in return for the information, and Floyd... yeah, no. That's a nonstarter. So you ended up in the library, sneaking back to your dorm with books about merfolk courting rituals, both ancient and modern, praying no one would catch you on the way back.

Jade had read through the few informational manuals he could find on human courting-- one written by a merperson decades ago, and another that seemed to be angled towards preteen girls and had some truly terrible advice-- and had to move on to... more unconventional methods. Which lead to him reading romance novels in a far corner of the library. There were a surprising amount of them, many with musclebound men with long hair and a petite woman in his arms on the front. Jade opted for the other plentiful options that wouldn't blow his cover immediately. He was engrossed in his book, one hand propping his head up on the table and the other flipping pages, fingers lightly drumming on the cover as he read. It wasn't a terrible read, but it seemed wholly unrealistic. How would owning a dog get you a romantic partner? He was too deep into the book to notice someone lurking, barely keeping his composure as someone gasped loudly beside him.

"Monsieur Prémédité!" Not many people could sneak up on Jade, but Rook was definitely one of them. "I was not aware of your exquisite taste in literature! Comme c'est merveilleux!"

"This is actually quite far from my usual choice, I'm afraid." Jade corrected as Rook beamed down at him. He carefully flipped the book closed, back cover up, as two others approached from behind him. "Are you familiar with this one?"

"Oui! I find it most interesting how the dog is a pivotal part in the budding romance!"

Of course he does.

Vil leaned forward to skim through the description on the back, confusion growing on his expression at each word. "If this is so out of the norm for you, why are you reading it?" He asked.

"For research purposes." He admits, flashing the Pomefiore students a sharp smile.

"Un étudiant en l'amour?" Rook gasped excitedly as he quickly sat down across the table, lacing his fingers under his chin in intense interest as Vil rolled his eyes and straightened back up. "Monsieur Prémédité, je n'aurais jamais deviné! For what are you researching? Please, tell me everything!"

"Now you've done it..." Epel muttered from behind Vil, sounding exhausted.

Jade hesitated for a moment. The Pomefiore students would certainly be the ones to ask when it came to these sorts of things. They at least would be the least likely to lie to him about the particular subject. "I'm researching human courting rituals. There is little in the way of instructional manuals in our library, so I have turned to these." He gestured to the book in front of him before turning back to Rook, who practically had stars in his eyes. "Unfortunately, there isn't much to be gained from these, as it turns out."

"Are you trying to find information so you can court someone?" Epel asked, looking mildly concerned before Vil swatted him lightly upside the head with a mutter of "too blunt."

"Land boot camp never covered the topic, and I must admit, I've been dreadfully curious ever since I first heard the story of the mermaid princess." It was as easy for Jade to lie through his teeth as it was to breathe, piling on the pitiful tone and expression to try to play at least one of them for a sucker. "The stories never went into detail on how the land prince courted her, I thought I would find more information here, but alas..."

It was unsurprising that Rook took the bait, hand resting on his chest as he nodded along sympathetically. Vil rolled his eyes again and Epel muttered something about courting rituals to himself, neither nearly as invested in the lie.

"On land, courting must be bold!" Rook began without prompting as he stood from his chair, Vil only just keeping him from propping a foot dramatically on the table by grabbing his arm and pulling him back. "Loud proclamations of love! Flowers! Doves! Music!"

"And some people don't enjoy that at all." Vil sighed, shooing Rook down from his soapbox. "You just have to play to your audience. But it does often involve flowers."

"My Meemaw says the quickest way to anybody's heart is through their stomach." Epel chimed in, getting a quick glare from Vil at the accent slip.

"Your grandmother is correct on that front."

Jade stared for a moment at the phrase. Another he didn't recognize and wasn't exactly provided context clues for. The way to win your affections lies... in your stomach?

"The most common way to begin a human courtship is by bringing flowers, admitting your intentions, and inviting them out with you on a date." Vil explained further, Rook quietly waxing poetic about each point next to him. "Which is why it's more commonly referred to as dating, rather than courting."

"I see... This has been enlightening, I thank you all for your input." Jade nodded to them.

"Do let us know how it goes, Jade." Vil gave him a knowing smirk as he spoke.

Jade flashed back his own sharp smile, narrowing his eyes just slightly at the housewarden. "I've no idea what you mean, Vil."

Meanwhile, you'd found some fairly decent information on merfolk courting rituals, turns out their methods were significantly better documented than humans' were. Unfortunately for you, however, a lot of the courting rituals varied between the different species of merfolk and there wasn't a lot of overlap as far as you could tell. The biggest overlap you could find had to do with small gifts; pebbling, as some species of merfolk called it. It seemed to be finding something cool or pretty on the ocean floor and bringing it to the person you were courting, which sounded easy enough. You were already a fan of picking up cool rocks, it wouldn't be any trouble to just bring them to Jade instead of putting them on your windowsill.

Another common overlap you found was the importance of jewelry across all species of merfolk, but it seemed to be... maybe a little too important for just trying to date him. From what you could tell, giving a merperson jewelry was their closest equivalent to proposing, or maybe a promise ring? You weren't entirely sure, but it seemed like too much. Specifically to eel merfolk, the book you found talked a significant amount about a dance that you couldn't quite understand. It was definitely an underwater activity, as far as you could tell, but maybe dancing in general would be good enough on land? The way the book talked about it made it seem like it was common enough knowledge that no one would even bother writing down the details. You were too engrossed in the notes you were taking-- yes, you were taking notes on this-- to notice the floorboards on the other side of your door creaking.

"Hey Yuu, I got yer--" You scrambled to cover up your notes, the book, to be nonchalant about it as Epel walked into your room, holding your potionology notebook in his hands. He looked surprised at your panic as you blocked your desk with your body, definitely not looking completely suspicious. "--notes. What, uh... Whatcha doin'?"

"Nothing. Studying." You spat out, not moving from the uncomfortable position you found yourself in. "Thank you for bringing those back, you can leave them on the armchair."

"Or... I could just hand 'em to ya." He smirked, inching towards you and watching as you leaned backwards over your desk to keep hiding the evidence.

"Or you could just hand them to me!" You agreed in a tone too upbeat to be believable, snatching the notebook out of his hand as soon as he was close enough. "Thank you, Epel, but I really have to study so I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure, sure..." He nodded slowly, just managing to peek past one of your arms, smirk growing devious. "Ya writin' an essay 'bout merfolk courtin' rituals?"

"OUT. GET OUT." You shouted as your face began to burn, leaping up from your awkward position to shove him out the door while he cackled.

"Aw, c'mon, I ain't gonna tell nobody!" He protested. "In fact, I got some interesting information myself in the library today--!"

"DON'T CARE, GET OUT. TELL NO ONE." You shoved him out into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind him.

Out in the hall, Epel simply shrugged, smirking to himself as he walked away. "They'll figure it out eventually." It was nice to be the one in the know.

You were mortified but at least you were fairly sure he wouldn't run to tell anyone about it, you don't think you'd ever be able to live it down if Ace caught wind of this. You twisted the lock on the door into place before going back to your desk to continue your research, face still burning red as you flipped everything back to where it had been.

Vil had given Jade a decent jumping off point, but he found himself going back to the phrase Epel had used. The way to the heart is through the stomach. Of course that had to be a way to win your affection, but through your stomach? He hadn't read anything about the abdomen being involved in any courtship rituals, at least not the initial stages. Perhaps he had missed something? Maybe it was something lesser known that older generations did? It couldn't possibly be as simple as food, could it? The common language turns of phrases were never so simple, even the ones he understood. He turned the phrase over in his head for a few days, too busy analyzing it as he walked into his Ancient Magic class to catch who had put a rock on his desk. Why was there a rock on his desk? He stopped to stare at it for a second before glancing around at his fellow sophomores, none of whom seemed to be taking even a passing interest in his confusion. It had definitely been placed with purpose, squarely in front of his chair so there was no way of him missing it or mistaking it as being for someone else. He picked it up as he sat down, turning it over to examine in his hand as Floyd flopped down in the seat next to him.

"I don't suppose you saw who left this, did you?" Jade asked, presenting the rock for Floyd to see.

"Nah, couldn't give a shit less." Floyd grumbled, barely glancing at the rock before draping himself forward over the desk.

Jade hummed lightly, glancing around one more time before depositing the rock in his bag. He could maybe make use of it for a terrarium, if nothing else. He didn't think much of it the first time, but as the week went on, there continued to be rocks on his desks. Not ever in the same class either, so he could confirm that it was not an accident the first time. They were just small rocks that could fit in the palm of his hand, some of them having interesting patterns or colorations, some having interesting shapes, but they were still rocks. He kept the nicest few to put in his terrariums, the rest were left in his bag to bring with him on his next trip to the mountain.

By the end of the week, you were out of your coolest rocks that you were willing to give away. You were almost certain you were doing this wrong, leaving them for him to find instead of just handing them to him, but you were so afraid that maybe pebbling didn't apply to eel merfolk, or that the rocks weren't good enough. You didn't find them outside in the grass or still in the classrooms, so you considered that a win at least. And Epel was the only one smirking at you whenever Jade walked into the cafeteria or down the hall, so he hadn't told anyone what he'd seen. Another win!

You planned to spend your weekend figuring out how to go about dancing with Jade. The books weren't clear enough on what the dance entailed besides that it was done with tail fins while underwater, but it was very clear that it was done while courting. You were on the couch in the Ramshackle lounge on Saturday evening, rereading the courting book for any sort of clues you'd missed when there was a knock on the door. You quickly shoved the book between the couch cushions, making sure it was completely hidden as you got up and headed for the door, immediately glad you'd hidden the book as you opened the door to Jade standing on the front porch. He was dressed in the outfit he usually wore to go up the mountain, mud still on his boots from his hike and gloves dangling out of his pockets.

"Hello, Yuu." He said pleasantly, looking over your obviously startled demeanor. "I do hope I'm not interrupting."

"No, not at all." You waved him off quickly, trying desperately not to somehow give yourself away. "Just, uh... reading. What's up?"

You froze as he stepped forward, into your personal space, and placed a hand on your stomach, just above your navel. Even through your shirt, his hand was cool, sending a shiver up your spine. You stared wide eyed as he smiled down at you before reaching into his bag and pulling out a bundle of small flowers, presenting them to you. They were a little squashed from being in his bag, and it looked like he had picked them off the mountain himself. You felt the heat rising on your cheeks as you took them from him, the fact he’d taken the time to gather them himself was flattering by itself.

“I was given advice on how to go about this, and was told to just be straightforward with my intentions.” He began plainly. “I’ve found myself drawn to you recently, and would like to begin courting you. I was told it was called “dating” and that I should invite you out with me, if you’re interested?”

You could feel how hot your face was getting as he spoke, not believing your luck. Maybe you wouldn’t have to figure out that dance? Maybe you still should? Would it be rude not to? He, on the other hand, was getting nervous in the drawn out silence that your internal reeling was creating, worried he’d done something wrong. He wouldn’t show it on his face, of course, but he was getting uncomfortable.

“Oh, uh, yeah!” You spat out quickly, chuckling nervously as you realized just how long you’d let that moment drag out. “Definitely. When? And where?”

He paused for a few confused blinks, smile slipping as you watched a light dusting of pink grow on his cheeks. If he weren’t so close, you might’ve not even noticed. “I was... unaware that was something I had to plan ahead of time.” He admitted slowly, internally cursing himself for not asking more details when he had the chance.

“That’s alright!” You were quick to assure him, fiddling with the little bouquet he’d given you. “We can figure that out together, if you want?”

His smile returned at the offer, warmer this time, fonder. “I’d enjoy that.”

“Great!”

There was another pause as you looked down at the small blooms in your hands, then at his hand, which was still rested on your belly. You glanced up at his face, then his hand, then his face again.

“Hey Jade?”

“Hm?”

“What... What is this?” You tried your best not to sound like you disapproved as you glanced down at his hand again. What if it was something the books didn’t cover? Other than the dance-- and the inadvisable internet searches-- there was no mention of physical contact. There was dancing, there was biting which was less for courting and more for established couples, but not... this.

He pulled his hand away as if he’d been burned, the blush on his cheeks growing slightly. “Ah. That wasn’t correct then?”

“I don’t know? What was it?”

He groaned slightly, pinching at the bridge of his nose as he spoke. “Epel had said a phrase that I didn’t quite understand, about the stomach being the key to affections. Even Vil agreed that it was correct, I thought it must be a common courting method.”

You muttered the words to yourself, trying to piece the phrase together, biting your lip hard to keep from laughing when you realized what he was talking about. “The way to someone’s heart is through their stomach?”

“Yes, that’s the one. I’m not familiar with many common language phrases.”

“Food. The way to someone’s heart is good food.”

It really was that simple. Damn it. He let out an awkward chuckle, trying to hide his embarrassed expression from you by rubbing at his eyes. “I suppose I should’ve just looked it up, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay!” You laughed, wanting to reassure him. This was going way too well for him to back out due to embarrassment now! “It’s hard to find information on what’s allegedly common knowledge! I mean, I can’t figure out that courting dance for the life of me--!”

You slapped your hand over your mouth as you realized what you were saying, watching as Jade slowly looked up at you in confusion. You wanted to cringe all the way back up to your room as you watched him mouth the word “dance,” gears turning in his head as he looked you over, before a smile grew on his face. You broke eye contact as you realized he’d clicked everything into place.

“Yuu, have you been pebbling me?” He asked, tone equal parts teasing and astonished.

Well, this was going too well for either of you to back out due to embarrassment now, you supposed. You lowered your hand, narrowing your eyes at him with a smirk. “That depends, has it been working?”

He laughed, hiding it behind his fist as his eyes scrunched closed, and your heart absolutely fluttered. You really did fall hard. And so did he. He was flattered that you’d also done research on courting, relieved that you hadn’t gotten it quite right either, glad it hadn’t deterred either of you.

“It would’ve worked better if I’d know it was you, my dear.” He responded through his laughter, giving you a look of pure adoration. “Typically, you hand the items to people, not leave things for them to find themselves.”

“I wasn’t sure I was doing it right!” You defended lightheartedly.

“Well then,” he started as he held a hand out for you to take, which you did, of course, “how does dinner sound? Since food is the way to the heart.” He pulled you a little closer, tone dropping a bit as his smile grew. “Then, perhaps, I can teach you that dance.”

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORK TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

[swanlikely]

Zayne's Love Languages!

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the late upload, had some personal stuff come up, but my zayne girlies must be fed!! Thanks for being patient and understanding, ilysm!!! Check Out The Artist! (Artist & Original Post)

✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖₊✧✧₊🦢🫖

Silence is special: Zayne doesn’t fill space with noise. He doesn’t rush to answer, doesn’t speak unless it matters. But when he’s with you, his quiet isn’t distance: it’s presence. He listens in a way that makes you feel known. He answers you in hums, in looks, in the soft press of fingers against your wrist when he wants you close. And when he does speak, it’s always exactly what you needed to hear.

Care = Love : He notices everything. The faintest crease in your brow, the way your hands tremble when you're overstimulated, the slight hitch in your breath when something’s off. He doesn’t ask “Are you okay?” He just hands you your noise-canceling headphones. Or dims the lights. Or puts a blanket over your shoulders without a word. Every gesture is purposeful, because he never wants to get it wrong with you.

Something sweet for you (always): Zayne has a soft spot for desserts: little candies, pastries, anything warm and sugary. But ever since you came back into his life, he’s started saving the best bites for you. You’ll find them tucked into your bag, left on your desk, set aside with your name written on a sticky note. He doesn’t say why. He just thinks of you, and his first instinct is to give. Because when he thinks of comfort — he thinks of you.

Time bends for you: Zayne’s schedule is brutal. Meetings, surgeries, research. He rarely stops. But if you say you miss him; even offhand, he’ll rearrange everything. Suddenly, he’s at your door. “I had a break,” he’ll lie, even though you know he moved his whole day around. Just for an extra hour with you. Just to sit beside you in silence and breathe a little easier.

Overall: Quality Time (Giving & Receiving)

You’re sitting on the couch, legs tangled, doing nothing in particular — and he looks over at you like it’s the only place he ever wants to be.

“You don’t get bored just... being here with me?” you ask.

Zayne blinks, like the question doesn’t compute.

“No,” he hums softly. “This is what I look forward to.”

[bamsara]

Very personal vent, will nuke it after a nap I think

2024 was arguably one of the worst years of my life outside of having my heart and brain issues from 2020. I left an abusive situation, still recovering from it, left a *second* toxic friendship that resulted in my physical location being compromised, and right as I think 2025 will be better, one of them comes uninvited into my house *again*, and my step father gets diagnosed with heart failure, with the same exact issues that killed my birth dad. We had to buy a wearable difibulator since it can go out any moment

All that and we are in a hell recession

I am constantly afraid, both in online and in real life spaces. I dont think I have social anxiety in a normal sense, I think im really good at talking to people, but I'm never fast at it and I'm never natural at it.

I constantly worry about taking up too much space and that people I've never met online fucking hate me because I exist in the same sphere as them, that there are preconceived ideas of who or what I am as a person because I'm not seen as a person in the online space but just as a creator, and online: creators are not considered people. I wish some of my stuff never got popular, even SL, not that I don't like talking about what I'm passionate about, but I'm constantly afraid of crossing that line of 'random artist' into being seen as 'self absorbed big shot' because I posted too many au dumps or got too rambley. And if I talk about this, I fear any reassurance I get will because of those prior factors

I've thought about deleting this account before a long while ago, but then I'd lose Everything I've ever done for over 10 years. Not just artwork and community but real life milestones and memories and that's not worth losing over some stressful situations

I genuinely do not understand why we cannot be nice to each other either. I know it's a very vague and general statement and I feel like hard to explain what I mean by that, but I cannot imagine passive aggression, comparison or general rudeness to be the 'default' way people talk! I am so tired of people being mean for fun or to feel like they fit in on a conversation! And I'm not even recieving the mean, I just witness it and its upsetting! Real life and Online! But don't listen to me on that because I want people who've probably don't like me to like me and seek validation from people I have differences with so I am not a good example of judgement.

And my health I'm not even gonna touch that one. But at least I'm working on dental stuff, which is nice. I got health insurance again, right as they go to cut medicaid.

But in my mind I cannot stop thinking about if I can just get better at what I'm doing. If I can get better at artwork that I hate my style of, it's never polished and there's people younger than me who's work is so much better. If I can just write faster or draw better and remember to post things then I don't have to worry about anything else. But I've been drawing for so so long, and my art style that I've put so much time into I feel is the equivalent of a learn-how-to-draw-anime workbook you get in a middle school library. And yes I've been told it's good but all art is good. All art styles are good styles. I just don't like it when I'm the one who draws it.

In the last 12 months I've been IRL stalked, family medical, helping support them with what I do make and also myself and literally every coping hobby I have and have had for over a decade just feels more and more like I'm never improving fast enough or that I just Care Too Much at my big age and I should be doing something more substantial with my life, but if I don't craft something or draw or write even if I despise it in the end then it's so much worse

[karikitdemonrp]

Kari relaxed a bit more after Hawks spoke, eating her pancakes. "I know I probably shouldn't be worrying about you. It should be the other way around." She muttered after swallowing a big bite of food. "But... It still scares me that I'll be alone again, I dunno if I'll ever not be at least a little scared of that." The child informed with a bitter expression. "I mean... You saw what happened back then so I'm sure you can at least kinda understand. But I know you're older than me so you know more in some things... But you're a hero too which is risky sometimes."

Kari poked at the last bite of of her pancakes, thinking aimlessly about a bunch of things. "I wish I knew more sometimes. I mean, I already know a lot more than other kids my age, given I had to grow up really fast, but there's still so much that they could learn that I couldn't, which is kinda weird to think about. I mean, I learned to survive on my own, now I'm learning other stuff. But, it still hurts." The child looked up at Hawks.

"I learned I'm related to a really bad villain, I learned that I'm a target for a villain organization cuz of my aunt who probably outed me to them... I've learned that things are really complicated when you're a hero and it's not all good things. Sometimes the people you try to save die while you try to save them, or even a hero dies in the process of saving people... Or the worst outcome, all parties involved die."

Kari looked back down at her food, letting out a sigh. "But... I've also learned that things can be good too. If it weren't for you taking me in I'd either be dead or under Maica's control doing who knows what. I wouldn't have met Denki, Shinso, Kirishima, Tamaki, Deku, Todoroki, Ojiro, and so many more. I wouldn't have this life. It came at the expense of my first family but I wouldn't be alive cuz of them... It's all bitter sweet. It hurts but... I dunno, it also feels good? No, that's not exactly right." Kari puffed out her cheeks in frustration.

Then, after a moment Kari stabbed her last bite of food with her fork and ate it.

"Either way," The child managed with food stuffed in her cheeks. "I'll try not to worry unless it's something worth worrying about. Like you or my new family. I'll try to be smart about my actions too, cuz I'm gonna be a hero and I know a hero's gotta be smart about stuff like that." Kari swallowed the food in her mouth and looked at Hawks in the eyes.

"Did you get any sleep? You look kinda tired Papa."

Hawks didn't say anything at first—he just moved the tray aside a little and pulled Kari gently into his arms the second she reached for him, holding her close and steady while she cried. He rubbed a hand in slow circles along her back, his wings folding protectively around them both like a cocoon.

"Shhh, it’s okay now, little bird. I’m here. You’re safe."

He let her speak, let her sob into his chest as she poured out everything that had been weighing on her—her fear, her guilt, her worry. He didn’t interrupt. He just kept holding her, warm and solid and gentle, like he had all the time in the world just for her.

Only when she started to calm down and the smell of pancakes reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since… well, who knew when… did he finally speak. His voice was soft, low, a little serious—but still gentle.

"What happened yesterday… it was just some bad people doing bad things, kiddo." He reached over and brushed a bit of hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. "You didn’t do anything wrong. You were worried about me—heck, I should’ve known you'd come looking if I disappeared without saying something."

He let out a sigh, more at himself than at her, and smiled a little, though there was tiredness behind his eyes.

"I’m sorry I made you worry. Really."

[wildflowersandvibranium]

The Newlywed Game

Pairing: NewAvengers!Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Summary: After a brutal mission leaves the team bruised and exhausted, Alexei rallies everyone into playing a chaotic round of The Newlywed Game as a bonding exercise. What starts as playful teasing and laughter soon unravels into something deeper.

Word Count: 2.1k ish

Warnings/Tags: Fluff!!! Idiots In Love Trope + Friends to Lovers

kissing , love confession , featuring the thunderbolts all pairs in the game are platonic <33

Authors Note: this is a cute little idea i wanted to post before my angsty series chapter one is posted later eeee thats exciting! it will revolve around domestic violence themes (not Bucky hurting reader) anyhooo heres this little fun thing enjoy bbys

The aftermath of the most recent mission was thick in the towers air. 

Bruises , cuts , soreness , and the kind of silence that meant everyone was just trying to feel and go back to normal again. Yelena was the first to cut through it.

“We need a break. All of us. My back hurts. My soul hurts. I haven’t even threatened anyone in days I’m , that exhausted .”

You were curled up on one end of the gray couch , Bucky beside you sprawled out , his thigh resting warm and solid against yours. 

He was currently flipping through TV channels half-caring , eyes distant.

Across the room , John groaned , flinging himself into an armchair like the drama queen he swore he wasn’t. 

“I swear I’ve got permanent whiplash from that last explosion.”

Ava snorted beside him , in mock. 

“Oh please , Walker. I phase through buildings. I don’t whine about it.” she rolled her eyes.

It was Alexei who stomped into the room from the kitchen , holding a sandwich in one massive hand and what looked like an old , slightly torn-up board game box in the other.

“I have idea,” he said, mouth full. “A great idea.”

Everyone groaned in unison.

“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath.

Alexei ignored the clear disinterest. “Is bonding exercise. Fun!. Makes heart grow fonder and team stronger!.”

Yelena ground dragging her hand across her face dramatically. 

“Is it another round of Russian roulette but with vodka shots and those awful pickles?”

“No , no , no.” He brandished the game box. “It is—The Newlywed Game.”

You blinked. “Wait. Like the actual Newlywed Game?”

“It is genius,” Alexei said proudly. 

“Two people. Friends. Ask questions. See how well they know each other. Test trust. Build foundation of eternal bond.” he gestured for dramatics.

“That’s not even the game’s actual purpose,” Bucky muttered , head leaned back, eyes closed.

Alexei powered through. “Yelena will be scorekeeper. I will host. We pick pairs. You write answers on boards , see if you match. Hilarity. Revelations. Perhaps…a reveal?”

John nearly choked on his water. “You want us to play couples’ therapy.”

“Exactly!” Alexei clapped his hands. “You understand me.”

Somehow, the idea started to grow bigger. Yelena , eyes glinting , was already pulling out markers and whiteboards from the box. 

Bob, the sweetest of them all who somehow always got roped into the chaos , looked trapped in his hoodie beside her.

“I’m in,” Ava said , stretching her arms. “Sounds hilarious.”

“I’ll play if I can be with Bob,” Yelena said , grinning wickedly at her shy friend. “He owes me after letting me take that last explosion hit.”

Bob turned pale but smiled. “Oh. Okay. Coolcoolcool.”

“Fine,” John grumbled. “But only if I’m with Ava. She’s at least more tolerable than Bucky.”

“Oh , thanks for the honor,” Ava replied dryly.

Alexei spun around to look at you and Bucky. “And you two. The loverbirds.”

You blinked. “W-We’re not—”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “We’ll win anyway.”

You shot him a look, heart suddenly doing a full somersault. 

Ava snorted behind her whiteboard. “You’re literally attached at the hip , some real soulmate stuff..”

Yelena didn’t even look up as she said, “Like how you two are always together in the kitchen. And in the training room. And the couch. And that one time in the showers—”

“HEY,” Bucky cut in, flushed. “She was stuck. I was- was trying to help.”

“Mhm.” Yelena wrote something on her scoreboard.

Alexei cleared his throat. “Okay. Teams are: Ava and John. Yelena and Bob. And the unstoppable team of James Buchanan Barnes and the lovely Y/N.”

Bucky glanced sideways at you, smiling softly. “Let’s crush them.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at your lips. “Fine. But when we lose, I’m blaming your old man memory.”

He smirked. “You underestimate me doll.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The compound living room had been transformed.

Pillows were tossed onto the floor for seating , snacks piled high on the coffee table , and everyone had their own whiteboard and marker. 

Yelena sat with her legs crossed, a permanent smirk on her face, acting as the world’s most unhinged score keeper. 

Alexei stood in front like a proud game show host , chin lifted, chest puffed out like he was about to present on Oscar.

“Welcome,” Alexei announced in a booming voice, “to the most powerful test of knowledge, loyalty, and emotional connection—The Newlywed Game: New Avengers Edition!”

John Walker groaned from where he sat beside Ava. “Do you have to say everything like it’s the Hunger Games?”

“Yes,” Alexei answered without missing a beat. “First question!”

You sat beside Bucky on the floor, your knees brushing. 

His metal arm was slung lazily over the back of the couch behind you, but not touching.

 He always gave you space unless you gave him permission. 

A part of you adored him for it, the other part just wanted him to touch you without having to ask for it. And another part desperately wanted to lean into him and never leave.

“Question one,” Alexei read dramatically. “What is your partner’s favorite food?”

You scribbled immediately.

Bucky glanced at you, smiling softly as he wrote his answer.

“Reveal!”

You both turned your whiteboards around at the same time.

Y/N: “Chocolate chip cookies with vanilla ice cream.”

Bucky: “Cookies, but only when they make them.”

The room exploded with reactions.

“Oh my god, that’s disgustingly cute,” Ava whispered to John.

John rolled his eyes. “No one likes cookies that much.”

“I do,” Bucky muttered with a small, boyish grin. “She makes good ones.”

You looked down, cheeks hot and pink , trying not to melt at how sincere he sounded.

Alexei beamed. “One point for the Soulmates.”

You nudged Bucky’s knee with yours. “Lucky guess.”

“Sure,” he said. 

But the look he gave you was anything but teasing—it was soft, quiet, and filled with something that made your chest ache.

“Alrighty question two , What is your partner’s most annoying habit?” Alexie's voice boomed.

“Oh this is gonna be good,” Ava muttered, already writing.

“Please be kind,” Bob whispered to Yelena.

“No promises,” she replied, grinning.

You thought for a second and wrote something down quickly. 

Bucky hesitated before writing.

“Three, two, one….reveal!”

Y/N: “He leaves his socks everywhere. Like, everywhere.”

Bucky: “Losing my laundry.”

The team howled.

“That’s not even a bad habit!” Yelena said, laughing.

“Yes, it is! It gets really old!”

Bucky grinned shamelessly. “Sorry doll but at least i know you will always be there to help find my socks”

You turned away, flustered. 

His tone had that low, affectionate warmth again, and it did something dangerous to your heart.

Yelena waved her board. “Bob said I interrupt people too much. He’s correct. I interrupted him by saying it.”

Alexei roared with laughter. “Another point for honesty.”

“Walker,” Ava said, showing her board, “said my most annoying habit is ‘calling him out on his crap.’ So I wrote ‘being a pain in the ass.’ Perfect match.”

John gave a thumbs-up, clearly proud.

“question three , If your partner could be anywhere in the world right now, where would they be?”

This one stumped everyone except you and Bucky.

“Okay,” Yelena muttered. “That’s very vague.”

“Is it, though?” you whispered to yourself.

Bucky’s pen moved before yours this time.

Again , you revealed at the same time.

Y/N: “Back in Romania. Where he felt safe for the first time.”

Bucky: “That café in Romania with the blue door.”

Dead silence.

You turned your head, meeting Bucky’s stare. 

His eyes were wide , almost startled , as if he hadn’t expected you to remember that. 

It had come up only once, in a late-night talk over peppermint tea when he’d told you about the only few years of peace he’d ever really known.

The same place you’d dreamt about going with him someday, even if neither of you had ever said it aloud.

“Okay, what the hell,” Ava said. “Are you guys pretending to not be dating?”

“No , just telepathic,” Bucky muttered.

Your heart was thudding now, not from the game, but from how your answers kept syncing, from how easy it was to know him—how easy it was to love him.

Because you did. You had for a long time. You just never told him.

“Now , What’s your partner’s go-to comfort thing when they’re upset?”

“Easy,” you whispered, not even thinking.

Bucky didn’t look at you this time. He kept his eyes on his board, scribbling carefully.

“Reveal!”

Y/N: “His  favorite hoodie, headphones , and walking loops around the training floor.”

Bucky: “My hoodie , music, and them being with me.”

You blinked.

He had you.

And judging by the way Ava and Yelena both gasped—one dramatically clutching her chest, the other slapping a hand over her mouth—you weren’t alone in realizing what he said.

You turned to look at Bucky, who was now studiously focused on the floor like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. 

His jaw ticked. His hand tightened around the marker.

The others kept reading their answers aloud, some joking, some confused, some wildly mismatched.

But you barely heard any of them.

Because your heart was pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.

“Question five , Ooo this is good one , what’s your partner’s biggest fear?”

No one answered quickly this time.

There were long pauses. 

Quiet scribbles. 

Some uncomfortable shifting. Bucky tapped his marker against his knee a few times , his nervous tick.

He turned his board around without a word as you did.

Bucky: “Being alone again.”

You looked down at your own answer and held it up.

Y/N: “Being left behind , alone.”

He read it, and then looked up.

Your eyes locked, and everything around you—the whiteboards, the laughter, the chaos of the compound , faded like a dusty storm. 

There was something behind his gaze that pulled the air from your lungs. 

Not fear. Not confusion.

It was love. Undeniable.

Anyone with eyes could see the way he looked at you but of course you were too oblivious to see it.

Alexei’s voice boomed like a thunderclap.

“Final question thunderbolts! What’s your partner’s type in a romantic partner?”

“Ooooohhhh!” the group all reacted.

John laughed. “This is going to be interesting.”

Ava snorted. “Walker you better not say 'mirrors.'”

Bucky gave you a sideways glance, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t look. I’ll know if you cheat.”

“I’m not cheating! You’re just slow.”

You wrote first, but hesitated before turning it around.

“Alright!” Alexei bellowed. “Time to expose your romantic preferences to your emotionally unstable teammates! Readyyy Reveal!”

Y/N: “Dark hair, blue eyes, grumpy face, soft heart.”

Bucky: “->.”

You froze. The arrow was pointing directly at you.

And dead center of his whiteboard was your name—underlined.

Gasps echoed around the room. 

Someone dropped a marker. Yelena shouted, “HA! I KNEW IT!”

You gawked at him. “Bucky…”

His ears were red. “It’s always been you.”

You laughed—half shocked, half breathless. “You—you idiot!” You dropped your board and slapped his chest.

You could’ve told me!”

“I didn’t want to screw it up. You’re—my best friend , and once I realized how I felt I was too scared to tell you , to lose you.”

You shoved the pillows on the floor aside , moving toward him before your brain even caught up. 

“Bucky Barnes, I have been in love with you since the moment you made me tea at 2 a.m. because I cried during a documentary about dogs.”

“You cried for twenty minutes.”

“You cried too!”

“I had allergies!”

You were nose to nose now, your hand pressed over his chest, his thumb tracing the edge of your wrist like he couldn’t help it. 

“I love you,” you said again, this time softer. “So much.”

“I love you,” he whispered back, eyes brighter than you’d ever seen them. 

He leaned in and kissed you, warm and slow and sure, and the whole room exploded in cheers.

Ava screamed. “WE’RE NEVER LETTING YOU FORGET THIS.”

Yelena tackled her dad with joy the John grumbled handing her a twenty dollar bill.

Bob was clapping and teared up “They are finally one , The Winter Soldier and his soulmate” he whispered.

“Gross,” John muttered. “But fine, cute.”

You pulled back, forehead to Bucky’s, your smile impossibly wide.

His hand slid to your cheek, and he sighed softly – I love you.

You grinned and kissed him again , pulling back whispering ”I love you more” , just to tease him knowing his stubbornness  would claim he loved you more.

And finally you two weren’t dancing around the other and could finally share and show your love for each other.

-end

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(although if you liked this fic please consider reblogging so it can reach a wider audience)

They let me know that you are enjoying what I'm publishing and gives me motivation to write more and more! :33

[revelboo]

*Pigeon flutters around you for some TFA Megatron*

Sure!

The Devil You Know Pt 7

TFA Megatron x Reader

• Eyes wide as he just keeps pulling stuff from thin air, subspace, he’d called it, you wonder where he got all of it. Watching him fussing with the furniture and bedding, setting up a living space for you, big servos struggling with the little things. “I’m afraid, I must admit to being a little in the dark about humans and your needs,” he says and you warm that he’s trying so hard. That he’s so sweet and bothered for you. “But this will at least make a good start, I hope?”

• One corner of his mouth twitching at the look on your face, surprised and pleased with him. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble, really.” If you knew he’d torn apart a human home to get these things? That the humans were still inside? Would you still be happy? Smiling lazily remembering the screams and fear, he reaches out to affectionately tap a servo under your chin and you smile. Wonders what sounds you’ll make when he lays all of his work at your little feet and you learn the truth. If it will be despair or rage when you scream.

• “But you’ve done so much for me, little one. You could have abandoned me to Sumdac, but you remained loyal,” he says, deep voice thrumming through you as he keeps arranging things for you. “You saved me.” Reaching to pick up a stuffed bear with a bow around its neck, you wonder again where he’d gotten this stuff. It’s not like he can just go shopping. He’s so skittish of humans, an abandoned house? He must have stolen it and you feel guilty, but he’d meant well. Done it for you.

• “Are your people doing okay now?” You ask and he slowly shakes his head, starting to pull his servo away when you lay a tiny hand on it and he stares at it. Momentarily distracted by how easily you trust, that you’re trying to comfort him. Reaching for him even though he’s so much bigger. You must know he could crush you if he chose to, but you think he’d never harm you. That he’s your friend. It’s adorably naïve and he’s going to enjoy slowly ruining your ability to trust anyone.

• “I’d introduce you to them, but they’re still so traumatized by everything that’s happened to them,” he says slowly and you understand. From what he’s said, his people are peaceful and they’d been prosecuted, attacked, crashed here and then lost their leader. They must be so happy to have him back. To start rebuilding. And you want to meet them all, to watch them succeed and cheer them on. But you trust him when he says they need more time. Always so worried for them and you, the huge mech so incredibly sweet that you need to help him any way you can.

Previous

[sirtouchstarved]

YESYESYES!!!

This is. so true. It's actually shocking how much I have learned more about my asexuality even during the relatively short time I've been in the fandom. I've known I was asexual for a long time at this point, but also at the same time, asexuality, at least in my experience, is rather hard to really explore and try to figure out. And you don't see many asexuals in media, actually written with a proper and respectful understanding of asexuality, so it's not like I have that many examples to use as a basis of trying to understand myself. Magnus archives however, like OP explained, does this insane, and beautiful thing where it both confirms Jon's asexuality, yet also leaves it fully up to each individual to interpret and explore that in their own ways.

Probably the most impactful thing the Magnus archives fandom, specifically, the other asexual authors writing their experiences through Jon, has helped me figure out, is the realization that 'sex' is not one single thing. It's not some checklist, where you complete the list of things required, and if you do all of them that makes it 'sex'.

Sex does not have to always mean "going all the way". Sex can be whatever you decide it to be for yourself, because the core idea of it all, is shared physical intimacy. And that can be anything you decide it to be!! The point is that you're comfortable and happy, and it's an enjoyable experience. Just because that doesn't line up with the conventional idea of what 'sex' is supposed to be, doesn't make it any less valid.

I fully understand the wariness when it comes to allosexual people writing asexuals in specifically sexual media, and I have definitely come across my fair share of stuff that has made me pretty uncomfortable, but that's few and far between the amount of absolutely amazing asexual representation I've found from other asexual authors in this fandom.

It's just. So incredible. And also a testament to how important representation truly is, because I've known of my asexuality for YEARS and STILL have managed to learn so much, and become so much more comfortable in myself through this fandom.

Anyways. Great stuff!! To all the ace authors out there, if you wanna write about and explore your own asexuality through fanfics and fandom, GO DO IT!! IT'S GREAT!! I fully understand the worry, the "I know it's my experience, but is it 'good enough'?" the worry of whether you are 'allowed' to write about it. But I am telling you, even if it's just one, there will be another ace person out there who reads it, and will see themselves in it, feel understood, seen, and represented. Your experiences are valid and beautiful, and I am cheering you on.

I can’t quite remember if I’ve ever made a post about this before, but I honestly have a lot of complicated feelings about Jonathan Sims being asexual, and how that’s treated by the fandom on a wider scale, as an asexual person.

With Jon’s asexuality, is it’s only ever actually mentioned once, and from an outside perspective at that, and so, while Georgie says he isn’t into that sort of thing, Jon’s personal feelings on the matter are left fairly vague and up to interpretation. You could argue the author’s intent was that Jon is entirely uninterested in sex, but then comes in the counter argument of Death of the Author, and that the reader’s interpretation is more important and holds more value, especially when something is left this vague.

And this vagueness leaves a lot of room for various asexuals to explore their own and other identities through Jon, whether that be a Jon who is sex-repulsed, sex-neutral, sex-favourable, or somewhere else in that grey area, maybe he’s demisexual, maybe he’s graysexual, maybe he’s aegosexual, maybe he’s unlabelled! The truth is, we have no real concrete canon, beyond the fact he falls under the asexual label.

Naturally, I’m often wary of allosexual people using the argument ‘asexuals can have sex too’, as it tends to stem from a place of ignorance and erasure, rather than a place of care and a desire to learn and understand. That isn’t to say allosexuals can’t engage with Jon’s asexuality, in fact, I’m overjoyed when they do so in good faith, it’s just a little more complicated due to the nature of asexual erasure within fandom spaces.

Speaking of fandom spaces, I disagree entirely with the idea that all NSFW content of Jon is inherently bad, because a lot of people creating that content are asexual! You are allowed to be uncomfortable with an interpretation, and you are allowed to disagree with it, but that is when you cater your own internet experience and block tags or creators, rather than attack them.

Again, I understand why this is such a common response, because as asexuals, we constantly have to deal with blatant erasure and acephobia. But isolating other asexuals from the fandom is doing more harm for us than it is good.

[kkewpiie]

A Promise.

Part 1 - Friends Since the Start

Pairing: Jacob Black x Human!Fem!Reader. Description: Reader has known Jacob since they where little kids, and as they get older her feelings for him begin to grow. A/N: Bella is in this story, I assume they hung out with her as well I just couldn't think of how to fit it in. - keww

⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆ ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺

Your first memory of Jacob came from when you were about 6. You were playing on La Push, scouring the sandy shores for cool shells or any washed up creatures you could find- typical kid stuff.

After a whole day of running up and down the beach, you were sat on the sand, watching the sun hide behind the ocean as you sorted through the treasures you had collected that day. A push on your right shoulder, turning your head to a boy only a year younger than you, his hands held out right in front of your face, and a front-toothless grin on his.

"(Y/N)! It's for you! 'Caus we're best friends forever!" looking down into his grubby, sand covered paws was a little bracelet, made from broken shells strung along a fishing line, some of which that had familiar patterns.

"Forever?"

"Forever!" with that you jumped onto him, pulling him into the biggest bear hug you could muster.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

When playing hide & seek, it is only fun for the people that know they are playing it. One summer, while you and Jake were spending your time foraging around in the woods, you decided it would be a great idea to play a game, only you forgot to mention it to him.

After successfully sneaking away while Jacob was distracted by a rare kind of newt in the stream, you had hidden yourself behind a large tree trunk, sheathed in moss, and fallen leaves. Crouching low and your hand over your mouth to catch any escaping giggles, as you could barely keep yourself together at the thought of Jacob unable to find you.

Five minutes had passed... Then ten...and so on...

The woods got quieter, and the light started to fall behind the dense tree-line. The game stopped feeling like a game as you began to get cold, and jumpy at the scurry-ings of the forest around you.

Eventually, you stood up stiffly- "Okay.. You win I'm done hiding now.." You looked around, no one in sight, and the woods around you darkening quicker than before.

"Jake..??" You called a little louder, but to no answer. Your breath quickened, as you grabbed onto your shirt in a effort to soothe yourself as your face scrunched up to hold back your fear.

Then you heard it. Snapping branches, a heavy thudding getting louder and louder, you twisted around trying to discern the direction.

"(Y/N)!" A familiar voice- loud, and scared. Not annoyed, not playing- scared.

Before you could respond, he burst through the dense brush with wild eyes, and flushed face, hair clinging damply to his head, and a scratch on his cheek. Spotting you, he froze- just for a moment, before jumping again and wrapping his arms around you so tightly, it pushed the air out of your little chest.

Filling your lungs up again, you began to stutter out apologies and little excuses alongside cries.

"I couldn't find you anywhere.. I-I thought a monster got you.." he spoke softly, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes searching you all over for any damage, his face had a look you had never seen before, a look you didn't understand, at least not fully. It was a look boys your age weren't supposed to know how to do yet- look at you like you were theirs to protect.

"I'm fine.." you mumbled in embarrassment. "I just wanted to play.."

"Promise." Jake's eyes locked onto yours, black pools with little flecks of gold, filled with the upmost seriousness.

"Promise.. what?"

"no more hiding from me. Ever."

"Even during hide-and-seek??"

"Especially then." His little face making a mean look, you stared at him for a moment- your cheeks struggling to stay still, and hold in your laughter.

"Okay!! I promise!" You held out your pinky, and he held out his, looping them together with laughter and a big grins.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Most of your younger years were spent that way, together. As you and Jacob grew older, you changed as expected but your friendship never did.

That was until one summer, under a tree behind Billy's house. You and Jacob sat backs against it, underneath a blanket as you listen to music off the iPod he had received as a birthday gift. One set of earbuds shared between you, threatening to fall out if you move any farther from each other.

Stuck in this position, (Y/N) felt Jake's head rest onto her shoulder. His eyes closed as he began to hum to the playing song. Your chest began to tighten as something was felt bursting within it, a feeling you had never felt before as you look down at his face.

It felt like just yesterday, you and Jacob were running around the rez getting into trouble... But as you stared down at him, you started to notice all the ways he had changed, his hair long and darker than it was before. His nose more prominent placed on his thinner face which had slowly replaced his chubby cheeks, Jake was no longer that little boy that would run around with you on the beach. The whole sight of it making your heart feel as if it was stone, weighing you down and keeping you unable to move away from looking.

Jacob must've sensed you staring, turning his head up to meet yours, your gazes connect, and it almost takes your breath away as your face burns red hot, all of this simply too much for your mind to process.

"..you okay..?" He said, turning up a brow at your staring.

You stuttered out an excuse, something about it being too hot under the blanket, scooting yourself out from under it, and hiding your face away from him.

When you got back home that night, you couldn't remove the image of his face from your mind. The feelings it gave you.. they were so unbearably strong...

Laying on your bed as you stared at the ceiling, trying to force your heart to be still; you remembered the promise you all those years ago.

His voice in the woods, the scratch on his little cheek, the way he seemed so scared because he couldn't find you.

"No more hiding from me. Ever."

That promise..

And this- this feeling... It was scarier than the forest that night, deeper than any of the shadows underneath the trees.

So you made a decision. A terrible one that made your heart ache even more.

You'd keep your feelings hidden away. You'd keep quiet- despite the overwhelming urge to say it as loud as you could.

Because you couldn't bare losing him.

"I'm sorry Jake... Please forgive me.." You whispered, eyes stinging, and your throat tightening- breaking your promise to him, and hiding from him in a way he could never find.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆ ✩₊˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺

And that's the end of part 1! What do you think?? I've never written a fic before and only recently watched through twilight! (super late- I knowww). Feel free to comment if there are any mistakes OR if you have any suggestions on where the story should go (still thinking on how to include Bella's role in all this)!

Thank you for reading!

[neunnnnnnn]

Meeting a homeless shifter

I was at a local park the other day, having a solo date when a man approached me, I was cautious at first and was gathering my stuff because I didn't want to deal with any negativity that day but he ended up stopping me and telling me that he means no harm and ofc I wasn't going to believe him, but I did have this feeling that he wasn't violent?

Anyway I put my stuff down and he sits across from me and I offer him a burger that I had bought and he refuses it so I'm like "huh? How comes" then he goes on to explain to me that he's vegan........ And I'm like HELL NAUR😭 this has to be satire, so I point blank tell him not to piss me off because I was not in the mood. Then he goes on to explain to me that he's actually not lying, so I ask him how comes?! Cause like...... I didn't want to be rude but cmonnnn😭

He laughs telling me that he was vegan before he was homeless and has maintained it even after. I also tell him that I have been interested in turning vegan for sometime and I had been meditating, which made him light up and he excitingly tells me that he also meditates and does OBE, so I'm like.... OH is he lying or is he actually saying the truth, so I ask him some questions and he indeed does know A LOT about it.

I gather up the courage to ask him about shifting because👀.... Most people that are spiritual don't believe in it. And he says HE KNOWS ABOUT IT! So I'm like there is no way, he knows about it and he's homeless right?😭. Anyway he goes to explain that he's shifted before but he mostly astral projects, so that's where my question comes in....... how are you homeless and you can shift and do obe? He laughs saying that he can understand my confusion and that he has thought about leaving countless of times.

He looked sad for a sec and explains that he's kind off attached to this reality, which confuses me more so I ask him if it's because he's comfortable with his situation and he just shakes his head. So I'm now confused and I ask him what is it that would make him want to continue living like this when he literally has the power to change it.

I could see how ashamed he looked but he opened up explaining that he used to be abusive to his ex wife and was locked up for it and during his time in prison he was literally tormented with guilt and had "attempts" and that's how he actually shifted for the first time. He said after he "attempted" he woke up in another reality where he was a woman and he explained how everything felt extremely real and he even used his 5 senses to make sure it wasn't a lucid dream. After he got out he got the news that his wife passed away which destroyed him completely. So I ask why can't he shift to a reality where you know everything is okay. But he shakes his head saying that he wants to live out this life the way it is and that he doesn't want to run away from the problems that he caused. Atp I'm quiet because I genuinely have nothing to say but it did make me think of me of how I haven't permashifted because I am low-key attached to this reality and I feel like I want to "achieve" something before I actually go. I also shared my experiences with him and he tells me how lucky I am that I discovered it at such a young age and gives me some life advices that I weirdly have always wanted to hear from the people in my life.

It was honestly enlightening talking to him and I felt some kind of relief afterwards, I offered to buy him lunch but he refused saying that he's okay. I also showed him my blog😂 and he smiled saying that he liked it and thanked me for giving him the chance for us to talk.

There are some stuff that we also talked about but I can't remember them 😭

And I am grateful that I did stay to talk to him.

[wide-nose-and-wonderful]

SINNERS.

Pairing: Sammie x Pearline!

Warnings/Type: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff & Stuff, A Smooth Talking Preacher Boy In Another Decade. It's Early 2000's, ONE SHOT!

Summary: Young Boy Sammie Moore has finally turned twenty one! He decides to spend pre birthday at the mall with his family for some early birthday gifts. Who knew a quick break off to the food court would be so eventful.

Word count: 6,624 / Whomever comes across this work, enjoy.

It was Wednesday. The air inside the Guitar Center thrummed with the low hum of amps and the sporadic twang of hopeful guitarists. Guitars of every shape, size and pedigree, amid a lingering scent of aged wood and polished brass. Sammie held the blues like a well-worn record, already dissecting the acoustic sections across the other side of the store, thoughtfully tapping on soundboards of various models. By that time, the thought of his father found him. He recalled the very last conversation. A couple days spread out into a few months, but the words remained as clear as the day they were spoken.  

“Listen Sammie. The bottom line. Either you cut out all the nonsense. Get yourself back to going to church, or I'm gonna have to ask you to leave ma’ house. I won’t have people talking.Calling my son a Sinner. You know what kind of impact that would have on the church. My livelihood and legacy. Everything I've built so you and your brothers and sisters could make something of yourselves…” 

“But that’s your life. I’m entitled to live my own. Maybe your legacy just isn’t ma’ legacy anymore.” 

He wondered what type of state he was in. Different emotions had him undecided. Was it some sense of longing? Regret, maybe relief, some kind of fear? He bet he could write a song that would express it all, tell it better. That’s all Blues was. Express of the emotions that were a little hard to say out loud and straight out. Some emotions required a beat, a melody and a tune. 

Twenty one years today. Old enough to drink legally, as Stack reminded him. Old enough to really be out on his own with no excuses. Do his own thing, with no one to answer to. A man. The point he’d made sure his father knew. 

“We gon’ throw you a party like no other lil cousin, just you wait till this weekend…”

Sammie grinned, feeling the weight of the instrument in his grip. Stack seemed more eager then he did. Like he was in some strange way getting to relieve his early twenties. Boy, did he have some stories to tell. The things he’d done and saw. Sammie’s mind on the other hand was far from drinking and dancing. Attention from loose women. He didn’t want the party. A quiet night inside almost suited him better. He still hadn’t heard from his father. That bothered him.

Jedidiah Moore, epitome of stubbornness despite his sermons on pride and unforgiveness at Sunday service. Grudges could stay and wayne like the summer heat, and boy was he particular. In front of his congregation he presented as a wholesome man. Caring, considerate, a good listener and confidant. Behind closed doors was different. Sammie may have had too many examples to count, but his image as both pastor and father beat against one another with little equality. 

Sammie’s mother, Geraline Moore called two days prior, although loyal to his father's will, she'd been a bit more understanding in her nature as a woman, but a mother would always be curious about their child when they weren't with them. Sammie knew she'd been eager to hear just how he’d been doing since going to stay with Annie and Smoke. Questions like, was he eating, being respectful. Her voice stayed thick during their conversation, riddled with a sadness she tried to hide. Sammie regretted that the most. She’d been the last person he wanted to hurt. 

By the time Sammie sighed that fact away, Stack veered straight toward a wall full of electric guitars with a glint of mischief in his eye. The candy-apple red Ibanez  launched into a series of wildly uncoordinated power cords. Only thing to break Sammie from all his thinking. 

Elianna covered her ears at the broken melody, but there remained a particular sense of awe in her face. She’d walked off from Annie who’d been eyeing one of the instruments, following her uncle in a childlike curiosity. She’d done that ever since she could walk. Sammie often wondered if she thought Stack was her daddy, and did it instinctively. Or could she tell the twins apart just by looking.   

“Uncle,” She cried amidst the atrocious noise. ”Stop it!” 

Smoke threw a glare in the direction of his daughter's protest. He’d been busy at the front desk talking to one of the men that worked there. A sheet of paper laid out nicely on the table, separated the two like a business transaction taking place unbeknownst.

“Stack! Cut it out,” he hissed. “You gon’ break something and I'm not tryna hear they mouth.”  

The man on the other side of the table had his eye on Stack the moment he picked up the expensive instrument. Smoke noticed too, which was why when the man finally locked eyes with him, Smoke gave him a subtle but serious flash of a glare as if to say in so few words, don't say shit to my brother, I got it.

Although identical, Smoke never seemed to let anyone, including Stack forget that he was the oldest twin. Sammie confirmed that difference, almost immediately. They looked every much alike but were very different men. Stack embraced it, and lived boldly in his thirst for freedom. He had a very do whatever you want attitude. Sammie always wondered if being a twin meant that type of thing was unavoidable; the desire to break away and form a separate identity. To be one’s own person. 

As expected, Stack laughed through his noise making, even beyond Smoke’s threat. 

“You don’t like ma’ song baby niece?” 

Elianna shook her head. little hands still firmly over her ears. A giggle did manage to leave her. Annie pursed her lips when she walked over. Not entirely displeased, but not entirely amused. She’d probably gotten used to it, as long as she’d been around the twins. Stack could test Smoke’s patience.Sammie had been witness a few times when the brothers had their heated arguments. Most of the time it had to do with Smoke not liking the type of women Stack brought around. Only one Smoke ever went completely soft for was his baby girl.

To Sammie, five year old Elianna Moore was the cutest thing walking. She had equal bits of Smoke and Annie in her, but she looked more like her daddy, or at least Sammie thought so. She’d been declared a miracle child by the midwife, Annie took about a month to recover fully. A hard birth, Smoke managed to breath out one time when someone asked him. Ever since then he’d been a devoted father. Maybe a little over protective, but Sammie assumed he’d gotten the life he wanted. Annie was a good woman. She could cook and the house was always clean and smelling good. More than that, she was his comfort. Since staying with them, Sammie had walked in on at least two instances where Annie was standing cradling and holding Smokes head close to her chest. Like her heartbeat energized him.  

Another death glare by Smoke had Stack finally off his antics. He put the guitar back with that chuckle that pissed Smoke off, and moved in one swift motion to swoop up Elianna and kiss her on the cheek. She giggled, high up in his arms and hugged his neck. He gave her this sad face and pressed his forehead on hers.

“How you gon’ say ya’ uncle was bad. You spose ta be ma’ number one fan out here baby girl.” 

Elianna provided a couple pats to the shoulder. A little of Stack’s personality had no doubt rubbed off on her too.  

“You wasn’t that bad uncle Elias, but you was baaaaad.” 

She scrunched her face like she'd tasted a sour candy. Stack smacked his teeth, but smiled. 

“Why you have to elongate the word? See. You lucky you cute and you ma’ baby.” 

He kissed her forehead and put her down. 

“Big cousin Sammie, now he's gooooood,” she said, head tilted and smiling. 

A laugh escaped Annie. Stack grinned and shrugged, before he laughed himself. 

“Well. I can't even argue that. He got some talent, no doubt. Which is why we gon’ get him hooked up. Make him a big star. Then we can watch him on TV. Playing all them blues songs.” 

Sammie sighed. Stack brought it up numerous times before, even managing to convince Smoke to help get him signed to a label, and it was hard to get Smoke to agree on anything, depending on what it was. But, hesitation remained, the thought of being famous. He loved music. Loved playing the strings, sure. Learned the Guitar on his own with months of strenuous practice whenever he got the opportunity, but, recognition didn't matter too much. Humble beginnings stayed on him, even after his father's Church gained popularity. Best part about the Blues was the way it made a person feel. He’d had a few instances where people cried, said they needed that, that his voice was powerful, that the world somehow got brighter. He never felt that way at his father’s church. The music, the Gospel to Sammie, was strangely constrained in the way of freedom. Maybe not the same freedom Stack looked for in experiences, or how family presented for Smoke, but the type of freedom a bird might need to not just fly, but to soar. At least under his fathers eye, things felt like that. Contained and cadged. He had a chance at glory, and turned from it. Then like clock work, Sammie got back to thinking about Jedidiah. If he did become famous, that would seal the deal on their relationship.

“Nah Stack. It's all good.” He said, a particle smile to hide the inner battle. “I don't need all that. Y'all like ma’ music. That's enough.” 

Stack smacked his teeth. “Mind what I say. Big cousin got you. Twenty one, can't even believe it. Growing up right before our eyes.” 

Stack walked over, threw an arm which resulted in a partial head lock and hug all rolled into one gesture. He had a heaviness to his arm, weighted, but a comfort all at once. Stack faked sniffing, dapping at his own eyes in some form of dramatics with his knuckle. There were no tears to dry away. His smirk betrayed him anyway. Sammie knew he was on bullshit. Stack knew it himself, but went on talking.

“Seems like just yesterday you were that nappy head lil boy running round toothless following after us. Everywhere too. Couldn't seem to shake ya. Guess much ain't changed but this new line up you sportin’ huh.” 

Sammie gave a crooked smile before moving from under his arm. “Man. Whatever. You ain't never remember me like that.” the tone might have come off unconvinced, but he let off a chuckle afterward. Stack would always be Stack, fabricating stories with how he thought they’d played out, no matter what, but Sammie was fine with that. He took him for what he was. 

Annie stepped up, bag in one hand as she placed the other on Elianna’s shoulder. Elianna pouted just slightly. While talking to Stack, there had been a missed conversation happening between mother and daughter. That familiar dimple expressed itself on one of her little cheeks. Identical to her father's, and Stack’s.

“Mama, please get this…this one is the best.”

Sammie couldn't help but grin. Elianna Moore did have an eye, and she'd found a lovely make and model he’d overlooked. 

“I like it mama,” her dark brown hues traveled up and down the guitar. “You don't like this one, big cousin?” 

Sammie stepped forward and bent down on one knee. Doing so had him at Elianna’s eye level and in the area dedicated to vintage electronics. He ran a hand reverently over the smooth neck of a honey-blonde telecaster before his eyes landed on the charcoal-grey Gibson Es-335, perched on a stand. Elianna’s choice. 

“I do. I really like this color and pattern design too. Good pick.” 

Her eyes lit up like street lamps at the approval, and her little dimple surfaced for a second time. Her smile warmed him, but also reminded him of home. The brothers and sisters he’d left behind often looked at him in that same way. 

“Can you try it?” 

That meant she wanted a song played. Her favorite one. Oddly enough, a song Sammie took a liking to when she was months old, frustrated with his father, and ready to run away to prove him and everyone else wrong. Like a dandelion seed, Sammie envisioned himself countless times scattering away from the South, catching the wind towards something more. Muddy Waters, Mannish Boy. Sammie would never understand how she was wise enough to remember it. Maybe, it had nothing to do with the particular song at all, only that he was singing it, and made it personal that she grew a liking to the way he did it. Whatever the reason, whenever his baby cousin asked, and if a guitar was nearby somewhere, he'd play it for her. He provided a gentle pinch to her cheek, grabbed the guitar, put the band over his head and got into a good position as he stood to his feet. 

“Okay, tell me lil’ bit. What song ya’ want cousin Sammie to play for ya’?” 

Elianna tilted her head from one side to the other before she tugged at his shoulder sleeve. 

“Whaaaaat. You don’t member it?” 

Her eyes grew big.

“Course I do,” He said, and chuckled.

 He would never forget.  

This time he wouldn’t coax a mournful melody. That could only be played on the one back home where Jedidiah was. 

“You leave out here, Sammie. You not taken that Guitar wit’ ya.” 

So he left it behind. Been in mourning ever sense. Peering down at the price tag on this one he didn't own, Sammie took a breath, and promised himself he’d be careful while playing. His part time job didn’t make enough should something happen in the process of the song. He didn't want to cause trouble for Smoke and Annie. They’d been so generous. 

“Excuse me,” he said, catching the attention of one of the employees. “Y'all mind if I try this out?”

“Yeah, sure dude. I can plug it up.” 

Sammies gaze traveled. They’d hid it away beneath the counter. Smart. The amp crackled to life, filling the shop with a warm, inviting glow of sound that hummed a quiet power once plugged. Elianna brought her hands together in anticipation. Not something done for Stacks performance. Annie smiled and even Smoke paid attention. 

“Oh, daaaaaaamn. Aye, everybody come watch ma’ lil’ cousin. He bout to blow this shit up!” Stack called, with the same elongation of words he’d scolded his niece for as he waved over unsuspecting onlookers.

Whatever opinions anyone had about Elias Mooore, he was the biggest hype man and support anyone could ask for. Sammie always appreciated that about him.   

“Blow it up?” 

The man's face went pale in color. More red patches showing on areas of the skin. Smoke unfazed, shook his head. Another great supporter, just in a different way.  

“Nah. Not like that. Just an expression. Means he bout’ ta put on a show for y’all. So pay attention.” 

Sammie closed his eyes a moment, breathed deep, and let his fingers find their way to the familiar cords of Mannish Boy.

“Oooooooh, Yeah. Oh Yeaaaaaah. Everything, everything, everything gon’ be alright this moooorning…Oooooh yeah….Whooooooo!”

At the ripe age of seven, he’d gotten the opportunity to hear a studio recording of the song. He would shut his eyes and try to imagine what it was like being in that space at that exact time. Muddy there, maybe Howling wolf, little Walter for sure, the band of course, and that guitar amped and ready.

“Come on dere now preacher Boy, you gon’ sang this song…Or are you gon’ sanaaag this song…”   

Slow, a tentative rumble, built into the iconic riff, each note a drop of sweat and hard earned wisdom of all the greats that came before him. His voice joined the guitar, a raw soulful cry that seemed to emanate from somewhere deep within. Stack hollered off a loud Yeaaaaaah’ In the background. 

“Now, when I was a young boy…At the age of five…My mother said I was gonna be…The greatest man alive…But now I'm a man…I'm age twenty-one…I want you to believe me, honey…We having lots of fun…I'm a man…”

He played with a passion and skill that belied his age, and others felt it. Stack with his hootin’ and hollerin’, Smoke with the tapping of his feet, Annie’s subtle swaying, and Elianna’s innocence, off beat but happy in her own personal dance to the tune she loved.

“I spell M…A, child…N…that represent man…No B…O, child…Y…that spell mannish boy…I'm a man…I'm a full-grown man…I'm a man…I'm a rollin' stone…I'm a man…I'm a hoochie-coochie man…”

The music grew louder, the mood more festive, and pretty soon others outside of the Moore’s joined in. A crowd began to gather. Tourists paused, drawn in by the authentic sound. Children stood mesmerized. Different people, singing along, clapping hands. The air changed, thick with the raw soulful energy of the blues.

“Sittin' on the outside…Just me and my mate…I'm made to move…Come up two hours late…Wasn't that a man?...I spell M…A, child…N…that represeent man…No B…O, child…Y…That spell mannish boy…”

No telling how many new customers would arise from this performance. From behind Sammie caught a different instrument joining in. Drums. Then another, the harmonica of all things. A mournful counterpart to the Guitar. He wasn’t aiming for perfection, just connection. That’s why he never looked back to see exactly where the oncoming sounds came from, the sheer exhilaration of being alive and in the moment mattered most.  

Instead he poured his youthful heart into it, fingers dancing over the fretboard. His voice, though a little rough around the edges in his opinion, resonated with genuine feeling, catching the melody and riding it. A lively, upbeat tune filled with joy. A song born from the newfound lightness in his soul. It wasn’t quite the same, but familiar. Not home, but close to it. He’d missed the sensation of the vibrating strings. Getting lost in the music. How he’d imagine his fingers painting the air. Each note, this brush stroke of emotion.  

Then he saw her.  

At the edge of the crowd. A woman bathed in the late afternoon light. He’d swore he’d never seen hair so dark. Coiled, full, in a medium high afro of tight curls. Deep brown complexion complemented wide eyes, mysterious and endlessly captivating. She wasn’t smiling, he noticed, but her expression was one of quiet attentiveness, like she absorbed every note, every nuance of the song. 

Sammie stumbled slightly on a chord. The carefully constructed composure cracking momentarily. 

As the last chord faded away, this appreciative ripple traveled within the crowd who hadn’t noticed the slip up. Any doubt flew away with the applause. He stood and only gave a partial bow. 

“Thank y'all. Appreciate it. My lil’ cousin likes this song. Played it especially for her.” 

A look around. No Elianna in sight. No Annie, or Smoke or Stack either. Then with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, a man dressed in a tailored suit pushed through the crowd and offered his hand. 

“Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent! Heard you playing all the way down the hall. Lotta people heard ya. But me personally, said to myself what raw unpolished potential. You gotta a gleam in ya’ eye. Talent. Such that I ain't heard in a good long while, least round here in Mississippi. I’m Johnathan Remmick. Remmick Talent Agency. You, young man, have a gift..” 

Buzzing from the performance, Sammie shook his hand, a subtle half grin playing on his lips. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “Just playing around.”  

“Playing around?” Remmick chuckled, a low oily sound. “Nonsense. You’re a star waiting to be discovered. I can make it happen. I’m thinking you got the it factor. Got some big names I know would be excited to have you open for um.” He pulled out a business card. “Let's talk contract. I have connections, studios, the whole nine yards.” 

This sudden sense of uncertainty filled him up. Sammie looked out at the faces in the large pool of people. None belonging to his cousins, or Annie. This might be the right opportunity Stack always talked about, he thought, but the hype of it all had them swallowed up in different sections. He was alone with no clue what to do next. Flattered, stammered, almost unable to think logically, he grinned. 

“Wow, okay uh, yeah Mr. Remmick, That’s amazing.” 

“Amazing is an understatement!” 

Remmick clapped him on the shoulder, a little too hard, for Sammie’s liking. Something about him carried an air of doubt. Maybe the overt eagerness, or the smile, just a little off. 

“I’m talking stadium tours, record deals, the whole shaBang!” But first, we need to, shall we say, formalize our partnership.” 

“Hold up a minute,” his voice low and even. “I can’t rush this. I actually have a lot on my plate right now.” By a lot, Sammie considered his father and what that reaction would look like if he did sign with some big company to make music.  

Remmicks' smile faltered, just a fraction. 

“Ofcourse, of course. Just a preliminary chat. But I wouldn't want anyone else to snatch you up while you're still thinking about it. Time is of the essence, ya know.” 

A flimsy looking document surfaced from the briefcase, Sammie didn’t even notice he had one at first. A hastily prepared Contract of Representation. Papers that looked intimidatingly thick.

“Pretty standard artist management agreement. Take a look.” 

“You just carry these round wit ya.” 

It seemed a little too calculated.

“Always be prepared. You never can really know, can you.” 

Sammie reached for the contract, but a hand intercepted it. 

“Hold on there, Slick.” 

Stack emerged from the crowd. Broad shoulders, and even broader grin. A stark contrast to Remmick’s polished demeanor. Smoke came from the opposite direction, Annie not far behind carrying Elianna in her arms.

What’s this all about?” Smoke asked, tone deceptively mild as he took the contract from Remmick’s hand.

Stack, meanwhile, positioned himself subtly between Sammie and the white man. Remmick’s smile faltered. 

“Just a standard contract, gentlemen. Helping this young man achieve his dreams.” 

Annie, who had been quietly observing, moved beside Smoke. Eyes, sharp and intelligent as they scanned the document. “This seems a little unbalanced, Mr. Remmick,” she said, her voice polite but firm. 

“Standard for someone just starting out,” He insisted, voice a little sharper. “This is an investment in his future. He’ll be rolling in it!” 

Smoke flipped through the pages, his brow furrowing. “Forty percent commission? Control over all his music? Perpetual exclusivity? Sounds like a dream alright…for you.” He looked at Remmick, eyes narrowed. “This highway robbery, damn near.” 

“Now, see here,” Remmick sputtered, “This is how the business works! I’m offering him an opportunity!”

“Yeaaaaah. An opportunity to get screwed over,” Stack rumbled, his voice a low growl. “My cousin ain’t stupid. He just gets a little starstruck.” 

Smoke handed the contract back to Remmick. “Think you’ll find my cousin’s gonna need to consult with some professionals.” He emphasized the word ‘Professionals’ with a meaningful glance at Stack. 

“Look, I’m just trying to help. I see the potential here.” 

“We see it too,” Stack chimed in, “And we’re gonna make sure he gets his fair shake.” He placed a protective arm around Sammie like a guard. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have some celebrating to do.” 

Remmick backed away. Shot the twins a resentful look before disappearing out the door. 

Sammie looked at both his cousins with an assumed gratitude and released the breath he'd been holding in the entire exchange. For all of it he’d froze, unable to think, or find the right things to say. It reminded him of the little Mermaid. The movie Elianna loved and wanted to watch with him every time he came over. One particular scene got him thinking. The one where the evil sea witch had the mermaid sign her name on a contract. Damn near sell her soul. Sammie thought this situation might be a lot like that.

“Glad y'all came when you did. He got ta’ talkin’ so fast, didn't have time to think.” 

“Don’t worry bout’ it,” Stack said, providing him a few hearty pats on the back. “You just focus on the music. We’ll handle the sharks.” 

“And we’ll get you good representation when the time is right if you really serious bout’ this music thing. Someone who actually cares about your music, not just your potential to make them a quick buck,” Smoke added.  

“Your talent is real Sammie. Shouldn’t be exploited.” 

Annie kissed his cheek leaning a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

He wished his father saw it that way. He finally understood the underlying feeling he carried ever since he woke up that day. He missed him. That's what the unease was. Hoping Annie didn't notice, he focused on Elianna, still in her arms. 

“So, lil baby. Have yourself a good time. Big cousin do good?”

She laid her head on Annie's shoulder, but nodded with a smile that grew more and more. 

“Sooooo good Sammie. Everybody gon’ like that song now. But, that’s still our song.” 

“Sho’ is. And you was right about the guitar. It's a good one.” 

“So that the one you want?” 

He diverted his attention. 

“How you mean Smoke? You know my job won’t pay for this. Might be bout’ a year before I could even think about it.”

“Damn Preacher Boy,” Stack bellowed. “You ever hear anything I say or does it just go in one ear and out the other. For the hundredth time. I told you, ya’ big cousins was gon’ look out.” 

Smoke’s grin leveled out. “Been without your guitar for a while. Thought you might like another one. One of your own. Harder to part from it when it’s ya’ own.” 

“Y’all serious right now?” 

“Hell yeah,” Stack replied with a smile. “Pick whatever one you want. We buying.” 

But Sammie couldn't bring himself to speak. He just stood there, clutching the guitar like a lifeline. 

Elianna lifted her head in surprise, her smile disappearing as she stretched out her hand. 

“Cousin Sammie, no. Don’t cry…”

“Thank y'all….thank y'all so much.” 

… 

Sammie left the Strum Studio Guitar Center, chest full and heavy. Pulled in by the smell of Auntie Anne’s pretzels, he b-lined toward the food court. It loomed ahead. Its wide expansion of patrons on pause from their personal shopping excursions littered the area as pockets of people filled up most of the seats. The newly purchased guitar rested on his back, complements to Stack and Smoke. 

He’d become overtaken by the inevitable pull of nostalgia. Something familiar, comforting.

Miss Ruby’s Sweet Tea.

Singing always managed to make him thirsty.

He found it tucked away in the food court, a tiny unassuming counter nestled between Svarro and orange Julius. Miss Ruby herself was still there. A member of his father’s church. Devoted, religious, but with whiter hair. A shade browner. No doubt spending early mornings tending to her garden of poppies. Had it really been that long, Sammie thought. Even her hands were slightly more gnarled with age, but the warmth in her smile hadn’t changed. 

“Preacher Boy. Honey that you!” She exclaimed, her voice as sweet as the tea she made. “Lord have mercy child. Seems like a long time since I seen you. You haven’t been to service.” 

“No Ma’am. Not for a while. I moved quite far. Getting there’s been kind of a challenge.” 

“Oh Honey. There’s no excuse for missing out on the word of the lord. Pastor couldn’t help you none?”

“No ma’am. But I still make time. Say my prayers.” 

“Alright honey. I won’t go on nagging. Just tell your father I said hello when you do see him.” 

“Yes Ma’am Miss Ruby,” he said, feeling a lump form in his throat. “I will.” 

“Well. What you come here for. Sweet Tea. I’m guessing.” 

“The only kind besides ma’ mama’s that I like. So. Yes please.” 

She filled the glass with the amber liquid, a constellation of ice swirling within along with added lemon slices. Those weren't regularly added, Sammie had to add those, separately. What he referred to as the extra kick. Sweetness accompanied by a slightly sour finish. He paid her. The dead presidents, a tiny prince for such a taste only found in Mississippi. 

Sammie took a sip. Perfect. Sweet, but not cloying. Exactly as he remembered. Tangy, with a hint of lemon. Cold. Refreshing. Sunshine and honeysuckle in a glass like the catching of fireflies on a hot summer night with whispers of secrets and first loves. Best in the Delta.

The elderly woman’s words were not lost on him by the time he’d finished his Sweet Tea, and departed. He’d held on to his cellphone a solid five minutes before he decided to dial his fathers number. Found a bench to sit on in order to talk. The anxiety, though, swelled up in his legs, something terrible. One kept bouncing, before the other joined in, prompting him to get up. At least that way the tingling wouldn’t be consistent.

Sammie couldn’t understand why he was so uneased. Not even a full hour had gone by since he’d confidently performed in front of numbers of people. Strangers just passing by. All of a sudden, when it came to talking to his father, he was at a crossroads of nerves. But between the time it took to settle the debate going on in his head, he’d decided that not calling would be worse. 

Sammie found a relatively quiet corner near a bubbling fountain. He’d been avoiding this afraid of what he might hear, or worse, not hear. But guilt was a relentless tide, pulling him under. He glared at his phone, thumb hovering over his father’s contact. 

Ring. Ring. Ring. 

Each unanswered ring was a beat against his conscience. The call clicked over to voicemail. Sammie swallowed, throat suddenly dry. “Uh. Hey. It’s me. Just wanted ta’...I was thinking I should call to say uh…Uh, hope your havin’ a good day.” He ended the call abruptly, a hollowness settling in his chest. 

He slumped onto a nearby bench, the fountain’s cheerful gurgle mocking his mood. 

“…I’m so sorry to call you while you're at work, but I didn’t know what else to do….yeah….I stepped away. Said I was going to the ladies room, buy Gloria I-.” 

A female's voice broke, this kinda sob escaping her lips. 

Sammie felt a strange connection, a shared hurt.The situations were different, but that underlying emotion stung the same. That yearning for reconciliation was the same. 

Her voice, muffled by tears, continued, “I feel like they're staring me down. Both of them. He said he wanted to meet up to talk about the separation. I wasn’t expecting him to bring her…” 

Sammie shifted uncomfortably. He shouldn't have eavesdropped, but he couldn’t help it. The woman’s pain was palpable. Raw ache that resonated with the unresolved tension that was squeezing the cell phone, waiting for Jedidiah’s call back. Her conversation, like tiny needles, pricked at his attention. She sat on a bench about ten feet away, her back to him. Voice tight, laced with frantic edge.

It was her. The woman from before. 

Something in that gaze, something profound and undeniable, electrified him. When he finished Mannish Boy, he looked for her, but she was gone. Stack called these types of encounters, once in a lifetime occurrences. Sammie watched her stand to her feet. She stood a second, took a deep breath before pushing her shoulders back, proceeding to walk to the table where a man and woman sat.

She looked trapped with that pretend confidence, a bird with clipped wings. 

“You walk down this road. Better be prepared for what comes…” 

Sammie settled his resolve and made his way towards the table. This was one of those, once in a lifetimes. Heart pounding against his ribcage like a frantic drummer. He stood beside the woman, placing a hand on the back of her chair. “Hey, Babe,” he said, voice surprisingly steady.  

The woman’s head snapped up, her eyes widening in surprise. The man frowned as he gripped the other woman's hand on the opposite end of the table. The man, Sammie would assume was the ex husband and his new lover beside him. 

“Aye, anit you the one that was in the guitar center earlier? Negro put on a whole concert.” 

The man chuckled, but his voice was laced with irritation too. Good, Sammie thought. His focus never faltered. He leaned down, looking into the woman’s eyes. A silent plea passed between them. 

“You okay?” he whispered. 

She hesitated, throwing looks between him and her ex husband. Then, a subtle nod. 

That was all Sammie needed. 

He bent down and, without a moment’s hesitation, captured her lips in a kiss. Not some chaste peck. Passionate, this kind of desperate kiss. One that spoke of longing and protection, defiance and hope. He poured all his suppressed emotions into it, like how his fingers danced over the strings of the guitar, or how his voice married the melody when he sang. Just to taste the faint salt of tears... 

Sammie broke the kiss, hands still on either side of her face. His gaze locked with hers. “I missed you,” he said. “Let’s get outta here…”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Didn’t stay to examine reactions. Instead, he led her away. They walked. He could feel her trembling hand in his, a silent acknowledgement of the absurdity and bravery of what he had just done. When Sammie was sure they were out of sight he let her go. Her back pressed against one of the walls and she moved to cover her face. Embarrassed, stunned, relieved, Sammie wasn't sure.

A minute went by, maybe two before she dropped her hands and stared at him. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

The silence stretched. And then, it happened. She’d finally found the words. 

“My God. What were you thinking? That was.” 

“Outta line,” he finished for her. “Yeah I know. But you looked like you could use a hand back there so…” 

Sammie couldn’t read her. What would she do to rectify his actions? Slap him, scream and shout. Surprisingly, she did neither. A single tear escaped tracing a path down her cheek. She wiped at it impatiently, but another followed, and another.

He reached across, his hand hovering hesitantly. 

“Hey…”

She flinched away. 

“It's okay. You don't have to. I'm just a little overwhelmed.” 

Sammie dropped his hand. 

“Understandable.”  

Her face shifted with an air of concern. 

“How old are you anyway? You look young.” 

Sammie snorted, avoiding the question in its entirety. 

“Come on, don't do me like that.” 

She wasn’t easily swayed with the dismissal. 

“No. Really.”

Sammie lifted his chin. Lids automatically providing a low shade to his already gaze. Tongue running over his lower lip. 

“Old enough to get you out of that situation back there.”

She shut her eyes momentarily before she exhaled. 

“Right. But you just kissed me. Like…”

“Worked though, didn’t it?” 

“It was unexpected, is what I'm getting at, out of the blue. I had no time to think.”

“...But you didn’t pull away,” Sammie said to cut her off. 

He watched her countenance fall. Took note of her reaction. The way her body tensed, how she sucked her cheeks in.

“That's his loss,” he added. “Any man can see that.”

She took a second wiping a tear that slipped. 

“I'm old enough.” He peered down, then back at her. “Old enough even, to maybe take you out sometime…” 

The words slipped before he could catch them and swallow them back down, but if he didn’t ask now, the opportunity would pass by. Stack would be proud. 

“Take me out sometime?” She sounded shocked at the gesture, but not overly taken aback. 

A little grin played on him. 

“Yeah. I don't know...”

“How come you don’t know,” Sammie asked.

She took a deep breath. 

“I'm going to be going through a divorce here soon. Not sure if I got time for that kinda of thing, right now.”

“Well. While you're figuring it out, let me give you my number…”

He patted, reaching inside and pulling out a pen from his jacket pocket. Another pat, and he took out the receipt he’d gotten from Ruby’s. He used the wall as a writing board and scribbled off his phone number.  

She hesitated, but took it. 

“It don’t gotta be a date. Maybe… you might just need someone ta’ talk to.”

Her eyes scanned over the purchase on the receipt showing through by way of the dark ink. 

“Ruby's Sweet Tea. Hm. You know I never had one of those….”

“Names Sammie by the way. Most people call me Preacher Boy though.”

She looked up. “Preacher Boy?” 

“Yeah. Ma’ daddy own a church. Used to sing there. Got a lil’ popularity doin’ that for a few years. Started callin’ me Preacher Boy.” 

All of a sudden her expression changed. That light bulb moment. 

“Pastor Jedidiah, down there at New Hope Revival. You his son?” 

“Yeah. His oldest son. Anyway. You gotta name?”

“Pearline.”

He straightened his shoulders, met her gaze. The delicate lines around her eyes, the way she held herself, with a quiet strength made him glad he didn’t hesitate, the kiss still had his heart burning, but he managed not to let her know that. 

“Hm. Well nice to meet you officially, Miss Pearline.” 

“That was beautiful, what you did early,” she said, her voice a low, melodic murmur. “Muddy Water. I like him. Ma’ Grandpa played his records a lot before he passed.” 

“Great artist. Think he conveyed the feeling of being confined, breaking away from that.” 

She nodded slowly. 

“I could hear that when you sang. You have a lot of feelings in your music.” 

She let her back press against the wall. Shoulders dropping with a delicate grin on her lips. 

“And even though what you did just now was totally outta line. I mean buttin’ in people's business, well. Thanks, Sammie. Preacher Boy.”

“Mmmhmmm.”

He looked toward the path in which he’d taken to get to Miss Ruby’s. The food court had slowed, afternoon veering off into later hours of the day. The Twins and Annie were probably waiting. He promised he’d meet them back at the arcade, maybe with time enough to beat Stack in a game of Mortal Kombat. 

“You know. Best way to get over something old is to try something new. First things first. Should get yourself one of them Sweet Teas before you leave outta here.” 

Sammie would rest on that statement. He didn’t have control over anything. Knowing that surprisingly eased his mind. He reached out, took her hand and kissed the top of soft brown skin.  

“Have yourself a good day, Miss Pearline.”

Of course he couldn’t be certain when he turned to walk away that she’d ever use the number. After all, he wasn’t a mind reader in the slightest, but Sammie concluded that the pleasant look on her face at the very least, would consider it. 

END.

A/N: Oh, you think I forgot about our girl Peraline? Nope Nope, not that beautiful melanated sista’, you know I had to write something for her and Sammie! Come on now. I’ve always loved exploring canon characters if they have chemistry from their respective mediums. Plus, I feel like I owed Annie and Smoke a happy ending. They deserved to have their little girl with them. So, for whomever watched the movie and felt the same, hope her addition to this fic made you all smile. Until next time, thanks for reading!  

PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR CLAIM ANY OF MY WRITING. -Wide Nose And Wonderful /Mrs. Saint Writes.

[mountmultimuses]

I gotta say something regarding the new Lilo and Stitch movie and how Disney still isn't getting with the program.

(If you are not fond of Disney, you don't have to read this. I just felt this needs to be said)

After hearing how the new Lilo and Stitch movie absolutely BUTCHERS the original, I now have a newfound appreciation for the original movie, and the series, and Lilo and Stitch as a whole. It is so much better than I remember. The characters were great, the story was great, and the concept was great. So of course someone at Disney said "hey, this thing our company made back in the day is super popular. Let's capitalized on it without understanding why people liked it in the first place, and make something TOTALLY DIFFERENT! I'm sure people won't take it the wrong way in the slightest."

Disney... Just... Just STOP!

I don't know what makes you think your current way of doing things is working, but as someone who LOVES your old stuff, let me tell ya, IT AIN'T WORKING! Whatever formula you're using now, whatever chart your focus groups keep referring to, whatever money-saving techniques you're trying to utilize, just STOP! Let writers and directors do their thing again. Stop relying on numbers, computers, nostalgia, or whatever it is you're doing right now. If you want to have progressive ideals, that's fine, but do it in a way that doesn't feel soulless.

There's a meme out there somewhere that says "Sometimes I think Disney was more inclusive back when it wasn't trying so hard to be." And I hate to say it, but I think that might be true. Lilo and Stitch, the Emperor's New Groove, Brother Bear, The Princess and the Frog, all of these films were great for one reason or another, and this was back before Disney became so obsessed with proving how inclusive and progressive they are (or rather how much they want us to think they are. I'm aware the mouse is extremely flaky in that regard)

What I think needs to happen that Disney needs to tell stories first and worry about ideals and messages second. Let writers and directors take the wheel again, and for the love of God, think less about money and more about art (I know this is asking a lot from them, but still)

Don't get me wrong, there are some great modern Disney stuff out there, like Encanto, Coco, Owl House, most of their new TV shows, etc, but as long as Disney keeps trying to bank on nostalgia, push their squeaky-clean, supposedly progressive image, and put profit before art, then it's safe to say their good stuff will continue to take a backseat to their bad stuff.

Anyway, that's my two-cents on the subject.

[that-one-enby-ranger]

I feel like Halts gets along with, or at least doesn't mind, most of the rangers, and I think most of rangers get along anyways, them being a happy little family and all, but I feel like there are defintely some rangers Halt fucking hates or has a strong dislike for.

Meralon is definitely one of them, but let's be real most of the rangers probably hate his ass, he's such a prick. I mean, Halt literally said "the man's a fool" in the book, and Crowley kicked him out of his fief and sent him to a new one so its kinds obvious.

I think him and Norris also don't get along. It's not a full on rivalry or anything they just don't like each other, Halt because Norris is humourless and takes things too seriously, even for him and probably is the type of person to be like "erm actually that's not very funny because..." and Norris probably doesnt like Halt because he's actually interesting and funny and any joy and fun in his life is bad. Once again I feel like a lot of the other rangers find him insufferable as well but he's not a full on jackass like Meralon so they tolerate him and are still nice.

Denison is another one. I know him and Halt actually kinda got along better in the book and Denison actually turned out to be decent he was just a little full of himself and didn't like the short Irishman telling him what to do but I don't care this is my headcanon I do what I want. They probably sometimes have understandings because Denison might try to be decent and Halt doesn't feel like being a complete asshole to him when Denison's being nice, but they still have a lot of disagreements and stuff so Halts just like "don't like that twat"

I've mentioned this one a couple times before but I headcanon Halt and Samdash hate each other for absolutely no reason. They can work together if they have to buy they aren't happy about it. They're both assholes to each other and no one knows who started it. They're literally have arguments in the middle of a meeting because on of them disagreed with what the other said. They can be professional but they can also act like literal fucking children. The funniest thing about it is that they both think everyone else hates the other. Halt thinks everyone else doesn't like Samdash because he's "annoying" and "a prick" and "has a stupid haircut and a stupid face" or whatever and Samdash thinks everyone else doesn't like Halt because he's "antisocial" and "angry all the time" and "really mean did you hear what he said about me :(". In reality not that many other people have a problem with Samdash and actually find him fun and a good friend and not that many people have a problem with Halt and just think he's quiet and minds his own business and is smart and just kinda chill most of the time. Crowley's so sick of both of them.

Everyone else in the corps Halt doesn't have a problem with. He probably finds some other peeps annoying or insufferable (I mean there's 50 of them) but not enough to hate them. Everyone else he either actually likes, doesn't care about, or doesn't know well enough to have an opinion.

[befemininenow]

Graduation is a farewell ceremony for those in school. It can also mean as a farewell ceremony for other purposes, such as “graduating” from a group. However, it can also mean “graduating” from learning something; in this case, the “school of feminization”.

It’s hard to remember how life was prior to starting this blog. It’s weird because it feels like it was just yesterday that I was just getting the hang of this feminization caption thing. But as I’m writing this, I realized that I’m about to hit three years this August! I’ve learned so much about feminization and transition between then and now, from roleplay to captions to chats. In a sense, I grew to love being part of this scene as I became less of a follower and more of a creator.

Yet, all good things come to an end. What should have been a brief stint turned out to be a long time period of activity. I’ve never would have pictured having a good following back then, much less the influence I would have with followers, fans, and creators. In the internet world, I am glad to have been part of this new generation of caption creators. But in the real world, I want to be part of a new generation of trans people.

Sadly, this also means that I would also have to become less active on the feminization caption scene. For every caption made that emphasizes you to put on some mascara, there’s another person liking or reblogging a caption that is actually doing that IRL. The more you see those kind of feminization encouragement captions, the more you’re likely to do it. Eventually, your mindset starts to pursue those feminizing activities without the need for a caption to convince you. Before you know it, you’ve done it all and those captions are more or less the same. I’m at that point of life right now where all this caption stuff feels like I’m at the last few days of school before graduation. I’ve done it all, at least the affirming stuff.

Three years is the average amount of time you need to finish senior high school/secondary school (10th to 12th grade). It’s the ultimate test to prepare you for stuff you may confront in the adult world, or how many people call it, the real world. Three years is the amount of time I spent in this scene and each one of them helped me explore and understand my inner feminine gender. I learned the ideal, explored the explicit, and I confronted the harsh. Now, I’m ready to move on and prepare for the ultimate event in my life: transition.

Yup, I came out and now I’m ready to become a woman. For reals. There is no turning back.

However, I’m not going anywhere just yet. This is what, my fourth or fifth time I said I was going to leave. If I’m being honest, I feel like I’m in my Sisyphus moment (no pun intended). No matter how much I try to leave, I always role back. Only time will tell when I’ll really leave. Maybe then, I’ll end my Sisyphus era haha (Lowkey, I hate how Sisyphus sounds so much like “sissy pussy” ugh 🤢)

On a side note, I’m going to make some nice changes coming next month as part of my upcoming leave. I’ll leave more details of what I meant I tried to say in this long description in the coming days. For now, I have a new option: AMA. It’s part of my thank you to all of you for making me the caption creator I am now. If I don’t answer quickly, it’s because I’m probably saving it for a long, juicy post. Stay tuned! Love you all! ❤️

-Sincerely, Nikki

[liminal-therianthropy]

Hello!! Got any tips for dragon theriotypes? Or anything SMC related? (He wanted me to ask this for him!!) :>>

Hello hello! I can do dragon theriotypes for sure! I can only do one at a time, you can always come back to ask for SMC {I think that is shadow milk cookie? Correct me if im wrong ^^} Another note, one of my friends who is dragonkin is helping me a tad with this post! {His tumblr is @theemeralddragonking} Without further ado, lets get on with the tips ^^ 1} Depending on what kind of dragon you are, i got tips for food! Some dragons eat meat, others crystals, others fish, i think some MAYBE eat plants? Not too sure on the plants part, but im 100% sure on the rest! Now i am aware one simply can not EAT crystals, but i got an alternative to this! Try rock candy! Or gummy crystal candy. Depending if ya want a crunch or not, rock candy is colorful and crunchy! While gummy crystal candy looks like crystals, but is gummy and not crunchy usually. When it comes to meat and fish, !!!DO NOT EAT THESE RAW!!! Find them cooked, rare, jerkeyed, or eat sushi! 2} As for collecting things, i know some dragons do this as well! Not all but some. Try collecting crystals, or anything that suits yer fancy. Could be anything from shiny, to just collecting hobbies that bring you joy! 3} Try wearing the colors of what dragon you are! Also look into fishnet gloves for a scale like texture! There is also a thing called scale mail, albite expensive to my understanding, but you can buy scale mail gloves if ya save up for it! 4} Now as for wings, not all dragons have wings, but some do! You can either use a blanket to simulate a silluoitte of having wings, or buying fursuit wings! Or attack wings to like a backpack of some kind. If yer more of the wyvern, try wearing things with baggy sleeves to emulate that of wings. 5} If ya have access to one, try swinging on swings to feel like flying! Or ride roller-coasters if yer comfortable with that and are able too! 6} Try practicing dragon vocals! If yer able! 7} Try drawing yerself or making edits of yerself, or making masks! You can also request/commission others to do this for you! I personally havent seen many dragon masks and would love to see one ngl. 8} Try buying fursuit dragon tails! Or buying hats with horns! Or headband horns! 9} There are 3d printed dragons that are really cool and id recommend getting one, some come with a little egg for you to store one in. 10} Collect dragon things that look like yerself, such as plushies or figures. Or make yer own stuff! 11} Try getting claw gloves or gloves that have attachable claws! 12} Try playing dragon games! I know there are a few on roblox, such as dragon's life! I bet there are other games that are similar! 13} Try doing some nail care, to make yer claws stronger! And paint them to what ever color yer claws are! 14} Going back to tip 2, try buying fake gold coins {as this is cheaper} if you want a collection of gold coins! Or make yer own! {!!!DO NOT PAINT US COINS!!! IT IS ILLIGAL IN THE US TO PAINT COINS FOR ANY REASON!!! Under Title 18 U.S. Code 331, it is illegal to fraudulently alter, mutilate, or falsify coins in the us!} Goodness me i think this is the most tips ive ever done? Well i hope you liked them and they helped you get in the right direction! Thank you again @theemeralddragonking for helping me with these tips! I hope ya have a good day/night ^^