#consider my inbox ready and willing

[acornered]

AU Idea: Mermaid!Glinda has a crush on Elphaba and dreams of being with her, too bad she’s (allegedly) allergic to water! So Glinda makes a deal with the Sea Wizard to become human for three days so she can visit Elphaba and woo her just in time before the third sunset!

Listen, this is so goated because in the OG little mermaid fairytale, the mermaid literally dies tragically, dissolving into seafoam, and it would be so delicious, so tragically beautiful, to subvert it by having Elphie be the one to dissolve to save her doomed mermaid love. Rotating this in my brain fr.

[pathologicalreid]

home run | s.r.

in which Spencer and jareau!reader finally get the opportunity to take the next step in their relationship

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: sex bro idk. the sweatshirt. smut with a lot of plot, glasses!spencer, dostoyevsky, paulo coelho, ur crazy if you think i proofread this, flirrrrrrting, protected p in v sex, fingering, heavy petting, post coital dysphoria (why can't i let them simply have a nice time) word count: 4.01k a/n: next on my quest to give fanfic readers realistic sex to read, i give you this! as always, tell me how u feel, my inbox is always open.

“Will you unzip me?” You asked softly, pulling your hair out of the way and turning your back to Spencer, who paused his own disrobing to undo the zipper of your dress.

It’d been a long day, the light hours spent in the BAU, and the evening spent at Rossi’s, who wanted to get at least one more cookout in before the weather turned. You’d finally reached the end of your day, and for the first time, you were spending it with Spencer.

Facing away from him still, you let the fabric drop to the floor, taking your sweatshirt from your go bag and tugging it over your head. Spencer hummed from behind you, “I can’t believe you still wear that.”

A small smile formed on your face as you turned around. “It’s comfortable,” you justified, the old FBI Academy sweatshirt had previously lived in Spencer’s apartment, but you’d claimed it for yourself nearly two years ago. It had the perfect amount of wear, making it one of your favorites—among other reasons.

You tried not to let your eyes linger while Spencer changed, instead focusing on details in his room that you’d never seen before and making note of what books he kept on his nightstand. “It’s old,” Spencer responds plainly, putting on an old MIT t-shirt and reaching out for you, grabbing your waist and pulling you close.

Before being with Spencer, you wouldn’t have considered yourself the kind of person to take things slowly, but with him, that was the only option you were willing to consider. You were so scared of things being ruined with him that you only made moves when you knew you were absolutely ready. Maybe that was why it took you nearly two years before the two of you started dating, but he was willing to walk the tightrope with you.

You walked around the bed, sitting up on the mattress and watching him go into the bathroom, “So, what do you want to do tonight?” He asked from the bathroom, coming back out with his glasses on and leaning against the doorframe.

Humming, you look over at him, “Didn’t think that far ahead?” A teasing lilt carried through your question, cocking your head as he made his way over to you. He’d asked you on Monday if you’d like to spend Friday night at his place, and he had seemed surprised when you accepted his offer.

“I have a few ideas, but I wanted to see if there was something specific you had in mind. Since you’ve already interrupted your usual schedule to stay here, I wanted to give you a choice,” he rambled. He always rambled when he was nervous.

You raised your eyebrows curiously, “Spence?”

With him standing in front of you, you studied his eyes. His contacts had a blue tint to them, so seeing him in his glasses was really your only opportunity to see his eyes as they truly appeared. “Yeah, baby?”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, “We don’t have to do anything special. What would you be doing if I weren’t here?”

“Reading,” he told you unabashedly.

Honestly, you should’ve guessed that. “Okay, then we can read. Do you have a book I can borrow?”

Spencer nodded, “You’re welcome to anything, but are you sure? We could find a movie to watch instead.”

“We don’t have to do anything special just because it’s our first night together, and besides, reading side by side sounds nice,” you told him, waving off his concerns about entertainment and walking into the living room, scanning over his extensive collection. Plucking one off the shelves, you return to Spencer, watching him pull the covers down on the bed, preparing both yours and his side.

You set your book on the nightstand and climbed up on the mattress, his box spring causing it to be almost precariously high. “The Alchemist?” He questioned, reading the title of the book that you had selected.

Tracing the title with your fingertip, you shrugged, “I’ve never read it. Should I pick a different book?”

He shook his head in response, “No, and I don’t want to influence your opinion with mine.”

“Well, what are you reading?” You peered over to look at the book in his hands, reading the cover, “How many times have you read that book?” Since you started dating four months ago, he’d read Crime and Punishment at least three times.

Flipping the book back open, Spencer went back to the pages, “I’ve never read this version before, the editor decided to publish his thoughts along with the translated text.”

You raised your eyebrows curiously, “And what are your thoughts on that?”

“I think his translation of the original Russian is perfectly adequate, but his comments read like a high schooler who was forced to read the book for a class,” he explained, his hand absentmindedly resting on your bare thigh once you settled into the bed.

Humming, you opened your book, reading the foreword and trying to ignore Spencer’s hand placement. There was no reason to lose your mind over a little thigh touching.

Once you made it to the beginning of the actual story, you became vaguely aware of Spencer’s thumb rubbing small circles on the inside of your thigh, leading to you closing the book and setting it back on the bookshelf. Taking a deep breath, you rolled onto your side, leaving Spencer to move his hand from your skin, and you rested your head on his shoulder.

You looked up at him, watching his lips move as he read the words on the page, you felt very lucky to have this part of Spencer. The Spencer who let his glasses slide to the very bottom of his nose and had an affinity for reruns of cartoons from the eighties. “Are you alright?” He whispered once he finished his chapter, reaching an arm up to ruffle your hair affectionately.

“Mhm,” you murmured, “Don’t feel like reading.”

Gently, Spencer craned his head to drop a featherlight kiss to the tip of your nose, eliciting a small smile from you. “Let me know if you need anything,” he said softly.

As odd as it seemed, you liked watching him read, at the very least, it was impressive to watch. You kept your eyes on him, watching how intently he focused on the book despite having read it several times before.

He looked back down at you, catching you staring, “Can I kiss you?”

The question took you by surprise, but you nodded in response, looking at him as he ducked his head down and pecked your lips. He pushed his glasses up on his nose, putting his free hand in front of his mouth as he went back to reading.

In his defense, his resolve lasted for one more chapter, turning the page before snapping the book shut and resting it on his nightstand. Spencer turned his head to yours again, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you responded, unsure about where he was headed with this. Opening your mouth to ask him a question only to be met with his lips on yours, he took his time now, resting a hand on the side of your neck, the pad of his thumb at the hinge of your jaw as he held you close.

Tentatively, he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip, and that single motion drew a small moan from the back of your throat, causing you to pull away from Spencer.

Your eyes were wide in surprise, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know where that came from.”

Spencer shook his head, pulling at your waist, “C’mere,” he said, encouraging you to straddle him, your knees on either side of his hips, “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, leaning forward and resting your hands on his chest, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “This is okay,” you whispered against his lips.

It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t made out before, it was usually just on the couch, or in Spencer’s reading chair, or one time when you were the only two on the jet. This—making out in his bed—it felt different somehow.

Coming back up for air, you looked up at Spencer, a giggle escaping your throat as you tried to meet his eyes. “Oops,” you said, his glasses had fogged up while you were kissing, so you leaned back while he took them off, resting them on his nightstand.

Spencer rested his hands on your hips, his thumbs gently massaging over your hip bones as you studied his expression, “Honey,” he said, suddenly serious, “I want you to know that I didn’t invite you to spend the night with this in mine.”

He was drawing the same conclusions as you, but still, you looked at him doubtfully, “Do you mean to tell me that the prospect of sex didn’t even cross your mind when it came to inviting me to spend the night?”

A soft pink bloomed across his cheeks, you found yourself wanting to kiss them, “Okay, maybe it occurred to me that we might find ourselves in this position.”

You straightened up slightly, “So, I trust you have a condom.”

Nodding, Spencer reached a hand up and smoothed your hair back with the kind of tenderness that made you want to cry. “I do, but we don’t have to have sex tonight, okay?”

“But I want to,” you responded, maybe a tad too quickly. Your face warms, “I mean… I’d like to. If you want to.” With an air of finality, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, one of your hands found a home in his hair while the other rested on his collarbone.

As if on cue, the phone started to ring. An incessant blare designed to wake you up in case you were being called in in the middle of the night. Spencer chuckled as you dramatically dragged yourself off of his lap and dug through your bag for your phone.

If it were Penelope or Hotch, you’d answer without a second thought, but the caller ID showed your sister on the other line. You declined the call, texting her an excuse before leaving your phone on the nightstand.

Spencer dragged his fingertips down your arm, “Who was it?”

“JJ,” you told him leaning back over his torso and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, “I’ll call her back later,” you continued, kissing the other corner of his mouth.

He hummed in response, settling his hands on your waist, “Tomorrow?” He proposed, gently guiding your back to the bed.

Nodding, you looked up at him, “Tomorrow,” you confirmed, sighing contently as your legs fell open, giving him the room he needed to rest his body between them. You’d never felt so at ease in bed with someone, no one had ever touched you so carefully before.

“Good,” he whispered against your lips, gently parting them with his own as you looped your arms over his shoulders, “Hold on,” he said, pulling back and climbing off of the bed.

Your eyes followed him intently as he stopped in front of his go bag, unzipping the side pouch and pulling out a familiar-looking box. “You’ve been keeping condoms in your go bag?” Your question is succeeded by a fit of giggles, any nervousness disappearing at the realization that Spencer’s been carrying contraception with him all day.

Rolling his eyes, Spencer lobbed the box at you, but you were still laughing too hard to be bothered by the lightweight box hitting your arm. “Excuse me for wanting to be prepared,” he teased back, climbing up on the bed and finding a spot right next to you.

“No, you’re right,” you said, continuing to giggle despite your best attempts to stop. “Okay, I’m sorry, let me put on my serious face,” you pressed your lips together in a thin line, holding them together with your teeth as you tried to stop any giggles from escaping. “You would make a great boy scout,” you told him, failing to keep a straight face.

Sighing, Spencer kissed your smiling lips, giving you a soft peck between every word he said.

“You’re.”

Kiss.

“So.”

Kiss.

“Cute.”

By the final kiss, you’re ready to ascend into the heavens. Knowing you can die happy because you’ve known what it’s like to love him. You’re not even worried about the fact that he chose to call you cute as opposed to hot or sexy. Spencer’s never let you consider the idea of being someone other than who you are.

“I love you,” you whispered, looking at him as he positioned himself between your legs again, taking your lower lip between your teeth because this time you could feel his length. Even through three layers of fabric, his hardness pressed against your core in a way that made your head spin.

Spencer hummed, “I love you too.” His tone was careful as his hands slipped up your sweatshirt, a totem to show where the two of you started and where you are now. His fingers wandered over your skin, an exploration of your body as the hem of the sweatshirt started riding up your waist, “your heart is racing.”

You sat up, trying to encourage him to take your sweater off, “You have that effect on me.” You took a deep breath as he followed your cue and pulled your sweatshirt over your head, once he tossed it to the hamper, you pushed at his t-shirt, whipping it off his body without a care in the world.

He was just looking at you, just studying you in the way someone would look at a piece of art. Feeling encouraged, you reached back to unclasp your bra, letting the fabric fall off of your chest before dropping it just off the side of the bed. “Pretty,” he breathed, leaning forward to kiss you again, his lips making their way along your jawline, along the column of your throat, and just below your collarbones. “Pretty, pretty girl,” he murmured, rendered uncharacteristically at a loss for words at the sight of you topless.

You gasped as his lips attached themselves to your chest, sucking at the soft skin and leaving little love bites behind. He moved his hand to gain better balance, leaving one at the side of your head, “Ow, Spence,” you yelped.

Spencer’s head snapped up, “Are you okay?” He asked, more fear in his voice than was strictly necessary for the issue.

“Your hand is on my hair,” you said, moving your hair behind your head when he instantly moved his hand.

He dropped a kiss to your forehead, oddly domestic for the state of undress you were in, “I’m sorry, honey.”

You shook your head, “It’s okay, c’mere,” you whispered, placing your hand on the back of his head and guiding his lips to yours. Slowly, you extend your free arm between your bodies, slipping your hand between the elastic of his briefs and his stomach, wrapping your hand around his shaft.

He moaned into your mouth at the contact, his lips faltering against yours as you ran your thumb over the tip, gathered his precum on your finger, and withdrew your hand, bringing your hand up to your separated mouths and sucking the liquid off of your thumb. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he groaned, reattaching his lips to your neck, bringing his lips further down your chest until he took your nipple in his mouth, nipping at it gently with his teeth while his fingers wandered up to play with your other breast, massaging the flesh.

“Oh,” you breathed, looking up at the ceiling fan and trying to stop your hips from bucking up as his mouth separated from your breast with a wet pop, his hand skimming down your torso and stopping just above the hem of your underwear, looking to you for permission before he exposed your core.

Slowly, he hooked his fingers in the sides of your panties and dragged them down your legs, leaving them on the mattress for you to find easily as he pushed your knees apart. His hand made its way to your pussy, fingers dragging lazily up and down your slit, “Is this okay?”

Nodding, “Yeah,” you answered, bracing yourself for the intrusion of his fingers, but you were surprised when it didn’t come yet. Instead, his index finger pressed gently against your clit, softly rubbing at the bundle of nerves, trying to prepare you. A soft whine escaped your lips at the sight, “Will you kiss me?” You asked, your eyes wide and pleading with him.

Obliging your wishes, he left his hand in its place while he pressed his lips against yours, you slid your tongue into his mouth, running the tip of it along his bottom lip. You moaned into his mouth as he played with your clit, need growing in your core as his fingers moved.

“Ah,” you gasped against his mouth when he slipped a finger into your hole, separating your lips while you tipped your head back against the pillows. “Oh, wow,” you breathed at the feeling of him knuckle-deep in you, his finger remaining still while you adjusted to the intrusion.

Spencer hummed, bringing his head back down and resting it on your tummy while he curled his fingers in your cunt. You brought your hands down to rest on his head, tugging at his hair while he started to thrust his finger in and out of you, wet squelching sounds emanating from your core as he did.

A moan was ripped from your throat when he added another finger to the mix, stretching your pussy even further while you felt your walls contract around his hand. “Spence,” you breathed, moaning again at the sensations that were coursing through your body, “Spence, baby.”

He tore his eyes away, looking up at you while his hand slowed slightly—just in case, “What do you need, honey?”

Honey. The sweet pet name plucked at your heartstrings as you propped yourself up on your elbows, “I’m— Can we...?” You started, not sure how to proposition him. Can we have sex? Seemed like too little too late. Will you make love to me? Made you want to throw up in your mouth a little bit. “Will you fuck me?” Was what you settled on, albeit a bit crude, but it was your best option at the time.

He withdrew his fingers from your cunt, eliciting a whimper from you at the emptiness, he reached over for the box of condoms that he had previously thrown at you, handing the box to you so he could shed his boxer briefs.

Staring at the way his cock stood at attention, you considered wrapping your mouth around him, just for a moment, but Spencer didn’t seem interested in anything other than doing what you’d asked of him. Instead, you reached out your hand and wrapped your fingers around the base. He was already plenty hard, but you felt the need to reciprocate pleasure, which is why you were surprised when he moved your hand before you could even start.

“It’s okay,” he reassured you, and you nodded a response, telling yourself you’d remember to return the favor in the future. Maybe in the morning.

Handing him a lavender packet, you watched as he carefully tore the package open, pinching the tip and rolling the condom over himself. “Is this good?” You asked, lying on your back as you watched him settle back between your legs, your breath hitched as his cock lined up with your entrance.

Spencer nodded, “You’re perfect. I’ll go slow, okay?” He rubbed at your thigh comfortingly, waiting for you to give him another okay before he started pushing into you. Between your wetness and the added lubrication of the condom, he slid in with little resistance, but he took it slowly, just like he had promised.

He watched you the whole time with the knowledge that you hadn’t had sex in years, the last thing he’d want to do was cause you any pain.

Once he was fully sheathed in you, you buried your face in his neck, pressing little kisses to his soft skin as you focused on anything other than the pressure in your core.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, he didn’t even have to ask you for the reassurance. “I’m— fuck,” you cried out, unable to help the way your walls tightened around his cock. “You can move,” you told him, your voice muffled against his neck.

He inhaled sharply as he pulled his hips from yours before slowly pressing them back together, “I love you.”

You nodded, “I love you too,” you murmured, muffling your moans in his neck as a courtesy to his neighbors, unable to control them as his tentative thrusts turned into a steady rhythm. Carefully thrusting into you while he moved one of his hands up, intertwining your fingers with his at the side of your head—minding his hand placement.

Hooking your ankles together behind his back, you squeezed his hand at the same time as your cunt clenched around his length. He continued fucking into you, pushing your legs open even further until he hit a spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Spence,” you cried out, trying to warn him about your impending orgasm before it washed over you. Your walls uncontrollably clenched around him as you fully muffled yourself against him, soft squeaks escaping your mouth as he kept going, the pulsating of your pussy driving him even closer to his own orgasm.

His hips stuttered in their movements as you pulled your face from his neck, breathing the cool air as Spencer spilled his cum into the condom. His head drooped, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone as the both of you caught your breath. “I’m gonna pull out,” he warned you, carefully slipping his softened cock from your hole.

A slight panic came over you as you felt tears well up in your eyes faster than you could process them, hiccupping for air as they fell down into your hairline.

That got Spencer’s attention, lifting himself and looking at you, “Hey,” his voice was so soft, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Bordering on babbling, you shook your head, “No, I’m fine,” you cried, more tears falling from your face. “I don’t even know why ‘m crying,” you told him, resting a hand on your chest.

“Shh, hey,” Spencer cooed, “You’re okay, I’ve got you.” Gingerly, he laid down on his back and pulled you into him, letting you rest your head on his chest as he smoothed your hair back comfortingly. “There are just a lot of emotions going through you right now, and that’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe with me.”

You nodded slowly, “I’m sorry,” you whimpered, having ruined a perfect first time by bursting into tears immediately after.

Spencer pressed a tentative kiss to your hairline, “It’s okay, there’s no need to be sorry. It’s completely normal,” he murmured, one hand in your hair and the other rubbing circles on your back. “You’re alright. Hey, it’s called post-coital dysphoria, and it happens to about forty-six percent of people,” he told you.

Despite yourself, you gave a breathy laugh, “I feel like you’re making that up so I’ll feel better.” You sniffled, wiping at your eyes with your fingers.

“It’s a real thing, I promise,” he reassured you, continuing to comfort you until tears stopped falling. “Hey, what do you say we get cleaned up and we can watch something in bed.”

You hummed in response, “You don’t like screens in your room, you say it messes with your REM sleep.”

“It does mess with your REM sleep, but I’d be willing to make an exception for you tonight,” he said, smiling softly when you lifted your head from his chest. “Come on, honey. I’ve got you.”

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Two.

Previous Chapter. Next Chapter. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Pairing - Dad's Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky try to navigate what it means to be soulmates - and how difficult it is to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings - smut. cursing.

Word Count - 4k

Author's Note - part two!! thank you SO much for all of the love on part one - it has made me immensely happy. you're all the sweetest and i'm so grateful. i'm going on vacation in a few days, so i'm taking a hiatus for a few weeks as i won't have cell service. so, consider this my parting gift to you <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3 please, send me your thoughts, predictions, desires!! I will get excited with you!!

Masterlist. Inbox.

Sunlight streams through the billowing white curtains, rousing you slowly. The gentle breeze cools the room, salt sticking to the air. Warmth is seeping into the glass of the windows, encouraging you to kick your sheets to the foot of your bed, limbs stretching and rolling.

You wake, and for a moment, you feel perfectly at peace. You feel light, tranquil, relaxed. You flex your neck from side to side, yawning as you do it. You notice that the sun is already up, beaming into your bedroom. It's going to be a very warm day, you think. I better pack sunblock.

You glance to where your bag is thrown haphazardly on the floor, contents spilling everywhere. It's unlike you, to not put something away properly. You take pride in being a tidy person. You must have been exhausted when you got home last night.

That's when it hits you.

Bucky.

The events of yesterday coming crashing down around you like a tidal wave. Hearts racing, hands interlacing, lips melding. Bodies tangling, breaths matching, knees buckling. Two souls, tied together forever.

Your Tethering.

To Bucky. Your Dad's best friend Bucky.

His absence is suddenly all you can think about. He's not here, and you feel like half of your heart is missing. You ache. There's a discomfort that you know can only be cured by the presence of your soulmate.

You're deep in thought when your phone rings, startling you. It's Bucky.

"Mornin' sugar," he drawls. The low tone of his voice is like molten honey, gorgeous and golden.

"Good morning, Buck."

You hear him exhale at the sound of your voice.

"I know we said we'd meet at ten, but can we make it earlier?" he asks. Then, quieter, "Feel like I can't breathe without you."

He murmurs the last part, as if it's a secret. Something sacred.

"Of course, Buck. I can be ready by nine?"

"Thanks, sweet girl. I'll pick you up?"

"Perfect. See you then."

"See you then."

It's almost painful to hang up the phone. It's like there's a gravitational force in The Universe, willing you against it. You ignore it defiantly and press the red button, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

There's something in your gut telling you that this might just be the first day of the rest of your life. You certainly can't go back to the way things were. You're not sure if you want to.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Bucky arrives at 8:45.

You're in the bathroom with the door closed, so you don't hear him pull up. You feel it. Like a magnetism, alerting you to his whereabouts. You breathe a little easier immediately, knowing he's outside.

You grab your bag and the picnic and pull on your shoes, eager to see him. You feel like a teenager again, giddy with anticipation. Apart from, this isn't your average first date. No, this is your last first date ever. This is a first date with the man you're bound to spend the rest of your life with. No pressure, you tell yourself. One step at a time.

Your heart kicks up in double time, thundering against your ribcage. You inhale deeply, cracking your knuckles. You can do this. It's just Bucky.

You bound down your stairs, practically running to his truck. Bucky's leaning against the passenger door, the wind ruffling his hair, sunlight reflecting off his steely blue eyes. He's wearing shorts and a white button up, which is blowing gently in the breeze. His sleeves are pushed up his forearms, exposing his gorgeous tanned skin. He has several shirt buttons undone, accentuating his broad chest, sunglasses tucked into the breast pocket. He looks so handsome. So classically elegant. Like he belongs in an old movie - a perfect leading man.

He eyes you carefully, gauging your reaction. You can tell he doesn't want to overstep, worried about pushing you too far too fast. You walk over and run your fingers across his exposed chest gently, tracing a path up his neck until you're caressing his cheek. His stubble tickles your fingertips, causing a smile to curl at the corners of your mouth. You finally meet his gaze, and all your stress is forgotten. You feel peaceful again.

"Hi," you whisper.

"Hi, pretty girl," he murmurs back, hands finding your waist. "You alright?"

"I'm okay. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he grins. "So, how do you feel about a day of sailing? You, me, and the ocean, baby."

"I think that sounds perfect."

He opens the car door for you, helping you up and into the passenger seat. He climbs in, clicking on his seat belt and starting the engine. Before he pulls away, he turns and looks at you, holding your stare for a moment. Bucky reaches for you, lacing your fingers together, resting your intertwined hands on your thigh. He begins to drive away, taking you towards the ocean. Towards your future.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You know nothing about sailing.

Luckily, you don't need to. Bucky's quite content to keep you sitting pretty on the top deck while he does all of the work, pulling and tying and knotting. The crisp white sails billow in the wind, the ocean waves providing a steady, constant soundtrack. Birds fly overhead, sunshine beaming down, the wood underneath you warm and smooth. It's paradise.

You're soaking up the sun rays when you hear a click. You sit up to see Bucky holding his film camera, pointed right at you.

"Creep," you tease.

"Just want to have something to look back on. Our first day as soulmates. It's an occasion, you know," he grins.

He moves across the boat to sit next to you, thigh pressed up against yours. He's so close you can taste the spearmint on his breath. You tangle a hand in his hair, caressing the back of his head.

"I brought you a few new things to try," you tell him. "Some recipes I'm testing. I want your honest opinion. No sugar coating. Promise?"

"I promise," he winks, holding up a scouts honour. "I wouldn't lie to you, honey."

You reach over and grab your picnic basket, unwrapping various beeswax packages and laying them out in front of you.

"Okay - we have white chocolate and pistachio muffins, raspberry and lemon macarons, earl grey and lavender cookies and carrot and cinnamon cake."

You glance over at Bucky, expecting him to be deciding what to try first. Instead, you find him watching you carefully, gentle smile etched across his face.

"What?" you laugh.

"Nothing," he beams. "I just... I love it when you start talking about food. You're passionate. You light up."

"Don't make it weird," you joke, slightly taken aback by his honesty. He did promise not to sugar coat.

He reaches for a macaron, eager to try one after you mentioned them yesterday. He pops one in his mouth, and lets out a groan that can only be described as pornographic.

"Fuck," he moans. "This might be the best thing I've ever eaten."

"You promised you wouldn't lie," you laugh.

"I'm not," he chuckles, placing his hand over his heart. "I swear to you. These things should be used as medicine. They'd cure anything."

"Shut up," you tease bashfully, bumping your shoulder into his.

He tries the other sweets one by one, complimenting you immensely. He's so specific in the way he commends your baking. He comments on certain flavours, and textures, and the way everything melts on his tongue. He really takes the time to think about what he says. It's so intimate.

"You're gonna do this for a living, right?" he asks, turning to face you.

"I hope so," you confess. "It's all I want to do. Going to culinary school was a huge risk, but I did it. It was difficult, but they were also the best four years of my life. I just learned so much. I want to put it all into practice."

"I think you should. It'd be such a waste if you didn't. You're so talented, sugar."

"Thanks, Buck," you grin. "I just don't know where to start."

He thinks for a moment.

"If you could do anything, anything in the world - what would you do?"

He's looking at you so intensely, you almost want to shy away. His steel blue eyes are boring into you, reading your mind, figuring out your soul.

"I'd... I'd open a bakery of my own. I want a lot that overlooks the ocean. With big windows."

Bucky smiles gently, adoration written across his face.

"I'd be your most loyal customer," he vows. "Oh, I have a better idea - I'll be your quality control. I'll taste test everything before you sell it. You know, just in case."

"Just in case," you laugh. "Right."

"It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it," he winks.

The sound of your laughter is like dopamine to Bucky. It fires off neurons in his brain, receptors buzzing and alight. He almost feels drunk off the sound, floating above ground.

You relax into him, laying down and resting your head in his lap. He's warm, and soft, and so comfortable. You could lie here forever.

He runs his fingers through your hair gently, playing with the strands. The repetitive rocking of the boat lulls you into an easy sleep, the sunlight wrapping around you, taking the place of a blanket. Bucky watches you drift off, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

A particularly strong gust of wind wakes you, rousing you from sleep. Your fingers are interlinked with Bucky's, head still resting on his strong thighs.

"How long was I out?" you ask, looking up at him.

"Like, twenty minutes? You looked peaceful, thought I'd let you rest."

"Sorry, Buck," you chuckle.

"Hey, don't apologise. I'll take it as a compliment. You know, they say you only sleep around the people you feel safe with."

"They say a lot of fuckin' things," you laugh, repeating his words from yesterday.

"I do, though," you say after a moment. "Feel safe with you. It's not just the soulmate thing. I always have."

Bucky leans down to press his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. He pulls away and kisses the spot where you were just connected.

"We should talk about us," you murmur, sitting up to face him.

"Uh oh. Are you breaking up with me?" Bucky jokes, nudging your knee with his.

"Yeah, right," you scoff. "As if you'd be so lucky. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid."

"I'll survive," he winks. "But we should. Talk about us."

You look at each other for a moment, carefully. You notice that the ocean is reflecting in Bucky's eyes, waves gleaming and blue.

"I don't know where to start," you whisper.

"Maybe start at the beginning," he suggests, reaching out to rest his palm on your thigh, fingertips rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

"I... I think - I think we should do exactly that. Start at the beginning."

He nods at you reassuringly, urging you to continue.

"I want to start slow. Really slow. I know we already know each other, but this... this is different. We don't know each other like this."

"Like soulmates," he agrees. "It's a whole other level. A league of its own."

"Exactly. I know we're Tethered, but, I think we should treat this like a normal relationship. We should date, and just... take this step by step."

"One step at a time," he confirms. "Prepare yourself, honey. I'm about to date the hell outta you."

"Someone save me," you laugh, throwing your head back. "All those poor girls that have come before me - they had to put up with this?"

He laughs with you, the sound rumbling in his chest.

"Trust me, sugar, you're different."

Bucky leans forward and slots his lips to yours, hands going to your waist to pull you closer.

Kissing your soulmate is unlike any other feeling. It's complete serenity. Two bodies, designed by The Universe to fit together perfectly.

Your fingers thread through Bucky's hair as you move to sit in his lap, straddling him. You grind your hips forward, illiciting a groan from the both of you.

Bucky slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting the sugar there. He can't get enough. You're so sweet and soft underneath his hands, underneath his tongue. He wants more.

He tips you backwards, so you're lying flat on the deck. Bucky moves to kneel in between your legs, prying them open gently. He kisses his way from your ankle to your knee, occasionally nipping at your flesh. He likes the idea of there being a mark on you that he left. He feels more protective of you than he ever has of anyone. The feeling vibrates through his bones, fires up his nerve endings. He needs to feel every inch of your skin as soon as possible, or he's convinced he'll burst into flames.

He smooths his hands up your thighs, fingers catching in the waistband of your shorts. He shimmies them down your legs, and inhales sharply at the sight before him. You're laid out on the deck of his boat like a goddess, the white shirt adorning your body matching the white lace underwear underneath. The sun rays are beating down, illuminating you, making you glow from the inside out. Bucky can't breathe, looking at you. He feels like all of the oxygen has been stolen from his lungs, replaced with pure desire.

You're breathless, panting, chest heaving. You're shaking with anticipation, willing him to do something. Anything.

"Bucky," you whine. "Please."

He's never heard a prettier sound. It's like angel song, the way you say his name.

"Patience, sweets. I thought we were taking it slow."

"Asshole," you laugh, poking him in the chest with your toe. "You're a hypocrite."

"Am I?" he smirks, running his fingertips across the inside of your thighs.

"Yes. You can't kiss me like that and then tell me to have patience."

"My apologies, ma'am."

He leans over and kisses you again, biting your bottom lip as he pulls away. Bucky slips your underwear down your legs and tucks them into the pocket of his shorts, ignoring your scoff as you watch him do it.

"Come here, pretty baby," he murmurs, tugging at your hips to pull you closer to him.

He nudges your core with his nose, inhaling deeply. It's filthy, the action, but it makes you ache with want. He licks into the crease of your thigh next, tasting the salt on your skin. Your hand flies to his hair, tugging the chocolate strands. You whine again, and Bucky commits the sound to memory.

He surprises you by sucking your clit gently, causing your hips to buck up towards his mouth. He splays one hand across your stomach, holding you down. He uses his other hand to insert a finger into you, groaning at your warmth. He crooks it up, and you keen.

"I know, baby, I know," he coos, adding a second finger.

You're not sure if it's because of the glaring sunlight or because of Bucky, but there's a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin, dripping down your temple. You're burning from the inside out, white hot heat running through your veins.

He thrusts both fingers in and out of you steadily, curling them on the up stroke. You throw your head back, hips wriggling and writhing.

"Where you going, pretty girl?" he drawls. "Come here - that's it."

He pulls you back to him, fingers never stopping. He looks up at you, and notices that you've thrown a hand over your face, shielding yourself.

"Don't go shy on me now," he practically purrs, smiling when you move your arm away. "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Fuck," you moan, suddenly glad you're in the middle of the ocean. The sounds you're letting out are filthy.

"I know, pretty baby. I know."

His fingers push you closer and closer to the edge, speeding up slightly. You're whining, keening, hips bucking up into him. You can't stay still. You feel like you're on fire, red hot electricity running through you. It's never been like this with anyone before. It never will be again.

"You're close, honey, I can feel it. You're almost there," he drawls. "Atta girl. Come on, baby. You got it. Good girl."

His low, honeyed words throw you into your climax, back arching off the sun warmed wood. Bucky talks you through it, encouraging and praising you in hushed murmurs. You see stars, bright white patterns flashing behind your eyelids. The world goes quiet for a moment, and all you feel is peace.

Bucky brings you back to reality by rubbing soothing circles into the bare skin of your thigh, still muttering softly. He lets you catch your breath before leaning over and kissing you gently.

"You okay, sugar?"

You smile at him in a daze, still floating on air.

"I'm good, Buck. Very good, actually."

He laughs at your response, moving your hair away from your face. You sit up to look at him, admiring him carefully.

"You're so pretty," you whisper. "I mean, I've always known it. But now, it's so... blinding. You're the most beautiful person in the world."

He's not sure how to process your words. He's never felt so loved, so safe, so appreciated before. It's overwhelming. He doesn't know what to say - so instead, he kisses you hard.

"You're the sweetest girl in the world, you know that right?" he whispers against your lips.

He moves to sit behind you, so your back is resting against his chest. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smells like warmth, and salt, and home.

"I don't think we should tell my parents," you say lowly, afraid to ruin the moment. "Not yet, anyway."

"I agree," he reassures. "I think we should figure this out first. Figure us out."

You lean up and peck his lips gently, pulling away to trace your fingertips over the contours of his face.

"It's gonna take a while to figure this out, isn't it?"

"That's the thing, sweet girl. We have all the time in the world."

You relax back into his arms, letting his steady heartbeat lull you into complete tranquility.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You spend all day on the boat with Bucky, soaking up the sun. Your shirts are billowing in the wind, hair blowing in every direction. The ocean rocks you both in routine motion, gentle and calming.

He teaches you the basics of sailing, sitting knee to knee with you while you repeatedly tie knots into pieces of rope. He stands behind you comfortingly as you pull and tug at the rigging, supporting you only when you ask for help.

The two of you sit tangled together on the deck, enjoying your picnic. You take a moment to rub sunblock into Bucky's shoulders, ignoring the heat that rises in your chest when he groans in delight. He's irresistible. This is more than just lust. This is a magnetism, an almost animalistic connection. It's quite literally written in the stars.

The both of you are clearly reluctant to go home. You sit in Bucky's truck outside your apartment for hours, talking about nothing and everything. You don't invite him upstairs. You know that if you do, you'll jump his bones instantly. You've both agreed to take this slow. You have to start being strict with yourselves, or you'll just keep ending up in bed.

Eventually, your stomach rumbles, making Bucky chuckle.

"You should go. Eat something."

"I know. I just... I like being with you."

He leans over the centre console to press a kiss to your lips, revelling in the way you taste like the ocean breeze.

"There's no one else in the world I'd rather be with," he murmurs against your mouth.

You pull away and take a deep breath, preparing to leave Bucky for tonight.

"Thank you, for today. It's been perfect."

"Perfect day for a perfect girl," he winks, making you both laugh.

"One step at a time."

"All the time in the world," he echoes.

"Goodnight, Buck," you whisper, moving in closer to press your forehead to his.

"Goodnight, honey girl," he whispers back, pecking your lips quickly.

He jumps out of the drivers side to help you down from the truck, holding your hand carefully. You smile at the déjà vu. He does too.

You look back at him once more before closing your front door. He's already looking at you, his eyes never once leaving your frame, smile never leaving his face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're curled up on the couch when your phone rings, startling you from your peace. You look at the caller ID in confusion.

"Stella? Hey - you okay?"

"Hey, you. Long time no see, huh?"

"It's been a while," you laugh. "I didn't expect a call from you."

"I'm sorry we haven't talked in so long. I've been super busy - I'm opening my own café! It has a bookshop inside it too - oh it's gorgeous, you wouldn't even believe it."

"That sounds amazing, Stella. I'm so happy for you, wow."

"I'm actually calling because I have something to ask you."

"Ask away, Stell."

"I have a sort of... proposition for you. An offer, if you will."

"You're really building the anticipation here," you chuckle.

"Sorry, sorry! So, I'm gonna need a Head Baker. I can't do it, because I'll be manager, and I'm the owner which is a tough job in itself. Opening a café is fucking difficult, you know!" she laughs, before continuing. "You'd have complete creative control - you'd design your own bakes, everything would be completely down to you. There's quite literally only one person in this world that I'd want to do this job, and it's you."

You almost can't believe what she's telling you. It sounds perfect. It sounds like a dream.

"Stella - are you sure? This is a huge deal. You want me?"

"I only want you. I can't picture working alongside anyone else. We made such a good team in culinary school, and we always said we'd find each other in the future."

"I... I don't even know what to say."

"Say yes!" she encourages, giggling down the phone.

"Yes!" you echo, giddy with joy. "God, Stella, yes!"

You're smiling from ear to ear, unable to wipe the grin off your face. Your dream job has been presented to you on a silver platter. You'd be stupid not to take it.

"I mean - when do I start? What should I wear? Do you want a set menu, or can I change it up all the time? Vegan options? Gluten free?"

"I can send you all of the boring stuff in an email - contracts, salary information, all that shit. You can quite literally do whatever the fuck you want, girl. I trust you completely. I trust your culinary skills even more."

"Oh my god, I'm so excited. Thank you, Stella. Seriously. This is just amazing."

"I can't wait to have you here with me again!"

You process for a moment, trying to make sense of what she just said.

"Wait... what? Where?"

"In California. The café is here, in California!"

You can't hear her next words due to the ringing in your ears. Your chest tightens, your hands ball into fists, your breathing becomes ragged.

There's a million thoughts racing through your mind, and you can't quite get a firm grasp on any of them.

Bucky would never leave this place. This is his home. I can't ask him to abandon his life here - I wouldn't want to. We've been soulmates for two days. What about his job? His friends? Would I leave everything behind and move across the country for him? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I can't have my cake and eat it too. He'd give everything up for me in a heartbeat - I can't let him. It's not fair.

You're suddenly intensely aware - you have to make a choice.

Bucky or your dreams.

Tag List -

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

tag list continued here <3

[sgiandubh]

Life and death of Anon

It's literally only hours after I stopped Anons from being pesky and nasty, that the number of sock accounts who suddenly wish to follow this page is over the roof.

It's literally only seconds after I wrote I will not allow any coward bullying in here anymore, that Anons started to pick on friendly shipper pages. Surely in the hope they will be given the oxygen they so sorely crave to reward a petty ego. Anons don't even make any cloak & dagger effort, anymore. Some righteous petticoats are showing aplenty: mannerisms, schmannerisms, heh. I could name names, even go ahead and prove that they almost copy and paste their own comments written elsewhere, but I won't. That would make them look important and possibly even brave, whereas I would look like the Bad Cop, something that never really interested me.

Come to think of it, there are roughly three main types of Anons who feel the urge to troll our pages:

The Simpleton: that particular Anon is almost always 'new in here' and seems to ask nonsensical questions, just for the sake of annoying the shite out of their hosts. They never see anything, never understand anything, but somehow their comments are always oriented towards a certain agenda. Makes you wonder, really.

The Weeping Statue: she has been a shipper since forever. She has patiently endured rough waters without capsizing and bravely weathered any storm. But right now, you see, ever since Orange Xena/Tennis Babe/German Athlete/Czech Young Woman came along, she just doesn't know anymore. She doesn't know what to think, she doesn't know what to say and she definitely has not the courage to post her rants on her own page. However, she still wants everyone to know she is petrified with grief and discombobulated. For one thing, she probably ceased to be a shipper (if ever) a very long time ago and this is just her indulging in her favorite pastime: being that fly in your ointment. I suggest you ignore: you are nobody's shrink, nor anyone's fool.

The Pennywise Clown: probably the worst type you could ever come across while in here and the unhinged variant of The Simpleton. But perfectly able and willing to send you violent bullshit like this one, with a noted propensity for long, verbose comments:

Received by me in December 2024, never answered. Would make a nice subpoena argument, anytime, anywhere. My crime? Refusing to bitch about the main cast and also being consistent and persistent about what are not just 'beliefs', but what I do consider as facts.

Mrs. It Pennywise went on and on and on with it for months, with very little variation in her nastiness and always at the ready to slap-a-shipper. I don't have the slightest wish to deal with Mrs. It Pennywise in court, because it would probably involve the Interpol, an international rogatory commission and lots of money I could use in more pleasantly creative ways. Only to probably uncover a provincial freak, with no sizable property to seize.

These idiots will always try too hard. Not only to make you seriously second guess your own deductive and even cognitive abilities, but even more so to curb your enthusiasm and anything positive about you being a shipper. For there are, overall, many positives in here, mark me: nice people, intelligent conversations, real empathy and kindness. If you feel you can take it, even when the heat hits too close to home, then you are certainly stronger and wiser than me. If not, my unsolicited advice is to make a very liberal use of the Block Anon button and ultimately get rid of this Tumblr setting altogether. Life will be calmer, for they are just a bunch of cowards hiding under a blade of grass. You don't have to answer every single idiocy that drops in your inbox. Also, you are the only one who has got the power to stop such in(s)anity. Tips and useful deductions almost never come that way, not anymore.

Let this be a cautionary tale. It's not because OL is slowly fading off, that the trolls suddenly deactivated. Far from it.

[bunnyreaper]

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 1 — 𝖕𝖙 2 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 5.7k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, eventual romance/smut, medium burn? notes - first part of my owner!soap x pet!reader, woohoo! i already regret writing something centered around texting and calling lmao, crying!! the formatting is killing me!! anyway, also on ao3! and if you wanna send a request, pls do! ♥

Lonely girl looking for owner. 

Posting on this subreddit again was probably a mistake—but a deep-down part of you clings to the hope that this time will be the time you find someone, the time you get to go home to him. 

At least this time, you'll be better at spotting the signs right off the bat—if only you can take off the rose-tinted glasses long enough to take note.

Your inbox is flooded with the usual kinds of messages—unsolicited pictures, low-effort one-sentence wonders, and so-called doms jumping straight to the part where they call you a nasty whore with no actual consideration for the person you are. 

You're just about to give up, delete the post, and ignore all chat requests when a message arrives in your inbox. 

From: squeakycleanscot 

Subject: Lonely guy looking for girl

Hi,

Saw your post and knew I had to message. You sound like everything I'm looking for and more.

I'm a little younger than the age you put on your post, but I think I fit your other requirements. I'm 27, Scottish (yes, with the accent), and in the army, I hope that's a turn-on rather than a turn-off.

When I'm not deployed, I like cosy nights in, preferably with my love by my side. Don't mind a night at the pub either, especially if there's a Celtic match on, not that anywhere near here shows them. 

I'm looking for something longer term like you mentioned (would love to collar my girl one day, which is probably ironic considering I'm a wee bit scared of dogs.)

Happy to send a picture if you'd like :) 

Hope to hear from you soon, 

Johnny.

Johnny. 

You reread the message, turning his words over in your mind. 

Something about his message has your attention—it at least suggests he has a brain in his head and a heart capable of empathy, and that maybe he's serious. 

You begin typing your reply instantly, your fingers moving so fast you have to type and retype so many parts to rid the message of all of the overexcited mistakes.

hi johnny, 

scottish?! is it bad im already imagining how your dirty talk will sound? 

it's funny, i always wanted to join the army growing up, but it never worked out. maybe it's for the best as now i'm not immune to enjoying a hot man in uniform... which I'm assuming you are ;) 

cosy nights in are my favourite too! I'm a bit of a homebody and love being snuggled up more than anything. i have to let you know in advance that you have some stiff competition in the form of my giant teddy bear, barnaby. 

i'm looking for something longer term too, or at least not a one night kind of thing—a collar one day would be the dream &lt;;3 

if you send a picture, ill send one back, nothing sexy just yet though, if that's okay? 

have you met up with someone off here before? just curious about your experiences! 

y/n

As soon as the message is sent, the overthinking kicks in—was that too much? Is he going to think you're weird? 

You shuffle in bed, turning over between the sheets and trying to flick through other apps as you wait for a reply—otherwise, you'd just be staring at the notifications bar waiting for that silly little robot face to pop up. 

Johnny doesn't leave you waiting long, only a few minutes passing from your last message.

Maybe you'll find out sooner rather than later just how my dirty talk sounds ;) 

I tried to sneak in before I was old enough, but they caught on. Served since I was 18 though, you'll have a lot of stories ready from me if you're ever willing to listen. Not sure if the uniform is anything like you're thinking though, in my unit it's mostly just t-shirts, tac vests and trousers. 

I'll prepare my best snuggling arms for if we ever meet. You should inform Barnaby now about his replacement, mind. 

Can't not send a sexy photo though, sorry lass, all my pictures are. I'm sure you understand, lol

Haven't met anyone, had a few conversations but nothing worth pursuing, and had kind of given up until I saw your post. 

His message is the perfect mix of sexy, sweet, and sincere—and if that is the essence of the man, you know he's everything you're looking for. 

You try not to think too hard about a hot Scottish accent calling you all your favourite names or telling you exactly what to do, or even those stories he has to tell, as the idea is all too exciting. 

Reading his message, you instinctively reach out to pat Barnaby when you see he may end up replaced—hopefully the poor bear will understand when he has to vacate the bed for this sexy soldier man. 

looking forward to it. can I start putting in requests now for bedtime stories too?

i still wanna see, maybe in your sexy-not-sexy pic? 

barnaby will be devastated by the news, and you may have to give him hugs too (but not for too long, or i'll get lonely!!!)

same here, about things not going anywhere... or people turning out to be a bit scary, so you're not allowed to let me down, okay? 

Maybe the last part of the message was too much, but your heart is already soaring with unbridled hope—along with that hope comes doubt too. 

Each second waiting for a reply drags, and you take to re-reading his messages and clicking on his profile to investigate. 

It's largely empty of posts, but there are tons of comments across different communities—including his aforementioned football team, r/Scotland, and eyebleach. 

Clearly, he's a softie at heart. 

When his next message comes through, it's an Imgur link with a short message. 

Here we go, a few months old though now. Don't have anything more recent from work :) 

You take a moment or two to steady yourself before you tap the link. While you definitely feel like you and Johnny have already started to click, if he's not your type then it probably won't go anywhere... 

It's a situation you've been in before—great conversation, similar interests but no physical attraction, and back then you didn't have the heart to break it off straight away.

You tap the link and are greeted by a full-body shot of a tall, well-built man in tactical clothes. His hair is a neatly trimmed mohawk, and while his face isn't crystal clear, he's clearly fucking handsome. His biceps bulge from the gray tee stretched over his torso, his large hands are covered with gloves and grasping a gun.

Your eyes trail to his long legs, thick thighs encased in camo and strapped with various holsters. All in all, the picture is perfect. You find yourself zooming in desperately to get a better look at his face, the handsome jaw lined with stubble that you can already imagine between your legs. The whole image and every new detail has you squirming in your bed, and cheekily wishing to save the image to your phone.

holyfwucj 

holy fuck 

Like what you see? 

i need a hug from you urgently. 

now i feel shy... 

It had crossed your mind ever so slightly that Johnny may be out of your league, or that he simply may not be attracted to someone like you, which would be a complete shame. Now you've set eyes on him, you want him even more—want to kneel at those feet and stare up at his hulking figure while he tugs on a leash around your neck. 

Hopefully, just like you, he'll be smitten from the first glance. 

Scrolling through your camera roll, you decide you don't exactly love any recent photos of yourself. The ones at your last work event have you looking far too corporate, and the only image from your last night out was taking in a bathroom mirror in the local Wetherspoons—neither of which is ideal. 

You crawl out from the warmth of your sheets, kneeling on the end of the bed and posing as you point your camera in the mirror that sits across the room and captures you perfectly. Before you start snapping, you adjust your top to make sure too much isn't on display, even though it's strappy and cropped, and definitely a little bit more on the tantalising side as far as your pyjamas go. 

Hopefully, Johnny likes the pose and the outfit... and you. You can see your smiling face just to the side of your phone as you press to capture the picture—and when you return to your inbox to send the picture link, a message is waiting for you. 

I already know you're gorgeous. Don't leave me hanging, bonnie. 

okay. this is me now, all ready for bed!! 

Holy fuck yourself.

And I'm assuming that's Barnaby in the background. 

If he notices the pose, he doesn't comment on it, instead delighting your heart by commenting on Barnaby instead.

sure is! he's ready for snuggles and sleep. 

Can you do me a favour? 

That message makes your heart skip because usually when something like that is asked, it's followed with a request for nudes or something sexual—and while that is a large part of something like this, you crave the connection first, crave someone actually sticking around and getting to know you. 

depends on what it is!

Tell Barnaby to keep looking after you until I get there, yeah? 

does that mean you're coming for me?

One day, if we're both lucky.

seems promising so far, Johnny. 

Get some sleep, yeah? Maybe tomorrow night I'll give you a bell. 

The idea of this conversation ending is heart-wrenching, but at least sleep will bring you closer to that possible phone call. Hearing his voice, now that will be even more incredible. 

how do you expect me to sleep after telling me that? so mean! 

Patience, bonnie. Be good for me? 

You clench, your thighs squeezing together as arousal rushes through you. It's like he knows exactly how far to go, what buttons to press, what you're looking for.

It's the right kind of commanding, toeing the line perfectly between flirtatious and in charge. A lot of guys you've talked to have rushed it made commands too early, and sent you running. Johnny's words, be good for me? You can't help but want to behave. 

okay, but I see how this is going to be :( 

Bet you look so fucking good with a pout ;) 

now you're just being a cruel tease, Johnny... 

Sorry, I'll stop. Sleep, yeah, for me?

cuddling up to barnaby now. 

You decide to attach another picture, your eyes screwed shut and cheeks squished as you wrap yourself around the bear and cuddle up under the sheets. 

talk tomorrow?

Of course, bonnie, sweet dreams &lt;;3 

You lock your phone, your eyes feeling relieved as they adjust to the darkness. 

For a brief moment, you just clutch your phone to your chest and recall the picture Johnny had sent, how much you'd love to be wrapped up in his arms tonight. 

He's the only thing on your mind as you drift off to sleep.

-//-

Your dreams are tumultuous, starting off with a nightmare of being chased and chased until your legs give out, only for you to find salvation and safety in a stranger's arms—one who seemed vaguely familiar. 

The first thing you do when you wake is roll over to check your phone, elation overtaking you when you see a notification from Johnny already waiting there—already he's blessing you with a good morning message.

Good morning, sweet girl.

Attached under the picture is another image link, and clicking on it brings up an absolutely gorgeous picture of Johnny, lazing in bed. There's just enough light in the room for you to see the brightness of his eyes that you couldn't see before—his mohawk is mussed, and his smile is easy, drawing you in. 

He's even more handsome in this up close photo, you can only imagine what he looks like in person, right before you. 

morning Johnny <3 how did you sleep? 

Like a baby. Yourself? 

not the best, but I swear you were in my dream. 

Sorry to hear that, but oh already? What did I do? 

I mean, it was a bulky guy with a mohawk but he didn't have your name, I think it was meant to be you though. 

You recall the safety you felt in the arms of the strange figure, it was serene, and everything you hope to feel when you find the one—hopefully that's Johnny.

My dreams were shite, you didn't show up. 

i'll try harder to be there tonight!! 

Promise? 

promise. 

God, he's so fucking sweet. It's hard to imagine he's into all the things you mentioned in your initial post, at least right now. But you're all too familiar with how appearances can be deceiving—you wonder what else your sweet Scot is into. 

You peel back the covers and head out into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on mindlessly as you keep your eyes fixated on the screen—not wanting to be even a minute late to answering Johnny's texts, even though it seems there's a natural lull in the conversation. 

You return your focus to making your tea, and your thoughts don't drift from Johnny for even a moment, as you ponder ways to keep the conversation going. Admittedly, you have a million and one questions you want, but you don't want to come across too... eager? clingy? Like some serial killer fiending for information? 

It's crazy the way your heart yearns for him so soon—and it's crazy the way that you wish he feels the same as you do. You wonder how his day is going, and if he's staring at your phone waiting for your message.

With tea brewed, you set it on the coffee table and flop onto the plush couch, rushing to open the app when a new notification pops up.

What's your plan for the day? 

lazy day, binge-watching... texting you? wbu? 

I have to work for a bit, but I'll message you when I can. 

On a weekend? That's horrible, but I imagine they run a tight ship over there. 

You rush to follow up your message with something else. 

will you still be able to call tonight? 

Aye, give me your number, I'll save it! 

You send off your number and don't hear anything from Johnny for a good few hours. You pass the time watching one of your favourite shows, and trying to resist the urge to go scroll down Johnny's profile once more.  

The next time a message pops up, it's well past lunch.

Cute profile pic on whatsapp.

Johnny has clearly added your number to his contacts and spied your picture on the app. You blush thinking of him seeing you in that costume—especially after he knows what you're into.

it was Halloween, I swear!! 

You make an adorable little kitten, lass.

imagination running wild now? ;) 

Aye, but I'm a gent. 

hopefully not always...

Oh, you'll see. Talk to you tonight, kitty. 

talk to you then &lt;;3 

Now you're just itching, waiting for the hours to crawl by for Johnny's workday to end, so you can talk to him again, so you can finally hear his voice. 

What will it sound like saying your name? Whispering sweet nothings in your ears? 

The hours pass slowly until a different notification lights up your phone as you cuddle into your sheets.

Hey, it's Johnny! Just got home. 

You scramble to click on the pop-up, spying his own profile picture in the corner—tapping on it to view it closer. 

It's the Johnny you recognise, smiling wide with his arm slung around another man. He looks so ridiculously happy, probably due to the pint in his other hand. The more you look at him, the more you can't believe you're talking to this man, that he wants to talk to you. 

You quickly add him to your contacts, putting a heart next to his name, before you return to the chat and begin to type.

i'm not the only one with a cute pfp!! 

Three sheets to the wind in that picture, actually.

i can tell &lt;3

Ready to call? 

whenever you're ready!

The image of him floods your screen, the screen pulsing as it waits for you to accept. Your fingers tremble as you press the button, and you fall silent as you press the phone to your ear, nerves gripping at your throat. 

"Hi, bonnie." His voice drifts from the phone speaker, sweet like honey and warm like sunshine, with that gorgeous accent too. 

"Hi." You squeak out, silently cursing at yourself for being so nervous and seemingly unable to speak. 

A melodic laugh follows your words, amused but not cruel or mocking. "Are you nervous?" His voice is soothing, his concern and sweet nature evident. 

You cradle your burning cheek, feeling the way your blush spreads across your smiling face. "Just a little, can you blame me?" 

He's laughing again, and you hear a shuffling noise that suggests he's getting comfortable. "Don't be, I'll look after yer, I promise." 

Fuck. You could get used to hearing that. "I really like your voice." You admit, whispering into the phone with a ridiculous grin on your face. 

"I like yours too, you sound so sweet." 

You drop your voice lower, giggling mischievously. "Only sometimes." 

"That's what I like ta hear." The way Johnny's voice dips as he says that has your insides fluttering, but you can only assume he's returning the favour. His tone returns to its usual charming tone as he asks, "How was your lazy day?" 

"Well, I kind of spent a fair bit of it distracted, thinking about this important call I was going to have tonight..." 

"Oh aye, I should get off the phone so you can wait then." 

"Funny. How was yours? What do you even do day to day, anyway?" You ask, voice brimming with curiosity—there are so many things you want to ask, but you imagine his job can be secretive. 

"Lots of training, and sometimes paperwork, which is right shite." 

"Not when you don't have someone under the desk keeping you company." You laugh, taking the chance to flirt. If you were into Johnny after reading his messages, actually hearing his voice is only making your attraction soar. 

A quiet fuck can be heard, as the man on the end of the phone heaves out a breath. "I'll have ta look into getting you clearance if you keep talking like that, lass." 

"Glad to be of service, what can I say?" You find yourself in a giggle fit at your own silliness, a mix of nerves and joy at enjoying yourself so much.

"God, I love yer laugh." The deep sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. 

The drug that is Johnny is already so intoxicating. 

"I'm so glad you can't see me blushing." 

"I'm no'." He sounds so indignant about that. "But I could listen to that laugh all day, really."

If only he could see you pout too. "Now you're just trying to make me blush more." 

He chuckles, his voice dropping dangerously flirtatious again. "Maybe I am, nothing you can do about it."

"Now I'm pouting." 

"Better not pout in front of me, lass." His suggestive tone makes you shiver. 

"Oh, why's that?" You ask, playing coy. 

"'Cause I'll just have to start kissing ya, might even nibble on those soft little lips." 

You suppress a delighted squeak, already so flustered at even the idea of a kiss. "I'm not hearing a downside." 

"No?" 

"Nope." 

"Might not be gentle with you, though." 

"Good thing that I like it rough." The words are out of you before you can reconsider, but they have exactly the effect you intend as you hear Johnny inhale sharply.

"Ach, you and yer wicked mouth." 

"You have no idea..." 

He lets out a rough exhale, his voice turning gravelly and deep. "Fuck, bonnie." 

"Hey, I'm only repaying the favour, I've been squirming desperately pretty much since I picked up the phone." 

He whistles approvingly, his voice now teasing and playfully menacing. "Just you wait til I'm really in ya head." 

"You're already making good progress." You admit.

"Oh aye?" 

You hum contentedly, eyes flickering shut for a moment. "I'll be imagining your voice as I fall asleep tonight." 

"I'll just have ta send yer voice notes to drift off to, so I can end up in your dreams again." You can almost hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Already spoiling me, too." 

Fuck, how is it this man seems to know exactly what to say? Everything that comes out of his mouth takes root in your brain and sends your thoughts running wild—it's like he's already in your head, or as if someone made him in a lab.

"I'll spoil ya every day, if you're ever mine." 

You groan in frustration, unbelieving that a stranger can be so seemingly perfect. "How are you even single, Johnny?" 

"I could ask you the same. Taking everything in me to not ask for an address right now, if I'm being honest." He huffs a laugh. 

While the idea is thrilling, you know you should have at least some sense of preservation, and shouldn't blurt out your postcode for this strange man you barely know. "I'm worth the wait, I swear." You whisper your promise. 

"I'm sure yer are. But to answer your question, my work keeps me busy a lot, and this lifestyle isn't for everyone." There's a hint of vulnerability to his voice, and you sense such a fact is a sore point in his personal life. 

In the fantasy of all of this, you suppose the reality of the situation isn't something you'd stopped to consider. Life for a man in the military was surely so different from a regular 9-5. "I'm guessing that you're away a lot?" 

"Aye, sometimes for just a few days, sometimes for months, all depends." His admission is soft, as if you can hear in his tone that he's waiting for you to bolt. 

If that's the big 'catch' when it comes to Johnny, you can breathe a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I guess you need someone strong and loyal to hold on and wait for you." 

There's a tense silence, something lingering in the air. 

"Hard to come by, I've found." 

The thought makes your stomach twist in the worst possible way. Johnny, at least on the surface, seems so worthy of love. 

You chance the question that's on the tip of your tongue, hoping Johnny doesn't mind your reckless curiosity. "Have... you been cheated on?" 

"More than once, gets less surprising over the years." He finishes with a sad laugh, as you can tell he tries to infuse humour into the whole thing. 

"That's... horrible." 

Being sent away from your home to face gunfire and warfare, all to keep the people back home safe... only to be betrayed by the people back home who love you, who are supposed to wait for you. It's a gut-wrenching thought, and your heart aches for the man.

"A few of the lads here have a similar story." 

"So the army, not for the faint of heart, and dating an army man, not for the faint of heart." You sigh, though you don't feel put off by the thought.  

"Exactly. That you then? Faint of heart?" 

"No. I mean, inside I'm clingy as hell, and I'd miss you like crazy every day until you got back..." Your emotions overtake you, as you imagine a future where you'd have to kiss the man goodbye for maybe months at a time. "But I get the feeling that what we could have would be worth the wait. Hypothetically of course." 

At that, Johnny laughs, and his light tone returns. "Don't want to get too far ahead of ourselves, aye." 

You don't want to get ahead of yourself, you know you shouldn't, but the way you and Johnny have clicked is unlike anything you've felt before. "But... I have a good feeling." 

"I do too, already dreading putting down the phone." 

"I'm not planning on it anytime soon, even if I have to be up early tomorrow." 

"So do I, alarms set for 4." 

You do not envy his lifestyle one bit.

"That's awful! I'm gonna be so cranky tomorrow, I might have to use my lunch break for a nap." You admit, preemptively yawning into your hand. 

"You one of those perpetually sleepy girls?" 

You nod, even though he can't see it. "The sleepiest." 

"Barnaby is a lucky bear, getting to cuddle up to you so much." 

You burst out laughing at the hint of envy in his words. "Are you... jealous?"

"For now, but soon the tables will turn." He faked an evil laugh, that only makes you giggle harder. 

"Oh, you think you can give better snuggles than him?" 

"Oh, I know I can, bonnie. The bear can't wrap his arms around yer, can't whisper sweet things in your ear..." His voice dips back into that seductive, teasing tone. "... Can't trail his hands down to that pretty little pussy." 

Once more, you flush with desire, every nerve alight as Johnny's words wash over you—although it seems like almost everything he says has your body reacting. "You have an interesting way of cuddling, Johnny."

"Didnae say I was actually gonna do anything once my hands got down there." 

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed." 

"When you're in my arms, you wouldn't have a choice, lass." The dark, dominant voice makes you shiver, makes your submissive instincts awaken. 

"Oh yeah?" 

He hums slowly. "Once you're mine, you leave the choices to me. Johnny knows best, yeah?" 

"Johnny knows best." You whisper breathlessly, the words coming out automatically, like they just feel right.

"Steamin' Jesus, can already tell yer gonna be the death of me." 

"Can't have that, your family won't get your death in service payout!" You laugh awkwardly, before a sense of guilt rears its head. "Sorry, grim joke." 

"I don't mind. You should hear some of the ones my Lt. comes out with, he's a right sick bastard." He chuckles.

"Never want to make light of it and hurt you, though." 

"Telling jokes makes it easier hen, you'll be wishing me dead in no time at all."  

You gasp, shocked by the prospect. "I'd never!" 

"Not even when I deny you from touching yourself for my entire deployment? Months of nothing at all?" The sick grin is evident in his voice. 

"You wouldn't, that's so mean. You're too sweet for that." 

"Aye, for now, but don't you like a little bit of meanness, if yer into men like me..." The edge to his voice and the truth to your words has you trembling. 

"Maybe..." You singsong in response, not wanting to give away just how much you liked the idea of his mean side. 

"Bonnie..." He tuts disapprovingly. "Don't play coy." 

You shudder out a breath as you squeeze your thighs together for relief. "I just don't want you to bully me too much right now, I'm already soaked." 

"Is that right?" He seems delightfully surprised by such a revelation. 

"Mhmm." 

"I'm fucking rock hard if it helps, think I have been since last night..." You hear him shuffle, and you try not to imagine what's happening on the other end of the line, or how he looks lying in bed with said hardness.

When he groans hungrily down the line, you feel yourself quake once more. "The sight of you on your fucking knees... Christ alive." 

You can't help but giggle at your unintended teasing. "It wasn't on purpose, I thought it was cute more than anything." 

"Adorable and naughty, could cum just looking at it." He huffs. 

"You're just flattering me, besides, I could say the same about your picture."

Every part of you flushes thinking of the first photo he sent, all muscle and alpha male—it's like he was the physical embodiment of dominance, and just looking at him makes you want to kneel.

"You like the military get up?" 

"Love it, more than I probably should." 

"Oh aye, bet you'd love for me to order you around?" His words are playful, but underpinned with a hint of promise. "All in due time, eh?" 

"All in due time. What's your rank, anyway?" 

"Sergeant." 

"Wait..." You take a deep breath as you consider your question. "Can I ask for your last name or is it too soon?" 

"Mactavish."

Johnny Mactavish—you should remember to give that a quick Google search later.

"Sergeant Mactavish." You test the name on your tongue, trying to imagine him at work, following and giving orders. 

"Sounds too good when you say it, bonnie." He laughs. 

"Thank you, sergeant." Your affectation of the word is entirely intentional, as you attempt to rile him up with the use of his title. 

The throaty groan that leaves him is addictive.

"What else do you like to be called?" 

"Depends on what you want to call me really, but I like... sir." 

"I like it too, will have to remember that for the future, and just torture you with sergeant in the meantime." You can't help but giggle as you flirt. 

"Oh don't worry, am keeping score." He growls playfully. "Wait til I get ma hands on you, bonnie." 

"You're keeping score?" You gasp, a heady mix of fear and arousal coursing through you almost urges you to be even more of a teasing brat.

"Aye, spanking arm at the ready." 

"My pouting lips are ready." 

"Won't be the only thing you use them lips for."

Fuck fuck fuck. Not that you hadn't thought about it already, hadn't already let your mind drift to what his cock might look like—whether it matches the size of the man—now you're definitely thinking about it. Fixated on it, craving it. 

Some cards are best kept close to your chest so early on, so you change tack and go a different direction with his flirtation. "Yeah, with you in the room, I'd probably be smiling a whole lot." 

The two of you continue to chat, you asking what you can about his work as he asks about yours, and you fill him in on the boring world you live in, which seems especially boring in comparison to taking down cartels and traveling the world.

The conversation never stops being easy, the flirtation and innuendo always right there at the tip of your tongues as you tease each other relentlessly—giving as good as you get. All night, you're practically grinding against your duvet as you get lost in Johnny's dulcet tones, and you find yourself just letting him speak for the sake of getting to hear more of his voice.

As Johnny is about to ask you more about your background, you're overcome with a harsh yawn that you desperately try to stifle. Your eyes have been shut for the last hour at least, but with the command Johnny has over your nervous system right now, it's been easy to stay awake. 

"Tired, bonnie?" He asks, voice laced with sweet concern.

"Yeah..." Your voice falls quiet, as the thought of ending the call makes your throat constrict. "But I don't wanna stop talking." 

"Me either, but av got bad news." 

You know what's coming, and you know it isn't remotely anywhere near the end of the world, despite what your heart is telling you right now. "Go on." 

"I have to go." Even he sounds sad about such an outcome. 

"It's not even that late?" The clock reads 2 am. 

"Gotta get a wee bit of sleep before I hit the gym, and then get off ta work. Don't you have work too?" 

"Work from home tomorrow, so it's not too bad. Not fair though, I wanna keep talking." You admit quietly. It's too much too soon, but you're overwhelmed, the tide of your emotions crashing over the edges.

"Tell yer what. Next time we call, we can try leaving it on while we sleep."

Your heart flips, as you almost whimper at how cute the gesture is. "Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?"

"Obviously." There's that gorgeous laugh again. "Is it working?" 

"Just a little, but that might be the lack of sleep talking, I might be going slightly insane." 

Johnny sighs, and it's clear he's battling to keep a handle on his self-control. "Rest, bonnie, I won't be able to work knowing you're not sleepin'" 

You sigh too, accepting your fate. "Okay, just for you." 

"Just want what's best for you, you need your sleep."  

Your head spins at how utterly sincere he sounds—the care in his voice after such a short amount of time serves to drive you even deeper into this infatuation. "Already?" 

"Can't turn it off, am just protective by nature, bonnie. If you were my girl, you'd have a bedtime." 

And that makes your cunt clench and your heart soar. "Johnny..." You whine.

"Yeah?" 

You hesitate to say what you want to say next, but everything within you is calling out for him, desperate to be in his arms. "Don't make me wait too long to meet you, please." 

His laughter is sweet, conveying a sense of understanding more than anything. "I'll try ma best, supposed to be off on Friday." 

"5 whole days."

"Sure you don't wanna wait a bit longer?" 

You shake your head, mumbling a sound to convey your feelings. "Feels right, don't know how to describe it... do you feel it too?" 

Johnny takes a deep breath, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks. "I do, lass." 

"Good." You couldn't even attempt to fight the idiotic grin on your face, or how warm you feel inside and out. "I'll get some sleep, talk soon." 

"Goodnight, bonnie. Sweet dreams."  

You wait for Johnny to end the call, not wanting to push the button yourself and have his presence fade away. When your screen dims, you resist the urge to text him more, opting instead to put your phone on charge and roll over to Barnaby—wishing it was Johnny instead. 

[cxptain-capsicle]

Beyond the Sea | Luke Castellan | II

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Unclaimed Poseidon Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, slow burn flashbacks, established relationship present day, Gods being terrible parents

A/N: If you are new around here I love taking suggestions and incorporating your guy's ideas and headcannons in my series so feel free to leave thoughts in my inbox!

Series Masterlist Taglist

“So all of the major 12 gods have their own cabin where their children live.” Luke explained as he walked you down the aisle of houses. “This one is ours.”

“Ours?” You raised your eyebrow questionably.

“All the new arrivals stay here, in the Hermes cabin.” Luke gestured towards a cabin that was much larger than all of the others. It wasn’t nearly as elegant as the ones around it but it felt warm and welcoming. It looked like a simple log cabin with a large front porch held by tall log columns. On the front of the house was a large green banner with a Greek symbol in the center. Over the door a semi-circle stained glass window that reminded you of the ones in the Big House. The cabin looked a little run down but that wasn’t shocking considering the amount of kids running around inside. Walking inside felt like entering a circus tent. There was yelling, laughing, singing, kids running around, hanging upside down from bunk beds. Even with the chaos it still felt cozy. The inside was dimly lantern lit, the walls were paneled with dark wood, in the center was a large fire pit that made the whole room feel like a warm hug. You followed Luke further into the cabin as several heads turned to look at the new arrival.  

“Here,” Luke said as he led you to a bed and dropped the few things that you had on the bed. “This one was mine, now it’s yours.” 

“You’re giving me your bed?” 

“Yeah, why not?” He shrugged. “I’ll move to the top bunk, it’ll be nice to have a change.” He was humble. He was willing to give you one of the only things that was his and he didn’t want any praise for it.

“Thank you.” You meant it, and you didn’t know what else to say.

“Everyone!” Chiron announced as he trotted into the cabin doors. “Your attention, please. This is Percy Jackson. I trust you will see to whatever he needs.” Everyone stared at the sandy-haired boy awkwardly. Everyone in the Hermes cabin was used to this by now. New kid comes in, new kid gets claimed, new kid leaves, and the cycle continues. Within seconds everyone went back to their conversations although many of those conversations now included the word: Minotaur.

You and Luke glanced at each other unsure if you should say anything to the boy. 

“He shouldn’t be alone.” You whispered to him. “Grover said the Minotaur killed his mom.” 

You followed Luke as he made his way to the boy, who sat up quickly when we approached.

“Look, if you want to give me a hard time, just do it tomorrow.” He said before either Luke or you could get a word out. “I can't do any more today.” 

“Heard what happened to you on the hill.” Luke said slowly, arms crossed over his chest. “And I just... wanted to say I'm really sorry.” 

“I know what you're going through.” You chimed in. “Believe me, I really do.”

“I'm Luke.” He reached out to shake the boy's hand.

“Percy.” He hesitantly grabbed Luke’s hand.

“Y/n.” You couldn’t help but smile at him. He reminded you so much of yourself when you first came to camp so many years ago.

“Rise and shine!” Luke’s voice boomed above you. You groaned and turned away from him in an attempt at protest.

“Five more minutes.” Luke chuckled at your words but he didn’t take it for an answer.

“C’mon.” He ripped the blanket off of the bed. “First day at camp, gotta make it count.”

“Luke!” You shouted, the cold air shocking your body. “Do you make it a habit to torture the new campers?” You groaned as you rolled out of bed and began to put your shoes on. Luke was already geared up and ready to go, twitching with excitement.

“Only the ones who make it easy.” He smirked. 

“Screw you.” You reached to grab your pillow and threw it at his face. It caught him by surprise causing him to stumble back, making both of you laugh.

“Maybe you’re an Ares kid?” He faked injury dramatically. “We’ll find out today.”

“What?” That piqued your interest. Ever since you arrived at camp yesterday you couldn’t stop thinking about getting claimed.

“We’re gonna figure out what you’re good at. Maybe that’ll help us figure out who your parent is.” Luke explained.

“Where do we start?” You stood up with excitement.

“Breakfast.” 

The two of you made your way to the mess hall, it was much more crowded this morning than it was the previous day. Each of the tables were nearly full with kids chatting over breakfast. 

“So what’s your story?” You asked Luke as you sat down with your breakfast.

“What do you mean?” He chuckled slightly.

“Your story.” You repeated. “How’d you get here?”

“Well,” He sighed. “I’ve been here for 3 summers.” He pulled at the necklace around his neck with three colored beads strung on the brown cord. “I came here with Annabeth, an Athena kid.”

He gestured over to a girl a few years younger than you sitting at the Athena table. “And Thalia, she uh- she didn’t make it.”

“Oh,” Your voice trailed off. “I’m sorry Luke.” 

“Thalia died getting us to camp safely.” He continued. “She died a hero.” An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. “Then I got here, got claimed by Hermes.” Even mentioning his father seemed to send chills down his back.

“What happens if I don’t get claimed?” The thought had crossed your mind more than a few times.

“Well,” Luke shifted in his seat. “It doesn’t happen too often but, you’d stay in the Hermes cabin. That’s where all the unclaimed kids stay.”

“Well if that’s the case, I’ll need to move beds because you snored above me all night.” You teased.

“Oh no way I’ll just follow you wherever you go.” He said as he took a big bite of his breakfast. “So who are we looking for, a mom or a dad?”

“I’m not sure.” You said through a bit of toast. “I was left at a firehouse as a baby so I have no idea who my mortal parent is either.”

“So where did you live?” Luke leaned onto his elbow on the table in interest.

“Foster families, group homes, things like that.” You explained. “Until monsters would trash them and I’d get blamed for it and get moved.”

“Well, we can’t rule out any god but we’ll start out with the olympians. We’ve got a lot of work to do,”

After breakfast Luke led you all around camp. He took you to Arts and Crafts and sat you down at an empty sheet of canvas and easel with a bowl of miscellaneous fruit in front of it. Luke went around to the front of  the easel and knocked the bowl onto the floor.

“I have a better subject for your painting.” He stood in front of you, placed his hands on his hips and looked to the side triumphantly. The pose of a hero. You laughed at him and did your best to capture him on the canvas. You tried to take your time but Luke quickly started complaining that his arms were hurting and urged you to hurry. The top half of the painting was pretty good, you could tell it was Luke, you even captured his smug smirk which made you smile. As you went down the painting got more rushed and sloppy but you blamed Luke for that.

“Tada.” You said enthusiastically as you took the canvas off the easel and turned it around to show him. He came up quickly to grab it.

“You didn’t fully capture my good looks, but other than that it’s pretty good.” He shrugged and you laughed and smacked his shoulder with a paintbrush. “So maybe an Apollo kid.” He took the canvas from you and rolled it up, saving it for later in his bag.

Luke continued to lead you around camp trying everything he could think of. He took you to the forge and quickly decided you were likely not a Hephaestus kid after you struggled to even make a dent in the hot metal. He took you to the archery range and despite never holding a bow before, you weren’t too bad. Artemis could be a maybe. He took you to a little training obstacle course by the arena designed to test speed and agility. You did your best but got hit by multiple bags of sand that were built to resemble flying harpies. So Hermes is a no. “Well, we’re definitely not siblings.” Luke laughed as you got hit by a sandbag that toppled you over. For whatever reason that felt very relieving to you. He took you to the strawberry fields where you propagated a few berries. Possibly Demeter. Finally Luke wanted to test your swordsmanship. You were excited for this. Only being here a day and a half you had already heard of Luke’s skills with a sword. Having been on the run from monsters basically your whole life you had gotten pretty good at fighting,

“We’ll get some swords and go to the woods to practice.” Luke told you on the way to the armory.

“Why are we going to the woods?” You questioned.

“So I don’t embarrass you in front of everyone when I beat you.” He smiled widely.

“I hate you-” You laughed but were cut off by someone yelling from up the hill.

“New girl!” Another girl shouted. As you kept walking closer she became easier to see. She was dressed in full greek armor and wore a helmet with a bright red crest. When she took off the helmet her dark curly hair slipped out and gave you a better look at her face.

“Her name is Y/n,” You swore Luke was scowling. “Play nice.”

“Am I not allowed to meet the girl we almost died trying to find?” She faked offense. 

“You were in the cave.” You remembered. “You thought I was dead.” 

“You looked dead.” She shrugged. “So what are you two doing out here?”“Y/n’s gonna try her hand at some combat.” Luke explained.

“Perfect.” Clarisse said menacingly. She grabbed a chestplate off the rack and held it out to you. “I’ll take the first round.”

“Clarisse, I don’t think-” Luke started but you cut him off.

“Let’s do it.” You eagerly took the chestplate and a sword off of the wall. Something about Clarisse invigorated you. Luke looked at you wearily but figured he was quick enough to stop Clarisse before she killed you. You and Clarisse were stationed about 6 feet away from each other, you armed with a sword and her with a spear. Before you even realized you’d begun she stormed forward, her spear pointed towards you. You took a step to the side to avoid being impaled and she quickly redirected the tip of her spear to follow you but you went under the head of the spear with your sword blade, sending the tip of her spear towards the sky. You took a swipe at her with your sword but she quickly deflected. While you were recovering from your failed attack she slashed the head of her spear down. You stepped back to avoid the spear hitting your face but the tip of the spearhead tore into your shoulder causing you to whine in pain.

“Y/n!” Luke cried out and he began to run to your side but you held out your hand telling him to stop. Your face flushed hot with anger. You weren’t mad at Clarisse, it was a fight and people get hurt. You had always been easy to set off especially in competition. 

“It’s just a cut,” You stared Clarisse down. “Let’s keep going.”

“I like this girl.” She laughed before rushing forward again with a giddy smile before taking a stab at you. You took one hand off of your sword and grabbed the shaft of the spear as tightly as you could. She pulled and pulled but couldn’t get the spear free from your grasp. You picked your foot up and landed a hard kick in her stomach sending both of you flying backwards. Despite your best efforts you lost grip on your sword but went down with the spear. You both stumbled to your feet and when you did were both met with a blade under your chins. You with her spear and her with your sword. A draw. She laughed and lowered the sword and you did the same.

“Good to know we didn’t risk our lives for someone completely useless.” You thought that was a compliment coming from Clarisse.

“Let me see your arm.” Luke panicked as he rushed over to you. He grabbed your arm and began examining the cut on your shoulder. The cloth of your Camp Half-Blood was torn and the gash was bleeding much more than you had realized. “Let’s get you to the big house.”

The entire walk to the big house Luke muttered under his breath how it was so stupid to fight Clarisse and it wasn’t until after a few of the Apollo kids treated your wound he admitted that he was impressed. Saying that of course you still couldn’t compare to his sword skills.

I would love to hear feedback! &lt;3

Taglist: @fudosl @lenasvoid

[just-prime]

Ahsoka is so slow I could cry. She was trained by Anakin and presumably Obi-wan and several other Jedi, and Rosario can hardly do an actual lightsaber twirl, let alone make me believe she could survive Ventress, Maul, Grievous, or Vader, survive order 66, or run in a way that looks fast. Bo-Katan moves faster, Shin moves faster, Sabine moves faster, Ezra moves faster, even Ewan's lazy twirls while walking around and not actively engaged in battle in the prequels were roughly as fast as Rosario's in an actual duel.

It's also canon that in this era, in a less prequels flashy version of standard Jedi abilities, a Jedi can leap SEVERAL feet. Luke in ROTJ- even GROGU can jump higher, while Rosario's feet are consistently glued to the ground. Her choreography and speed are so inconsistent with this established era and people keep writing it off and praising it as her fighting like a samurai now, even though it makes NO sense for her to, given who trained her. She isn't A New Hope Obi-wan, nor sad cave dwelling Obi-wan who hasn't stretched or lifted a weapon in a decade, and a 44 year old Jedi is still supposed to be in their prime.

I truly wonder if part of it is that they can't keep her lekku on properly if she does a flip, and they are shorter because they were meant to be more practical, but I'm really not seeing a character agile enough to need stunt modified lekku.

If they couldn't bring this to life in live action convincingly, it should have remained animated and each passing week demonstrates this more and more.

I'm sorry to anon into your inbox like this, but your post about the last episode has been so refreshing, and I've felt like I've been watching a completely different show than other people and don't know how they considered any of the actors ready. (Rosario has said she was training during filming). Thank you for your brutally honest take, you're spot on on all counts.

Couple of things.

A) I agree with everything you just said. Always feel free to come and rant into my asks.

B) I HAVE BEEN ANTI TINY LEKKU SINCE MANDO S2. It's laughable that we've seen cosplayers with more Rebels accurate headpieces. And of course everyone defends it with the 'it wouldn't be fair to the stunt person to have them try and do flips in that' and it's like NEWSFLASH Ahsoka isn't doing flips anyway!!! And sure, they probably stuck Rosario in a 5 week sword training class, but she's clearly not had to do any serious combat training given how clunky her fights are. And again, this was also a problem back in Mando s2, only she was in the middle of a foggy woods, so it was easier to hide the fact that she is incompetent when it comes to fight choreography.

C) "If they couldn't bring this to life in live action convincingly, it should have remained animated" Exactly. This is why every passing day I am increasingly pissed that this show killed and ate the animated Rebels sequel series that was in fucking development. Everything about this show, from Ahsoka, to Hera (hell, even TBoBF cameos like Cad Banes) prove that Disney is not willing to shell out for a decent makeup and/or CG designer. No shade to the artists that are currently working on it, they are doing their jobs to the best of their abilities. What I mean is they didn't have anyone on set that was in a high enough positions to say 'Hey, have any of you heard of contouring?' Like, just looking at the alien makeup of the OT...which somehow holds up better than state of the art Disney budget makeup. It's just fucking embarrassing at this point. There is no reason everyone should look as flat as they do, but it's no surprise that they do when mary elizabeth winstead is celebrating that her makeup only took an hour. Sure, it's understandable that you don't want to be sitting in the makeup chair every morning of hours on end, but in the end you are an actor who signed up to play an alien...Suck it up buttercup.

D) I totally understand how hard it is to be not liking this show right now. The amount of people who've told me that "well, clearly it's just not made for you" after I point out a simple fact that a character is out of character is painful. Looking at twitter after each episode as everyone seems to think Filoni is creating the second coming is painful. Because it really does feel like we're watching a different show than them.

Okay, I think I covered everything. Thank you again for your kind words and your wonderful rant!!!

[foolsocracy]

I can't get the idea out of my head, so please consider; MJ invites Peter out along with some of her friends for dancing. Results may vary

ok this has been SITTING in my inbox. I was thinking about drawing something but ive caved and im just gonna talk.

YES. That girl can DANCE and she loves it!! I feel in the 19th and 20th century everyone could do a bit of social dancing because thats just what people did for fun. I think the Parkers and the Watsons both taught their kids to dance 'older' stuff they would have done when they were younger, like a solid waltz, quadrille, two-step, polka, what have you. MJ learned them all with fervor. Pete... learned some of them.

I think MJ and Pete would probably do (east coast) swing most often. Because they are hip and of the times. I think Pete probably would have had MJ and Robbie get to know each other through dance, actually. Like Robbie was around the welfare center when MJ was and Pete immediately was like Yes, now MJ can practice with him and not me (ultimate backfire because how he's got 2 partners)! Harlem is definitely the hot spot for swing, with black Americans engineering the whole thing. MJ was totally ecstatic to have a friend over there to run into who was a ready and willing partner!

I do have to say that MJ is a total back lead when it comes to Peter. They will ARGUE on the floor (in good fun). She'll be like 'do that one move I just taught you!' or 'If you fumble this texas tommy i'll kill you' or 'ok on this next backstep we're doing Charleston... aaand triple step, back step.' And Peter will snark back. Whenever she really wants to piss him off she'll make him practice Balboa (he thinks it looks stupid).

[wantbytaemin]

I apologize in advance for the length of this ask + if it makes you uncomfortable, but i see you as an ~older wiser figure~ AND i had no one to talk to because i am so embarrassed 🥲 I am 25 and a virgin and i KNOW, theoretically, that it is NOT a big deal,.. but last week i was hanging out with my girlfriends and they were Pushing me to tell them if i have ever had sex. I just don't talk about stuff like that lol. I was humiliated beyond comprehension in the first place to say the Least, but i said No and suddenly they were so weird about it. Like the energy shift... oof... Honestly, i already feel bad and incompetent and i know you can't relate to me at all but i feel SO bad and thought that writing it all down will help me. Sorry for yelling into your inbox and thank you for listening i feel insane 🫠❤️‍🩹

oh angel first of all im so sorry it makes you feel that way and that your friends reacted like that.. if it makes you feel better im 29 (almost 30!) and also a virgin without an ounce of embarrassment about it. from my pov it truly shouldn’t make you feel incompetent at all (as if it’s a feat to go out and have sex Pleaseeee). also i find it totally bizarre that something so intimate and highly subjective/personal is considered a rite of passage or whatever.. these things should happen only if and when you’re ready and willing and to me the frequency with which you have or don’t have sex literally doesn’t matter any more to your worth/description as a person than like.. your food preferences or your taste in music. it’s literally just something people do when they want to and not some big all consuming thing that should change people’s view of you. i really really hope that you feel better about it (and tbh, i mean this as gently as possible, that you get surrounded by better, kinder people too) 💖

[were-weenkie]

Vibrating with Silco thoughts but since I have to go to my nephew’s game in a few I can’t blather on into your inbox until later. But before I just have one quick question.

Have you ever considered writing a fic where Silco has a pussy?

I feel like he would flaunt that power like a weapon. Have a good chunk of his goons just ready and willing to do anything and everything for a single look, touch, taste, whatever Silco deemed that they had earned.

Wow. I love this world. Yeah I have! And I’m totally going to. My issue is that I only ship him with Viktor and as hot as them scissoring would be he also deserves to get fucked sincerely and crazy style.

Also similar concept but no pussy, check this series out

[alianoralacanta]

hiii alianora! i was thinking about your essay regarding ferrari PR 2022, and as a new fan i was wondering about the events that took after. did charles really threaten to leave ferrari and did ferrari hire vasseur for him (charles probably isn't the only reason but is it safe to say he played into the decision), charles denies he played a part in binotto's exit but then again he wouldn't expose team internal politics. a journalist leo turrini mentioned "Leclerc's fractured relationship with Binotto" as one of the reasons why his position was at risk when the rumors first came out, but i don't know how credible he is.

i also read that elkann had been looking into fred being a replacement a year before 2022 (if that Italian press report is to be believed), and that the former ferrari CEO actually wanted to bring fred into the team in like 2018 (?) because binotto was never meant to be TP, instead he would have been in the technical department if the CEO had his way.

i am most curious about if it is true that charles really did threaten to leave the team and if this was the final push for ferrari to hire vasseur. of course charles denies all this, ferrari denies all this, and i'm not so sure which reports to believe haha

Warning! Long post alert!

Firstly, I promise that I do not share my Tumblr account password with anyone and only I can read the messages in my inbox prior to posting the responses.

This disclaimer is because this is the second time in three Ferrari posts that my thought process has been interrupted by Charles Leclerc answering part of the question for me. In this case, he was in the press conference and it was mentioned that Mattia Binotto was going to Monza. Charles' face fell so fast (video) that it could only have been caused by hearing about Mattia's weekend plans. (I've heard that Nico Hulkenberg reckoned Mattia might not be Audi team boss yet, but am not yet sure what to conclude about this or Charles' reactions to this).

He never said one word against Mattia, did Charles. However, those who have followed my mini-series answering OP's Ferrari questions will understand by now that this makes things worse, not better. The silence indicates less liking and respect for Mattia, not more.

That is not someone who wants Mattia to be anywhere near him. This is one of those rare relationships within F1 where "fractured" might be the right word - and I don't think Charles has healed as much from it as he thought prior to the conference.

I don't think Charles had to say that he was threatening to leave Ferrari. Just say that he had to believe in the projects within which he worked. We can connect the dots, even if Charles was never going to leave in 2022 and that this qualifies as another "lie to defend his chosen team".

Rather like in 2023, where Charles didn't have to say he was considering Red Bull (even though he totally was), only hint that he was willing to respond to Red Bull's entreaties with more than a polite rebuff this time around. Plausible deniability through elision.

Verbum sapienti. The Ferrari board can take a hint ;)

The biggest factor, I think, in Mattia Binotto losing his place at Ferrari was that Mattia didn't truly know what to do with a plan that had progressed ahead of schedule. However, the board also knew that it couldn't long-range plan around Carlos Sainz the way it could around Charles Leclerc. Carlos may have understood the conventional part of Ferrari but could never have grasped the mythic element. (That won't be a problem for him at Williams, whose mythic element leaned heavily towards pragmatism and is more a light dusting rather than a major factor these days). I think Fred Vasseur has been interested in the Ferrari position for a long time, but I don't think Ferrari was ready for him until Mattia Binotto left. That was more to do with "vacancy and interest finally matched up" rather than anything Charles Leclerc-specific. Especially since Fred Vasseur had also previously worked with Carlos Sainz. I don't recall Fred even being in the conversation in 2018. There were two factions within Ferrari in 2018 for what should be done about its F1 team following Sergio Marchionne's death. There were those who supported Sergio's expressed preferences, including promoting Leclerc, and those who preferred to go a different direction, including keeping Kimi Raikkonen. I do not recall either side being confirmed as having a preference about the new Ferrari team boss, but I would not be surprised to discover each side had a different preference and that at least one of them had been disappointed on that front. Mattia Binotto had already been in a senior position on the technical side when all of this began, so he'd probably have been head of the engine or chassis department, or a technical director of both, had someone else been made the team principal.

[musical-chick-13]

How do you write so well?

So, I kept this in my inbox for...way too long, don't worry about it. Partially just to keep it--to look at and feel incredibly grateful to whoever sent this to me, and partially because...I'm not really sure this has a good answer.

I am (obviously) THRILLED beyond belief that you think my writing is good. Seriously. I literally think about this message all the time. But I don't feel like I can...elaborate on this? Really? I don't think I'm the best person to give advice on writing because I really am just kind of floundering around until I stumble on something that works.

All I can do is kind of...talk about my process a little bit. I shall put this under a cut for courtesy's sake.

There are a few things I find particularly helpful when I'm writing. The first--a more formulaic tip--is, if you find yourself overusing a certain word or phrase to the point where you think it's genuinely distracting, to keep a list in a separate document of various synonyms or other ways of wording it. (<-for me, this is, for some reason, "realize" and "dangerous," among a few others). That way, you have options to choose from at the ready, and it prevents you from agonizing over how to avoid repeats every time they come up.

A more...amorphous, I guess, tip is to consider how your characters talk, both in dialogue and in their internal monologues. How willing are they to communicate? Are there things they will readily admit to themselves, just not to other people? Do they tend to like metaphors and/or figurative language, or is everything blunt and straightforward? Are they wordy, with longer sentences or a tendency to ramble? Or are they direct, with few tangents and less elaboration? Do they use filler words? High-level vocab words? What is their sense of humor like--wacky, pun-based, abstract, dry, sarcastic, mocking? And, most usefully to me, what unique qualities does this character have that might impact the way they use or think about language (for instance, given River's background as being raised as a weapon and constantly labelling and presenting herself as A Dangerous Person, a lot of descriptors she uses when I'm writing her are similarly weapons-based, or reminiscent of war terminology)?

I've found that figuring out a character's relationship to language and speech helps me not only get a better idea of who they are, but also to write them more in-line with what I want my story to be. We have to be in the characters' heads and read them interact with other people. That's where most of the emotional momentum and development happens. Having a clear idea of what those things look like makes it a lot easier to hit the character progression (or regression!) beats you want to hit.

There are other things I could say, tips I've heard from other people that I make use of myself: vary your sentence length, don't start to many sentences the same way with the same structure, use the word that fits the best not the one that sounds the most impressive or that you think the readers will like the most. But ultimately, in writing, I truly do believe the most important thing is to commit to treating your characters as people. Don't be afraid to dig into their flaws, to make them silly or annoying or oblivious or unlikable sometimes. Be willing to give them several different personality facets that inform their worldview, and have a sense of where the emotions they feel and display are coming from (and, again, don't be afraid to get uncomfortable with those emotions if that's what is needed to carry the story to its next point). And...honestly? Pay attention to your own feelings. If you can figure out how to articulate what you're feeling/experiencing/remembering/etc., then you will be much more effective at successfully describing what your characters are feeling/experiencing/remembering/etc. This might sound...odd, but having to learn how to explain my particular emotional state in therapy has done wonders in helping me discover how to explain what's going on with the characters I write. (Not that you need to go to therapy to do this, nor should your priority during a rough time be "how can I translate this to my art." This is...literally just my own personal experience, lmao.)

I am...not a career writer. I'm doing this for fun without any kind of formal training. (My formal artistic background, as everyone who follows me knows, is in music.) So it's quite possible all of this will be useless to anyone else. But I did appreciate the opportunity to break down my process a little bit, and, once again: thank you.

[finniestoncrane]

I saw people putting their rogue threesomes...*slides this over*

Scarecrow + Jervis - wouldn't mind riddler also being involved . actually can I just watch those three be freaks

Two-face + penguin - I'm ready for em. READY.

Mr freeze + Bane - I will get crushed, I will freeze and be boiled. Idk bane looks like he'd run hot with all those muscles and serum

Jason Todd + penguin OR two-face - I feel like the banter would be hilarious tbh. Just men bickering whilst I lay there like "this is nice". Some people consider Jason apart of the gallery Soo

Jervis + Harley Quinn - I think they'd be good friends in my hc. And I just know it would be crazy.

Killer croc + manbat - ......don't look at me.

Scarecrow + joker - it'll be like entering a perfume store, you turn your head - fear gas - turn your head again - laughing gas - you would just be having giggles the whole time.

kjhkjhasd ok first of all anon don't come into my inbox and be funnier than me it makes me look bad (kidding, kidding) these are all SO GOOD but you're killing me with a few of them like holy fuck holy shit yes yes yes

dork squad threeway where i sit and watch with popcorn my beloved scenario tbh!!

also two face and penguin is such an underrated combo, lord willing matt reeves will give us a gritty on screen two face to parallel his ozzie and my dreams will be made u-u

killer croc and manbat come ON! i am looking at you, we're making eye contact across a crowded room and having a deep connection 💚

also forever dying at the perfume store analogy i choked on my babybel thank you for that image lmaooooo

[lightbringer-morningstar]

Guidelines and Rules

I'm not really one for rules so I'm gonna call them guidelines for interaction.

This blog is mostly active via mobile for the time being.

On This blog I am highly selective and mutuals only for threads.

Selective follow. I prefer a dashboard that is current and relevant to partners who interact with my muse, so please don't take it personal if unfollowing occurs at some point due to lack of interaction. Follow status always has the ability to change if interactions occur through inbox.

Content. Things here will be 18+/25+ meaning content may at any given moment include topics that are not suitable for minors, such as but not limited to violence, gore, cannibalism, blood, death, alcohol use, drug use, and other mature-related themes. Anyone familiar with the source material: Hazbin Hotel &&Helluva Boss would be well aware of the correlations. Expect nsfw. By following this blog you agree to acknowledging possible explicit content and explicit themes that may or may not be tagged. I will do my best to tag accordingly but if something doesn't appear excessive in my perspective there is the possibility it will not get a tag. Apologies in advanced for any possible triggering content but please consider yourself warned and please request tags if needed. I shouldn't need to state this but blogs posting content such as racism, bigotry, discrimination, hate of any kind, lgbt+ phobia or hate, incest, noncon ect. will be instantly unfollowed for my own wellbeing and mental health.

Frequent posts of ooc drama or callout culture related involvement will lead to immediate unfollow or Block. Also any posts, comments or replies expressing derogatory commenting towards others or noticeable passive aggressive behavior will lead to unfollow or Block. Vague blogging will not be tolerated, be mature and talk things out or learn to block and move on, respectfully.

Interactions. Some muses here are rude and some are flat out dangerous. If they are approached with lack of caution I will not sit by and be accused of God-modding/Meta-gaming. Please do not prod/provoke or instigate muses into action unless ready for the repercussion. I do not god-mod or meta-game (unless it comes up in crack-posts/jokes on dashboard) and I also don't accept it from others during threads. This has happened to me before, and I'd rather avoid it. I'm always willing to chat about/discuss actions that occurred if outcomes are upsetting or uncomfortable in hindsight so there's always the possibility for a do-over, just ask.

Uncomfortable situations. Sometimes uncomfortable dialogue or actions may occur between muses, should this happen please reach out and express the discomfort and we can quickly agree to amend it/change it. Maybe a muse gets too mean or aggressive during chatter or they use possible flirtatious advancements when that sort of attention is unwanted. Talk to me and it won't happen again. Just gotta let me know if something isn't being enjoyed and it will immediately stop.

Replies will be done when I have time, should any need to be dropped a courtesy discussion attempt will be made as notification. Activity will be sporadic, but my aim is to be online often. This is a hobby, and I do it to de-stress. If you at any time find yourself not wanting to drop an interaction, reach out and let me know. Should the opposite be true, and you find you want to drop any threads then same would apply. Asking about certain threads or interactions to get an idea of whether they are being continued or dropped is perfectly acceptable but please do not repeatedly ask/spam or hound me, that could result in an unfollow from me.

Any Anon hate will be promptly discarded and will result in an automatic block. This includes Policing anons. Do not go on anon to police what I post on my blog. Please consider unfollowing. Egotistical Anons who decide to abuse the anonymous function on my blog run the risk of being blocked on sight. I will not apologize or explain my posts or my opinions to anons who disagree with me or those who seek to be some sort of authority on what I choose to post on my blog simply because they disagree with me or my point of view or believe I should be "educated" by their standards. Do not impose yourself onto me. Please unfollow if it gets to that point. I would never intentionally offend or insult anyone, but I do reserve the right to formulate my own opinions and to thereby express them as such should I feel the need. I understand that doing so could possibly result in unintentional offense or misunderstandings and so should anyone deciding to follow this blog after reading the guidelines/rules outlined within this post. If you find this unacceptable, please consider either unfollowing or not following to begin with.

Friendly, neutral, or curious Anons are always welcomed.

Manipulation between muns ooc. Do not do it. If I find out it's your intention or you have actively persisted in certain behavioral patterns I will block without warning or explanation. Let's be transparent, direct and mature about things, please. Open and Direct Communication works best.

Writing. Micro, One-liners, Para, Multi-para and Novella are all welcome. I will be honest, I prefer shorter rather than longer when things have not been plotted. I will be putting my best effort forward but I will not be struggling to match length and hopefully writing partners will not either. Please don't ever feel pressured to write more than motivation will allow, it's completely understandable. I'm the flexible type when in comes to rp here.

Shipping. Please don't force it on my muses. Please don't write on behalf of my muses during replies. This is a cooperative endeavor, and consent should be at the forefront of interactions. I ship for chemistry, please be respectful if it just isn't there between muses. Multiship and multiverse. Love it, can't get enough of it but I do ship and write for chemistry. I'm not likely to autoship. The only exceptions will be the ones I agree on during plotting discussion ooc with other muns. Will not be shipping with minors.

Portrayal. Please don't press personal headcanons onto my muses. Don't press on about inferred or implied assumptions from canon material, don't use knowledge derived from source material to tell me through your muses about my muses, it may seem like a fun idea, but it ends up feeling redundant. Especially if we've just begun interactions. [Example: "Oh hey, don't you LOVE ducks???, you're so in LOVE with ducks, I bet you've got some under your bed! Right?

Multi-verse. Multi-ship. All ships will be treated as though occurring in separate universes unless discussed between writers/muns and/or stated otherwise.

Blocking, &&Unfollowing. If I, at any given point sense that my guidelines or personal boundaries are ignored too many times, I will unfollow and/or block with no warnings or explanations. Please respect my decisions and do not choose to harass me, thereafter, thank you.

Cross-over enthusiast. Open to writing with characters from various outside fandoms.

OC friendly. I am always open to writing with ocs provided it isn't only done with intention to ship. I enjoy interactions with some ocs but I do not prioritize ocs over canon. I prefer for there to be some believable explanation behind how the ocs are fluidly integrated into the universe and for them to be fully aware of their place within it prior to beginning interactions as well as awareness of my muse's status and the overall "established world/verse/reality rules". If not please ask.

Mains, &&Affliates. I don't mind adding associated or affiliated rpers/blogs if we've known each other awhile and have been writing together regularly and communicating ooc frequently, and for a long time. If we have a shared formed continuity, it's fine. I'm not likely to take on mains or any 'status' such as married due to being multiverse and multiship. Each relationship is in it's own separate universe unless discussed between writers/muns. Now, I will be transparent here, when I see these things on other blogs: "mains" or "married to" I will be less likely to initiate any interactions as I take it that those blogs prefer to default to their "mains" or "spouses" as priority, so I prefer to either be tagged directly or prompted via inbox in those situations, thanks for understanding.

Duplicate friendly. This means I am interested in writing with duplicates as though they are multiverse variants or clones of some sort, plotted or not. Usually in cases of multimuse blogs. But I will unfollow or block if duplicates of single-muse blogs never interact.

Gaphics and icons. The majority are made and edited by me. Please do not use them without permission. Thank you. Any that are not made by me will be credited if needed.

I'm here to have fun. I'll basically be doing my best to enjoy myself and bypass any drama.

[i-love-you-all]

Sorry, the last one wasn't super specific.

Khm, gekko getting snuggly with his little buddies and maybe other agents/reader wants to join? I need me some fluffy stuff right now.

This is another one that's been sitting in my inbox for some time, sorry about that :))

I really did try to write a fic, but the premise was Gekko having a really bad day and then getting comforted by his buddies after getting his ass kicked by conditioning with Harbor. Or similar things where he goes through something unfathomably sad before feeling comfort. I think, esp w your add on about other agents, I've instead put a quick HC list of how each agent would react/get along with the buddies. (again, I'm very sorry for not having a structured one shot but I wasn't sure how to make it lighthearted without the hurt)

Astra - Loves all of them, and did not need a warm up period to get close to them. Her favourite is Wingman bc of it's spunk but she will never admit it to anyone other than, well, Wingman. Her favourite moments with them are when she is studying on radianite technology and it's connections through history, and having Wingman help turn the pages for her. Wingman gets soft pets every time she's ready to move on to the next page, and she gets a gentle reminder to fix her posture or rest her eyes.

Breach - A little awkward around them at first just because of how small they are, and uh, is there any way for Gekko to give them some armour? Their general squishiness put him on edge. He has a dog, so he gets how much Gekko must love his pets, so he wants to make sure that he won't hurt them by accident. Since he might be in gym at the same time as Harbor, and thus, Gekko since Harbor is his coach, some of the buddies might take turns on the weights as he's benching them. After he gets used to them, and they get used to Breach, he might take Thrash out for a run with his dog as a favour for Gekko. Let them burn out their energy together and whatnot.

Brimstone - Has treated them as a dog at the start, giving them very simple commands like "sit", "stay", "down", etc. It took a while for him to understand that they can do more complex commands if they're willing. Now, when he spends time with them, it's normally when Gekko challenges him to older video games (like the video we watched when the video game gun skins came out). The buddies will get snacks and watch, but they're often the first ones to fall asleep. On more than one occasion, Brimstone has tucked them in with Gekko while he sleeps on the couch.

Chamber - Was not fond of them at first. He was a little worried about their... bodies? Like, do they stain? Are said stains easy to wash? Will they ruin his shoes? (Spoilers, they did ruin his shoes, but in a worse way than just getting a stain on them :p). The buddies also aren't that fond of him. The one moment of peace between them is when Chamber plays the piano. Maybe it's the vibrations they feel while sitting on the piano, or maybe they genuinely enjoy the pieces he plays, but that is the only time they have a complete truce.

Cypher - Cypher expressed mild joy or amusement when he met Gekko, but of all the agents he has the least interactions with them (even considering deadlock bc she has interactions... just not great ones...). He and Gekko don't cross paths often, as their work is quite different, and Cypher certainly is not part of Gekko's training. However, one time while he snuck in to the kitchen late at night to brew some tea, he noticed that the younger agents were passed out around the various chairs and couches. Among them, Dizzy was perilously balanced on Phoenix's hair, rocking back and forth in its sleep. He gently moved the small creature to rest in Phoenix's arms instead.

Deadlock - I don't know if there's much to say here. Ever since she threatened Wingman, the buddies have kept their distance from her. Maybe one day, one of them will worm their way into her heart, but for now, there's too much pain in her memories when she sees them. She can't help but remember the screams of her friends, the blips blinking out one by one until she was alone, and the pain of the radianite injected into her veins as the mutated bear tried to bite her arm off. It's just a maybe though.

Fade - As a cat lover, she bonds well with Dizzy the most due to it's calm, sleepy nature. She also bonded well with Mosh because of how quiet and reserved it could be sometimes. She's not around HQ too often, as she is a scout and is haunting down the people who hurt her loved one(s), but when she is, she gets at least one secretive cuddle session in with Dizzy.

Gekko - I mean... He loves each and every one of them equally (unlike Astra who pretends not to have favourites but secretly does). They hang around him as he eats, they ride with him on his skateboard all the time, and in the evenings, even when they're allowed to spread freely around the room while he sleeps, they always end up in a tight pile together with him. Dizzy likes being on a pillow by his head. Thrash is either under one of his arms or sleeping on his leg. Mosh is under the other arm or right on his chest. And Wingman is snuggled in the crook of his arm or by his head, just on the opposite side of Dizzy.

Harbor - Likes them, but is more concerned about Gekko's progress. Sure, he'll take a break sometime to play with or pet some of the buddies, maybe while Gekko is preoccupied with a long run, but otherwise, doesn't really pay too much attention to them. He will sometimes train them with Gekko too, to make sure that Gekko understands how to use them or when to rely on them in a gunfight, and in those cases, the buddies treat him as their coach too. Wingman has saluted him more than once.

Jett - Plays with his buddies all the time. Sometimes, enough to make Gekko just a little jealous because she doesn't have to go through the same training regimen as him. Her favourite thing is to play keepaway with all four of them at once. She'll hold out some shiny object and toss it in one direction, just to dash over to where it'll land and catch it before any of the buddies.

Kay/O - Treats them like any other agent. He holds conversations, often one-sided, with them, and he'll pretend to understand them. He doesn't really play with them or snuggle with them, but on cold days, or when they go to icebox, the big robotic robot tends to run hot, so the buddies will be resting on his head, shoulders, anywhere they can perch, just to sap a bit of warmth.

Killjoy - Fascinated with them. She finds them cute, and enjoys playing them on occasion, but it's not surprise to anyone when her main interest turns to studying them. So, while she's in her lab, the buddies have learned not to bother her, lest she strap one of them to her bioanalysis machines again. Outside of the lab though, they'll sit with her as she eats or scrolls her phone. Wingman in particular likes to be there when she plays games because of the pretty colours on screen.

Neon - She was trying not to coo over them or treat them in any particular way at first in an attempt to appear more mature or be "cool". But with time, and as the other younger agents started playing more with the buddies, she begrudgingly let herself join in on the fun. Now, she likes to jog with Thrash when Breach is unavailable, or she'll nap with Dizzy in her arms. She'll even dance with Mosh when she's alone in her room because it likes to bounce up and down in time with her music.

Omen - Similar to Fade in that he bonds with Dizzy best. Of them all, Dizzy moves the least and seems the calmest, so it blends in with his other hobbies, mainly knitting. He's had Wingman help him keep track of his yarn a few times. It was great until, he realized the one time he had to buy new yarn because Wingman got so tangled in it, that he had to cut the little buddy out. He's not opposed to them in general as long as they don't disrupt him.

Phoenix - Warmed up easily to them (pun not intended). Similar to KAY/O, the buddies won't leave his side if the weather outside is cold, but he plays games with them like he does with Jett. They play a little football (not American), even though the ball is about the same size as some of them. Dizzy has once gotten plastered to the side of the ball as it rolled downhill once, and though there was no harm done, Dizzy is not allowed to play football with them anymore. Mosh and Thrash are the best at it though since Mosh is good at headbutting the ball, and Thrash is actually a pretty good keeper.

Raze - So chaotic that the buddies even have a hard time holding on (Literally). More than once, Wingman has tried to hang off her hair or shoulders as she blast packs her way around the training range but ended up getting thrown to the ground. But they don't feel the landing like most people, so it's like a fun game for them. Gekko is all for it as well.

Reyna - She seems to treat Gekko as almost a younger sibling or a nephew, so that care generally expands to the people he cares about. In this case, she has grown fond of the buddies. She doesn't play with them like other agents might, but she will give them a nice pat and maybe a praise in Spanish when with Gekko. She does however make sure to protect them, especially once Deadlock joined the team. They treat her with respect, and she's a good queen to them :p

Sage - She doesn't often have the time to be around them, but they are more than welcome to join her when she meditates or finds time to relax. Given her role in the protocol, there might be some hesitation when it comes to Gekko letting them bother her. She doesn't seem to be his direct mentor (that's more Harbor), and she seems to be in the commanding trio along with Viper and Brimstone. If Gekko and his buddies do hang around her, they do so with extreme caution and a lot of formal respect.

Skye - She has her own, though they are different from Gekko's buddies, seeing as she made them, and like two dog owners whose dogs are best friends, the same applies here. Skye doesn't interact with Gekko a lot, but her tasmanian tiger and her hawk get along well with his buddies, and they arrange play dates on occasion when they're both free. Skye herself has thoughts about how the buddies came to be, but while she may not agree with how they came to be(in fact she hates the idea of animal testing), she can clearly see that they have personalities and deserve to be cared for like any other creature.

Sova - I see him as being more reserved in general life at the HQ. He's friendly, and so he welcomed Gekko and the buddies easily, but he's not an easy man to get a hold of, despite the fact that he sticks to a pretty strict regimen. But his workouts rarely line up with Gekko, they don't share hobbies, and he's quite busy with missions as he doesn't have to train and prepare, and Brimstone uses him quite often for various missions at a time. But there was one time he allowed a strange request, and he let Wingman hold onto his arrow to see if he could shoot Wingman over top of a roof and to the sandpit on the other side. It was disguised as training, so they could experiment with their abilities together, but in reality, Wingman wanted to see what "flying" would be like, and some other agents wanted a fun video to remember this by.

Viper - She's the type of lady who pretends not to like someone's pet, only to be found softly talking to it moments later when she thinks she's alone. Though, she doesn't talk to the buddies. She knows that Gekko can understand them somehow, so she just gives them soft pets, lets them watch her experiments, etc. when Gekko is busy and no one is around. I don't even think Gekko knows this about them. The buddies know better than to be spilling Viper's secrets.

Yoru - He has to have taken one of the buddies on a joy ride on his bike. Maybe he was the one who inspired Wingman to want to go faster (which I've repeated throughout this whole compilation of HCs). Like Viper, he won't fawn over the buddies in public, but in smaller crowds or alone, he'll have short, one-sided conversations with the buddies.

[writer59january13]

Precedent setting the stage for kerning and tracking piqued my interest

Just before logging off for the day, and ready to boogie out of the joint an email landed squarely in my inbox cordially inviting me into the management office accompanied by the buzz of my cell phone: (cue the sound of ominous music): I unexpectedly got called expecting to be handed a pink slip (if you catch me drift) suddenly my heart beat a mile a minute and palms of hands perspired like a wet dish rag expecting to experienced a chop job expecting to be chewed out by a hack after rapping lightly on the door before heading into the office by my namesake. Even before taking a seat an onslaught of rapid fire babbling besieged me as way of introduction, when receiving most recent assignment for Matthew Scott Harris (me), communicated by amiable chap who interestingly enough shared being christened with exact same birth name as mine. Rather than attempt to scribble fast speaking mile a minute brilliantly frenzied novel theme prior experience taught being prepared to stow digital dictation devices.

Upon readying recording device to playback at my leisure, I dramatically signaled to him to repeat speaking, albeit ideally at 78 rotations per minute (RPM) while fingers of mine lightly, yet impatiently drummed upon the table awaiting significantly more succinct delivery, (yet bracing to be saddled with what I expected to be impossible mission even for the stalwart Peter Graves body double) renown for his fast talking verbal outcome concerning next poetic endeavor, yet to borrow a football analogy the writer of these word needed self restraint less primed and prone to block and tackle from him. The moment he started speaking, I then immediately ceased tapping sound anticipating far out and groovy prompting me to hang loose able, eager, ready, and willing to synthesize his incomprehensible jibber jabber, which hopped out outburst spurred me to ask him to talk slower finding myself issuing imprecations as he blithely ignored minor plea of mine and quickly resumed chattering away with animation, excitation, and irritation bypassing feeble attempts of mine mindlessly buzzfeeding and brainstorming, an experienced "aha moment," thence he immediately explained to yours truly (me) the idea, which will hopefully be clearly expressed courtesy the following poem. Though instinctively writing countless bureaucratic reports (but more particularly typing), never did especial attention get paid to the particular nuances (never mind the terms) of kerning and tracking that got brought to my attention after being informed courtesy (as iterated above) my namesake. Kerning developed during the era of metal typesetting, where the term "kern" referred to the part of a metal letter that extended beyond its body, allowing for closer spacing between certain letter combinations, making it a manual process where typographers would physically adjust the spacing between individual characters by hand to achieve a visually pleasing result; essentially, kerning has been around since the early days of printing with metal type. The French term originated from the Latin cardo, cardinis, meaning "hinge." In the days when all type was cast metal, the parts of a typecasting sort that needed to overlap adjacent letters simply hung off the sort slug's edge. Those overhanging metal pieces were called kerns. Tracking is a similar process to kerning that focuses on the spacing between all letters in a word, rather than just a few letters in a word. Tracking is usually uniform, meaning you apply an equal amount of space between each letter so that it doesn't look too spaced out (how one feels

after getting loaded up) or too tight.

Tracking is the process of loosening or tightening a block of text to make it look hip. For most general writing purposes, the "best" lead type considered to be HB (medium hardness), as it offers a good balance between heart of darkness and smoothness while minimizing smudging, making it suitable for everyday use across different writing surfaces.