#guess what this is in reference to guess guess guess

[ominous-signs]

Hey btw there's been a bunch of weird signs in amarillo texas over the past few decades (you can literally just look up amarillo sign and they start showing up, a lot of them have been removed irl by now which makes me kind of sad) but theres so many and they can get so good. You might even recognize some that broke out into the zeitgeist.

Ok I had NOT heard of these! But it’s super fascinating- found some of the more ominous-esc signs off google

But there are so many that aren’t ominous- I saw a lady in a dress, Jessica Rabbit, cool flower. Also found this article called Roadtrippers that said about this project:

“While many people refer to the collection of signs as the “Dynamite Museum,” this is actually the name of the artist collective behind them. Jon Revett, an artist and assistant professor of painting and drawing at West Texas A&M University, became involved with the Dynamite Museum in the mid-’90s. He explains that the collective’s name comes from the fact that the group, funded by eccentric millionaire Stanley Marsh 3 (who also sponsored Cadillac Ranch), wanted to “blow up” the idea of what an art museum is supposed to be.

Revett says that the Sign Project is the Dynamite Museum’s most successful work, and the Amarillo tourism website claims it was once the largest urban art project in the world. While there’s no specific number on record, Revett guesses about 3,000 signs were made and installed, a majority of which stand (or stood) on private property in Amarillo. There are also some located along historic Route 66 in Adrian, a small town 50 miles west of Amarillo.”

ESTIMATED 3k SIGNS FOR THIS ART PROJECT IS NUTS!! This author found around 185 signs which is still a lot, each costing 300-1000 dollars. Wow.

[flofaiiry]

Washington's Finest — Bucky Barnes x Reader

SUMMARY: Congressman Barnes has heard the stories from his colleagues on committee, he knows the stereotype that politicians in Washington often hire women to pursue their extracurricular activities- but he never expected to be the one to be in the need of such... services, much less the kind of man who'd actually seek them out

WARNINGS: fem!reader, reader is a sex worker (referred to as a call girl & hooker), age gap (reader is in law school so mid/late twenties), reader's parents are dead, most likely incorrect info about nda's & how they're used, swearing, probably an overuse of italics oopsie, so much kissing, breast&nipple play, oral f!receiving, reader attempts to fake an orgasm (spoiler it does not work), fingering, mentions of masturbation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, bucky is kind of condescending, teeny bit of dacryphilia, big dick!bucky, little bit of manhandling, unprotected p in v sex (don't do that!!!), creampie. not proofread!!!

WC: ~7k

NOTE: sorry to all my Pitt & Shawn Hatosy followers that this isn’t your regularly scheduled content, I just got this idea after watching one too many Bucky edits and had to write it !!!😁😁 also I apologize if I portray sex workers in a negative light at all, that is not my intention at all!! I heavily based reader on Laurie from The West Wing, which is admittedly a pretty old show, but I tried my best & I hope you enjoy!!!

Bucky, the junior congressman from New York, knows the reputation that politicians have cultivated. He knows the stereotype of the dead-beat husband who steps out on his wife with a prostitute when he's in D.C., then acts all lovey dovey back in the home state.

He thought since he was single, he could avoid this dilemma. This career ending adultery and solicitation scandal that so many before him had walked into. He thought that he could find some girl to take home at a bar and get his rocks off that way, but that proved to be a harder task than he thought. Everyone in D.C., knew him. Everyone in Brooklyn knew him. Everyone everywhere knew him.

It was nice at first, but now it was starting to get annoying.

Fucking his fist in the shower quelled off the physical urges- and even that was starting to lose its efficacy. But what getting himself off didn't satisfy were his mental and emotional needs. The need to be seen, to be felt, to be touched, to be loved. Bucky wanted that.

But he wasn't going to get it anywhere in this town- or this country for that matter.

He'd heard enough stories through hushed conversations outside committee rooms & caucuses to know that Washington's Finest was the best, most reliable high end escort service in DC. The preferred choice for most politicians on Capitol Hill who dabbled in the art of the extramarital affair.

So, one afternoon when he was feeling especially in need- he made the call.

"Washington's Finest, you've reached Elena, how may I direct your call? The woman's voice is sweet and almost robotic sounding. Bucky isn't sure if it's actually a real person or one of those automated recordings until it starts speaking unprompted.

"Hello?"

He clears his throat, "Yeah. Hi. Um- booking."

Elena makes a little sound of acknowledgement before speaking again, "Alright sir, your call is being transferred, I'm going to place you on a brief hold, please stay on the line!"

As soon as she finishes talking, a smooth jazz music floods through the phone and into Bucky's ear. It's nice, familiar. Just as he thinks he might recognize the song, he's met with another woman's voice.

"Good evening this is Washington's Finest, you've reached booking! I'm Paulina how may I assist you?" She speaks, that same sort of uncanniness present in her tone.

"Hi. Yeah, uh I'd like to book- I guess."

"Great! Well then you're in the right place, may I just get a name to make the reservation?"

He hesitates, wondering if he should give his real name. Paulina seems to notice this.

"It doesn't have to be your name, sir. Just any name that we can refer to you by for the booking."

He doesn't say anything. Paulina fills the silence again.

"Rest assured sir, we deal with many high profile customers, our privacy policies are top notch to ensure that your proclivities are kept-"

"Steve." He blurts.

"I'm sorry?"

"Steve. My name is Steve."

Why he just offered the name of his best friend? He doesn't know. But at the moment it's the only name coming to mind so it's gonna have to do.

The woman on the other end smiles almost audibly.

"Alright then, Steve. What service would you like to book with us?"

"Shit, I uh- I don't know. What... services do you have?"

There's a ruffling of papers, a click of a mouse, then her voice again. "We offer three main packages: the One Night, the Weekend Getaway and the Week Long All-Inclusive. Many first-time customers choose to start with the One Night, helps them to find a girl they connect with to book longer services with in the future."

Bucky nods, then remembers she can't see him. "Right. Okay, sure, yeah- the One Night sounds good, let's do that."

"Great! Sounds good, let's get you all reserved - when were you thinking to book your service?"

"I, um- whenever?"

"How about tonight?" She asks, tapping away almost violently at the computer.

He nods, once, twice- like he's trying to convince himself to go through with this. To stoop down to a level he swore he'd never reach. "You know what- sure, let's do tonight."

Paulina continues with the booking, going over various policies regarding payment and acceptable conduct with the girl he books. Then, she gets to the names. There are three girls with availability tonight:

Anya.

Peggy.

And you.

Peggy's out immediately- way too much baggage associated with that name. He eliminates Anya next, sounds too harsh to him.

Leaving him with you. A girl with a name that rolls of the tongue, who will be showing up at his brownstone in a little over three hours

You get the call a few minutes after Bucky hangs up, Paulina tells you that someone named Steve has requested your company tonight, and you're to attend an address in Alexandria at 9pm sharp.

You get ready as usual, wondering if this Steve will be another senator or congressman stepping out on his wife- citing the 'stress of the job,' for pushing them apart, or if he'll be some rich old guy with nothing better to do with his money, or maybe- a secret third option. What that is, you're not sure yet- but a girl can dream, can't she?

Either way- the routine never strays. Makeup, hair, lingerie under an unassuming outfit (men love it when they get to feel like they're unwrapping you). You're out the door by 8:30 and catch the bus to the address sitting in your email.

You get there a few minutes early, so you sit on a bench a few doors down until your phone reads 8:59PM. Then you start down the street to your assigned place of business.

You climb the steps then knock on the door a few times. A second later the door's swinging open. You recognize the face from the news, and from the museum, the former World War 2 hero turned Congressman.

Bucky Barnes.

Not Steve.

You weren't surprised. Didn't feel catfished. 90% of the time the name you're given isn't legit, but one given by the customer to maintain certain degrees of separation.

"Congressman Barnes," you say, nodding your head slightly to greet him.

He says your name in the same tone, but different- like it's more foreign to him. "Please, call me Bucky." He half smiles, stepping aside in the doorway though still terribly unsure of himself.

"Bucky," you repeat, stepping into the house through the open space next to him. "This is a nice place," you hum, kicking off your shoes while he shuts the door behind you. "Thanks," he replies.

"You want something to drink?" He asks, beckoning you to follow him into the kitchen. You do. "Oh, just water is fine, thanks. And ice if you've got."

He nods, filing your preference away then walking over to the fridge to pull out a pitcher, then a cupboard for a glass.

"So," you say, walking around to the opposite side of the kitchen island as him, "what got you calling up Washington's Finest?" He shrugs, sliding a glass full of ice water to you. You mouth a thanks before bringing it to your lips and taking a sip.

"What's anyone looking for when they order a hooker." He says, blunt as ever. You almost choke on the drink, setting it down with a thunk before coughing the water from your windpipe.

"Sorry- is that not what you're called?"

You shake your head, "no, I mean- hooker's not wrong it's just, we prefer call girl. Evokes a nicer image."

"Right. Call girl." He repeats, nodding his head.

You take one more sip, washing down any stuck remnants of liquid from your earlier near-asphyxiation. "So sex?"

"I'm sorry?" He asks.

"That's what most people are looking for when they order a hooker." You repeat his words back to him, earning a smile from the man. He nods, "can't argue with that logic."

He still hasn't answered your question.

"So... sex?" You try again

He coughs, like he was caught off guard. "Yeah, sure. I guess."

He says the words like they're true, but the look in his eyes says they're anything but.

"Right, okay." You reach into your purse and pull out a thin stack of folded paper. “Got a pen?” You ask, setting them both down on the counter: one in front of you, the other in front of Bucky. He quirks an eyebrow, “yeah,” then opens a drawer to retrieve one, “what’s this?”

“NDA,” you say plainly. He scoffs, “I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about-”

You cut him off with a shake of your head, “it’s nothing personal, just company policy.” You reach into your bag once more to take out your own pen, “it’s to cover both of our asses.”

He follows your lead, signing his name on the various lines and not bothering to read all the legal jargon. “Both our asses?” He questions, crossing the T’s and dotting the I’s.

You nod, not once looking up from the page. “Mhmm, that way if I get drunk and start blabbing about all the congressmen I’ve slept with and your name comes up, then you can sue or whatever.”

He watches as you flourish the pen along the paper, marking your name and initials down, then meets your eyes when you slide the forms away. His brows are furrowed, “you get drunk and run your mouth a lot?” He asks, tone half joking.

You smile, “I don’t, but some of the other girls aren’t as careful, like to brag about their customers ‘n such.” He hums, sliding his own papers forward to stack on top of yours.

“You good? Ready?” You ask, putting your pen and the papers back in your bag. Bucky replies with a borderline shaky sigh. You squint, not normally the reaction you get from customers. “Everything okay?”

He nods, slow and unsure. “How does this work exactly? Do we just… start?” You shrug. “It can work however you want it to work. We can do whatever you want to do.”

“What if I want to just… talk first.”

His behaviour is a refreshing contrast to the men you normally deal with- their minds are set on getting your clothes off the second you walk through the door.

“That’s fine,” you smile, “we can talk.”

He nods and exhales, like a weight’s just come off his shoulders. “So,” you start, “what do you want to talk about?”

“Right,” he says, like he forgot that having a conversation would require actual talking.

“Um. What got you into…” he trails off, looking for the right words, “this line of work.”

You laugh, “oh this is not my dream job, believe me. I’m just doing this to get through law school, only got one year left. I’m getting out of this business the second I pass the Bar.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows, he clearly wasn’t expecting that answer. “Wow, law school. You go to GW?” You shake your head, “Georgetown.”

“Damn. They've got a good program over there.”

“I know,” you nod, “and expensive.”

“Ah,” he mouths, “hence the…” he gestures between the both of you, referring to the situation at hand.

“Exactly.”

“Parents can’t afford to help you out a little?”

You shake your head, “it’s not that they can’t afford it, they-” you stop yourself with a sigh. Any other customer would get a rehearsed answer about why you’re in this business, but any other customer wouldn’t have asked the question in the first place. “My parents died a few years ago, bank gave me a hard time with the inheritance — not that it was a whole lot, and there wasn’t very much left over after I paid off their house & some debts.”

He gives you a sympathetic look, the same one everyone gives after you drop the dead parents bomb. You give him a look that brushes off whatever empathetic sentiment he's conjuring up before he can say it. You shrug, “wanted to go to law school, couldn’t afford it, found a way to afford it. That’s all it is.”

He still doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking into your eyes like they’ve got some answer he’s been looking for all his life.

“I’m not proud of it,” you add, starting to rationalize and he quickly starts to shake his head.

“Oh, I didn't mean to imply that you should be ashamed or anything- I mean, fuck I’m the one who- I don't know, hired you? if anything I should be ashamed.”

You huff, “don’t be, you’re... different.”

Bucky smiles at that. “Different?”

“Yeah, most other customers have one thing and one thing only on their mind when I’m around but,” you shrug, “I don’t know, you don’t? I guess? You care about more than just the sex, I mean. At least I think you do. I hope you do."

You add the last part under your breath- you're not even sure why you add it- you know better than to feel anything more than a tolerance for one of your customers.

“Call me old fashioned, I guess.” He jokes. Some of his nerves appear to slough off when you laugh.

“Yeah, something like that,” you reply.

The room falls into a sort of silence, coming about after your laughter fizzles out. It's not awkward though, just like you're both weighing the options of what to say next.

"How about you?" You fill the air with your voice, the question catches Bucky off guard. "What about me?" he answers.

"Why Congress?" You shrug, "being in the history book once isn't enough for you?" It's teasing, but the question behind it still stands: why politics?

He raises his eye brows, bringing a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Wow. Okay. Calling me an attention seeker?"

You tilt your head, "most of you are. I don't know why else anyone would chose a job where your employer is the fucking general population."

"First of all," he starts, corner of his lip raising in a challenging smirk, "they're called constituents- I work for the great people of Brooklyn, thank you very much."

You laugh, "right, right, constituents. I ask again, why spend your life doing such... thankless work? I'm telling you, 90% of these congressmen & senators have some small dick insecurity or something and need some big, powerful job title to make up for it."

Bucky scoffs, taking a few steps around the kitchen island to stand beside you now, you turn to face him, leaning your side against the countertop.

"Well, I definitely don't have that problem," he says, leaning in close against your ear. His voice sends a pulse down your spine that's received between your legs- husky and low.

He pulls away from you and spots the way your eyes had fluttered just barely shut in response to his breath against your skin. You blink- once, twice- trying to adjust to his new proximity to you. "I guess I had just spent enough of my life hurting people, and I wanted what life I have left to be spent helping 'em instead." He mutters the words, searching through your eyes like he lost something in them and if he looks hard enough he'll find it.

Then his eyes flick down to your lips, for a split second- like he's wondering if he should kiss you or not. But when he shifts just marginally away from you- it seems like he's decided against it. Your breath catches in your throat when he shifts, a jolt of borderline disappointment passing through you.

"Kiss me."

The words leave you before your better judgement can tell you otherwise. He wasn't expecting that.

"What?"

You swallow. "Kiss me," you repeat- more sure this time.

"Kiss you?" He asks like he's trying to make 100% sure he heard you right.

You nod once. "Kiss me. Please."

Bucky absorbs the words, then brings a hand up to push a strand of hair behind your ear. He drags his fingers down your jaw, before cradling his hand there at the nape of your neck. His calloused fingertips sit just at the back of your head, then he presses them into your skin and draws you towards him. He pulls you in until your lips are just barely brushing against his.

His lips are dry- not chapped, not rough- but dry like they're looking for something to quench their thirst. They're a stark contrast to your own, meticulously glossed over in that perfect shade that brings out your eyes just right.

Then he kisses you- finally, he kisses you. It's painfully soft, and you're immediately craving more. You bring your own hand up to the side of his face, tangling your fingers into his chocolate brown hair as you deepen the kiss.

He hums into your mouth as his eyes fall shut, and brings his other hand- the metal one- to your waist, pulling your body flush against him. You thought it'd feel harsh, mechanical even, but somehow his touch still manages to be soft.

Suddenly all you can think about is what those fingers would feel like inside of you.

You take your other hand up to the other side of his face, pulling him impossibly closer to you, taking a deep inhale when you do. The air you bring in is mix of second hand smoke and vintage cologne, it's undeniably him.

That snaps the last strand of Bucky's control, the last little thread that had him holding on to any chivalrous sense of decency. He's desperate for you. He thought he was in need of connection- of touch, but the second you walked in his door?

He needed you.

More than he'd ever needed anything else before.

He travels both of his hands down to the backs of your thighs, and picks you up in one seamless motion. You're shocked at his strength at first, but them remember who you're dealing with: Bucky Barnes, former Winter Soldier- he could probably throw you around like it was nothing if he wanted to.

And God, you really hope he wants to.

You wrap your legs around his waist once he's lifted you, and he starts to maneuver you through his house. Walking masterfully through the expanse of hallways within the brownstone without breaking away from the kiss for so much as a breath.

He pushes the door open with your back, taking one hand from under you to flick on the lamp just enough so he can see where the bed is. The dark orange light from the fixture floods the room, bouncing off every available surface & enveloping your bodies in an auburn blanket of warmth.

He lowers you down onto the bed with ease and crawls over top of you. He presses one last firm kiss against your lips before pulling away. His breathing is heavy and ragged, and you can't help but notice the faint blush on his cheeks when you open your eyes.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks, his tone serious, "I know it's your job to say yes, but- do you want this?" If you say no he'd stop, of course he would, but right now he is praying to every higher power that you'll say yes.

No customer had ever asked you that before- asked the woman beneath the call girl what she wanted. And even if they did- it always came with the silent expectation that despite whatever you might want to say deep down, the answer would always be yes.

You nod, still breathless from the exchange earlier- but that's not enough for Bucky. "Words," he whispers, ducking his head down to the crook of your neck. "Tell me you want this, want me," he says, words muffled against your skin as he kisses it softly.

"Want this," you say, still nodding furiously, "want you."

He groans against your neck, raw and desperate. The vibrations ricochet down your body, landing with a throb between your thighs.

Bucky roams his hands down your body, and slides them under your shirt, splaying his fingers against your stomach. One hand's warm, inviting, sultry. The other- cool and unnaturally smooth. But both are soft, and the juxtaposing sensations makes you squirm.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful," he mumbles, tugging at the hem of your shirt then pulling it up over your head. You raise your arms to allow him to slide it off of you, leaving your chest covered with just the skimpy black lace bra you picked out before you left.

He travels his kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone, and across to the top of your ribcage. He moves down your chest, following along the geography of your sternum until his face is buried between your breasts.

One of his hands comes up to cup over the material, inner knuckle of his thumb brushing perfectly across your nipple. You gasp at the new contact, desperate to feel more of him- everywhere.

That sound only encourages him, emboldens him, and before you know it he's tucked his fingers underneath the thin material and is ripping the bra in half at the front seam. He pushes it aside and you shrug off the straps.

This bra was in your all star rotation- it was by far the most flattering one you owned. You should be upset, should scold him with something along the lines of making him buy you a new one, but right now you could not care less about that.

You're yanked from your train of thought when you feel Bucky's lips close around your nipple. His tongue swirling around the bud and teeth grazing it ever so gently. You arch your back, heaving your chest against him by consequence

He brings his hand to your unattended breast, squeezing and grasping at the flesh in just the right spots before pinching at that nipple.

“Please, Bucky,” you whimper, rolling your head back into his mattress while your fingers tug at his long dark strands of hair.

You feel him smirk against your chest, before he picks back up his head and slots his lips onto yours again. “Wanna taste you,” he says through kissing you, “can I?”

“You don’t have to, I’m-“

“I want to,” he cuts you off, “please?”

You nod, slow- but incredibly sure.

“O- okay. Yeah. Sure,” you breathe.

He smiles- like really smiles, then kisses you again1 before descending once more down your body. He leaves wet open mouthed kisses down the expanse of your chest and torso, hands working on undoing the clasp of your pants so he can push them off once he reaches the waistband.

He tosses the garment haphazardly somewhere in the room, before hooking his fingers through the band of your panties.

“This okay?” He asks, eyes hooded with lust as he looks up at you for your consent.

You nod- pathetically quick. “Yes. Please.”

The ends of his lips quirk upwards as he pulls the thin lacy material from your legs. It’s too slow- painfully slow. You wish he’d rip them off like he did with the bra.

Once they’re off, Bucky kneels on the floor in front of you, and hooks his arms under your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He presses his lips to your clit, leaving a tender kiss over it, before licking a long steep stripe up your slit.

“Fuck,” you gasp, hands finding his hair again like there’s some kind of magnet drawing them there. You pull his face against your cunt, forcing his tongue into your hole and knocking his nose against your clit.

“Oh my god,” you moan, arching your hips off the bed and even further into him before he plants you by the hips back into the mattress. He delves his tongue inside you, prodding eagerly through your slick and fucking it in and out of you.

It feels good- feels so good- but it’s not enough.

Your instinct takes over though, months of experience in appeasing men and making them think they’re bringing you to the edge to stroke their ego.

You tone up the moans, raising your volume and repeating Bucky’s name like a mantra. All things to signal that you’re getting close. Your tugs at his hair turn to pulls, thighs pressing around his head, as you lean into the act of an impending orgasm.

It’s not that you didn’t think he could get you there- it’s that you didn’t want him to wait.

“Fuck, Bucky- ‘m gonna cum,” you whine, squirming under him relentlessly. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps lapping at your cunt with his tongue.

“Shit- I- fuck, I'm coming, Bucky I'm-" you cut yourself off with a pornographic moan. One perfected through numerous uses, it's always believable. Always makes the man feel good about himself that he 'made a woman cum.'

Bucky doesn't buy it though. Not for a second.

"No you're not," he says, voice stern and words getting muffled against your pussy. The stubble lining his jaw scrapes at your inner thighs when he speaks.

"Does this not work for you?" He asks, pulling away from you and caressing your thighs. You shake your head, "no- I'm sorry it's not that, I just- it doesn't matter if I feel good or not. You're the customer." You prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at him.

His hair is disheveled from your hands being rooted in it, his chin and lips coated with your slick.

"Who the hell told you that?"

You shrug, "just common sense I thought."

He scoffs, "yeah well fuck that. Tell me what you want me to do. What you need me to do to get you there- for real."

"To be honest- I don't really know," you start.

Bucky cocks an eyebrow, "you don't know?"

You shrug again.

He sits back on his heels, sigh heaving from his chest. "Well, how 'bout this- when you touch yourself, what do you do that makes you cum?" The question's awkward, but for some reason you don't feel opposed to answering.

He traces his vibranium fingers up and down your inner thigh. The cool metal makes your muscles tense. "I want to make you feel good," he says, "but I can't do that if you don't tell me how to go about doing it."

You release a shaky exhale before you speak.

"I need something... inside."

Bucky smirks, "yeah? What's something?"

You shrug, "anything, really. Fingers, toy, dick."

He laughs at that, shaking his head before looking back up at you and leaning back in.

"Well how about," he starts, voice dangerously slow and fingers inching back towards your core, "I give you my fingers now, make you cum on those 'n get you all stretched out for me... Then, I give you the other thing."

You swallow hard, the anticipation building like a knot in your chest.

"Deal?" He asks, tip of his index finger brushing right above your clit. Your breath hitches when you nod. He smiles, "good girl. Now let me make you feel good."

And with that he disappears back between your legs.

Bucky wastes no time and gets right back to business. He wraps his lips around your clit like he never left, and pushes one finger into your tight cunt. He watches eagerly for your body's reaction, indulging in the way your head tilts into the mattress and your eyes roll back in the socket.

"That feel good?" He asks, the vibration against your pussy adds a new layer of pleasure. You nod quickly, "yes- fuck, feels good."

"Good," he smirks, adding a second finger into your hole and curling them inside you, then sucking harder at your clit. The moans slipping from your lips this time are angelic- ethereal, Bucky thinks. They're that beautiful because they're real. The sounds are a tangible demonstration of how good he's making you feel.

You don't notice when he adds a third finger, or when he brings his thumb to rub little circles at your clit, your senses are too bombarded with all the other inputs to register those little changes.

What you do notice, however, is how quickly you come tumbling towards the edge this time- the real edge, the brink of orgasm, not the metaphorical one you created to stroke the egos of your other customers.

Bucky notices too. Notices the way that when you're really close, you don't get louder, but get quieter- your jaw dropped open but no sounds to be heard. The way you clamp your eyes shut and grip onto his hair and the duvet for dear life. The way your hips writhe under him, desperately and subconsciously trying to create more friction for yourself.

He notices it all.

But his favourite thing he's noticed thus far, are the pretty noises you make when you do cum. No showy, perfectly defined moans, but little breathy whimpers that bleed into louder cries of his name as your release gushes out around his tongue.

Music to his ears.

"That's it, just like that, good girl," he coaxes, working you through the high. He gets lost in the way you taste, the noises you make- all of it.

What he doesn't notice that you've already come down from your first high, and so he doesn't stop. Just keeps laving at your slit, sucking at your clit and pumping three thick fingers inside your cunt until he's sending you hurdling towards a second orgasm.

"Oh my- fuckingGodBucky," the last words tumble from your lips in a single syllable as you cum again onto Bucky's tongue. He dips his mouth down, lapping up every last drop of your release like it could grant him eternal life.

When he finally pulls away, hands resting on your thighs to stop them from quaking, he sees the wet marks down your cheeks, and the new crystalline beads forming at the corners of your eyes.

He stands up quickly, a little concerned and hovers himself back over you again. "Hey," he speaks, voice soft, "you okay?" He brushes the hair from your face and the tears from your eyes.

All you can do is nod, breathing too heavy to form any words at the moment. After a second you speak, "felt too good." Bucky laughs, "too good? That sounds like a challenge."

You raise your eyebrows before tracing your eyes down his body, settling on the very evident bulge between his legs. "You did promise me something..." You trail, dragging one finger against him through the jeans. He lets out a strangled sigh at the tiniest bit of friction.

You smirk at your effect on him, before tugging him down to press your lips to his. You taste yourself on his tongue when he slips it into your mouth, you should be a little grossed out- but you could not care less.

The only thing on your mind right now is getting him inside of you.

You pull him to lie next to you, then roll yourself on top of him, straddling over his bulge and grinding your cunt against him. You moan into each others mouths, Bucky's hands find your ass, squeezing and groping at the flesh while yours move to the buttons of his shirt. Undoing them greedily- unapologetically eager to see what he looks like with nothing on.

He moves his arms to let you slide the shirt off of him, leaving him in just a white tank top which he sits up slightly to take off. You can't help but gawk when he's finally topless. Your eyes wander shamelessly over the expanse of his chest and you trace your fingers along the grooves of his muscles, lingering on the little scars and marks like you're trying to commit them to memory.

"Kids these days don't learn it's not polite to stare?" He says, snapping you out of the trance-like state his shirtless figure put you in.

You scoff, "what's not polite is looking like this and expecting me not to look." You lean down and press a kiss against his lips, "I'm just a girl. I see pretty abs & arms and I stare." You sit back up, shuffling down his legs to sit over his knees, then bringing your hands to undo the button and zipper on his pants.

He raises an eyebrow, "I have pretty abs and arms?" He asks, bending his knees to let you slide the slacks down and off of his legs. You stop dead in your tracks, fingers hooked into his boxers but not pulling them down yet- not when he just said that.

"You're joking, right?" He doesn't say anything, just stares at you with an amused look plastered onto his face, "Jesus Christ have you ever looked in a mirror, Bucky?" You shake your head through a laugh and finally pull his boxers down to free his cock.

You sigh at the sight of him. He's big- this you could assume from the way he carried himself. The confidence he exuded. The way he acted like he didn't have any physical detriments to compensate for.

But he's kind of- obscenely big.

You lick your lips and sweep your hair behind your ears and out of the way, before ducking down to take him in your mouth- but Bucky stops you before your lips even meet his tip.

"Not tonight," he says, "another time."

You raise an eyebrow, "another time?" He smirks, then pulls you up for a kiss, "yeah. Another time," he breathes, before pressing his lips to yours. Just from where you're straddling him, you can feel the head of his cock hitting dangerously close to your clit.

"I don't mean to inflate your ego anymore than it already is," you tease, pulling away to look down at him, "but- respectfully- how the fuck am I supposed to fit that inside of me?"

Bucky rolls his eyes playfully, then brings one hand to your hip and the other to wrap around himself, tilting it slightly so it lines up with your entrance. "You can take it. Don't worry." He moves you down by the hip just barely, you gasp when the very first millimeter of his cock prods into your entrance.

"Just take it slow, yeah? Take it slow."

He loosens his grip on your hips, allowing you to take the lead and decide how quickly you want to sink yourself onto him. You nod and plant your hands on his lower abdomen to steady yourself, before slowly- so, so slowly- moving down his length.

The stretch is unlike any you've ever felt before. A string of profanities floods out of your mouth and your head rolls back. Bucky's eyes threaten to close at the feeling of your walls hugging so tight around him, but he keeps them glued on where your bodies meet- watching intently at the way you swallow every inch of him inside of you.

"Just like that," he drawls, sucking in a breath and resisting every urge to buck his hips up and shove himself the rest of the way in.

"Holy shit, Bucky." Your breathing is ragged once you've finally sunk all the way down onto his length. The pads of his fingers are digging into the flesh of your hips, you're sure they'll leave bruises behind but all you can think about right now is how it feels like his cock is about to split you open.

"I know, baby, I know," he stutters, trying to maintain his composure as best he can. "I can't- fuck- too full, I can't," you shake your head, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes once again.

He pulls you down by the arm, lacing his fingers through yours then kissing you. It's soft, but only for a second. Before you know it he's sliding his tongue in your mouth and rolling you both over so he's on top now. He braces his forearms on either side of your head, and pulls away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours.

"You want this? Hm?" He pushes a strand of hair from your face, "want me to fuck you?" His tone is cocky, he knows you want him, but he wants to hear you say it.

"Yes, yes- fuck, please," you whimper, still wholly consumed by the feeling of his thick cock inside you. He smirks, "atta girl," he presses one last kiss to your lips- needy and desperate, before drawing his hips back, then slamming them back into you.

You practically scream at his sudden movement, the pleasure and pain of the stretch blending together and making your vision all fuzzy. The pace he sets is slow, but hard. Unrelenting.

Bucky drops his head to the crook of your neck, biting and kissing at your clavicle. Out of the corner of his eye he spots your hand, desperately gripping at the thin linen sheets to ground yourself. He takes it in his, before pulling it to rest on his back. You nails dig in to the musculature almost instantly, summoning a deep groan from within him.

With that same hand, he takes your leg to sit around his waist, pushing himself even deeper inside of you. The new tilt of his cock now knocks perfectly against the spot inside you that has you seeing stars, drilling into it with every thrust.

The room is hot, your bodies sticky with sweat. The only thing you can hear is the sound of Bucky's hips smacking against yours, his breathy grunts in your ear with every rock of his body into yours, and your repetitive cries of his name.

The pleasure is everything. It's all consuming, earth shattering- but somehow it's still not enough.

"Please," you breathe, "need- fuck, go faster."

He picks his head up to look at you, "yeah?"

You nod, desperate- begging. "Need more, please."

Bucky scoffs, "need more?" He repeats- almost mocking you. You just keep nodding. "Well alright then," he grunts, and you can hear the smirk playing across his lips.

His next actions happen in a whirlwind. He pulls himself out of your pussy, coaxing a whine from your throat when you suddenly feel so empty. Then with one strong vibranium arm he's flipping you over, your face smushing into the pillow before you turn your head.

He brings the same hand underneath you, cool metal fingers splaying across your lower belly as he slams all the way back inside you. Your eyes go wide, accompanied by a load moan of his name before they're clamping down shut again.

His new rhythm is cruel. He looks down and watches the ripples of your ass with every thump of his hips into yours. Bucky presses the hand he has under you against your skin, he can literally feel himself sliding in and out of you. Can feel how deep he is inside of you.

"Oh my- God!" You choke out the last word when he pushes on your lower belly, walls immediately clenching around him.

He hisses out a breath, "you wanted this, hm? So take it. Be a good doll and take it."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Bucky 'm gonna cum." Right as the words leave you, all your senses melt into a white hot static as your orgasm rips through your body.

"Yeahhh, atta girl. Just like that- cum on my cock just like that, huh?" His low voice coaches you through it, never once stopping his unrelenting hips against yours.

His hips finally start to stutter, right as his high starts creeping up on him. You can tell from his thrusts getting shallower that he plans on pulling out to finish- while it's the sensible thing to do- it's also the last thing you want him to do.

"Don't," you gasp.

"What?"

"Don't pull out. Wanna feel you, please God, need to feel you."

He wants to ask if you're sure, but before he can form the words he's falling over the edge. He groans your name and shoots his spend deep inside you, marking you- ruining you for anyone else.

Bucky's thrusts into you turn lazy, then coming to a complete halt right before he pulls out of you. One last whimper falls from your lips, your hole feeling both so empty yet so full of him.

"Holy shit," he huffs, sliding his hand from under you and rolling to lie down next to you.

You turn onto your side to look over at him, your eyes still find a way to linger on his chest. Once he cracks his eyes open and sees you ogling him again, he can't help but laugh.

"You've really got quite the staring habit, huh?"

Your lips turn up into a smile, "can't exactly help it."

He shakes his head, letting his eyes fall shut as his breathing finally comes back to a normal pace. The both of you are too tired to say anything, but really- there's nothing that needs to be said.

He wasn't expecting a girl like you to be the one that knocked on his door- nor were you expecting a man like him to answer. Both of you know this was more than just a business exchange. Even though there'd be money deposited in your account after this, it felt different.

This wasn't just a hook up- it was a reckoning.

When Bucky opens his eyes again, there's a different look in them. And when he stares at you, searching through your own eyes for the answer he's been looking for all night- it's like he's finally found it.

He pulls you into him, moving you so that you lay your head on his chest. He presses a kiss into your hair, and traces his hand up and down your shoulder.

Neither of you say anything more, his eyes said it all already- stay.

And you do.

please let me know what you think!!! reblogs & comments mean more than u know!!!

[nyktomorphia]

...sorry? :/

"We" refers to "speakers of the English language in general", I guess, but mostly me, as a joke at my own expense for having two reactions that are literally contradictory (hence the "because") despite ultimately deriving from the same underlying sentiment. Contextually speaking I am quite familiar with not feeling real or human (thanks), but since I don't know you I didn't know if you meant it the same way or how literal you intended to be, so I began by acknowledging that. And then set that aside to (I thought) agree with the main point you were making in the form of a rhetorical question. I like getting to see how characters whose behaviour appears bizarre or abnormal make sense from their own perspective, whether I relate to them or not, for separate but related reasons. I don't know what specific qualities you had in mind by Not Sounding Like Real People, either, but I wasn't trying to identify any either.

But apparently how I actually came across was somewhere between "nitpicking" and "hostile disagreement", because that seems necessary to explain why you responded with what feels like a lengthy rebuke. (I considered replying to all those questions individually, to make some sort of point, but I'm worried that would just sound more pugnacious so never mind.) So you'd have to tell me what I said that sounds like... callously decontextualising a personal desire into broad writing advice? I think?

Sometimes it's useful to look at your dialogue and ask yourself, "would a real human being talk like that?" But it's also good to ask the follow-up questions of "would the way a real human being talks sound good here" and "does this character actually talk like a real human being or are they weird about it."

[cherrygirlfriend]

─── SMACK! ♡

♡ pairing: ceo!rafe x housewife!reader

♡ summary: rafe is obsessed with his wife’s ass.

♡ warnings / tags: fluff, smut, MDNI! wc: 1k

♡ author's note: for the person who requested something with rafe who’s an ass man!! also this reminded me of my pilates princess fic !!

HOUSEWIFE MASTERLIST ♡ RAFE MASTERLIST

a prompt smack! echoed throughout your kitchen as you felt rafe's hand land on your ass, giving it a sharp smack over your thin shorts. you simply laughed, continuing to make breakfast for you and your husband as the man wrapped his arms around your midriff, pulling you into him. "you're distracting me..." you mumbled as rafe's lips found the side of your neck, a semi pressing into your ass.

"good. means 'm doin' my job right. appreciatin' my wife." he mumbled into your skin as you continued to poke at the omelette with a spatula, "i'm gonna burn our breakfast." you laughed softly as your other hand trailed up to his head, carding through the short strands of hair. "i'd rather have you for breakfast..." rafe's lips trailed down to your shoulder. "you already did." you grinned, "twice."

"and it was the best thing i ever tasted." "greedy man." you laughed softly as you turned the stove off, moving the pan to a burner that was off, before turning around in rafe's arms, looking up at him with a small smile on your face as his hands slid down to cup your ass, one of them squeezing the round flesh. "you're gonna be late for work." "baby, i make my own schedule." he grinned.

"well, i don't make my own schedule." your words made your husband pout, "what's even on your schedule? i made sure to have all your time when we agreed that your only job was to look pretty." you rolled your eyes at his words, even though you couldn't help the small smile on your lips, your cheeks starting to feel warm. "i'm taking some baked goods to the homeless center, then i have pilates and after that, i'm gonna meet up with lola for coffee."

"god, you're almost as busy as me at this point." rafe tsked, looking down at you with a grin, "my little philanthropist." he gave one last smack to your ass before pulling away, "alright. let's have breakfast i guess." your husband grumbled.

when you got home, you were still in your pilates gear, a pair of tight white leggings, a matching sports bra, and a light pink fitted zip-up jacket. you looked down at your watch and noticed there was still around an hour before rafe would be getting home.

thirty minutes later, as you were cutting vegetables for dinner, you heard the front door open and close, your brows rising slightly in surprise when your husband walked to the kitchen doorway, a grin on his lips, "you're home early." you chuckled softly as he strode to you with confidence, rolling up his sleeves. "i had something urgent to tell you."

"what's up?" you asked, your brows furrowing in confusion and slight concern, only for rafe to bring his lips to yours and sliding his arms around your waist, catching you off guard, until eventually, you melted into the kiss.

when he pulled away from the kiss, you looked up at him with your brows raised, "was that the urgent thing you just had to tell me?" "oh, no." rafe grinned down at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "it was that i missed you."

you smack his chest softly with a floral-patterned oven mitt, feeling your cheeks warm up at his honeyed words, your lips starting to quirk up before you turned back to the vegetables you were cutting, picking the knife back up. "i have dinner to prepare."

"y'know, we could always just order in..." rafe's large hand slid onto your back as his eyes, hungry for something other than the meal you'd planned to prepare, trailed down your body, his hand following suite to the curve of your ass, a grin slowly taking over his lips, "these new?" he mumbled, referring to the white leggings you were wearing, "yeah, yeah. i wore them to pilates."

that made your husband let out a dramatic gasp, "you're telling me you wore these in front of other people?" he gave your ass a soft smack, making you chuckle, "and did you wear them when you went out for coffee, too?" "naturally." that earned you a slightly sharper smack, rafe watching your ass bounce slightly in the skin-tight fabric, "haven't we talked about how i don't want you showing my pretty ass to other men?"

"oh? it's your ass now?" you laughed; you were well aware of rafe's obsession with your ass; he loved smacking it, rubbing it, squeezing it, resting his head on it when you were laying in bed... whenever you two went out somewhere, his hand was unashamedly resting on your ass, no matter how inappropriate.

"as long as you have those rings on your finger this ass belongs to me." rafe grins, pulling you into him, his lips finding your neck, each of his actions convincing you more and more, a low whine leaving your lips, "c'mon, baby. we could order in, fool around on the couch a bit before the food arrives..." his large hand slid down the waistband of your shorts, your breath getting caught in your throat as you arched into him, the back of your head going to rest on your shoulder.

"rafe..." "c'mon..."

when his hand slid down into your panties and rafe's long middle finger made contact with your clit, you could finally feel yourself give in, the knife clattering down onto the cutting board. he spun you around, making you squeal, his strong hands gripping your hips, "is that a yes?"

you rolled your eyes as if it was a bother and let out a soft breath of a laughter.

"it's a yes." you mumbled, connecting your lips with rafe's.

TAGLIST : @raahosh, @nemesyaaa, @purpleplumpudding, @littlelamy, @dollyfiles, @esotericcangel, @mattyskies, @bakugouswaif, @nonietosay, @my-name-is-baby, @tinythebunni, @fratbrochrisgf, @ariieeesworld, @silkylovey, @izumis-salty-penis, @cameronsbabydoll, @love-ella333, @haylorbestie, @k4yr14, @harringtonsbowgirl, @lacelottie

click here to join my taglist! 💌

[bruisedswan]

the next time i see someone referring to themselves as their 'dr selves', im gonna full on throttle someone (with love, of course). your 'dr self' is YOU. everything that is and is not, that was and is and will be is YOU. YOU are god of your reality. space-time is made entirely by YOU and your thoughts.

YOU created this primordial thing we call existence. OWN IT!!!! grab it by the balls, scream 'I AM' in its fucking face, because guess what???? you're literally GOD and the MAKER, IT WILL LISTEN!!! please please please for the love of all things (which is you btw) never forget that!!!!

[rosiewitchescottage]

I quite agree with all of this.

Particularly the fact that no matter how bad a character is, she/he will never be deserving of violence or hate committed against her/him purely on account of her being a woman or him being a man.

If you claim to be making a character 'for women', then it would be much appreciated if you could show women as we actually are.

It's true that not all women are gentle, feminine wives and mothers. But some of us are.

Some women are 'girlbosses', ambitious, adventurous etc. So some women characters should be, but not all.

Sometimes women can get ourselves out of bad situations and sometimes we need help, yes, sometimes from men.

Needing help and accepting it is not weak.

Women can be protagonists who are sweet and pure of heart and women can be protagonists who are downright horrible.

(I only recently found out that 'protagonist' simply refers to one that the story is about, the main character.)

Being a villain, or downright awful can indeed come about as the reaction to things that happened in her past.

But we can both hold those who mistreated her accountable for their actions and hold her accountable for taking this road in response to it.

Isn't it more powerful to assume that a woman can make a very wrong choice all by herself?

And for pity's sake! Spare us the remakes of bad to the bone villains with a back sob story to explain how this was actually the fault of someone else.

How about, NO.

Maleficent and Cruella de Ville in their original manifestations are fabulous in their unapologetic, merciless vileness.

That's their nature, their purpose in the story. They are the challenge, the barrier that the protagonists need to overcome.

And they make the challenge a tough one.

I can't count the number of women I've seen making excuses for how Morgana in the magnificent BBC Merlin series, Bellatrix Lestrange in Harry Potter and Medea are only bad because someone else made them that way.

I say yet again, NO!

Morgana was indeed badly treated and King Uther and King Arthur are totally responsible for their behaviour towards her.

But Morgana herself is totally responsible for her own response to this.

She allowed misery, frustration and anger to make her bitter. She let them turn her from a loving foster sister, tender friend and gentle mistress into a vengeful tyrant.

She could have learned to use her magic in secret to do good, knowing that she's proving Uther and Arthur to be wrong.

Instead she chooses to be everything they already assume magic to be.

As for Bellatrix. Reduce this terrifyingly powerful, cruel and pitiless witch to a victim of circumstance? I think not!

She very likely didn't have a loving childhood in the Black family home. But I can't see her as having been a model daughter or sister either.

My guess is that she was up to villainy as soon as she was able.

Getting to school, she made friends who at least 'appreciated' her proclivities.

Then Tom Riddle became Lord Voldemort and she found the leader who would allow her to find out just how far she could go.

Her parents would never let her marry a penniless orphan of unknown pedigree. So she married Rudolphus Lestrange.

But Lord Voldemort was the one she loved, honoured and obeyed.

Because he taught her to increase her power, to do more and worse than she had ever been able to before.

Medea is a powerful sorceress. She helps Jason to find The Golden Fleece as ordered by his Patroness Hera.

She's even willing to kill her own brother, as he pursues Jason, when Medea had asked him to take her with him.

The pair marry and have two sons.

Jason then betrays Medea by abandoning her for another woman.

Yes, this is a disgusting thing for him to do and we can be firmly on Medea's side in this.

Until we see what she does in revenge. She kills her own two young sons, in order to deprive Jason of them.

I can't imagine why anyone makes any kind of excuse for Medea in this. I don't imagine for a moment that for the Ancient Greeks a mother committing so unnatural an act would be anything but horrific.

Some versions of the tale have her killing her rival, and whilst a crime is a crime, it's not the murder of a complete innocent.

Besides which, Medea is skilled in magic. She could have made Jason impotent instead.

At least Jason's betrayal of his wife loses him the favour of Hera.

But no one's convincing me that a woman who murders her own young children is some 'feminist icon'.

Wonderfully crafted and fascinating characters that reflect the reality of womanhood with rich and varied stories.

That's what we want.

And when they do terrible things, no excuses made. Women can be evil just as men can.

We are equally human.

The way 'feminist retellings' have become another name for multi-dimensional female characters being white-washed and reduced to misunderstood/wronged/abused woman who does conventionally evil things to protect herself/for the greater good will always make me want to hurl myself off of a cliff.

Often times, these retellings bear no respect for their original text, and simply write to be quoted on tumblr mood boards and praised by booktokers as 'subversive' and 'a new take on feminism.'

I need authors to stop writing feminist retellings until they understand that women can be

1. Evil

2. Ambitious

3. Cruel/unkind/selfish

And gender based violence against these women is not acceptable simply because of their actions. They do not need to be victims of earlier abuse, or extremely kind, or the chosen ones for violence perpetuated against them on the virtue of their gender to be condemned.

[justaboredperson666]

I'm still not over the new Mizi comic so I'm ranting again.

The main part that I wanna focus on is the MiziSua slap

Tbh, I always thought that they both hid their true self from each other (Well, I guess I'm only referring to Sua because I genuinely thought that Mizi was as carefree and jolly as shown and only thought that it was Sua hiding her true self eg her "bad" traits, like how she can be with others, since it's shown she acts drastically different with Mizi) so I was surprised that we can see that they are actually showing their "bad" selves or traits to eachother, with Sua being self-deprecating and depressing (which for me, I thought she wouldn't show this side of her to Mizi) and Mizi slapping Sua because of Sua invalidating Mizi in a way which triggered the slap.

There is also a scene where I was surprised, it was when Sua responded with "I'm not sure if I can say the same" when Mizi said that she's just happy because Sua is now with her.

Like, I thought that after being objectified and pushed around by Nigeh, she'd be relieved and reciprocate Mizi's happiness in finally being able to see each other again, but she responded with that? Why is that really? Why does she say she doesn't feel the same as Mizi; being happy because they're with each other? Am I looking too much into this moment? It just felt really out of character for Sua (who loves Mizi in the whole wide world, and Mizi reciprocating those feelings)

Anyways, there is like an interpretation that Sua purposely provoked Mizi, and I agree with that because I'm pretty sure Sua would know how hurtful those words are, especially after Mizi just told Sua her shitty experience with that creep and yet still said those? I'm really curious as to what she was thinking. Because, like, canonically, Sua is much more beautiful than Mizi (based on the stats which might be from a biased view from the aliens cuz beauty isn't objective) so if there's a woman who could understand Mizi the most, it should be Sua. Sua literally has been objectified and dehumanized all her life by Nigeh, and it won't be a surprise if she faced some sexism and mysogyny too, and yet she spouts those words to Mizi? That it "must be nice, right?" Even after Mizi told her about the encounter? Even after seeing the bruise on her face?

When I keep thinking about it, it just really seems so tone deaf and out of place for Sua of all people to say that, she knows what it's like to just be reduced to her appearance, she must know how invalidating and hurtful the words she uttered to the one she loves the most must be. So just why? Personally, I think it might be either of the two things, it's either sua was just not really in her right mind at that moment, with the upcoming Alien Stage tournament and the pressure of knowing that one of them is dying, and her owner pushing her around, she might've been not considering Mizi's feelings atm even if she knows the weight of her words, Orr it's really just Sua trying to let mizi drop the mask around her which I'll explain more.

We can see Sua smiling after getting slapped, I saw a post interpreting that as sua happy because Mizi is dropping the mask around her, that she got the results she wanted. Sua then replies with a simple "it's fine" after Mizi starts crying and apologizing, Sua doesn't lash out, or is even surprised/upset, this could also be interpreted as Sua being so dependent and enamored with Mizi that she literally doesn't care if Mizi hurts her, though I want to believe that it's the latter; Sua intentionally parroting the boys' words to Mizi in hopes that it triggers her and drop her facade. Maybe Sua didn't intend on Mizi actually hitting her as a result, reflected in her expression when Mizi hit her, but she's still smiling, and isn't upset one bit because at least Mizi is dropping the mask, the mask that is basically sewn to her face, even after being assaulted, she still smiles, even after the love of her life, who she finds comfort in the most minimizes her pain causing her to slap her, she still smiles, the mask is so engraved in her that even after hurting the one she loves, she still shows her smiling self even while tears start to well. Only after realizing what she's done, she starts immediately regretting her actions and starts crying in front of Sua, she's dropping the mask in front of Sua, a mask she's never let anyone see past, she's baring it all to Sua at this moment. Which from what I said earlier, might actually be what Sua intended. Finally, Mizi who is acting fine after being literally degraded and assaulted is letting it all out. Even if Sua gets hurt in the process.

Tbh, to me, this really just shows you how much Sua cares and loves Mizi, even when Sua is tired and sick of her situation with Nigeh, she puts Mizi first, with her trying to let her actually express her feelings instead of bottling it. -Assuming that my interpretation is even close to true.

Even if Sua copes through Mizi's innocence and brightness, I don't think she wants it at the expense of Mizi always hiding behind a facade, always smiling and bottling it up even after terrible things happen to her. Even when she feeds off of her innocence, Sua's love isn't something that shallow, she still loves Mizi even after knowing that Mizi isn't all sunshine and rainbows.

So both of them DO know the other parts of the other which I thought they were hiding from one another, idk it kinda makes me feel better because even though the other has a side that is way different from their idolized self; we can see this with Mizi always calling Sua perfect and literally calling her her God and Universe, and Sua having Mizis 'innocence' as a coping mechanism and literally only has Mizi as her only reason to live. Presumably. That they still stick to each other and love each other the same, because even if their relationship is immensely toxic and codependent, that doesn't mean that the love isn't real or genuine even if they both may harbor some form of resentment for the other, this just makes their relationship SO much more complex, and nuanced.

This comic really fleshes out Mizi and Sua's relationship, and shows the people who think it is healthy or nontoxic that the relationship really isn't, none of it is. Mizi even said that they previously had an argument and now I'm really curious what it might've been about.🤌

Edit: I added more of my thoughts bc I still keep thinking about it. (Primarily just the part of why sua said what she said even when she knows what it's like to be objectified and more stuff about mizi) this is just my interpretation of the scene so ofc I may not be right. And also i have a hard time articulating my thoughts and putting them into words so this analysis might be all over the place and just missing the point completely.

[aleespace]

I think it's time we talk about Burgerpants x Nice cream guy because I feel like I'm going crazy over here

For those who forgot or unaware this is a ship between two vendors, so called "Burgerpants" (because we don't know his real name) who works for Mettaton in Undertale and "Nice cream guy" (NCG) blue bunny who sells you "Nice cream"

I think originally this ship was created because people were like "they both are vendors but one is a cute optimistic bunny and the other hates his job and life... WOULDN'T IT BE FUNNY—" and so it began

But what's interesting is how Toby apparently saw it and was SO onboard with this idea that he now created an entire storyline for these two

One of the few late additions to Undertale was including NCG in Burgerpants' dialogue, not only that but also making it very clear that NCG likes Burgerpants and this affection is transferred to Toby's other game - Deltarune.

Now it's Pizzapants instead of Burgerpants and NCG is referred to as just Blue Bunny or Blue Ears but their dynamic stayed the same. Starting with first chapter we see that NCG still likes Burgerpants as he's often clings to him to the point when his behavior can be described as lack of "concept of personal space".

There's also a phrase following this one about Blue Bunny constantly accidentally pouring drinks over Burgerpants and laughing. I highly doubt it was intentional act of harm, for me it reads like maybe he was nervous around his crush or for some other reason. Toby wrote Blue Bunny to be kind so I think he wouldn't harm anyone with malicious intent which we will also see in 4th chapter, but now let's look at them in second chapter.

Here Burgerpants tells us about his new "girlfriend" he chats with online. He's never seen her actual picture and there are reasons to believe this girlfriend isn't actually real, but Burgerpants is oblivious to it as he's just happy he found someone. If we talk with NCG here he says this about the situation

Now it could've ended here if it wasn't for new chapters which completely recontextualize all of this

Suddenly it is made very apparent that this "girlfriend" was fabricated by NCG and Bratty. The dialogue between them below:

Now I don't know if this plotline was in Toby's mind from very beginning but considering it was this whole situation to me looks like this:

NCG started chatting with Burgerpants first. Maybe he somehow found out his number or found him on social media and started a conversation. I guess at some point there was a miscommunication and NCG thought that Burgerpants knew who he was chatting with, but in reality Burgerpants thought just what he wanted to think. NCG might have sent him a simple photo of pizza and Burgerpants saw it as "bikini"

This would've explained why NCG at first couldn't understand why Burgerpants was so happy. Because if we later find out that NCG is okay with lying to Burgerpants to make him happy then why would NCG start pretending to be this "girlfriend" in the first place if he didn't know at first that this would make Burgerpants happy?

So I guess what happened is: NCG texts Burgerpants, Burgerpants misinterprets it as a girl texting him, Bratty and NCG find out about this situation, NCG at first wants to tell the truth but Bratty talks him into continuing lying. NCG thinks he does it to make the one he likes happy, when in reality he unknowingly helps Bratty to make fun of him.

If this is really the case then my prediction for the next chapter is that at the festival NCG finally tells the truth and we see where their relationship will go to from this point. Knowing Toby it will probably end well but still I'm so intrigued by this little side plotline most people won't even notice!! I'm actually so unwell about this ship if you couldn't tell already and I expect something really really interesting in next chapter!!!

[s0ms]

Wanted to drabble with fashion (ft. Qi and my persona)

Below the cut is a few more drawings + a wip (that I probably won't finish now)

Please let fat Qi plush be real ^^

The second Qi was what I was initially working with then HiPaint decided to not function after a recent update.

I might do more outfit stuff in the future, but no guarantees

[starryoak]

I swear to god if i have to read another post claiming Toriel is obviously an alcoholic and a bad parent for daring to get excitable when drunk (which is not in fact the same thing as having a problem with alcohol) and not obsessively worrying over her teen who is of a developmentally appropriate age to be allowed to do what they want on the weekends without adult supervision, I’m going to lose it.

[fantastic-nonsense]

finally caught up with Batman and Robin: Year One and yayyyyy Baby!Dick adoption! Realistic modern outcome given Dick's legal circumstances+Bruce's canonical willingness to adopt and no more adult adoption angst!

However, I admit I spent quite a bit of time trying to puzzle out the specifics how how that went down, since via the papers (and Mark Waid) Dick is theoretically adopted despite the book starting up roughly a month since the Grayson's deaths and the ongoing plotpoint of Ms. Lyn's casework visits...plus multiple people referring to Bruce as Dick's "guardian":

"Bruce, you're the one who invited this interrogation by filing as a bachelor guardian with a reputation for...heavy socializing." -Batman and Robin: Year One (2024) #2

"This was one of the terms in Mr. Wayne's contract with social services, Mr. Pennyworth, was it not? The occasional drop-in?" -Batman and Robin: Year One #4

"Might I suggest you ask his guardian about these contusions?" -Batman and Robin: Year One #7

My best guess for Dick's legal status in this book is actually that we're in the post-placement, pre-paperwork finalization stage of the adoption process. While Bruce is technically already Dick's adoptive father, hence the papers and Waid's comments, it's legally a provisional status while the home visits happen. What Bruce's "all-star lawyers" were probably able to do is push some sort of accelerated adoption process that enabled Bruce to expedite the pre-placement stages....probably on grounds of ensuring that Dick had assurances of permanent home stability in the face of his trauma and the courts not allowing him to remain with the circus.

That would reasonably explain what's going on with the social worker visits and why people are still referring to Bruce as Dick's "guardian" even though the papers say Dick's been adopted. The 'social services contract' Ms. Lyn referred to must have included some sort of special waiver to waive the usual pre-placement visits and possibly the adoption-specific therapist appointments, allowing for Dick's expedited placement with Bruce.

But even Bruce's lawyers can't exactly get the normal six months of post-placement caseworker visits waived...hence Bruce and Dick getting "post-adoption" visits that seem more aligned with post-placement/pre-finalization home visits rather than the post-adoption services ones. Issue #12 will probably end with Ms. Lyn signing the final adoption consent forms and Dick officially officially becoming Bruce's adopted son.

[orellazalonia]

Wounded Pride

Summary: When Bucky overhears you referring to him as not exactly being a badass, he over dramatically makes sure you don’t forget what was said. (Bucky Barnes x reader)

Word Count: 1.3k+

A/N: Based on that one behind the scenes clip. If you know, you know…. Happy reading!!!

Main Masterlist

The Tower’s elevators were notorious for having a mind of their own. Sometimes they opened without warning, sometimes they took an eternity to arrive, and sometimes, just sometimes, they timed their arrival with the cruel precision of a sitcom writer.

You were mid-conversation with Sam, leaning against the wall across from him in the hallway, arms crossed, foot tapping. He was lazily scrolling through something on his phone while the two of you traded jabs to pass the time.

It had started innocently. A stupid debate about who on the team would fall apart first during a zombie apocalypse, which then derailed into who would be the least useful in a survival situation. You didn’t think much when your lips curved into a smirk and the words fell out of your mouth, quick and flippant:

“Bucky? Please. He’s more dramatic than cool.”

Sam’s head snapped up, eyebrows raised. “You sure you wanna say that out loud? Man’s got enhanced hearing and a long memory.”

You waved it off with a shrug and a grin. “Oh come on. He broods, wears all black and leans against walls like he’s posing for a noir poster. He’s not exactly a badass.”

The elevator dinged.

And you turned too late.

There stood Bucky Barnes, holding a paper cup of coffee, one brow already arched as if he’d caught the sentence at just the perfect moment. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just stared at you with that unreadable, piercing expression.

Then his face crumpled into the saddest mock expression of betrayal you had ever seen.

“…What?” He said, softly. So softly.

It was the kind of “what” that sounded like he’d just walked in on his birthday party being canceled. Or found out the puppy he’d been promised as a child was a lie. His eyes widened ever so slightly, lips parting, and he clutched his coffee like it was all he had left in the world.

Sam choked on a laugh and turned to the wall, hiding his face in his elbow as he made strange wheezing noises.

Your mouth opened, trying to find the right words. “I—I didn’t mean it like that.”

But Bucky’s expression was now carved from theatrical devastation. He didn’t even glance your way, just stared ahead, stiff as a statue as you and Sam entered the elevator.

“It’s fine,” He said with the grave seriousness of someone announcing their own funeral. “I’m not a badass. I’ll just go take knitting classes. Maybe open a flower shop. Maybe I am soft.”

“Bucky.”

He sipped his coffee. Slowly. Painfully. “Guess all those years of being a deadly ghost assassin mean nothing now.”

You blinked. “Okay, first of all-“

“I mean, I’ve only jumped out of moving vehicles, disarmed bombs, and taken on half a HYDRA base solo, but clearly, clearly, I should’ve worn sunglasses and played electric guitar instead. That’s what real badasses do, right?”

The elevator doors began to slide closed behind you, trapping you in his theater of sorrow. Sam was practically doubled over now, shoulders shaking violently.

“Jesus Christ,” You muttered, smacking your palm to your forehead. “You’re worse than Clint when someone eats his snacks.”

Still, Bucky didn’t let up. He turned slightly now, just enough to glance at his own metal arm, as if questioning its very existence. “Might trade this in. Get one of those foam Hulk hands instead. They squeak.”

You stared at him. “You’re unbelievable.”

He finally met your gaze, lip jutting out in the most exaggerated pout you’d ever seen on a fully grown man. “You wounded me.”

And then, there it was, the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

You squinted at him. “You’re faking it.”

“Am I?” He asked, sipping his coffee with unbothered elegance. “Or is this just how it feels when someone you care about betrays you so publicly?”

Your mouth opened to argue, but no words came. You just pointed at him in silent outrage as Sam completely lost it behind you.

And Bucky? He leaned against the elevator wall, lifting his cup with a quiet, smug sip.

You didn’t speak the rest of the elevator ride. Neither did Sam because he had been too busy nearly hyperventilating with laughter. Bucky stayed committed to the bit the entire way down, arms crossed now, coffee now forgotten in one hand as he stared up at the ceiling like a Shakespearean ghost, pondering his tragic fate.

The second the elevator doors opened, you bolted.

“I take it back!” You called behind you. “You're totally a badass! King of brooding! Master of knives! Alpha of angsty wolves or whatever!”

But Bucky’s voice floated after you like a sigh in a funeral parlor. “Too little, too late.”

You groaned and turned the corner, only to hear Sam laugh again behind you.

The next few hours passed in relative peace. You figured he’d drop it. Bucky had a sense of humor. Dry as the Sahara, sure, but a sense of humor nonetheless. And you had apologized. Well. Kind of.

But when you stepped into the training room later, towel slung over your shoulder and water bottle in hand, you stopped short.

There he was.

Bucky Barnes.

Perched dramatically on a bench in the center of the mat, head bowed, posture slouched in such a carefully performed display of melancholy you almost applauded. His dog tags were visible today, glinting beneath his dark shirt. A single training knife spun in his hand like it had betrayed him, too.

You hesitated at the doorway. “What are you doing?”

“Reflecting,” He answered without looking at you.

You frowned. “On…?”

“My failures. My illusions. The lie I lived under, thinking I was intimidating.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Oh, you are so full of shit.”

He looked up, expression completely deadpan. “Am I, though?”

You walked in slowly, water bottle dangling from your fingers. “You were never this dramatic back when we fought those mercs in Berlin.”

“I was trying to impress you back then,” He said in a pouty, exasperated tone. .

You nearly choked. “Excuse me-”

He stood slowly, rising with the look of a man preparing to duel at dawn. “No need to pretend now. I know what you really think of me. Just a washed-up ex-assassin who can't even scare a field agent.”

“I never said that!”

“Oh?” He said, pointing the training knife at you. “Then what did you mean by ‘not exactly a badass’? Hm? Let’s hear it. Please enlighten me.”

Your mouth flopped open, then shut. You walked closer and poked his chest with a finger. “I meant you're a different kind of badass! The slow-burn kind! The guy who doesn’t need to puff his chest and scream at the sky!”

Bucky tilted his head. “You think I scream at the sky?”

“That’s Thor, Barnes!”

He blinked. “…Fair.”

You turned, throwing your hands up. “God, why am I explaining myself to a man who eats plums and sulks like it’s a sport-“

Suddenly, a strong arm wrapped around your waist and spun you fast and easy, like you weighed nothing at all, and you found yourself pressed up against him, back to his chest, your wrist caught gently in his hand.

His mouth was next to your ear.

“Still not a badass?”

Your heart stuttered. Your brain short-circuited. You hated how smug he sounded.

“…Okay,” You muttered. “Maybe a little.”

He grinned against your cheek. “Mm. Thought so.”

You shoved him off with a scowl, ignoring how warm your face felt. He didn’t resist, just stepped back with that same cocky smile spreading across his lips.

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” You asked, grabbing a practice baton.

“Nope,” He said cheerfully. “But don’t worry.”

He spun his knife again with a wink.

“You can always make it up to me.”

[thetoastghost222]

Enemies With Cat Benefits

Overview: You and your neighbor are sworn to be “enemies” but his cat brings you two together

Authors Note: This is longer than my usual fics. Not proofread so there will be mistakes and i’m sorry. Anyways please enjoy i kinda hate it and could use some reassurance <3 Guys please request some stories/drabbles I’m having writer’s block:(

Theme: Enemies to lovers! Fluff! They are barely enemies

Word Count:1874

Moving day was supposed to be simple.

Just you, a pile of boxes, and the hope that nothing expensive had broken in transit. You had about half the boxes inside the apartment already, and you were more than ready for a shower and a long nap.

That was, until you heard a soft noise at the doorway.

There he was a fluffy, orange cat sitting right at the threshold. He looked innocent enough at first, but little did you know the chaos that little ball of fur would bring into your life.

Just as you squatted down to pet him, a cool, smooth voice cut through the quiet.

“Don’t pet him. He’s already spoiled enough.”

You startled slightly at the sudden voice and quickly retracted your hand. When you looked up, your gaze met the unimpressed face of your new and ridiculously attractive neighbor, who was now staring down at you like you’d just committed a crime by stealing his cat’s attention.

“I’m guessing you’re his owner?” you asked, breaking the tense silence.

“What gave it away?” he replied dryly, crouching to scoop the purring cat into his arms.

“You have similar faces,” you quipped, only half joking.

He let out an unamused laugh and rolled his eyes.

“I’m Lee Minho, by the way.”

You gave a small nod. “I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you, and…”

You trailed off, glancing at the cat, realizing you hadn’t caught his name.

“His name’s Soonie,” Minho said.

You smiled and gently rubbed Soonie’s head, baby talking to him despite the exasperated sigh Minho let out.

“You done yet?” he asked, referring to your cooing over the cat now content in his arms.

You gave him a mock glare but ultimately stepped back to give him space.

“Good luck carrying the rest of your boxes up the stairs,” he added with a smug little smirk.

Your smile dropped as you remembered the rest of the boxes still waiting in the truck. Before you could even ask for help, he was already shaking his head no, like he’d read your mind.

And just like that, without another word, he turned and disappeared into his apartment across the hall, Soonie still purring in his arms.You sigh and plop down on your couch deciding to take a five minute break to rest your eyes.Well those five minutes turned into two hours,by the time you woke up the sun was starting to set.

Stretching and blinking away any remnant of sleep you look around your apartment and are immediately wide awake.Sitting in your apartment are the rest of the boxes neatly stacked.You glance at the door and notice a small light blue square stuck to your apartment door.

Walking over to the door you notice there’s a sticky note written in neat but rushed handwriting the sentence ‘’Don't expect me to always be this kind -M’’ stares back at you.You think about going over and thanking him but ultimately decide against it deciding not to bother him.

Over the next two weeks as you’re getting settled in, Soonie somehow keeps ending up in your apartment begging for your attention. Obviously you couldn't deprive him of your attention,so every other day you end up curled up on your couch with your neighbor's cat.

You couldn't help but find this whole situation amusing so one day you decide to boast to Minho.Digging through your junk drawer you finally find some sticky notes and write a quick note to your neighbor.’’Your cat likes me more’’you smile yourself and go across the hallway and stick it to Minho's door.

The next day you check your door and low and behold there lies another light blue sticky note this time with the words ‘’He likes warm surfaces,not you’’you roll your eyes at his stubborn behavior but still respond with your own message ‘’That's not what he said when he was curled up on my chest.’’Thats the last interaction you have with your seemingly emotionally unavailable neighbor for that week.

It’s nearly midnight, and rain is pouring down in relentless sheets. As if the universe hadn’t done enough, your apartment’s fire alarm suddenly blares right as the storm outside reaches its peak.

You rush out of your apartment, forgetting a raincoat or an umbrella in your scramble. The cold rain hits you instantly, soaking through your clothes in seconds as you follow the rest of the building’s sleepy, irritated tenants out into the night.

After a few minutes of standing in the downpour, the initial panic fades, and you find yourself retreating to the covered stairwell just outside the building. You sit down with a sigh, water dripping from your hair and clothes, shivering slightly as you pull your knees to your chest.

The fire alarm continues to screech in the background, and you can’t help but wonder what you did to deserve this kind of luck tonight.

You hear footsteps a moment later, slow, even, familiar.

Minho appears at the top of the stairwell, holding a very displeased looking Soonie wrapped in a towel. He pauses when he sees you sitting there, drenched and shivering. For a second, he just stares, unreadable as ever. Then, without a word, he walks over, shrugs off his jacket, and drapes it around your shoulders.

“You’re going to catch a cold looking like that,” he mutters, settling beside you with Soonie still bundled in his arms.

You blink up at him in surprise, but before you can say anything, he glances your way and adds, “Don’t make it weird. It’s just a jacket.”

Despite his tone, the fabric is warm, and the quiet gesture makes something flutter in your chest.

Soonie purrs softly, nestled between the two of you now. And for a moment despite the rain, the alarm, and the sheer absurdity of the night you feel just a little bit okay.

Suddenly he speaks up again this time quieter and almost shy.’’thank you for letting Soonie hangout with you when i'm not home.’’you smile slightly ‘’thank you for letting him hangout with me,he makes great company.’’ you reply.

As you both sit there waiting for the alarm to stop the air seems to shift and the regular silence between you two seems less awkward and now more comforting.

-skip a couple days-

You had just came home from a rough day at work and all you wanted to do was curl up and sleep. As you're lying on your couch halfway asleep you hear a knock at your door,you groan but get up and open it.

There stands Minho holding a hyper Soonie who looks thrilled to see you.’’He wouldn't stop scratching at the door until I brought him here he's your problem now.’’ Minho says. Despite how tired you are you manage a smile and hold your arms out to Soonie who gratefully climbs into your arms and starts purring loudly.

You go over to your couch and sit down and let soonie curl up.Minho doesn't follow or leave he just stares at you for a moment.’’Are you okay?’’ You don't answer. He takes that as a no and silently sits down next to you. You both sit there in comforting silence.

Suddenly he speaks up’’ He’s not the only one who wanted to come over,” he says, almost too low to hear.

You look at him, brows raised.

He sighs, like he’s already regretting opening his mouth.

“I told myself it was just about Soonie. That it was easier to pretend it was about the cat. But that’s not really true.”

You don’t interrupt. Just let him talk.

He leans back against the cushions, eyes on the ceiling now, voice quieter.

“I like being around you. Even when I act like I don’t. Even when I say the opposite. It’s… easier to keep people at a distance, but you” He stops himself, scoffs under his breath. “You make that kind of impossible.”

Another pause. You can feel your heart thudding a little harder now.

“I don’t know when it happened, or how, but I like you. And it’s been driving me insane. So there. Now you know.”

He turns to you fully now, eyes guarded but vulnerable.

“You can laugh or tell me I’m an idiot, whatever.

Soonie, oblivious, lets out a loud yawn between you.

You smile.

“I think Soonie knew before either of us did,” you say softly, running your fingers through the cat’s fur.

Minho watches you for a moment, lips twitching like he’s trying not to smile.

“Yeah, well,” he mutters, finally relaxing just a little, “he’s nosy like that.”

You smile down at Soonie, still curled up contentedly in your lap like this was the plan all along. Maybe it was at least in his little cat brain.

Minho hasn’t looked away. You can feel his eyes on you, heavy with something that makes your chest feel tight. When you glance up at him, he’s already leaning forward a little, elbows resting on his knees, like he’s caught between staying and getting closer.

“You’re not gonna say anything stupid now, are you?” he asks, voice a little lower, a little rougher.

You blink. “Like what?”

“Like, ‘That was cute,’ or ‘You’re kinda soft when you care.’ Something I’ll regret hearing when I’m trying to sleep later.”

You can’t help but grin. “So you do care.”

He groans and tilts his head back dramatically, but there’s color rising in his cheeks.” Don’t push it.”

You laugh quietly, hand brushing through Soonie’s fur, but your gaze lingers on him the way he’s still kind of tense, like he’s holding himself back.

“Minho?” you say softly.

He looks at you then, really looks at you. And for once, he doesn’t deflect with sarcasm. He just stares, eyes searching yours.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he says, barely above a whisper.

Your breath catches. “Okay.”

To most that seems like an awkward moment but to you two it’s perfect.That’s all it takes.

He leans in slowly, like he’s giving you a chance to back away. But you don’t. His hand grazes your jaw, fingers brushing just under your ear as he pulls you in and then he kisses you.

It’s soft at first. Careful. Like he doesn’t quite believe he’s allowed to do this. But then you lean into him, and he deepens the kiss just slightly, his thumb tracing your cheek like he’s trying to memorize the moment.

Soonie lets out a little meow of protest, sandwiched between you, and Minho breaks the kiss with a breathless chuckle.

“He’s such a third wheel,” he mutters.

You smile, resting your forehead against his. “He brought you here. I think he’s earned his spot.”

Minho hums in agreement, eyes flicking down to your lips again.

“Still annoying.”

“But worth it.”

And when he kisses you again, slower this time, it feels like the beginning of something you’ve both been trying not to admit for a long time.

Pretty soon your apartment becomes “the” apartment Minho practically lives there now, and Soonie has claimed both of your laps as his throne. The sticky notes are now inside jokes stuck on your fridge

Taglist: @lixies-favorite-cookie comment if you wanna be added:)

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does not apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.Feel free to reblog. :)

[fandom-random-help]

Am I Okay?

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Simon wasn't one for bragging. He was humble in that sense. You, on the other hand, loved to brag. Especially when it came to your man. One day, you were hanging out with friends at a small cafe and they could tell something was up.

"Hey Y/N, you been acting different the last handful of times we've hung out. What's that about? Got a man?" One of your friends asked.

"Do I have a man? Damn right I do! He's the best one there is." You replied.

The whole table of friends began to laugh and then curiousity struck. The qusstions came rolling in like wildfire, and you were happy to answer every one.

"What's he like?" Another friend asked.

"Where do I start? Well, I'll get this out of the way. He's a six foot four dream, I can tell you that." You started your ramble.

The whole table began to pretend swoon.

"6'4! Where did you find this man? I might need to go there for research purposes." The whole table began laughing again at how wild your friend's response was.

"Well, we met at a bar. When he walked in I was in complete awe. But, oh my gosh is he dreamy on the inside too. He says what he means and actually means it. He's funny...ish, smart, not to mention good-looking. I could go on and on." Your ramble was coming to an end until your wildly endearing friend asked another question.

"That's really cute and all, but is he? You know? Keeping you satisfied in the bedroom?"

The whole table was a harmony of "oo's" looking in your direction.

"We're not going to talk about that here." You blushed as you went to take a drink from your water.

The whole table howled in laughter at your response or the one you didn't say in this case.

After the laughter had died down, one friend spoke, "Uh Y/N? There's guy that's been looking over at our table for the past twenty minutes. Do you think we're being too loud?"

You turned around to see the man she was referring to. He had light blonde hair trimmed to a buzzcut, a black surgical mask covering his face, and deep bown eye-oh my gosh it's Simon. You blushed even harder then. You thought Simon was still deployed. Not anymore apparently!

"Well this is awkward." You say.

"What do you mean? You know him?" One friend asked.

"That's the guy I've been talking about for the past twenty minutes." You whispered which soon turned to laughing.

The whole was in shock. Some were doing double-takes at you and your boyfriend. Others were laughing with you. It was a whole mess. After everything was regulated, you bid your friends goodbye so you could talk to Simon. You walk over to his table a smile.

"All done talking to your friends about me?" He asked.

"I guess you could say that. Want to go home?" You retorted.

Simon got up out of his seat and looked down at you. "Been waiting for you ever since I got back."

You smiled as you both walked to his truck. The drive home was full of carpool kareoke (mainly from you) with some questions sprinkled throughout. Once home, you had a game plan. A nice warm shower for the both of you, Chinese takeout, some comfy clothes and sleep. The shower was relaxing, the food was delicious, the clothes were comfortable, and the bed was nice and warm. As you drifted off to sleep Simon lay awake thinking about what you said about him. He couldn't believe he was all of those things to you. He never thought he would be described as a dream. He never thought anyone would speak that highly of him in a romantic sense. Hell, he didn't think he would ever get romantically involved with someone as much as he has with you. He checked his pulse to see if he still alive because it all felt like a dream. He took a deep breath and let it go. It reminded him that he was still human. He looked over at your sleeping form and smiled. He planted a kiss on top of your head and went to sleep himself. Simon was okay with being in love with you as much as you are with him.

[localfandomenjoyer]

Whats Zeus and Perseleia's relationship like?

Complicated.

Before I elaborate, let me clarify that I don't disagree with Rick and many other authors casting Zeus in a villainous role. It has made for some very compelling stories (seriously, there are so many talented writers and artists in this fandom). That said, in many myths, Zeus is lauded for his sense of order, justice and hospitality. Hesiod in 'Works and Days' refers to his judgement as true and perfect, for instance. This is why anything I make will give his character a more positive spin. If Perseleia can be have a positive relation with Poseidon, whose source material generally presents him as an equally if not more prolific rapist and adulterer with significantly less redeeming qualities, why not Zeus as well?

While there are years if not decades where Perseleia avoids him out of disgust for his actions, she has been through more with Zeus than any of the other gods. They have each seen the best and the worst of each other - things most could only guess at. I touch on this briefly in a oneshot I wrote, but Perseleia witnessed and aided Zeus at his most vulnerable, making her the only person in existence he feels completely safe with. There is no fear of disappointing somebody, showing weakness or providing leverage to a political rival around her. Perseleia knows more of his secrets, regrets and fears than anyone else, even Rhea.

They end up depending on each other quite a bit. One key difference between the Athenide and Kronide AUs is that, for better or worse, Perseleia Kronide is front and centre in the pantheon. She is under pressure from all sides, which makes Zeus an indispensable ally. For his part, he depends on Perseleia to be an advisor, confident and diplomat, maintaining the peace with Poseidon and Hades. This constant back and forth keeps Olympus running.

I'm still of two minds when it comes to them being romantically involved, despite how well-received the idea has been. Such a marriage would naturally be complicated and imperfect. Each of them is painfully aware of the strategy behind their union - Zeus secures political legitimacy by marrying Kronos' heir, Perseleia gains authority to protect those she cares about - but there are things I believe they could genuinely appreciate in one another. Mythical Zeus was protective king who interceded on behalf of the weak more often than not - all things Perseleia admires. It's also worth noting that the Ancient Greeks actually saw him as a good husband, at least by the cultural standards of the time for kings.

Anyway, sorry for the wall of text, but I hope whoever reads this finds it interesting. Share your thoughts with me in the comment section.

[the-au-collector]

AHAHDHDEIOWWOWJBFBFNDM

NORTHEAST BASEMENT 1

Thoughts below the cut y’all

Ok so I have been WAITING for an update with Wars and Wild. I want to see them work together. I want to see them TALK. I want to see them set shit on fire.

Ok first of all Jojo’s drawing of a shrine is beautiful once again have to shout out Jojo’s impeccable art

I also like how this acknowledges Wild’s tenaciousness, which yeah is something you need when playing BOTW. There are so many different challenges to overcome with the shrines—you really DO have to just figure it out sometimes.

Also nice to know that Wars did not, in fact, know Wild was also a newbie to true LoZ dungeons when choosing teams. It makes more sense now how he and Time figured out the groups (no doubt if he’d known, we wouldn’t have gotten the groups we did.)

I’m LIVING for the reference to Tears of the Kingdom y’all

RIP Wars who was trying to have a serious conversation, but I guess this shows that Wild tends to deflect conversations with humor.

Also poor Wild—he’s set the bar so low for himself

ART ART ART

Very nice challenge ahead, I can’t wait for them to put their heads together and make their way through it

Wild once again stepping headfirst into danger and having to get yanked out of it by someone else. Hopefully this doesn’t become a pattern.

YES WILD SHOW OFF YOUR SLATE DO IT WILD ANA FBDJWIWLSLFNFKDPWJWBEJFNF GOING FERAL RN Y’ALL

This went far more smoothly than I think any of us were expecting, and genuinely I can’t wait for the next update to see Wild use the Sheikah Slate and show off his out-of-the-box thinking! And of course see more of these two trying to make it through the dungeon as beginners. I really can’t wait to see what Wars is able to bring to the table, since I’m not nearly as familiar with Hyrule Warriors as I am with BOTW.

All art credit, as always, goes to @linkeduniverse