#how do y'all manage to find real women

[artemismatchalatte]

Does anyone else have problems with Her being scammy?

I just got spammed by a bunch of unverified accounts... again. :/

I'm getting catfish vibes from the woman I'm talking to right now. She has no posts on her Instagram at all. I'm a bit sussed out right now. :(

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING REUNITED !!! SEBASTIAN V. X FEM!READER! X MARK W. (18+)

summary: sometimes a cat-and-mouse game of three can last longer than intended.

content warning: smut below the cut (minors dni), explicit language, mfm threesome, dom!sebastian and dom!mark (mentions rbr!mark and rbr!seb), multi 21, oral sex (m receiving) + deepthroat + facefucking, dumbification if you squint hard enough, double penetration + spitroast, praise kink, size kink-esque, age gap (with mark), unprotected sex (NOT RECOMMENDED)

💌re:moony's planner request: "pls more webberxsebxreader preferably smut"

note: i have a couple asks/requests sitting on my inbox for a while and this is the first thing i've written in a while 😭 i'm sorry to disappoint y'all but enjoy regardless xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

even ten years later, she still had them chasing after her. 

working with red bull was anything but easy for her back in 2012, being a 22 years old woman and all. women in motorsports were something of a relatively new topic back then and when she made her presence known in the milton keynes factory, she would have expected things to be hard for her.

well… it was hard for her for a brief moment until a certain australian and german molded her into something more bold, giving her the attention and validation she desired. 

yet she persisted, thinking of them as people who merely wanted her to feel comfortable in the formula one field. she didn’t think much of it before.

until malaysia 2013 happened. sebastian vettel won after he stopped following a team order, causing mark webber his p1 and in the process the ‘multi 21’ controversy occurred. 

she was there to witness all of that - from mark’s radio to sebastian’s interview post-race, even their cooldown room segment. she was there. 

that was also the same night mark finally snapped and bent her over his hotel room bed, with her allowing mark to fuck the frustration out of himself while she whined and cried about how big he was— and how full she felt. 

it didn’t take long for sebastian to hear her whimpering and her pleading, as his room was situated next to mark’s. the german driver came knocking on mark’s door, and sebastian found his cock in her mouth and his hands gripping her hair. 

mark, ever the dominant man that he was, demanded the woman to suck the race winner’s cock and condescendingly told sebastian it was a ‘congratulatory gift’ from the australian. 

that was the last night they’ve ever seen each other in the same bed, but they saw each other a lot in the paddock. 

in 2014, mark left for world endurance while sebastian continued to chase after her - to which she explicitly stated that she wasn’t going to do it again. but sebastian pursued her continuously anyway.

now, in 2023, both men were retired but they always found themselves coming back to the paddock or the pit lane. mark webber had been managing a driver who was a rookie this year, while sebastian couldn’t find himself to leave the scene as he was newly retired. 

both had excuses, but no one really knew the real reason why they kept coming back. no one knew but themselves… and her. 

the ten year build up led to her hotel room by the suzuka track, her tits were splayed out and pinched and caressed by both men and her knicker becoming more damp as they continued to tease her. she uttered nothing but a pitiful sigh, something that had both men groaning in delight.

“god, i fuckin’ miss that whining of yours, baby,” mark nipped her ear, his greying stubble grazing her neck and his grubby fingers nestling themselves between her legs. “miss the way you fuckin’ plead. you miss being handled like this, don’t you?”

sebastian chuckled darkly, his hand finding itself stabilizing her chin as he examined her desperate face. “and you thought those men you’ve been fucking were fulfilling your needs,” sebastian’s german accent thickened as he gave her an amused smile, “we’ve been waiting for this for ten years, liebe.”

it was a blur, having to figure out how she went from sinking down to her knees and choking on sebastian’s cock as the tip hit the back of her throat. she could feel a lot of things.

this included mark’s hand that held her hair up and bobbed her head back and forth. mark crooned sweetly and praised her, “there we go. that’s a good girl. keep sucking his cock like that, baby. you’re doing so good for him.” 

mark nearly laughed when he watched her knees close and clench, fascinated at her submissive state as his eyes looked at her teary ones.

sebastian’s usually-bright-blue eyes were darkening as her mouth took in mark’s length, watching the way her tongue swirled around the aussie’s tip before her nose grazed the hipbone of the older man. 

mark let out a guttural groan, feeling his tip at the back of her throat as she skillfully took him in. he let out a string of curses before he muttered, “good girl. keep sucking me off like that. ‘m gonna fuck this throat of yours, hm?” he peered down at her, waiting for her go ahead and witnessing her nod. 

sebastian smirked as mark’s hips began to snap forward, lewd sounds of liquid escaping her barely empty mouth as she continued to indulge in mark’s cock.

“she can take us both so well,” sebastian crooned to the girl, stroking his cock at the same pace mark fucked her mouth with his length.

a few snaps of his hips after, mark finally pulled her mouth away and allowed her to breathe. she panted heavily, looking up at the towering man and still kneeling before them. 

“think you can take both of us, schatz?” sebastian asked the woman as if she couldn’t comprehend a word anymore. her bruised throat didn’t tell them anything, earning an amused laugh from mark and sebastian. she was already fucked out and she only sucked their cocks. 

mark could remember how desperate she was to suck him off after his loss at malaysia, wanting to please him after he grew frustrated with sebastian’s refusal of order in the track. all mark could think about was how ten years later he was going to feel her again. perhaps even better this time.

sebastian laid on the bed, gesturing for the woman to sit on his cock. 

mark’s hand helped the woman up before slapping her ass, his mouth letting out a smirk when she let out a soft sigh at the impact. 

soon, she sat on sebastian’s lap, sinking down on his cock as she let out a moan, “oh fuck…” 

she adjusted, allowing herself to bounce on sebastian’s cock for a moment before she felt mark move and settle behind her. a splatter of lube escaped its bottle as mark spread it generously, in the process his fingers prodded her back hole as she let out a soft whine. 

mark fucked her with his fingers while sebastian continued to thrust slowly, making her writhe and cry out for the two of them. they really had missed this— her pitiful and pleading moan. they missed making her cry like she hadn’t been fucked hard before. 

“mm… so fuckin’ tight,” mark whispered in her ear, pulling his hand away to stroke his cock and lubricate it. 

she nearly collapsed on top of sebastian when mark’s cock entered her slowly, both she and mark letting out loud moans. she felt so full while mark felt like she was hugging his cock tightly. 

“fuck, mark!” she exclaimed, her head nuzzling sebastian’s shoulder for a moment as she babbled, “so fucking big. god, you’re so fucking big!” 

“you’re so tight for us, schatz,” sebastian murmured and kissed her temple sweetly. “so fragile, we can barely fit ourselves in your holes.” 

“seb,” she whimpered as she muttered, “‘m so full.”

“i know you are, bebe,” sebastian said, humouring her submissive state while mocking her in the process, “you’re so full that you can’t think anymore, hm? all you can do is be a good girl for us because you’re already fucked out.” 

mark groaned loudly, now moving languidly alongside sebastian as the two men thrusted in and out of her holes. she couldn’t do much, she couldn’t even reminisce because of the sensations that she’s lost all thanks to their dominance and their primal urge to fuck her endlessly.

“you miss this, baby?” mark whispered heatedly, now moving rougher as she cried out their names. “missed this body of yours.”

“you had us running after you for years,” sebastian smirked, “now you’re a putty in our hands. such a shame you made us wait this long.”

“it’s a good thing we caught you eventually,” mark added as his eyes found her hands clawing at sebastian’s bare chest while she whined and squirmed in pleasure.

“because we’re gonna make sure you’re not gonna slip away anymore. gonna make sure you’re ours. gonna make sure everyone knows you’re ours — we’re gonna fuckin’ ruin every man for you like we did in 2013.” 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015 @hiireadstuff @biancathecool @scorpiomindfuck

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129 @maxillness

[sissylittlefeather]

We Can Make the Morning

(or Angel Take 7)

A one-shot

A/N: I've had this idea for a while and just decided to go ahead and write it the other day while I was watching Elvis On Tour. I hope y'all enjoy this 1972 Elvis x fem!reader one-shot!

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, handjob, ejaculation, oral sex (f receiving), possible concussion

Word count: ~3.7k

Greensboro, North Carolina. You've lived here your whole life. And you've been an Elvis fan since you heard his first record at the tender age of fifteen. Now you're in your early thirties and you finally find yourself at one of his shows. You've never managed to go to one before and something about this feels like destiny. Still, the best you could afford is a seat at the front of the balcony, but you're next to where he'll walk into and out of the arena. If you push, you might be able to get a pretty good glimpse of him, and that's all you've ever really wanted. You dream of more, but you know better than to think he's going to notice you or anything.

April 14th, 1972 is show day, finally. You get dressed and try to ignore your nerves as you fix your hair and swipe on your makeup. You opt for your favorite bell bottoms and a cropped peasant blouse. It's not the dressiest outfit you own, but it flatters you and shows off all your best assets. Not that it matters much. He'll never see you.

At the arena, you make your way to your seat and try to survey whether you'll be able to get to a place where you can really see him up close. Eventually the lights go down and the music starts up. You head over to the railing, but there's a hundred girls between you and the tunnel. There's no way you can fight through them this time. You'll have to try again at the end of the concert. You head back to your seat with a new determination.

The show is incredible.

He's wearing a dark blue jumpsuit with a belt that has an owl on it, as he points out during one of the songs. Even as far away as you are, you can tell he looks amazing. His voice is on point and his performance is unmatched. You sit in silence with your lips parted slightly and your eyes wide. It's like he's made of stardust. And you're not going to let him pass by without seeing him up close.

He ends the show with Can't Help Falling In Love and then bows with his arms held out holding the silver cape. You know he's going to move fast through the tunnel, so you run to the railing and push your way through all the women gathered there. It's hot and hard to breathe and your heart is pounding. You're pressed up against the railing where it hits you just below the waist. Your position on your platform boots is precarious but you lean over anyway, just in case he reaches up. You feel yourself getting lightheaded from the excitement, but you're not going to miss this for anything, no matter how you feel. Just then, you see him headed for the tunnel. Your ears start ringing and the edges of your vision go dark. You can't believe it's really him. As the blackness envelops you, someone behind you pushes on your back and you feel yourself falling...

******

On stage, Elvis knows he's putting on a hell of a show. The energy from the crowd is electric and the camera crew seems excited by the footage they're collecting. In truth, he's ready to be done with this damn movie. Ready to be done with this damn tour. He enjoys the stage portion but everything in between is grueling. And honestly, the loneliness has been setting in pretty hard for him, especially in the middle of the night. Sometimes he picks up a girl at a show, but most of his encounters are empty. And even if he does find someone he likes, the conversation is lacking or she's so starstruck she can't do much more than giggle or try way too hard to impress him in bed. He longs for a real connection.

On stage, though, he lives his dream every night. This show in North Carolina is particularly satisfying for some reason and he comes off the stage with a smile on his face. He makes his way quickly to the car, heading for the tunnel lined with screaming fans. Looking up briefly, something strange captures his eye.

He reacts quickly without thinking, throwing his arms out to catch you just before you hit the ground. Somehow, you fall perfectly into his grasp and he holds you like a baby. He's stopped running, so his entourage encircles him to urge him forward.

"You can't stop here, man!"

"Put her down; let's go!" He looks down at you in his arms and realizes you're out cold.

"I can't! She's out, guys!"

"You're gonna have to drop her!" He shakes his head vigorously.

"No. I'm bringin' her with me." The guys make eye contact across him. They know when he's like this there's no arguing with him. He starts moving forward again with you in his arms.

At the car, the guys try again to get him to drop you with a security guard, but he refuses.

"It's my fault she's like this! I'm not leavin' her!" He gets into the backseat of his car, holding you on his lap. The other guys roll their eyes and squeeze in with him. It was a tight fit even before you were there, so now it's almost impossible for them to smash into the car. He wraps his arms around you tighter and holds you to him while the guys pile in. Sweat from the show slides down his face and he looks at you in his arms. The gentle lines of your features are intriguing and he wonders what your name is. For a moment, he forgets where he is and does something a little strange. He pulls your face to his and presses his lips to your forehead. That's when your eyelids flutter and you stir.

******

You sit up quickly and look around, trying to figure out where you are. You're in a car of some kind with a bunch of men you don't recognize. You try desperately to remember how you got here.

"Hey, honey. Are you alright?" When you hear his voice, you whip your head around.

"Oh." You answer breathlessly. "It's you."

He chuckles softly and his smile almost causes you to pass out again.

"It's me. I'm sorry, honey, I just didn't want to leave you there in that state."

"State?"

"Do you remember falling over the wall?" You cover your face in embarrassment.

"Oh my god..." He laughs softly again.

"Honey, it's okay. It happens."

"This has happened before?!"

"Well, not exactly..." One of the guys cuts in and you realize you're sitting on Elvis's lap with his arms around you. You fight to keep your composure.

"We're here, boss." The door opens and the guys climb out of the car until it's just you and Elvis.

"I'd like you to stay, so I can keep an eye on you. Is that okay?"

"I'm not sure it's necessary..."

"I say it is. Come on." You're not going to argue with him. He pats your bottom and you climb out of the car, followed closely by him.

On the sidewalk, you stumble a little, still woozy from passing out. He wraps his arm around your waist and steadies you.

"Do I need to carry you, honey?" The concern on his face is so endearing you almost melt into the ground.

"N-no, I think I'm okay."

"Alright. I'm gonna keep a hold of ya, though." You nod and he smiles genially. Then, the two of you make your way into the hotel surrounded by his bodyguards. At the elevator, he tries to dismiss them, and they refuse to leave him alone, but when he speaks sternly and insists that he'd like to be left alone, they listen and watch as he gets on the elevator with just you. Once the doors slide shut, he turns to you and puts both hands on your hips.

"What's your name, honey?"

"Oh! I'm y/n. I'm really sorry about this."

"Don't be." He waves his hand to dismiss your apology. "I just want to make sure you're okay. Do you remember if you hit your head on the way down?"

"I don't. I think I might've been out before I fell."

"You still might've hit your head." The elevator dings and the doors open. He keeps one arm around your waist and ushers you down the hallway to his room. You look at him in his jumpsuit and wonder where he might possibly have a key stashed. He bends down and pulls it out of his boot, standing and unlocking the door. You stumble a little walking across the threshold and he steadies you again, watching you with even more concern. Once you're in the room with the door shut behind you, he seats you next to him on the couch. You yawn and blink slowly. Somehow, you're exhausted.

"Are you sleepy?"

"Mhmm." You answer, yawning again.

"Okay. We need to keep you awake. If you hit your head, you shouldn't go to sleep."

"I don't feel like I hit my head." He reaches out and puts his hand on your cheek.

"I'm not willing to take any chances, honey." You nod slowly and notice that his eyes flick down to your lips. He clears his throat and pulls his hand back. You're a little surprised that he almost seems shy.

"You're sure I can't just lay down?"

"No, baby, you gotta stay awake." He looks down at himself and then to the bathroom. "I need to shower, though. But I hate to leave you alone."

"I really think I'm okay." He looks at skeptically as you yawn yet again.

"No. You're comin' with me. You can wear your underwear in the shower. I won't touch you. C'mon." He makes you stand up off of the couch and takes your hand, walking you to the bathroom. You want to tell him that you'd happily get in the shower with him naked, but you don't. He puts you in first, facing the back of the shower and then you hear him undress and get in behind you. You're dying to peek and see what he looks like without his jumpsuit, but he's being so kind that you can't violate his privacy like that. Still, the knowledge that Elvis Presley is naked behind you in the shower makes you a little crazy. Just when you think it can't get much more endearing, he starts humming. Your heart melts when his humming turns to quiet singing and you're dying to turn around and wrap him in your arms. He's so much more precious in person than you ever dreamed he could be.

You're lost in a reverie when the shower turns off and you feel him turn to face you. You can tell he's looking at you and you want to turn around so badly. Everything inside you is screaming at you to just turn around. But it's like you're frozen where you stand. When he kisses your shoulder, though, your head rolls to the side and you're desperate for him to touch you. He doesn't though. Instead, he whispers.

"You stay here, baby. I'll get you a towel." He gets out of the shower and hands you a towel. "There's a robe hanging on the door. I'm right outside."

You dry off and slip out of your wet undergarments, wrapping the fluffy robe around yourself. When you open the door, he's sitting on the couch with a towel around his waist. He looks up at you in the robe and swallows deeply. You sit on the edge of the bed and smile awkwardly. He returns your smile.

"I'm going to get dressed. Stay here and don't go to sleep."

"Yes, sir." He chuckles softly and moves back to the bathroom. You settle against the pillows and hastily break your promise to stay awake. The warmth of rest washes over you and your eyes close.

******

Elvis puts you in the shower in your underwear facing away from him. It's impossible for him not to notice your figure, though. The curve of your ass in your white panties about drives him crazy. He strips naked and turns the shower on. Through the whole shower, he tells himself not to get aroused just at your proximity. Once he's finished, he pulls the handle to make the water stop and then turns to face you. Your hair and your body are wet from the shower and he wants to touch you so badly that it almost hurts. Without thinking, he leans down and presses his lips to your shoulder. It's an indulgence he should have resisted, but something about you is intoxicating. He breathes deeply and pulls himself away to get you a towel. Once he does, he walks out into the room and sits on the couch. What is it about you that has him so out of sorts?

When you come out in the robe, it takes all of his self control to keep from ripping it off of you. But he wants more from this. He wants to know you, not just fuck you and move on.

"I'm going to get dressed. Stay here and don't go to sleep." You give him a salute and he chuckles, making his way back to the bathroom. After about thirty seconds, though, he has a bad feeling. He doesn't even get his pants on and walks back into the room still in his towel.

He was right. You're asleep.

He moves to the bed quickly and sits next to you, shaking you gently.

"Hey, baby, wake up." You don't stir and he starts to panic. He thinks back to how he woke you up in the car and leans in and kisses your forehead. Still, you stay asleep. He kisses your cheek and then finally, he presses his lips to yours. Finally, your eyes flutter open and he smiles. "You're back."

******

"I am. You kissed me."

"I'm sorry; I was getting desperate." He looks into your eyes and your smiles fade.

"Do it again." You whisper and he nods, pulling your face back into his. He crashes his lips into yours and the kiss moves to a fever pitch as he parts your lips with his and slips his tongue into your mouth. He puts both hands on your cheeks and you sit up on your knees, ready to crawl into his lap. Thats when he notices his erection under the towel. It's impossible to hide and he pulls away, looking down, and trying to push his cock down to make it less obvious.

"Oh, god, I'm sorry, honey."

"Don't be. It's okay." He shakes his head.

"No. It's not. I brought you up here just to keep an eye on you and now this." He's ashamed at his reaction to you. He feels your finger under his chin and you pull his face to looking into yours.

"Elvis, I've loved you for as long as I can remember. Meeting you? Knowing you? It just confirms everything I've ever believed to be true about you." He melts at your words and pulls you in close to him, kissing you deeply. But he pulls away again.

"I don't want to hurt you. I don't know if you should do... this..."

"Then maybe I can do this..." You reach your hand forward and run it down his chest to the top of the towel. Then, he inhales sharply as you move further down to where his cock is erect underneath it. You slide your hand under the towel carefully and take him in your palm. He moans softly as you begin to stroke him, moving his foreskin back and forth gently.

"God, baby, that feels so good. You don't have to-"

"Shhh. You've been taking care of me all night. Let me take care of you." His hips buck into your hand as you continue to pump him. He grunts and leans his head back as you move your hand a little faster.

"Mmm, baby..." He moans as you push his foreskin back and collect a bead of precum that's gathered there, running your thumb across his sensitive head. He leans back and lets you move the towel out of the way to free his cock and stroke it in the open. You pump him a little faster and he groans again. "It's so good, baby."

He feels your lips on his cheek as you move your hand on him and turns to kiss you. He looks into your eyes and puts his hand on your cheek, leaning in to capture your lips again. Then, he presses his forehead to yours and whispers.

"Thank you..." You smile and continue moving your hand up and down on him gently. He throws his head back and his hips buck again. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna-"

A guttural groan rises from his throat as he cums, hard, and shoots his climax all over your hand. You pump him through his release and he shudders into your palm. He uses the towel to wipe your hand clean and then lays back on the bed.

You giggle a little and lay back with him. He turns and looks at you.

"I haven't been that satisfied with a handjob in years."

"I haven't given one in years." You smile. He rolls over and smothers you in kisses, forgetting for a second that you might be hurt. He pulls back and looks into your eyes, reaching down to undo the tie on your robe. His hand runs underneath it onto your stomach and down to your hip.

"Can I make you feel good too, honey?" You nod frantically and he laughs out loud. Then he stops and looks at you seriously. "Alright, just don't move around too much. I'll never forgive myself if this hurts you."

"I really think I'm fine." He sinks to the floor between your knees and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He spreads your legs, kissing the inside of each of your thighs gently. You moan softly as he leans forward and drags his tongue up your slit to the bundle of nerves at the top.

"Oh, god, Elvis!" You whimper as he continues to move his mouth on you. He swirls his tongue over and around your clit in tantalizing circles. The sensation drives you wild and your pussy clenches around nothing as he licks you. He dips down and pushes his tongue into your slit several times before slipping one of his long fingers inside you. You whine and arch your back as he pumps his finger in and out and goes back to dragging his tongue over your clit. The pressure of your orgasm builds as he works and you know you won't last too much longer. He pulls back a little and flicks your sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue, teasing your orgasm out of you.

"Cum for me, baby." He whispers, pressing his whole mouth to you and moving his tongue on you hard.

"Oh, yes! Yes!" You cry out as your orgasm crashes into you, pumping through your veins like electric shockwaves. He continues working his mouth on you as you ride out your high, your hand in his hair.

When you finally come back down and stop shuddering, he pulls back, wiping his face with his hand and laying next to you on the bed.

"Wow." He chuckles and looks over at you. "No, seriously, I've never had a man...get me there."

"Really?"

"I mean, they've tried, but never successfully. It's like I was waiting for you."

"Honey, I feel like I've been waiting for you too." He rolls over and put his hand on your cheek.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't explain it. Something about being here with you, feels like I was meant to catch you."

"It feels like I was meant to fall." He presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You shimmy out of the robe and get under the covers with him. He holds your naked body close to his own, running his hands over you gently as you talk.

You spend the rest of the night in conversation and soft touches. He tells you stories about his life and listens attentively when you share yours. The connection between you strengthens with each passing hour and each soft caress and each sweet kiss.

When the sun peeks through the curtains of your hotel room, he pushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"I think you're okay, baby. You haven't had any other symptoms and it's probably been long enough now that you would have."

"Should I leave?"

"Not unless you want to."

"I don't."

"Then stay. We made it to the morning. We can rest now." You nod and he settles on your chest. You're both asleep within minutes, wrapped around each other.

Eventually, there's a harsh knock on the door and someone calls to him from the other side of it.

"Hey, boss, we gotta be wheels up in twenty."

"Okay." He hollers back, groaning and stretching.

"I'm sorry I kept you up all night." You whisper.

"Don't be, honey, that's the best night I've had in years." You both get up and start to get dressed. When you're fully put back together, he grabs you and pulls you into a warm embrace.

"I hate that you're leaving." You mumble into his chest.

"Come with me."

"What? No, I can't."

"Why not?" You wrack your brain for a reason, but there's nothing keeping you here. Nothing that's more important than him.

"Okay." You look up into his face, your arms still wrapped around each other.

"Really?"

"Yes. Can we swing by my apartment and let me grab a few things?"

"Baby, I'm Elvis Presley, we can do whatever we want." He leans in and kisses you softly again. "You know somethin'?"

"Hmm?"

"I know I caught you when you fell, but I think you're the one who saved me tonight." He takes your hand to lead you out of the room and into your future. "My own little angel fell right out of the sky. I'm so glad you did."

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things

[stormcrow513]

Hey been awhile,

Around a year ago I wrote a vent post about how the crappy neighbors were moving out and king fuckface decided to take one last crap on us,

He'd had some guy mow down all their weeds then he walked around spraying poison aka weed killer all over the whole property,

which do to dickery and bribes to town counsel might as well be planted in my backyard,

The only space I can let my dogs pee,

I am so fucking sensitive to poison I got sick, ma got sick all my dogs were sick,

Bailey my oldest beautiful girl looked like it was going to kill her,

I ranted on here poured my grief and hate out,

Some of y'all saw me sent love back to me and prayers for my Bae,

And she started kicking it she was recovering,

I updated y'all and you were glad to hear it,

one of you even dm'd me later to ask if she was still recovering and I'd been able to reply a happy positive,

Which is why I felt like I had to come on here and let you know

Bailey died today,

And to thank you again for those prayers

I got one more year with her,

She was so amazing she stole one of my mas stuffed bears after like a day with us and would suck on it, she then stole two more, and would not except any additional bears we tried to give her, nope those were here three she stole them herself,

I taught her to jump into my arms,

She watched me squint at the TV and then started squinting her eyes at me,

She would get pissed off if you called her a dog, she was not a dirty dog she was a fur person

I could go on forever,

She was a tough fucking bitch we had to put her down because she absolutely refused to go,

she was fighting death every step,

I'm sure Deaths down a few fingers dragging her across the rainbow bridge while she claws and screams every obscenity I ever taught her,

While I have you,

some of you might remember me talking about the three sibling cats I'd gotten as kittens how the brother Ares had passed in 2019 then Shy decided to go out on the same day as the queen as was Shy right little Drama Queen,

Then it was just Mittens and she started to go down hill was losing interest in food so we got her a kitty I named Circe,

Well Mittens spited herself back to health cause fuck you kitten, and managed kept going through to the beginning of this year and then she just couldn't go on, she curled up in the worst fucking spot so I had to frag her body out after feeling that she was gone,

Like I said absolutely a spiteful shit,

I miss her so much, she loved being held like a baby, she acted more like a dog then a cat, she liked to sit on my shoulder, I have a scar on my shoulder where she got a claw stuck in it one time,

and she loved it when I had long hair shed get up high behind me after I'd showered and comb my hair with her claws,

As I was showering off the pee and poop after cleaning up,

I thought about writing this and ending it here with some kinda sign off,

but as I sat there my mind turning with the sear bullshit that not just this week but my entire fucking life's been,

My brain turned and raged,

You know I love animals way more then I like humans, while I do feel love and empathy towards humanity there are days like today where it's a hard thing and an easy thing,

because I read about Neil Gaiman sexualy assaulting women yesterday which makes me so sick,

But the vet that put down Bailey was so fucking kind,

I joke to people that I was raised by dogs,

It's not really a joke,

My ma has been the only human to truly love me,

My sperm donor Dennis is an absolute abusive joke of a human being whose still fucking alive and I have to live with him

My oldest sister is dead and while I think she loved me a bit she never watched out for me

And my second sister beat me, raped me, gaslit me fucking constantly, the real deal not the way people incorrectly use that word, and almost killed me a lot,

Ma worked constantly, still does, she is only now (as I'm beginning to talk about things) finding out just how often I was left to my own supervision,

But Lady and Tramp

And yes we had two dogs named Lady (German shepherd) and Tramp (husky/wolf)

They, took care of me Tramp even more reared me like I was his own,

I tussled and played with their puppies, grew up beside them

Watched Lady die when I was 7,

Rusty one of their babies my big brother ma and I buried together when I was 5 After Dennis threw rat poison around the house to kill the mice and killed Rusty

I watched Corky die and then Trampy and Sammy and then Rusty and Sammy's boy Socks

They were my family

Every dog and cat I've had has been my family,

And thinking about them all today

Thinking about this world we're all living in,

Something I want to say

There is no overarching Justice

No grand moment where evil men or women are struck down by righteous gods

Maybe that shit happened or maybe they were stories I don't fucking know I wasn't alive back then I'm alive now

And now, there are no saviors

There is just me, just you

And the choices we make

Martin Luther King Jr said something about how the long arch of history bends towards justice,

But he and people like him bent it towards justice with their bare hands and their very lives,

All we have achieved for justice for equality have been done by mortal living hands

And we cannot fucking give up

Don't listen to those people telling you it's hopeless that the world is evil

The world is beautiful

The stars, the rainbows, the thunder and lightning, the frogs so small they can sit on a finger nail, the mountains, mouse, geese, the castles and pyramids the things our ancestors created, ect

Hell the bit of plastic and wires and weird rock you are reading this on, isn't that cool,

Yeah there's downsides to it we need to figure out how to do it better,

We need to figure out how to do it better.

All of it.

And we will,

because we always do.

So don't listen to the people that say to give up that it's to late,

Just because they've given up doesn't mean you have to

I'm hurting I'm going to hurt for the rest of my life,

But I would not take a minute of it back not a moment,

My life has been full of pain but also full of love,

I wanted to die for a time, a long time,

But there is so much in this world to love,

I want to live,

I want to keep falling in love over and over again,

In love with animals,

the ones I adopted into my family

ones a half a world away,

Fucking platypus the most animal to animal,

The rain every fucking time it hits my roof or my head,

I hope I'll get a chance to fall in love romantically one day but I'm ok if I don't there's so much else to love,

And I'm going to fight The Fight for the rest of my life because all these things I love are worth fighting for,

I'm not in a position right now to do the things I want to but,

I can do some things,

I can do ofwoodandbones lost dog spell to help strangers get their lost pets back, which I've successfully done more then once,

I collect cans and recycle

I pour stale water out on plants rather then down the drain,

I planted a bunch of plants in my backyard bees fucking love

I vote, I vote smart and don't throw my vote away for a false sense of moral superiority,

So

Find something to love to love it hard and do what you can to protect it,

Doesn't matter what,

Everything matters,

Love shit, protect it,

Don't give up,

To all y'all who are my allies in The Fight,

May the great Titan Witch light your way, may you find your path or make one, may you love and be loved, may your body be strong enough to hold your spirit

[some-beans]

I’m in a mood babe. I gotta write, but I’d be hella inspired if you wrote like a hot MHA pro hero teacher Y/n (if its not too much both male and female, its okay if you only do one, no pressure!)

Just the pros thirsting 🧘🏾‍♀️

— Love you ⛹️🏾‍♀️

you got it babe 💃💃 imma do both

✎...pairing: pro heroes x pro hero!teacher!reader ✎...themes: chaos, pro heroes are down bad, seen as romantic ✎...notes: i want reader, reader is thick for both male and female bc i can, reader's quirk is up to your imagination, though reader teaches health, can you tell which characters are easier to write ✎...enjoy !!

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

gonna be real with y'all

a hot mess

like he's a highschooler giggling and kicking his feet

blushing and shit

i feel like it starts off as a crush from respect and slowly turns southwards when he manages to find you beaten to hell and back with your costume wrecked to shit

bc just like megan said, body-ody-ody-ody-ody-ody-ody-ody

but also

women with muscles 💕💕

but besides that, i feel like due to how he constantly trained, all might legit has rizz ー with that ass ー but has no idea how to use it

also, with his skinny form, self-conscious baby 🥺

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

now, it takes him a lot longer to develop these feelings bc i kinda see all might as a ❛traditional man❜ but not in a religious way

like, in a sense he would do old fashion things to woo someone

anyway

like earlier, all might would have to be sat down by someone and have it told to his face that he finds the health teacher attractive

cuz god DAYUM you're yummy

your costume hugs and accentuates all of your muscles

especially your tiddies

definitely uses the excuse to work out with you just to see those muscles move

same goes when you help him out with his classes

that ass is muy caliente

𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑

𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

the only chance he'd see you would be out on patrol or if it had something to do with shoto

however, after his divorce and now trying to rebuild his connection with his family, he does end up talking to you

this is bc shoto won't shut up about you to fuyumi or natsuo ー yes, he was eavesdropping

manages to catch you while on patrol

it was very awkward

manages to watch how you easily interact with kids

and how caring you are to shoto ー caring enough to make the boy smile

. . . why did his heart flutter??

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

same with the female reader, the only chance he'd see you would be out on patrol or if it had something to do with shoto

i feel like for a male reader, endeavour would have to build up respect for you before feelings ever get involved

but when you got hit with a quirk that made your costume melt

. . .

he can get behind the gay agender

totally doesn't use his power to ask for you to work on cases with him

totally not

ahem

if your costume happens to have a boobbie window, he will be staring

𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃

𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

y'all

this man right here, closeted simp

hands down

does all the small things that make your teacher workload easier

like he would organise your desk, make sure you have pens, coffee/tea/energy drink at the ready etc

present mic brought this up

he lost his loud noise privileges

anyway

as i said he will do anything for

like a n y t h i n g

. . . a tad bit yandere if you ask me, guys

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

definitely acts like a grumpy cat when you first meet

tends to be wearier of male pro heroes as they don't really have the best representation in the media and in his eyes

eyes you off whenever you're around

however

that broke when sneaked in the new kitten you got into work and let's just say aizawa is very interested

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐌𝐈𝐂

𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

bashful, blushy and stumbling mess

may or may not have accidentally activated his quirk when he's around you

god, is just like when first got it

folds like an omelette when you smile or call him ❛honey❜

well, it could be any pet name, but that one just

*internal screaming ensues*

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

man is open to anything

look me in the eye and tell me this man hasn't drabbled in the fruit salad

tries to act suave and confident, but folds like origami whenever you smirk at him

y'all he turns into a puddle when you give him any attention

like, even a crumb

laps that shit up

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

yum yum

loves a strong, independent woman

thighs thighs thighs

wants them to be wrapped around her head

earmuffs forever

very vocal about you just destroying her life

and stepping on her

very big fan

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

yum yum part two: the electric boogaloo

sure, she's got all might's and vlad king's muscles to look at, but yours??

dear GOD

she just wants to

*chomp*

also

when his dick slaps when he walks, i shall listen when he talks™

epitome of that^^

ceo actually

𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐒

𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

down bad horrendously

mummy issues who??

now, considering how he grew up, has zero ideas of how to woo you besides using his natural bird instincts

which is very cute

especially if you're taller than him and he tries to make himself look bigger by puffing up his wings

swoons and almost cries when you show him gentle affection

that was a surprise and a half

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

down bad horrendously part two: the electric boogaloo

daddy issues who??

typically does the whole bromance thing that board line has everyone assuming you two are actually dating

he may have friend zoned himself for that in the beginning and does the arthur fist whenever he remembers that time in his life

has one of his feathers following you when you're on patrol just to make sure you're safe

even tho you kick ass and will most likely be fine

𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐊𝐎

𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

fruit salad 🎵 yummy yummy 🎵 [ iyk where that's from, i love you ❤️ ]

flirting is 100% on

maximum rizz game

mirko is going make it known you're a tall of water and she's thirsty

will 100% be staring at your tiddies and thighs

also very much keeping her hands on you whenever she can

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

legit

looked you up and down, and said ❛aight❜

she can get behind it, but don't expect her to be a shy blushing mess

will be coming in strong and she will be jazzed you return the same energy

lowkey digs the height difference *cough cough size kink cough cough*

[emblazons]

this is likely so personal and just. way to much info but there is no where else in my life I could possibly put it and...weirdly, I trust y'all lmfao

There's something so painfully unnerving about having someone be genuinely interested in you after being single for so long, and I don't think—for all of my internal belief that I was ready for "the right relationship" when it came for me—I was prepared for how much there is a very real part of me that desperately wants to run and hide from it solely because it challenges my internal status quo.

The thing is....when I last had a meaningful breakup with a semi-serious partner (2019), I treated being single as a temporary state; something to "get through" until I found a new partner, and I went through the classic dating app gambit and saw men and women and tried to "put myself out there" the way they tell you to do. Then, after realizing how little I wanted to deal with casual dating and hookups—and after being told on my birthday a man I'd been talking to for four months already had a GF of two years—I lost a taste for trying to make something out of nothing and just put sex and dating entirely on the back burner, instead taking the "you can only control you" advice I'd always seen so I could focus figuring out who I was without a partner to constantly distract me from that.

From probably the beginning of COVID, that meant focusing on ...just every single aspect of myself. From healing the mental anguish of burning out of my (then) previous job, finding the bravery to do things I would always do with partners by myself (going to the movies, going out to eat, even shit like solo international travel) and even just letting my "inner nerd" come to the fore because I didn't have anyone looking at me funny for doing things like spending hours writing Stranger Things analysis or learning to make gifs (lol), I've spent nearly the last four years just...learning to like all the random corners of myself as myself, finding out what it felt like to go to sleep alone and content with the woman staring at me in the mirror.

In doing that though...so much fell into place for me in so many areas it never managed to when romance was a priority. I got a job that I absolutely love, and make more money than I even thought possible ever, nevermind before 30. I went from having roommates and shit credit to having my own apartment and fixing a lot of the financial mistakes I made in my early 20s. I learned to take better care of my body—going to all the doctors i had avoided for years, taking accountability the aspects of my health I could control, and losing the nearly 60 lbs I gained from illness and medicine (and poor habits) in that previous 4 year period. I traveled to New Zealand for the first time, went to all the concerts and music festivals and events that growing up poor had denied me, and learned how to be comfortable doing everything from buying cars to making serious appointments all alone. All of that happened because I was single, not in spite of it—and as I realized how much mental space "the pursuit of love" had taken from everything else, being single slowly started to feel like a boon from the universe in a way my formerly partnered or "crushing" or "dating" self could not have even dreamed.

Granted—that was not an easy process. Even right now I'm not sure it would be honest to say I always enjoyed it, especially at first. Some days being "single and not looking" felt like the world was crushing me under the weight of being alone, from how much easier it seemed emotionally, mentally and even financially for my partnered friends (because "a burden shared is a burden halved" as they say) to the way when the walls closed in and life got really hard, the only other being in the room was my cat and....maybe God.

Learning not to be annoyed when one of my friends found someone they loved and wanted to be with seriously—often moving toward marriage, because that's the era of life I'm in—was still a challenge, and not wanting to bite people's heads off when they said "but aren't you lonely" still happened a fair amount. Slowly becoming desensitized to my body as a sexual entity felt strange at first, but then it slowly changed into something comforting as I realized that a lot of the sex I was having before wasn't rooted in an expression of affection or desire for my partner, but expectation, habit, and a refusal to accept that I was actually pretty fucking demisexual. I started looking at my own relationship history and other people's as something to be studied and considered not emotionally, but logically—and slowly slipped into a version of myself the me of my early 20s could not have ever fathomed.

It wasn't even until I was in New York in May that I realized, probably for the first time in all that time, that I had accomplished all of what my "intentionally single era" was designed to do. I was a featured speaker on a panel with one of the largest design magazines in the entire world—but more than that, I was someone I liked, respected, and wanted to be, because when I looked in the mirror, who stared back made me happy as fuck to know.

So, I said I would be more open to meeting new people again. And within—I shit you not—three weeks, this man shows up on my birthday of all days and within five meetings wheedles his way not just into "oh he's kind of cute" territory, but all the way to me kissing his cheek, saying his mispronunciation of a word he's only read is cute and holding his hand at a concert on a random Wednesday.

I literally cannot tell you how unnerving that feels. I cannot tell you how much I can feel the walls of my four years of singleness wanting to shut him out despite all the green flags he's managed to present at record fucking speed, especially compared to all the partners I had before him. I cannot tell you how much even the usually nice feeling of liking someone feels sullied by my own sincere doubt this is going to work out in the long run, or how even the smallest things he does that aren't like me feel like giant red flags because I've spent so much time focusing solely on myself even a smidgen of someone else in that space feels enormous.

I cannot tell you how weird it feels to have someone look at me with desire, both for my body and to know me more; how weird it feels to sense the starting of attraction in myself because someone has laid so much of themselves at my feet and still stayed present despite my overwhelming desire to isolate and intellectualize. To me, its been four seconds of my life since I met this man—someone who I honestly didn't even think I would like that much, and who made me defensive solely because he was reaching for something I wasn't even sure I was ready to give—and him being intentional about seeing me, remembering things about me and complementing me feels like an overstep...even though it's probably one of the healthiest things that could be happening to me.

Even the fact that I told him about my family, my struggle with anxiety and my distancing myself from sex for so long feels fucking insane to ME, and I'm the one who did it. It feels like this little lonely, touch-starved gremlin inside of me has been let out of her cage on a leash and still managed to run to the front of the deck and start barking directions. Two inches forward feels like a mile when you've spent just under half a decade not moving at all—and while I don't feel overwhelmed by it yet, this whole thing gives me anxiety even as I'm nearly desperate at this point to let myself explore it.

I don't know. I might regret even say this, though I don't think so; even if it doesn't work out, it was going to happen sometime and with someone. I just. Its new. Its different. It is just about as far out of my comfort zone as I could get, and that feels weird to say considering how the me of "before" would have laughed at how little has actually been done. There really isn't anything to do at this point but see it through as far as it makes sense to—and to accept the want that it returns to me, no matter how horrifying that seems in the moment...and as he texts me, as I write this even now.

I'm nervous, I'm anxious, and I'm excited. Right now, I think that's all i've got.

[softguarnere]

I've never participated in the lovely @blind-dates-fest before, so we're actually trying two new things this weekend: a new writing challenge, and writing for The Pacific for the first time. This OC has been banging around in my head for months now, so this seemed like a good time to introduce her - especially since she'll be making a cameo or two in one of my ongoing BOB fics. Without further ado, I hope y'all will enjoy Samantha "Mandy" Majors ♥️

The Deception of Appearances

Realistically, Mandy is aware that these are the men who are fighting for their country. The heroes of Guadalcanal can do as they please. But as MacDonald pushes his way through the bar’s crowd of wild, drinking men and boisterous women, dragging her along behind him, only one thought runs through her mind: What the hell am I doing here?

She knows, of course. She’s making money. She’s carving out a little space in journalism because, as her publisher always so kindly reminds her, the market is always changing, and fantasy stories will not be in fashion forever.

With that pleasant reminder, she lifts her chin and continues her walk into the unknown.

MacDonald struts ahead of her, openly ogling the men as if they’re an attraction at the zoo. There’s something distinctly unprofessional about the wide-eyed look that he’s always giving his subjects, like he’s got them trapped under a microscope and is poking around in their thoughts. He doesn’t seem to realize that he has a habit of making other people feel utterly invaded. Which, if Mandy had to guess, is probably why the Metropolitan Express has had her acting as his assistant for so many months. Well, that and, if she’s being honest, the fact that Duncan MacDonald cannot write to save his life.

As if reading her mind, MacDonald grabs her arm and hisses loudly in her ear to be heard over the celebrations, “Look at them! We’re bound to get a good story out of them.” Then, quietly, more urgently, “And quickly, too, because I don’t like the looks of this place.”

For once, Mandy finds herself agreeing with him. But, as is the way of the world, these things are easier said than done.

They manage to find a small table that’s miraculously unoccupied to set up shop at. Despite the look that MacDonald gives her when she orders a drink, Mandy settles in. Her boss might not want to spend any longer in this place than he has to, but that’s only because he’s not a real writer, and he doesn’t understand that the best stories come to those who are patient. These things can’t be forced, no matter how intent he seems on bending them to his will.

Besides his writing – or lack thereof – there’s the small matter of MacDonald himself. He’s too forthright, strutting up to the men and asking them bold questions with no sense of boundaries. Most respond by giving him a blank stare instead of a quote, and those who are willing to share any thoughts only give them the kind that cannot be put into print.

“Well I never,” MacDonald splutters as dark haired man with a wide smile answers his question – a completely tone deaf What’s been your favorite part of the war so far? – with a curt Wouldn’t you like to know, jackass? and a wink thrown at Mandy. MacDonald uselessly swabs his face with his handkerchief before sighing, “I don’t think this place agrees with me.” He mutters, perhaps thinking Mandy can’t hear him over the noise of the bar. “I should have stuck to vaudeville.”

I’ll drink to that, she thinks to herself as she surveys the man who’s supposed to be a war correspondent.

“He seemed to like you, though,” MacDonald says. He gives Mandy a curious look that she’s all too familiar with – one that suggests that she do all the work while he rests his delicate little mind. “Maybe you should try talking to them, without me.”

He’s throwing her to the wolves – or, more accurately, the Marines. But strangely, she finds that she doesn’t mind this time. After all, she came here to write about the war. Write about it accurately, honestly. People back home need to know what’s being fought for. And if she can lend her pen, her camera, and her typewriter to the cause, then by golly, she will. 

She nods. “Not such a bad idea.” And then she leaves him there, alone at the table, before he can change his mind.

Looking for a good story is not so different from hunting, if you think about it. At the edge of the room, Mandy surveys the scene before her. The Marines may be wild, but most of them are also intoxicated, which means their lips will be loose. She can use that to her advantage. Especially now that she’s free of MacDonald.

There. From across the bar, her eyes land on the dark-haired man who winked at her earlier. He’s one of the few men not entertaining one of the bar’s local Australian girls. An easy target.

As if to prove her point about patience, someone taps her on the shoulder just as she’s about to march through the fray to reach her intended target.

A different man, this one with blond hair, blushes slightly when she turns to him. “Um, excuse me, Miss,” he says, his thick accent taking her by surprise. For just a second, she mistakes him for one of the locals before she realizes that he’s wearing an American uniform with the name Phillips on his chest.

Maybe getting a quote will be easier than she thought it would be. “Yes?” 

Phillips nods across the bar to the man that was her original target. “My friend over there said you were a reporter, looking for quotes?”

Mandy nods, smiles, trying to make herself as bright and warm and trustworthy as possible. “That I am.” She holds up her notepad and taps it with a red fingernail. “You don’t happen to have one for me, do you Phillips?”

He’s not blushing anymore. He only smiles and shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. I don’t think I’m good enough with words for that kind of thing. But my friend is,” he adds before she can lose interest.

“Oh?” Mandy raises an eyebrow. “Do you think he would give me an interview?”

“I’m sure he would,” Phillips replies. “In fact, he was writing the entire time we were on Guadalcanal. He’ll probably give you some of his original notes.”

Mandy has to take a breath, remind herself not to get her hopes up. This could all be a rouse, after all, by some stranger.

But then again, even though she doesn’t know this Phillips, he doesn’t give off the energy of someone trying to pull a fast one on her. Maybe it’s just his southern charm, but she’s tempted to trust him right away.

“That would be great. Mind taking me to him?”

“Sure thing.” Phillips starts to weave through the crowd, leading her through the bar. He looks back and extends a hand part of the way through their walk. “I’m Sid Phillips, by the way.”

She accepts his hand. He’s got a firm shake. More of that southern charm, perhaps. “Samantha Majors. But my friends call me Mandy.”

As they push deeper into the bar, several men call out greetings to Phillips, slapping him on the back and palling around as they pass. Phillips returns their handshakes and smiles, only stopping to ask if anyone has seen the Professor. Most men shrug off the question, but one man finally points toward the farthest part of the bar and announces over all the noise, “Lucky is over there! Guess he needed a place to think.”

Lucky. The Professor. She’ll have to remember to ask about these nicknames during their interview. No doubt there’s a good story behind them both.

She slips her notebook out of her pocket as they walk, readies her pen as she turns to Phillips, ideas already churning in her head. “What’s your friend’s name?”

“There he is!” Phillips nods to a table in the bar’s far corner, where a small group of men sit drinking, partly obscured by shadow. “That’s him in the middle, with the curly hair. Robert Leckie.”

At the same moment that Phillips says his name, the man in question leans forward, throwing his face into light so that Mandy catches a glimpse of him for the first time. The sight makes her heart drop, and she freezes as if she’s just been caught red-handed.

“No,” she whispers. Then, in her head. It can’t be.

For a split second, she thinks that maybe her luck will be good, that she’s changed so much since their school days that he won’t recognize her. They’re not kids anymore. Maybe he’s forgotten her.

But the second that his eyes land on her, she knows that it’s no good. His expression changes quickly as he drops the thread of conversation with his friends to stare at her in confusion, then recognition. A small smile crosses his face and he stands, not frozen the way that she is.

“Sammy Majors?!” He calls, voice slightly too loud with the excitement of someone who has been drinking.

Phillips’ brow furrows as he glances between them. “You two know each other?”

“Yes,” Mandy whispers at the same time that Leckie announces, “We grew up down the street from each other!”

“Well, that’s good, right?” Phillips turns to her when he asks. “No awkward introductions to hold back your interview.”

Mandy has to force the words out of her mouth; they feel like they’re stuck to her tongue with paste. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Leckie, as usual, seems undaunted by everything before him. He shoves the man sitting next to him over and uses a grand gesture to indicate the vacated seat to Mandy. “Come join us!”

The confident demeanor that she’s worked so hard to build up all these years is slipping. With every step she takes towards him, Mandy feels like she’s clinging to it for dear life. She has to remind herself that she’s no longer Sammy Majors, the little girl who sits by the window writing fairytales because she couldn’t go out to play. She’s no longer Sammy Majors, who entered every writing competition their school hosted in vain, always losing out to lucky Robert Leckie, whose stories and poems were always so much better than hers. Robert Leckie, who had a job at the local newspaper before they had even finished high school.

As she takes the seat he offers her, one of the other men at the table laughs when he asks, “Hey, Lucky, does Vera know about this?”

Robert Leckie, who always so obviously had a crush on Vera Keller from across the street. Robert Leckie, who never seemed to realize that she existed . . . but who recognized her at first sight after all these years, and on the other side of the world, to boot.

Leckie smiles at her, so warm and open, as if his success in writing didn’t come so easily to him that it always crushed Mandy’s heart, her hopes, and her dreams. “What are you doing here?”

In response, Mandy raises her notepad and purses her lips, resetting her usual, casual demeanor that she has spent so many years working on. “I’m with the Metro Express, and my source tells me that you might be good for a quote.”

Several of his friends ooh and aah like a Greek chorus, jostling him as they laugh.

“He’s got more than just a quote for you!” One of them hoots.

“Yeah,” another man adds. “Try a whole novel!”

Mandy raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?” When Leckie shrugs in response, she allows herself to smile, to be friendly, even though it goes against her better instincts. “Robert Leckie, ever the writer.”

“Fight by day, write by night.”

She makes a small scribble on her notepad to make sure her pen still works. “Well, Private Leckie. Do you have time for a quick interview?”

Leckie leans back in his seat and takes a drag off his cigarette. A smirk plays at the corners of his mouth as he exhales the smoke, nods. “Fire when ready, Miss Majors.”

[modern-inheritance]

That Galbatorix Won AU that will not be written

I love how like 6-8 or more of yall individual people liked my Galbatorix Won AU post things while those posts also state that y'all are probably never going to see it in full.

Like it's not even fully fleshed out. It's word vomit on a drive doc that I can't really look at right now because the dissociation is real jesus fucking christ. Maybe I SHOULD ask a psychiatrist about this depth of method-writing(???).

I will say this is the gist. There are themes of self deletion, implied nasty things, and it's just not a happy thing really. No reread, we die like women with migraines.

Arya convinces Brom to flee to an unknown location before the Urubaen start. He does so. Galbatorix wins. Eragon eventually snaps in an unexpected way after Arya is broken due to being essentially forced to mercy kill Glenwing after she was subjected to let's just say Galbatorix level abuses on all levels of physical and mental planes and she, mute and carrying around her dead Battle Mate's arm, nonverbally asks Eragon to kill her to end this, as she's being used to hurt the people she loves and her continued existence is more harmful than good.

Eragon's snap is to use formless magic to essentially separate Arya, as a whole, from the magic of the Ancient Language. Don't ask me how nor the repercussions in full. But she is essentially 'dead' to magic. Galbatorix cannot use the name of names now to have hold over her and what she does and can't even scry her. She cannot cast magic, but magic cannot be casted on her either. Spells targeting her do not produce results. She is a void and dead in the eyes of the Ancient Language.

Somehow, don't ask how, Eragon gets Arya out of Uru'baen and naturally forces himself through some fun psych to believe he did indeed kill her. Everyone else believes him.

Arya wears the pieces of Glen's arm. Just wanders Alagaesia until she wanders into the Spine to die. Turns out it wasn't that, it was more mystery forces at work and/or her subconscious thinking that it would be a safe place, and she finds, SURPRISE! Brom living with the Urgals that managed to slip away even further north into the Spine. She's mute, dissociates every couple of hours to just sorta wander off, Claustrophobic/domaphobic so she never goes inside Brom's hut or urgal tents, and still can't even get herself to not bolt backwards if Brom comes within 10 feet of her. She is not the same person Brom saw last. There's bits and pieces of the Arya he knew, but she's unable to hold those pieces together longer than maybe a handful of hours at a time and still can't speak when she does. At most she can touch his hand during those moments, try and mouth words, and write things down in frantic attempts to preserve her sanity and memories of her life before. These moments get longer and longer over time, eventually until she's 'back,' but she never fully regains speech and still has much of her problems with buildings and has to be the one to initiate hugs or walk towards Brom rather than the other way around. She's never again really, truely, the same person.

Brom and Arya convert Riders signs to their own homesign and just start living. Arya frequently hallucinates Glen and 'speaks' with him through sign, spends days staring off hugging her Glenwing-mech-arm encased forearm to her chest, and has lost most of her fight. Brom takes his new mission on as taking care of her, helping her heal and find her fire again, and to once again be the last Old Guard to remember true history rather than Galbatorix's fucked up version.

There is no happy ending. Only Brom and Arya, the way MIC started.

And no, this will not be fully written. Ever. You guys may sometimes get little bits and pieces that will be labeled as such but haha I cannot take the weird fugue/dissociation this version of Arya brings over me and the absolute trauma of losing everything twice and being powerless to stop it that Brom's internal voice brings. Garzvog is cool though. I like this version of him. He's surprisingly nice.

[trophyprincess]

My parents have stressed me to my breaking point. At the current moment, mostly my dad, as my mom is working on herself a LOT.

My mom had relapsed into abusive behavior towards me, like in childhood, due to my dad's presence having moved back in after losing his job. She is trying to work on it though.

My dad is a narcissist who never accepts responsibility, it's always someone else's fault, and is obsessed with shit from 20 years ago involving office politics and won't let it go. Oh and he's a bigot. Not even regular Republican type, like, weird fringe shit.

That stuff isn't really politics, imo. Past a point, it is a mere simulacram of politics, posing as such. But the real purpose is to give angry, externalizing white men, who feel they have lost something economically or of their status, someone to blame for their problems.

He was never misogynistic until he got into that shit. He says nasty misogynistic things about women in medicine to MY face. HIS DAUGHTER HE ENCOURAGED TO BECOME A NEUROSCIENTIST OR NEUROLOGIST LIKE HIM FROM A YOUNG ASS AGE, WHO TAUGHT ME ABOUT THE BRAIN AND STOKED MY SPECIAL NEURODIVERGENT INTEREST IN IT.

Anyway. Shit's bad. I walked away from my good paying steady marketing job to freelance as a consultant, which I deeply regret bc I'm struggling for money at the moment as I find bearings.

I am someone who clawed my way out of hell itself when it comes to mental health. I am a whole, self-actualizing person, things that once affected me no longer do.

But this stuff is frustrating and I'm experiencing some depression symptoms.

I am 34 and trying to manage a 68 year old manchild. I love him and we've always been INCREDIBLY close, but like, yeah. He needs to get his act together as a person right now.

IDEK how many cals this Beatbox has, I'll deal with it via extra workouts the next few days. Needed SOMETHING to unwind because jesus christ y'all would not BELIEVE my dysfunctional ass family, fr.

There is NO SUCH THING as a "metabolism day," and I overdid the FUCK out of it at my friend's place Saturday, and have since kept it under 200 with only TINY NUMBERS of brazil nuts or crackers, one at a time like very sporadically, which I should not because I'm a fat disgusting cowperson.

But I need this fucking Beatbox legit, y'all. Unlike my severe-alchie-in-denial father (my brother and I did an intervention in June, he's a dry drunk now and bitter af), I am capable of drinking in sensible quantities and frequencies.

Frankly, my need to be thin and feel good about my body VASTLY outpaces a desire to be drunk. Went down a bad road once with it, resolved never to again, and did not.

Also chewed and spit a bunch of shit earlier, then purged what little got down just to be safe. Not even typical for me nowadays but JESUS this shit is pushing me to the brink.

I am 34, stable, and self-assured. That speaks VOLUMES that even I am having a rough time with this.

[ragingbookdragon]

Friends To Arranged Marriage To...Wait, How Many Kids?

Bruce Wayne x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Y'all ever write a self-indulgent Friends To Lovers fic? 'Cause that's what this is. Enjoy! -Thorne

It wasn’t unusual for her to suddenly appear in his office. She did it most days. Okay, it was more like every day but that’s not important. The fact is, she showed up and he wasn’t at all the least bit surprised when she barged through the office door and slammed it behind her.

“Morning,” he murmured, taking his eyes off the screen but a moment to lock them with hers.

“Good morning, Bruce,” she responded with a polite smile. “We need to talk.”

That wasn’t unusual either. When she came to the office it was because she wanted to either complain about something going on or because she was bored and didn’t have anything to do, so badgering her best friend seemed like the best option. It wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

“What do we need to talk about?” Bruce questioned, clicking at the mouse until his screen loaded.

“Something important. Something especially important.” She replied and with one hand reached behind her and flipped the lock on his door.

Now that was unusual. And Bruce saw this going one of two ways and he hoped it wasn’t the first way that involved her pulling a gun.

“Okay,” he said and watched her out of the corner of his eye as waltzed around his desk and perched herself on the corner. “Am I in trouble, (Y/N)?”

“If you disagree with me, you will be,” she retorted and she started fumbling in her tote.

“You sound serious,” Bruce noted.

(Y/N) harrumphed. “I am quite possibly the most serious I’ve been in years.” She pulled out three manila folders and handed them to him, watching as he opened the first and started reading through it.

He didn’t say anything as he opened the others and read them but frowned when he set them aside and went back to his computer.

“I’ve already planned on a new secretary, (Y/N).”

She watched him with careful eyes and explained, “Those aren’t secretary files, Bruce. They’re marriage candidates.”

At that, his entire body went rigid and ever so slowly he drew his gaze from the screen back to her, staring her straight in the eyes.

“I…beg your pardon?” he asked as if not understanding what she’d just said.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and picked up the files. “Each of these women are successful elites from either Metropolis, Star, or Central City. You have arranged marriage meetings with them Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday to decide which one you want to marry.”

This was happening way too fast, and he still didn’t know what “this” was.

“I’m not opposed to marriage, (Y/N), but why?”

She pointed to the picture on his desk, and he briefly glanced at it. Him, Dick, and Alfred on Christmas morning last year.

“Dick needs a mother.” She was never one to mince her words. “A father can raise a son, but the boy needs a mother’s love too, Bruce.”

“I think you’re a bit out of line here.” He remarked, brows pulling together. “We’re fine at the manor.”

“Bruce…please don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not a soft man. You’re hard edges and firmness, and while that isn’t a bad thing, Dick needs a mother who can be the parent that isn’t firm. He needs a mother’s guiding hand.”

She handed him the files again. “I’ve met each of these women. They’re good women who will make wonderful wives and even better mothers.” She stared at him. “You should know how important it is for a boy to have a mother.”

Bruce was on his feet in an instant, in front of her, eyes narrowed into a glare as he bit out, “(Y/N), now you’re out of line.”

“Really?” she challenged, not at all threatened by his towering figure. “Look my in the eye and tell me which parent you miss more. Thomas…or Martha?”

“I miss both of my parents. Every day.”

“And I don’t doubt that. But I know you miss Martha the most. Isn’t she the one you promised to save Gotham for?” (Y/N) questioned and his mouth snapped shut, jaw clenching tightly as he averted his eyes because he knew she was right.

She reached out and rested a hand on his forearm, forcing his eyes to hers once more; her gaze softened and she murmured, “You miss your mother more than the world, Bruce. How do you think Dick feels every night when he goes to sleep? Fathers are the protectors for their children, but mothers are the comforters—there are going to be things that you can’t help him with, but a woman can.”

(Y/N) gazed at him and pulled her hand away. “At least go and meet them,” she requested and when he didn’t say anything, she sighed and picked up her tote, making her way to the door.

She flipped the lock and paused, glancing over her shoulder to say, “At least think about what I’ve said, Bruce. For Dick…and for you.” He met her eyes and she added, “I think getting married would be good for you too.”

He nodded, and since that was all they could hope for, she left the office and Bruce collapsed into his chair, turning around to stare out the window.

***

His theory that she would show up Friday evening proved true when she waltzed into his office and took a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk, delicately crossing one of her legs over the other.

“How’d the interviews go?” she asked, not even bothering to ask him how his day was or how his week had been.

“My day was great, (Y/N), thanks for asking,” he mocked with a glare and she waved it off.

“Interviews, Bruce. How’d they go.”

He let out a sigh. “They went well. Each of them was polite and kind.”

“And?” (Y/N) gestured for him to continue.

“And nothing. That’s it.”

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Seriously? You just met them for a singular purpose and all you’ve got it, they’re polite and kind?” She glared at him. “What’d you talk about?”

Bruce sighed again and reclined in his office chair. “Humanitarian works, college days, high society—you know, the usual.”

(Y/N) gave him an unamused look. “Did any ask for a second date?”

“All of them in fact.”

“Did you agree?”

“No.”

Her head lolled back, and she glared at the ceiling. “Did you even think about what I talked about a few days ago?”

“I still am.”

“Then why didn’t you agree to see one of them again?”

“Because there wasn’t anything we had in common.”

“Most people who have arranged marriages don’t, Bruce. That’s why you go on dates and get to know them.” Her eyes were still on the ceiling. “What’s the real reason you said no?” She always knew when he’d lied to her.

After a moment, he murmured, “…I didn’t think any of them would be suitable to be Dick’s adoptive mother.”

“I guess that’s…fair,” she agreed and they both fell silent.

A couple minutes later, he said, “I’ve been thinking about what you said though, (Y/N). About finding a wife who would be a good mother for Dick.”

“Uh huh.”

“I think you’re right. I do offer Dick everything a father could. Support, protection, guidance…but he is missing that love only a mother can give a son.”

“And how’s that making you feel?” she questioned softly.

His voice got quiet. “Like how I was when I was growing up without mother. (Y/N), I…I don’t want Dick to feel that way.”

At that, she drew her gaze from the ceiling to his eyes and she reasoned, “Then I think you should call one of the girls back and agree to a second date. You won’t find perfection in one day, even with how intuitive you are.”

Bruce shrugged. “I just want to find someone closer to Gotham. Someone who is familiar with us already.”

(Y/N) grunted. “I purposely moved away from Gotham because no one is.”

“That’s fair,” Bruce chuckled, and they fell into a silence again.

Suddenly, a thought flashed across her mind and she sat up. “Us.” She blurted out and he looked at her.

“What?”

(Y/N) gestured between them. “Us, Bruce. You and me.”

“I don’t follow,” he replied with a confused expression and she huffed, rolling her eyes.

“You’re an idiot,” she griped, then she stood and planted her hands on his desk, leaning over to get in his face. “You and I are the closest to Gotham as you’ll get, and I’m familiar with you and Dick.” She smiled. “Marry me.”

She could count on one hand how many times she’d ever stunned her best friend silent and that was number two because his jaw went slack and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline, steel blue eyes wide.

(Y/N) frowned. “Oh, come on, you can’t tell me the thought didn’t cross your mind at least once.” Silence. “Oh my God, are you serious? You didn’t even think about it at all? Like ever?”

He shook his head, mouth still hanging open.

“Oh, for God’s sakes, close your mouth and wipe that stupid look off your face. It’s not a completely inconceivable idea, you moron.” (Y/N) held a hand up, counting off her fingers, “I’m of acceptable status, I dress well, I’m thoroughly educated, I do humanitarian work all over the world, I love your son, and I’m probably the one woman that doesn’t make you wanna stab yourself in the eye with a fork.”

She grinned at him. “You’re not going to find anyone better than me here in Gotham, Brucie-boy. Besides, I think (Y/N) Wayne has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Finally, he managed to make himself speak and he blurted out, “I stopped thinking like five minutes ago. I’m not even sure how to do that anymore.”

(Y/N) pulled a face and griped, “You’re an idiot.”

“I am not,” he retorted with a glare. “You can’t just propose to your best friend out of the blue and expect them to function like it’s normal!”

“You’re Batman,” she whispered. “Figure it out.” (Y/N) pointed at him. “There’s another plus on my side! I already know your deepest secrets! See, aren’t I a catch?”

“Was this your plan all along?” Bruce suddenly questioned and she gaped at him for a second before shaking her head.

“…No.”

“(Y/N),” he drawled, and she sighed.

“Alright, it crossed my mind a couple times but that’s why I started with the other women first. I was kinda hoping you’d pick one of them.” (Y/N) looked at him. “I really don’t see anything wrong with us getting married though. We’ve been friends since we were babies, we have a lot of the same interests, and we both care for Dick.”

She shrugged. “I mean we might not be in love, but our marriage doesn’t have to be. We’re stepping up for a greater good. For a young boy who deserves to have two parents.” (Y/N) reached out and held out her hand. “So? What do you say?”

Bruce gazed at her for a long time, longer than she was comfortable with because she knew he was mentally pulling her mind apart. After a few moments he stood and walked around the desk to stand in front of her.

She pulled her hand back in and gave a curious look. “Bruce?” His hands gently took hold of her cheeks and he leaned forward, even as her eyes went wide and she whispered, “Bruce, what—”

He softly brushed his lips against hers and (Y/N) all but melted against him, her hands pressed flat against his chest. They pulled away a moment later and he rested his forehead to hers.

“I think we can make it work, (Y/N).”

She couldn’t fight the giddy smile that came over her face. “Yeah?”

Bruce matched her smile. “Yeah.”

***

“So, you’re tellin’ me,” he started dubiously, looking at him. “That you and Ma only got together because you guys wanted to make sure Golden-boy had two parents instead of just you?”

Bruce didn’t even take his eyes off the screen as he responded absentmindedly, “That pretty much covers it.”

Jason threw his hands in the air. “There’s no way! There’s no way that shit was arranged! You two make googly eyes at one another when you think no one is watching and you kiss Ma before you go to work every day!” he looked at his brothers. “Y’all know what I’m sayin’ right?”

Tim nodded. “Jay’s got a point, dad. For an arranged marriage, the two of you are really in love.”

Dick placed a hand over his heart and smugly admitted, “You’re welcome everyone, for bringing mom and dad together in real love.”

A chorus of “Fuck you’s” echoed from Jason and Tim, and Damian placed his hands on his hips.

“When did you know you loved Umi, Father?”

Finally, he pulled his gaze from the Batcomputer, and even behind his cowl, they could see the love he had in his eyes and in his voice as he said, “Your mother and I dated for a year before we married, but the night of our wedding, we spent it at the manor and Dick crawled into our bed and spent the night wrapped in our arms.”

Bruce smiled. “I woke up early that morning and saw him curled in (Y/N)’s arms and all I could think was that I’d never loved a woman more than that moment then.” His eyes shifted to all of his sons. “And I’ve only fallen deeper in love with her with each of you that’s come into our home. You make us better parents every day and I wouldn’t change what I was given for anything in the world.”

He barely had time to breathe before all four of his sons were crashing into him, squeezing him as tears spilled down their cheeks.

Bruce huffed a quiet laugh and took a moment to brush a hand through each of his sons’ hair. “I love you, boys.”

A chorus of “I love you too’s” came back at him and before anyone could speak, they heard someone coo, “Aww, that’s so sweet!”

They spun around to see (Y/N) with her phone out, a mile-wide smile on her face, eyes shining with tears.

“Ma…what are you doing?” Jason questioned and she clicked something on her phone.

“Oh, nothing, my sweet boy,” she smiled, and all of her sons started pulling away from Bruce.

“Did you just record that?” Tim asked and she took a step back.

“I would never!” and she stared them down for a split second before spinning on her heel and hauling off towards the stairs. Her sons sprinted after her and she let out a squeal as she skipped the steps two at a time to get away from them.

“Ma come back here!” Jason shouted.

“Umi! Our dignity is on that phone!”

“I dunno, I think it’s sweet!”

“It’s not going to be sweet when she sends it to the group chat that every superhero is in, Dick! We have reputations!”

“Oh…that’s a good point, Tim. Mom! Come back here!”

(Y/N) gasped as someone’s arms wrapped around her waist and she came face to face with Bruce—well, Batman, and she yelped when he pulled her phone out of her pocket.

“Bruuuuuuce!” she whined. “Please don’t delete it!” (Y/N) reached for the phone and he held it out of reach. “Darling, my sweet darling, Bruce, please,” she plead. “If you love your wife and mother of your children, you won’t do that.”

His gaze darted to hers and she pouted, sticking her bottom lip out in the way that she knew he’d crack. “Please, my heart. Let me have a reminder of my beautiful boys.”

“You won’t send it to the chats?” he asked, and she crossed a finger over her heart.

“Cross my heart, darling.” He handed her back the phone and she smiled, leaning up to peck the corner of his mouth. “Thank you, Bruce.”

He cupped her cheek with his gloved hand, thumb brushing over her cheekbone and he pulled her into a real kiss, ignoring the exaggerated gags behind him.

“I love you,” he murmured as he pulled away from her lips. “More than you know.”

(Y/N) hummed, her eyes still closed, and she whispered, “You might love me more, but I love you most.” She opened her eyes and gazed at him. “All my boys.”

Suddenly, her phone started dinging like crazy and he stared at her, his Batman voice coming out as he surmised, “You sent it to the chat, didn’t you?”

She gave him an innocent smile and giggled, “I might’ve.”

“You’re going to pay for all the teasing that Hal and Barry are going to give me, (Y/N) Wayne,” he warned, and she scoffed.

“Oh, boo hoo, I’m so scared of what the big bad Bat is go—” a gasp escaped her when he hauled her up against his body and she stared at him with wide eyes.

A siren went off down in the cave and he looked towards the boys. “Go.” They all hurried off, complaining about the various texts they were all getting.

Bruce looked back at her, voice lowering as he growled, “After patrol I’m coming up to the bedroom and you’d better be ready, because I’m not going to stop ravishing you until you’re begging me for release.”

Something hot, tight, and fierce shot through (Y/N)’s gut and she could only flounder like a fish as he pulled her into another searing kiss before he spun on his heel and descended into the cave.

She gathered herself and called out after him, “You can’t just say something like that and then leave! That’s not fair, Bruce! Bruce, are you listening to me!”

Only his laughter echoed from below.

“Bruce!”

[thejustmaiden]

So out of nowhere I was tagged and quoted by a SR shipper for a blog of mine posted in August of last year. Talk about throwback but, hey, gotta appreciate that level of snooping. 😉

Back in the day I actually used to encourage discourse amongst Inuyasha fans- both shippers and antis alike- but I've since realized that it's a lost cause. But for you, @feministmetalgreymon , I'll grant this exception. Just 'cause it's been a while so why the hell not. haha

I want to assure you, however, that nothing you say will ever convince me that Sesshomaru and Rin are meant to be together romantically or that the story intended it so. Nor will you find any validation here. You can ship them for all I care, but please for all that is good and holy while I have your attention try- I mean really try- to understand why it is so many of us Inuyasha fans are so against this pairing in the first place (newsflash: it's not about ship wars), and why we believe a romance between the two of them is completely and utterly out of character.

For those of you interested in reading this, the blog of mine in question that the above shipper mentions in their counter-argument is here for reference. It's titled "Jaken = Rin's Dad?" I'm going to try and keep this short, but I'm also making no such promises. After all, I'm not exactly known for my brevity. haha Now let's get crackin'!

Like you, feministmetalgreymon, did for your recent blog here where you took screenshots of mine to address certain parts, I will be doing the same and dissecting yours accordingly.

[Snippet 1]

I worked with kids for many years as a teacher, and many people in my family have too or still do. Two of them happen to be just over 5 feet which is quite short for the average adult woman living here. I've also worked alongside many a women of short stature, and never did I hear any of them complaining of issues with their students having difficulty differentiating them from their own peers just because they were short as well. I'm sorry but that's just ridiculous. Kids are quite smart and pick up on a lot more than you seem to give them credit for. Height is not the only characteristic they look at to determine who's an adult and who's not, and it's foolish to suggest otherwise. So unless you're a babysitter who's still in their teens and/or who has very childlike features or behavior then I'm afraid what you're getting at is total hogwash. This is just another example of how you shippers offer nothing of real substance to your reasoning, it's only ever cherry-picking or strawmanning from you guys. Stop deflecting from the real issues please, because this certainly isn't one and only winds up being a complete waste of time for all parties involved.

[Snippet 2]

Okay, calm down now. I wasn't insinuating that relationships between parents and children can't change over time in terms of how they get along. Of course that's possible, as all families experience their fair share of estrangement and abuse. What I was speaking about was in reference to the overall dynamic between the two. Because a bad mother or father can still be viewed as a parental figure to their child even if say they're not in said child's life anymore. Since Sesshomaru and Rin share a healthy bond- and just a friendly reminder that in my blog I even said that he doesn't have to necessarily be labeled her father but that a romantic relationship later would still be inappropriate- I didn't deem it necessary to address what you brought up. Plus, it kinda, umm, misses the point?? Please, let's stay on topic. And it's not captured in the screenshot, but stop acting like there isn't a small part of them that idolizes their parents at some point during childhood. Just like you mention later on how it's normal for kids to have innocent crushes on adults that they eventually grow out of? Well, guess what, the same concept applies here. Kids eventually learn that their parents are far from perfect and make mistakes too. Rin is so damn young in the OG series though that we never even get to see her reach that maturity level.

[Snippet 3]

LOL! Alright, okay, so the "unbreakable bond" bit you're mentioning was actually me quoting you sessrinners. Did you not catch that? I literally spelled it out. *sigh* The whole point I was making is that shippers like yourself make hypocritical and contradictory statements all.the.goddamn.time. One moment you guys claim that Sesshomaru and Rin were essentially strangers and meant very little to each other, only to say in the same breath a few seconds later that they were destined to be together and their bond is like no other. I agree, their bond is special, but why must that mean they're going to fall in love?

That is the root of the matter here. Too many animes/mangas have romanticized this older adult man & young girl growing up falling in love trope that it's become way too normalized and widely accepted across the world- and yes, in some cultures more than others. Sadly, you lack the awareness to recognize how this all works. You know how we know that? When we see that you shippers are so desensitized to sexualized images of girls in the media that you share posts like this one below which *subtly* imply a future romance although one half of that pairing is still just a child in the pic and then try and pass it off as cute. That's like super fucking problematic and it scares me that you can't see that (or deny you do). 🤢

After all that's said and done, Sesshomaru leaving Rin in the village with Kaede is to me the strongest indicator more than pretty much anything else he's done for Rin that proves he is her adoptive father. It's so funny to me how you somehow see the exact opposite though. 🤔 What I think is happening is that you got yourself on some squeaky clean ass shipper goggles fresh out of your little echo chamber. Because I hate to tell you, but what you're fantasizing is what you want to see and not what's actually there on screen or was written into the story. I'm strictly talking about Inuyasha and the manga of course. [For the TL; DR version skip to the last paragraph.]

Parents looking after their kids is what parents are supposed to do. A good parent will do anything to keep their child safe and ensure they are cared for, so what he did for her by leaving her there was in her best interests clearly. Besides, as a babysitter, you more than most people should understand that parents aren't always able to be there for their kids so sometimes others gotta step in to help. Haven't you heard of the saying, "it takes a village to raise a child?" Which in Rin's case is literally true! 😂 Sometimes kids are even sent off to stay with grandparents and that's who raises them instead. Or maybe they have to temporarily live with an aunt or uncle because their single parent's job requires they work out of town 4-5 days of the week so they're hardly home. But that doesn't mean that the parents care or love their kids any less, and it's foolish to assume that Sesshomaru must have thought very little of Rin simply due to the fact that he made the decision to leave her in the village. Come on, y'all are acting like he abandoned her there!!

It's just given the circumstances Sesshomaru finally came to learn that Rin traveling with him was no longer safe. I also like to think it's because he wished for her to live a more normal life and to learn how to fully trust humans again. Plus, continuing to travel with him as young as she was would have proven dangerous and unwise. Now for you to know all this and still manage to turn his past actions towards her while she was just a child into a romantic gesture is what boggles my mind. Regardless of how you look at it, from my perspective or your own, Sesshomaru is in the wrong. Either he's a father figure who impregnates his daughter at the young age of approximately 14. OR he's this man she used to travel with who maybe isn't a father to her but who nonetheless basically rapes her since kids her age can't consent to sex with an adult. Idk about you but it sounds to me like nobody here wins with either scenario we're given. In other words, you should be just as mad as we are. If only one side didn't choose to forsake their morals they know we both have in common for the sake of a ship. Welp. 🤷‍♀️

I agree, incest is disgusting but that's not the only problem we have with this pairing. A romantic bond forming between Sesshomaru and Rin would also constitute as grooming.

You realize that over the years he visited her in the village that he brought her gifts too and essentially watched her grow up right before his very eyes, right? I mean, I know you do, but I really shouldn't have to explain further why pursuing a romantic/sexual relationship with each other is plain and simple wrong. And before you say it's not because he didn't have any malintent, please understand that considering their history and power dynamic up to then that yes this is still considered grooming even if Rin supposedly "wanted it" or "made the first move." Whether you consider him her father or not, as the adult who took on a role resembling that of a caretaker in her early life- a critical developmental time for a child- Sesshomaru is obligated to turn down any advances by Rin and most definitely should not initiate any himself. As the first close adult figure she's had in her life since her parents died, it's unfathomable to imagine how Sesshomaru could go through with taking advantage of this young girl who was under his care and supervision since they met. To think he could be capable of betraying that trust sickens me to the core.

This. Now THIS is how a parent/guardian or a similar adult caretaker (babysitter, teacher, etc.) talks to a child. And, in turn, this is how some young children talk to adults. You'd be insane and delusional to deny it! We see it in our everyday lives, do we not? From where else do you think our stories draw most of their inspiration? Yes, obviously these fictional universes have aspects of fantasy that don't exist in the real world, but so how then do you suppose we're able to relate to them? The reason for that being is because these stories are written by people for people, so naturally there are going to be real life aspects embedded throughout. Sure, a little escapism doesn't hurt as we don't need to take everything so seriously, but ultimately we all need to recognize that the messages in the stories we tell matter. Most stories possess a combination of both light and dark themes, but when it specifically comes to the latter we gotta be careful with how we tackle this in children's media since kids are far more impressionable.

So if at the center of a story we have two of the main protagonists whose mom is basically their same age and to top it off she knew their dad when she was just a girl and who just so happened to help raise her, wouldn't you say that's beyond fucked up or at the very least so fucking weird? Like why would we think it's even remotely okay for our children to watch this garbage?? Really think about it. Try and be objective for once and think about how it would sound explaining this storyline to an outsider who's never watched IY or HNY. Well, antis have tried this before many times and we always get the same reaction: Ewww!

Like I said earlier, if you wanna ship it then fine, but 1) please stop seeking our approval or trying to change our minds - your ship wish came true didn't it, so why do you need us to validate it? 2) even though it's not canon, respect that we don't support this sequel portraying pedophilia in a positive light. It's harmful af to not only allow but glorify the continuation of sexualized images of young girls everywhere. And I shouldn't have to say this, but just because this trope is popular as you say does not make it right. Lolicon themes in the media have been an issue forever and it needs to stop. Yes, even some people in Japan or "the East" would agree. Shocker!

We're pissed off and rightfully so because Yashahime's TV rating is 14, not to mention it airs at the prime time kids in Japan watch TV after getting home from school. That's Towa and Setsuna's age, true, but if Rin being the mom when she's like only a year older than them (please don't argue w/ me about the math- antis have so far been right every time with it) is straight-up disgusting and not something we should be supporting or endorsing. Rin's a whole ass child!! Please don't start with the "but times were different then so her having kids at 15 is acceptable" argument either, because we've already debunked that and every other single excuse you guys throw at us. Besides, how or why would you expect young viewers to know these historical "facts" anyway, especially if as you suggest fiction doesn't affect reality so what does it matter? Yet here we are, arguing over a fictional show in real life almost a year and a half into the "Sesshomaru fucks?" sequel being announced. My ass, your ass, hell all our asses fiction doesn't affect reality!

Look, I do apologize if the tone of this blog came off as snippy or condescending at times. I do not wish you any ill will, it's just I'm not really sure what you expected to get out of all this besides maybe getting on my nerves perhaps. haha A lot of you shippers have been desperately scrambling to interact with us, lurking in our tags, jumping onto our posts screaming canon and getting so defensive even though you sought us out first. We've been sticking to our tags, so how about you stay in your lane too. By the way since we're on the topic, have you seen Twitter or Reddit?! SR shippers there are the actual worst and many Inuyasha fans (not just antis) have complained of not feeling welcomed to engage in fandom spaces anymore. Shippers swarm them and scare them off simply because fans don't like your ship and refuse to accept it. It's pathetic, really. No one should ever be bullied or harassed just because they don't like something you might. We're all fans of Inuyasha, aren't we? So let's act like it. Yashahime on the other hand, you guys are welcome to that pungent heap of trash. Fans have a right to criticize it too, but if you like it then good for you, so keep on liking it and don't mind us.

I'm almost done, but real quick back to Jaken! Let's not forget about how the official Yashahime website- which came out after my blog, mind you- described Jaken. This translation isn't the best one available but it's the only version a fellow anti friend could track down. They do recall a better one done by a native Japanese speaker who was also an anti, and that member confirmed that Jaken is indeed called Rin's babysitter. So you see, I was right in my interpretation. In the original post I did compare Jaken to a brother, but after talking to others (some comments can be found under said post) I did acknowledge that he's more of a reluctant babysitter who's not related. And if he's not at least a brother to Rin, then he's definitely not her father.

At the end of the day, the creator Rumiko Takahashi has the final word. Which is guess what? Hogosha. 💖 Probably should've just started out with that and saved us all the trouble, huh? Good day/night to you.

Papamaru bids you adieu now. 🤞

[airis-paris14]

See You Again

A/N: Just something short I never posted. It probably sucks, but I thought I'd share anyway. WE OUTSIDE YALL. (Please be outside RESPONSIBLY. COVID is still a thing. Please get vaccinated and or wear a mask.) Love Y'all.

Masterlist

“My King,” Okoye called, handing T’Challa a bag he forgot. “Next week.”

“ I know Okoye. I promise I will be ready to leave.” Okoye nodded before reboarding the jet. The king watched before beginning the short walk up to his friend's front door.

He rang the doorbell before staring up at the building. It’d been years since he’d last been in this apartment. Freshman year of college to be exact. Anaya’s parents had invited him to spend Thanksgiving with them after finding him and their daughter studying together on a surprise visit to their daughter's dorm. They weren’t in the room, lucky for them, but it seemed that her parents were invested in a dream that wouldn’t come true. Not that either of them was ready to admit they couldn’t be together either. At least that early on.

So much has changed since then. They graduated. Got two Ph. Ds respectively and then moved on. Anaya became a celebrated fashion historian and critic, and T’Challa a king. Halfway across the world, they’d reconnected by chance in Paris and hadn’t let go since. Somewhere T’Challa had been holding on to a silly notion that maybe he and Anaya could give being together another go, but he knew it was a fruitless endeavor.

Same as his ringing of the doorbell had been. Worried, the king began knocking on the door. “Quit your racket! She’s not here!” An elderly woman crooned from her front porch. “Pardon?”

“She ain’t here! The baby called.” The woman chuckled to herself, “Ran outta here like a firecracker. Her two friends following close behind.”

“She was pregnant?”

“Don’t know how you missed it sonny, big as a blimp, carrying high though. My bets on a girl you know,” she paused to size up the young king. “And you must be that no good bastard baby’s father. Walking out on her like that you know I should-!”

“Ma’am, I promise you I am not him. As much as I wish I could have been,” the king mumbled the last part.

“Well then now’s your chance son. The real father ain’t here, and I hate to see that child grow up without a father figure. What’s keeping you from claiming that child?”

“A lot more than you’ll ever know..” T’Challa looked up, despair written across his face. The woman's gaze softened. “You’ll never know till you try. At least go and see her. I mean you came to her house. All dressed up with flowers and a bag of gifts. You must really care for her.”

“I do.”

“She’s at the university hospital.” The old woman instructed. “Thank you,” the king nodded. “Anything to see her happy, ever since her parents died she’s been sitting up in that house all alone. Make it right.”

Two hours and four phone calls later, T’Challa pulled up to the hospital in his hired car. The driver opened the back door of the SUV to allow the king and his baby present out into the air. He nodded at the driver before making his way up to the reception desk. “Hi, how may I help you?” The woman looked up from her computer. “You must be looking for our maternity ward. This your first?” She nodded at the gifts. “You could say that,” T’Challa chuckled.

“May I have your name and the patient’s?”

“T’Challa, and Anaya Johnson.”

“Great, Ms. Johnson is in room 408 in the maternity wing. Go down the hall, on the left, there will be an elevator. Take that up to the fourth floor, make a right and it should be the fourth door down. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” the king smiled hoisting up the big teddy bear, careful not to crush the flowers and various other bags. “Would you like an escort Mr. T’Challa?”

“I believe I can handle this one,” The king insisted. “Very well, and congratulations.”

The king frowned. “Thank you.”

Four floors up, and three doors down, T’Challa finally stood outside of room 408. He took several steadying breaths before knocking. “Who is it? A familiar voice called. He heard footsteps on the other side of the door before it carefully creaked open.

“T’Challa?”

The king smiled in surprise. “Tella? Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” The brown skin woman beamed, opening up the door, her eyes widening slightly as she saw all of the gifts.”She said she hadn’t heard from you in months.”

“Yeah, I was on my way to visit Anaya and her neighbor told me she was here, having a baby.”

“Yeah, um come in. She and Jean went for a walk, the doctor said it would help with contractions.” Tella grabbed the bear from T’Challa and moved to set it in a corner, while he found space to set down his other gifts. “So how’ve you been? We used to get status updates from Anaya for you. Then you just vanished.”

“Well, there is a lot I haven’t told you all. Wakanda is a monarchy, and my father, and his father, and his father, and his mother, and her father, and his mother, and so on, have all ruled our country. Now it is my turn.”

“To rule?”

“To rule.” The king nodded. “So you vanished because you became king?”

“I vanished because there was a coup, an attempt on my life, which was almost successful. The coup sent my country into a civil war,” The king explained.

“T’Challa, this doesn’t even sound real,” Tella interrupted. “I mean, how is anyone supposed to believe you?”

“May I see your phone?” T’Challa stopped her.

“T’Challa,”

“Just let me prove it to you. I did not ghost Anaya by choice. I still want to be with her.”

“After all this time-”

“Please, I know it seems implausible, but let me show you,” the king reached out a hand.

“Fine T’Challa-” Tella handed over her phone. “Ask siri,” the king instructed.

“Seriously?” Tella frowned. “Just ask her.”

“Siri, who is the king of Wakanda?”

Her phone glowed before responding, “T’Challa Udaku was crowned King of Wakanda after the passing of his father last summer during a United Nations Assembly. I found this article online from the New York Times and several other sources.”

“T’challa if this is true, I mean since this is true, the prospects of you and Anaya getting together is now even more impossible. Why are you here?”

“Because she is my friend, and I love her. She is having a baby, and I will support her.”

“You are not its father!”

“Don’t you think I know that? Do you know how much it hurts me to know that I’m not? That I may never be the father of any of her children.”

“This isn’t about you T.”

“I know, but the child’s father is not here. I am. Even if he was, I still would be, because she is my friend too Tella.”

“I just do not want to see her hurt. Don’t give her false hope T’Challa.”

“On the contrary, I believe it is she who gives me false hope,” the king sighed. Tella pulled him in for a hug. “Just give it time, and who knows, you’re a king now aren’t you?”

“That I am,” T’Challa nodded as the room’s door squeaked open. A nurse helped Anaya back into the room and T'Challa couldn’t help the way his eyes widened at Anaya’s pregnant form. His heart erupted in butterflies, imagining if that had been his child. Tella slapping his arm startled him back to reality. Tella jerked her head towards where the nurse was trying to help Anaya and maneuver the IV stand back into the room with her. T’Challa hurried over to wrap an arm around Anaya’s waist and grab her other hand. The nurse smiled in thanks and surprise. No surprise could top Anaya’s expression. She gaped as T’Challa shot her a smile. “Long time no see,” The king teased as he helped her further into the room and onto her bed. A grimace stole her smile as another contraction hit.

“I’ll grab Dr.Ben and she’ll be right in to check on your progress, Ms. Johnson.” The middle-aged black woman smiled at the expecting mother. “Thank you,” Anaya smiled before turning back to her best friend. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to surprise you, only to find out from your neighbor that you were in labor,” The king smiled.

“Mrs. Patterson told you where I was?”

“I guess so,” the king frowned. Anaya and Tella laughed. “What did you do to her? Mrs. Patterson doesn’t like anyone. Especially men.” Tella explained.

“She did almost try to beat me up when she thought I was your ‘bastard baby’s father’.” T’Challa told the two women who groaned. Anaya grimaced her way through a contraction and T’Challa stepped over and offered her his hand. The mother smiled at his touch and threaded her fingers through his as the contraction dissipated.

“I’m gonna go find Jean in the gift shop,” Tella excused herself, leaving T’Challa and Anaya alone. “What’s been going on with you King T’Challa,” Anaya teased as she tried to push herself into a seated position.

“Nothing much. The world of politics cooled off for a while and I wanted to apologize for being awol these past months.” T’Challa helped rearrange the pillows so she could sit up. “What about you soon to be umama?”

“Well, this has been my life pretty much, still don’t know how I’m going to manage working at museums and shows towing this one around.”

“Where’s the father?” T’Challa asked softly. A tear formed in Anaya’s eye, “He doesn’t want to be involved. We were drunk that night and you know…..”

“You don’t have to explain,” T’Challa squeezed her hand. “Thanks,” she murmured. “What are you having?” The king inquired, sweeping some box braids back over her shoulder. “I don’t know. I wanted to be surprised.”

“Your neighbor thinks it’s a girl,” T’Challa laughed. “She’s been telling me about me carrying high since it became visible I was pregnant.” Anaya laughed. “I guess we’ll find out today or tomorrow.” T’Challa chuckled. His face quickly fell as she slipped into another contraction. He tried to help her breathe the way he’d seen on television but ended up making her laugh. “You’re really bad at this,” Anaya reclined back onto her pillows rubbing her stomach absentmindedly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” T’Challa smiled. “It’s two quick ones and long out. Not in out in out,” Anaya explained. “I’ll do better next time,” T’Challa promised.

“How long are you visiting, you don’t have to stay. It could be another day or so before I give birth.”

“I’m here for the week, until next Tuesday. And Anaya I want to stay. Besides, I can give Tells and Tonya-Jean a break to walk around.”

“Thanks,” the pregnant mother smiled. Her face contorted as another contraction washed over her. “There you go,” T’Challa soothed as she squeezed his hand. He helped her breathe through and eventually, she settled back. “At this rate, it’ll only be a couple of hours until they’re here with us,” the mom to be sighed. “Then I’ll be here as long as you’ll let me be here,” T’Challa kissed the back of her hand. Sweat had gathered on her forehead and he reached for something to dab it away. “I want you here as long as you can be, distract me.”

“Why? You are not enjoying the miracle of life.”

“Says the man not currently pushing a baby out of his body.”

“Fair enough,” he raised his unoccupied arm in surrender. “Tell me about Wakanda and being a king,” Anaya asked, groaning through another contraction.

“Well,” T’Challa started.

Eight hours later, the room was silent. Tonya and Tells had gone home to catch up on sleep. Anaya was sleeping off her exhaustion and the king of Wakanda sat rocking a sleeping baby girl. Well, she was sleeping. Sydney Iesha Johnson’s big brown eyes fluttered open and stared at the man holding her. She stretched out her tiny body and T’Challa’s heart soared at the feeling of her moving around in the swaddle.

“Hi pretty girl,” he whispered. “Hi,” he cooed, smiling as she yawned. “You are so beautiful, just like your mommy. She was the most beautiful girl in the world and now she’s tied with you.” He rocked the infant softly. “T’Challa?” Anaya croaked. “Hey,” the king stood up and walked the baby over to her mother. “She was fussy in the crib, and the nurse suggested I hold her, I hope you don’t mind,” he rambled. Anaya laid a hand on his arm and shook her head. “It’s fine. I love seeing you with her.

“You know I’m here for you right? Both of you now,” the king searched her eyes. “I know I’m not her father, and I’ll never try to be that for her, but she’s a part of you and that makes her important to me.”

Anaya teared up and nodded.

“I want you to move to Wakanda.”

Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @derangedcupcake @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @faatassbitch @lady-love-and-glitter-roses @cxnismajcr @tchallasbabymama

[clementinesjourney]

It's a men's world - Pt 1. The Urban Legend

A.N.: Hey guys! Sorry for making all my series so short. I promise i'll try to make this one a little longer. Asks, submissions and inbox are always open, i'd be happy to chat with y'all. Feedback is much appreciated wether it be good or bad. <3

Pairing: mob!Bucky x mob!reader

Words: 2,8k

Warnings: mentions of past trauma, human-trafficking, drugs, weapons, cigarettes and alcohol. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Summary: You were the most famous Donna of the US, also more of a legend between families. Nobody really ever saw you, but you controlled most of the arms-dealing, and drug circles, cars. You were also working with the goverment which meant basically freedom for you and your family, helping shutting down human-trafficking circles. That is how you first found yourself in the secret den of the Barnes family, and it's new don the White wolf.

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It was just about 6 months since Bucky took over the family as the new Don after his father's passing. Somewhere deep inside he loved his father, but also despised him as their family's main source of income was human-trafficking. Mostly girls took from the streets and parks, brought to the US in ships. Whoever made it through the sea alive was eaten up by the members of other families. As much as he hated this kind of line of work, he had no other chance then to take over after his father died. He made plans to stop the human-trafficking, however the other families made that very clear that he had no other source of income as they made sure his family couldnt sell weapons or cars, and only a tiny amount of drugs, which of course wouldn't be enough for a living. So with a bitterness in his heart, he continued the work his father started. His right hand was Steve a veteran, also his best friend, and Sam. Seeing the countless women's faces in his dreams he hardly ever dated, not speaking of the dangers it would've meant to be a Donna of the Barnes family. He was currently in the only base the police or the other families had never been able to find. In the middle of the forest, near the ocean from the west.

-Did you heard Buck? The Blood Countess is after human-trafficking now. What should we do about it?

-The Blood Countess is merely the maffia's very own urban legend Sam.. - laughed Bucky, sipping his whiskey. -She's very much welcome in my bed though if any of the legend is true.

-Maybe she's like 60, didn't know you're into grannies now Buck - chuckled Steve from the couch opposite to the armchair Bucky was sitting in.

Only they didn't now that the so called Blood Countess was very much real, and very much hearing every single word they had said, thanks to the mic one of your men were able to plant on the phone of Steve while you flirted with him, him being oblivious to the fact that you were that exact urban legend in the flesh.

It was almost too easy to find them, as you started to think all the other families and the whole government was incapable of doing any work.

They called you the Blood Countess since you took over. You were kidnapped, shipped to the US and sold to a man, who you were oh so lucky with. He bought girls, just so he could save them from the fate that way too many was lost for. He was more like a generous, loving grandfather, who never laid hands on the women he bought. He thought them self-defence, martial arts, etiquette.. all that jazz. He saw the potential, and he never had an heir as per se, so on his deathbed, he changed his will, making you the heiress of his empire, the Donna of the most influental family in the US and probably the world, the Carter family. You managed to get the title the Blood Countess after an old legend of a Countess in middle Europe, who took in all the noble daugthers in the name of teaching them proper court etiquette, then allegedly killing them and bathing in their blood, effectively keeping herself young for hundreds of years. The only real difference was that you didn't kill women. You killed those who sold them, who kidnapped them, who used them as they pleased. You were rather a guardian angel of the women, then a merciless countess... You were deadly, but noone ever saw you, who did, mostly ended up dead, so he wasnt able to tell anyone about you. Most they managed to say with their dying breath was The Blood Countess. Your next target was the Barnes family. It made you laugh how easy it was to get intel on them. It was even more easy to plant microphones on their members. A drink, your dress sliding up your thighs, not showing the countless knifes that you had clasped around them. A few sweet words, and they were ready to give you whatever information they wanted. The perks of being an urban legend you thought. Noone could ever imagine a sweet, slender, pretty little thing like you being the most feared Donna in the world. And that is exactly what made your job this easy. Of course you had a swarm of armed men around you most of the times, but you enjoyed being in the middle of it all, you always took your fair share of the figths. You were just as deadly as your legend stated.

You spent the next few months listening into every little conversation Steve had, you heard all the details of shipments, succesfully busting them, rescuing the women, who you still could, and killing the men who assaulted them, used them, or even just raise a hand on any part of them. You only left the innocent alive. After the 5th shipment busted Bucky was fuming in his office. Throwing his crystal whiskey glass to the door, shattering loudly, shouting at Sam and Steve in anger.

-STEVE YOU'RE GONNA GO AN MAKE SURE THURSDAYS SHIPMENT COME THROUGH. AND IT BETTER DO OR SO HELP ME GOD....

You couldn't help but smirk. He was furious, which meant more and more mistakes, more and more holes in the system, making it easier for you by the minute to get to him. An hour later, you were still in your office in the fmaily villa, when you got a notification of a phonecall Steve had made.

-Sorry to shout at you man. I just can't help it. It is slipping out of my fingers. I have to do the line of business which i never wanted, which took my sister from me, yet i need to get a certain source of income to keep my men alive. I wish i could just... i don't know do business with drugs, or weapons, hell even cars or estates... just not this. You know how their faces are haunting me every fucking night... I really just wish the Countess would come for us and just end it.

-Don't even say that man. She's jsut an urban legend anyway, Sam is currently having a business meeting with the Stark family, it is a high possibility they will let us deal with weapons soon..

You just sat there. If this was true, you didn't have to hurt his handsome face at all. All you had to do is give him opportunity to finish the trafficking, and still be able to give fair wages to his men. It was just almost too easy. With your power, you would be able to make the White wolf, the biggest arms-dealer of the US with a snap of your fingers.

-RUMLOW - you shouted for the head of your security to come in.

-Yes Donna?

-Prepare my car, and arm up 12 men just for the ..... safety. - you smirked at him, rolling your eyes. You knew you could take out his whole family, if you wanted, but you also knew he would never let you out to enemy territory without basically an army.

In 20 minutes you were walking in your black heels and black skinthight dress to your car. You had black stockings with lace pieces hugging your thighs high up. You had knives attached to your thighs, ankles, even had a pistol in your handbag for good measure, however you knew you wouldn't need to use it.

You arrived to the secret Barnes mansion in about two hours, you left your men in reasonable distance not to stir the enemy up. Since you were the prettiest woman they ever saw, somehow noone questioned who were you and why were you in the middle of nowhere, thinking their boss finally taken a woman. You drove up to the etrance, and left your car, banging it's door loudly, as you lit a cigarette and headed towards the etrance, armed men whistling at you from every side as you seductively swayed your hips till you reached the door. A man opened the front door for you, and you lifted a finger to to trace his jawline, making him shift anxiously. - Thank you darling. - as you walked further to the mansion.

You visited a lot of mansions while doing your work, so it was fairly easy to find the office of the Don.

You didn't knock. You have found Steve, Sam, and the White wolf talking over their whiskeys.

-Hello boys.. - you said seductively, earning smirks from them, except for Bucky, who had a frown on his handsome face. Steve didn't recognize you as you were wearing a black wig at the time you planted the bug on his phone.

-Who on earth let you in? I gave strict orders not to let any whores in... - he said, frown deepening, eyes not leaving you.

-Oh why why, i'm not a whore darling.. My little birds chirped you know.... - you said, as you slowly walked around him, putting your hands on his chest, as you leaned in to whisper in his ear.. - didn't you want the Blood Countess to pay you a visit?

His eyes widened, Sam and Steve stood up, pointing their guns at you, while you just chuckled, removing your hands with a caress, taking the whiskey from his hand, sipping it as you walked through the office.

-There's no need for those boys. I'm not here to kill your handsome little Don, in fact i came to do business..

-I don't want to do business with you. - he said cockily, while two guns were still pointed at you.

-Oh that is really sad, i have men waiting for my little signal, eharing every word we say. I would very much consider hearing me out.. - you said, as you throw back the remaining whiskey in the glass, putting it on his desk, lightly running your hand up the slit of your dress while they watch you echanted. They in a blink of an eye you throw a knife just beside Steve's face, succesfully hitting the middle of the painting behind him.

-I also said there's no need for those, if i'd come to kill any of you, you would be long dead.

-Lower the guns boys, we'll talk. - he said nodding at them, with the smallest smirk. - privately..

They knew this was their cue to leave. After they closed the door dumbfounded by your skills, you slowly walked over, pouring yourself and Bucky another whiskey, handing it to him, before sitting down in the armchair opposite to Bucky, putting your leg over the other effectively your leg as the slit in your dress drove higher, revealing the lace and at least three knives.

- So Mr. Barnes... you see, i'm not too keen on killing men who might be more innocent than they seem, even so if they are this handsome. Little birds chirp much.. I'm willing to give you the possibility to became a dealer of estates and weaponry, if you put a stop to human trafficking, and hand over thursdays little shipment to Fury. I guarantee none of your coping men will suffer any grivences if you hand the girls over..

-You don't really beat around the bush do you? - he asked as he sipped the whiskey.

-I know what i want, and i don't have time for playing.

-I can see that.. what's in it for you?

-Saving the poor women, giving them a chance to live, to go back to their families. A chance i didn't have back then. That is more than enough, and i certainly have enough businesses that i won't miss a slice of it if it means your family won't be in the human trafficking business anymore. I also happen to know that you wish to quit it anyways. So here is your chance to do so, the most powerful Donna giving you her blessings eith this one tiny condition.. The coice is yours Mr. Barnes.. - you said as you got up, and took your knife out of the painting on the wall, heading for the door.

-How will i find you if i have my answer?

-I will come when needed. - you shoot a wink, then put your empty glass in Sam's hand, leaving the mansion ever so confidently.

After driving out of the mansion you informed Rumlow that you are leaving, and they are to keep a close eye on anyone leaving this mansion.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bucky saw your retreating form from the balcony of his office, slowly puffing on his cigarette.

-She's something else boss..

-That she is.. - he said, slowly sipping of the whiskey you poured for him.

-Steve, you'll be leading the handover of thursday's shipment.

-What? You're giving away our only source of income just like that?

-All my men will get to come back safely, and we'll get to do business with the Countess's blessing. We are not gonna do this anymore. I can finally step out of my father's haunting shadow.

-Is this what it is about? A fcking legacy you are talking about, YOUR father's legacy. And you are throwing it away cause a pretty dame walked into your offica and asked nicely?

Bucky turned to Steve, one hand catching his collar thightly, bringing him down until their nose touched, jaw's clenching in ager.

-Don't you fucking dare to defy my orders Steve. Remember your place. You may be my best friend since i was a kid, but even you can't stand in the way of leaving the human trafficking business behind..

Steve scoffed and left, shutting the door behind him with a loud bang, as Bucky continued to stare into the night.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thursday came fast enough, and just as you hoped, the shipment is given to Fury's men, down to the very last woman there was.

-How did you managed to pull this off? - he asked you over the phone.

-I know what i want and i have my ways of getting it. - was the only thing you said before ending the call. You gathered papers of estated you wanted to sell, along with the few others for the Barnes family to sell, as well as a big truck of weaponry. You arrived at the estate with Bucky's men fully on edge, since there was a huge truck driving behind you. Their touched their intercoms, signalling you that you are expected. You drove up to the etrance, the truck parking behind you, driver remaining in his seat as you headed straight towards the office.

-Do you never knock Miss Carter?

-It is a habit of the weak Mr. Barnes. - you said with a smile, putting the papers in front of him, on his desk.

-These are 100 estates for you family to deal with, as per our agreement, and the truck down there contains weaponry worth over 5 million.

-Happy to do business with you, Countess.

-Oh please, call me (y/n). - you say as you pour a glass of whiskey, then go out to the balcony, lighting a cigarette.

Bucky stoods beside you in silence. You sense his eyes on you, yet he didn't asks what he wants to.

-You can ask your question.

-What happened?

-The same as always. Black van with armed men, chloroform, waking up in a ship with thousands of others, tied up. If you as much as whispered you were beaten up, or worse. After days, and seeing many torture, we were blindfolded, and taken somewhere. It was this mansion, we were roughly bathed, given new underwear and nothing else, then sold to whoever bid the highest. I saw the looks of them, they haunt me to this day, most of the girls didn't survive a week. I was lucky enough to be bought by Lawrence Carter, who gave me another chance at life. I became one of his most trusted assasins in no time, dealing with the businesses he had. He named me his heiress, and new Donna of the Carter family.

You shot down the rest of your whiskey, putting out the cigarette as you finished.

- Our deal only lives while you do not do human trafficking. - You said, as you gave a small kiss on his right cheek, lingering a second longer, drinking in his scent, putting a little note in his pocket, which he didn't even detect, taken aback by your closeness. Then you left without a word.

That night he found himself silently promising to the stars that he will keep his promise to the strongest woman ever to live.

[theblackpearls]

For a Moment in Time

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black Reader

Warning: Smut. Porn without plot. Angst. Raw (please use condoms in real life, guys! Safe sex is smart sex!) Oral Sex (women receiving) Mentions of Racism (its the 1940's y'all. No trauma I promise.)

A/N: After seeing FATWS you can't tell me Bucky wouldn't have dated a black woman if it wasn't illegal. I still think he had a girl on the side in Winter Solider and she was black. That's my comfort Canon!

It’s in the middle of the night that you hear a knock on your door. You’ve just finished getting out the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel. Normally, you’d open your front door with clothes but for this person, it didn’t matter.

Opening the front door, you’re met with that million dollar smile.

“You ready for me, Honey?” Bucky says leaning in to kiss you.

You want to but you shift your eyes to the side, looking at the women who clearly scoff at this scene. You’ve been through it a thousand times, the stares you get when Bucky ventures to your part of the neighborhood. Bucky senses your frustration but he kisses your forehead anyway, hoping to bring back that smile. He succeeds, a hint of a smile appearing on your face.

“Come on.” Bucky says, pushing your hips backwards, until you’re both inside your apartment.

Bucky closes the door behind you. You step on the stairs but are quickly pulled back, your back pressing against Bucky’s broad chest. The cold medals of his uniform tingle against your skin.

“It’s just us, Baby.” Bucky says, nuzzling his nose into the crook on your neck.

“I can’t wait to leave this place.” You sigh, leaning back against him and swaying in his arms.

“Don’t do that, Sugar.” Bucky kisses your shoulder, his pink lips running over your brown skin. “Let’s not ruin tonight, it’s our last one and I intend for those nieghbors to know my fucking name.”

“Whatever,” You say, elbowing Bucky and moving out of his hands.

“What?” Bucky says shrugging, “Come here, Baby.”

You back away from Bucky as he walks towards you. As much as you want to be in his arms, you’re still wet from the shower and would like to get dressed before.

“Bucky, wait-”

“Nope, I sai-”

You sprint up the stairs only to hear Bucky’s boot beating against the wooden stairs. You’ve almost made it but Bucky has you locked in his arms. Bucky takes you into the room and pins you against the wall, his knee wedged between your legs.

“You really are testing me, Honey.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You say, tapping his cheek.

“Mhmm.” Bucky says, biting his bottom lip.

Bucky eyes, trail down your body, starting at your breast that are just slightly showing. Bucky leans in, placing a kiss on the tops of each.

“Bucky…”

“I can't wait to fucking leave this place.” Bucky says, his hands trailing up your towel while his lips moved up, leaving warm kisses on your neck. “Take you to every place in Europe when this shit is over.”

“It’s gonna be a while, James.” You mumble, your breath staggered as he nibbles on your ear.

“Don’t do that.” Bucky hisses, his hands digging into your thighs. “Don’t speak like we’re running out of time.”

It was hard to not think of the time that you and Bucky had. You know you’d wake up in the morning and Bucky would be gone, across the world fighting for freedom. Neither of you knew how long this war would last but it was keeping you both apart. It was tough because your relationship in America was illegal and it seemed that only war could offer you guys the freedom, the freedom to pack up and move to Europe where you both could be open about your love.

“Sorry.” You whimper, Bucky spread your legs and his hips colliding with yours, his erection.

“Don’t apologize.” Bucky says, his lips laying kisses on your cheek until he moves to your jaw and then stops right over your lips. “I just want to make love to you, the way you deserve.”

Bucky cups your cheek, his thumb lighting grazing your skin back and forth. This love and compassion he shows you is hidden and safe within these four walls.

Bucky says nothing as he lifts you up, your legs instantly locking around his hips. You take note of the way Bucky moves around your room in the darkness, knowing exactly where your bed is, how far the nightside table is so he doesn’t bump into it.

Bucky lays you gently on the bed, you back against the soft sheets. Your legs fall to the side and Bucky is between the, looking down at you. The moonlight breaks through the window, illuminating your mahogany skin, showing the little droplets of water that still rest on your legs and breast. Bucky reaches for the white towel, removing it slowly, unwrapping you like his own personal gift. Bucky looks at you with longing and lust, his blue eyes illuminating as he bites his lip, wanting to devour every part of you.

Bucky bends down, kissing right above your sex. You wish he’d go lower but he actually moves up, kissing your stomach and looking at you in your eyes. Bucky then trails up your body, kissing your abdomen, to the valley between your breast, around your neck and up to your ear.

“You’re so beautiful, Babygirl.” Bucky whispers in your ear. “I’m going to remember every inch of you.”

You nod and close your eyes, not wanting to let the tears fall from your eyes and ruin this moment. Yet they fall anyway but Bucky’s pink lips are there to kiss your tears away. He catches every one until he kisses your lips, your tongues sharing the saltery tears between the two.

Bucky breaks the kiss and lefts up. He takes off his shirt, letting it fall to the side of the bed. It’s not long before Bucky is leaning over you, resting on his elbows.

There is no need for talking, you both know exactly how this will end. Bucky kisses you once more, one of his hands slides down the length of your body to grab your leg, wrapping it around him. Your hands are busy as well, trailing down his body, putting every muscle and cut into memory. Your hands reach the button of his pants and they’re quickly undone.

You slip your hand into his pants, touching Bucky’s length and he moans, breaking your intense kiss. His eyes never leave yours as your hand travels down further, stroking his cock. You want to have sex with Bucky of course, but you also want him to remember this. Remember how you stared him down as you touched his cock, watching him crumble on top of you.

You finally reach the tip, your thump running over his slit and catching the pre-cum. Bucky's hip thrust but his eyes are still open, watching you.

“Baby…”Bucky moans, his breaths becoming shallow and strained.

You want Bucky to come, to release and give you every piece of him. You pick up the pace, your hand gently squeezing his member, twisting your wrist. You feel Bucky harden in your hand, which only makes you move your hand faster. Bucky's arms shake, his head falling down to your neck, his warm breath dancing on your skin.

“It’s okay, Bucky.” You whisper in his ear, your hand becoming slick with his cum. “You can let go.”

Bucky moves his hips, thrusting into your hand, finding a manageable rhythm for him to get off without slipping out of your hand. He curses in your ear, his hands grabbing your wrist and tightening. It’s not long before Bucky releases in your hand, his moans falling into your neck as his mouth connects. Bucky collapses, his weight pressing against your and warming not only your body but your heart. You’re going to miss this, every single park of Bucky. Form his brown hair that might have too much gel to the curling of his toes as he releases inside you.

Bucky’s grip losses on your wrist and you take the time to wrap your arms around his neck.Your hands play in his hard and Bucky kisses a line from your collar bone to your ear.

“I’m gonna fucking marry you.” Bucky mumbles in your ear.

“I know.” You say, a smile carving its way onto your face.

Bucky gets up, takes off his pants and underwear, his come running down his legs. It doesn’t take long for Bucky to place himself between your legs, your sexes just inches apart as Bucky leans over you. Bucky kisses your forehead for a moment, not daring to move. Your left leg is on the bed while he has hand around your right leg, lifting it up, ready to end you, but he takes his time.

Bucky then looks down, asking for permission through both of you know that you need this. Bucky is slow with his entrance, kissing your softly and his hands making sure to massage your thigh.

“Bucky…” You mian as you feel his tip penetrate you.

“That’s it, Sugar.” Bucky groans, slowly sliding in further.

You lift your hips, wanting Bucky to fall deeper into you, find that spot and shatter every piece of you.

Your arms moved to wrap around Bucky’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss. You moan, Bucky now fully encased in your wet pussy. It feels so right to be with Bcuky like this, connected with no barriers, oceans or laws to separate you.

Bucky doesn't move yet, his kisses are gently against your lips, something sacred between the two of you. His hands move, one falling to your cheek, keeping your head raised and kissing him while the other laces with your hand above your head and pressed into the mattress.

It is now that Bucky moves slowly, his hips grinding against yours. You moan into the kiss and Bucky devours every single one. You move your hips in sync with his, his cock growing within your warmth.

“Bucky…” You moan breathlessly.

“It’s just us, Baby.” Bucky reminds you. “Be as loud as you want.”

You don’t hold yourself back, not with Bucky and not this time. Bucky’s hand slides from your face to your leg, lifting it up and thrusting deeper inside you. You arch your back, closing your eyes and mouth falling open. Sweat trickles down your body and your mind goes blank. All you can think about it how good Bucky feels inside of you, how you want think to release inside of you, mark you as his and never fucking let you go!

“Bucky!” You shout.

“Fuck.” Bucky moans, his nails digging into your hands and Bucky arching his hips, pounding into you.

The bed creaks as you try to catch your breath but Bucky steals it away with a kiss. Your mouths are slowly against one another, sharing so much and saying nothing. Your stomach abdomen tightens and your toes curl, you know it’s coming, the release that only Bucky can give you.

“Come for me, babygirl.”

And you do, relasign everything you have to give to Bucky. Bucky releases inside of you, his come filling your insidious, sticking to them and burying himself in places no one would dare look. Bucky rolls over and rests next to you, pulling you into his chest.

“It won’t always be like this.” bucky says, drawing circles right above your hip. “As soon as I come back, we’ll leave.”

“I know, Bucky.” You kiss his cheek. “It’s hard to say goodbye though.”

“Then don’t.” Bucky holds you closer. “Don’t say goodbye just wait for me to return and we’ll continue, it will be like I never left.”

“Mhmm.” You mumble fighting sleep.

You know once you fall asleep, bucky will be gone. It was something you got used to with every deployment. Though you had faith in Bucky, that he would return, there was still fear in your heart. But you could not let that fear overrun you, Bucky there would be no place for Bucky if you did that. So, you buried your fears where only you could find them and only visited them when necessary.

“Go to sleep.” Bucky says.

You want to reply to him, to tell him that you don’t want to wake and the bed be cold. But you know that it won’t comfort either of you so, you say nothing and close your eyes

Six months have passed and Bucky hasn’t sent you any letters. You're worried because your last letter was important.  You were scared that Bucky had gotten the letter and didn’t send one back, an end to your relationship. Though you had faith in bucky, you guys never talked about this issue popping up.

Children.

There wasn’t an exact what to prevent you from getting pregnant. To be honest, you were shocked that it didn’t happen sooner with how many times Bucky and you were reckless. But it seemed that all the recklessness paid off say you touched your stomach.

The neighbors knew exactly whose child it was and they weren’t too happy. You’d walk around town and they'd curse your name and it never bothered you until now. Maybe it was your hormones and not hearing from Bucky that made you so emotional. But couldn’t think about that now, not when someone else was depending on you to be strong.  You just needed to know that Bucky also cared for you and didn’t abandon you. You hear a knock on the front door and wobble towards it. Your heart races, hoping that it’s Bucky.

However you open the door and it’s Steve instead. He’s bigger this time and a lot taller. You’d seen him once before and he never looked this big or good for that matter. But you ignore your hormones once again and smile at Steve though he doesn’t smile back.

“Steve.” You say. “Where is Bucky?”

[nicolebehariewce]

Nicole Beharie💜

Nicole Beharie Swears By This Ingredient To Nourish Her Curls — And She Grows It Herself

BY BLAKE NEWBY

It’s not often that that the intersection of protective styling and relaxed hair is discussed, but for actress Nicole Beharie, star of Sleepy Hollow, Miss Juneteenth, and Black Mirror, it’s exactly what defined her childhood. “I remember back in the day when I wore braids and twists and people would make comments about it being nappy,” Beharie tells TZR. “My mother's Jamaican and people used to think that it was like an immigrant thing.” And while Beharie’s mother instilled in her the beauty and versatility of protective styling, she didn’t always embrace those options with her own hair. “My hair was actually relaxed growing up because my mom found my hair to be more manageable with it,” she says. “But even though I had a relaxer, I never wore it straight.”

At 16, Beharie went off to art school and decided to give her natural hair a try, but it wasn’t an easy transition. “I remember a friend of mine was like, ‘what are you doing?’ because I didn’t know what to do with my hair,” she says. “So I cut it off. But the boys in my class talked about [it] and teased me and it kind of scarred me. After that, I started wearing twists and stretching my texture. The rest is history.”

And while Beharie has come a long way from toiling with her texture, her relationship with her hair continues to evolve. Find out more about her journey ahead.

Have you ever felt that as a Black woman in the industry you had to wear your hair a certain way?

“I think more so in the beginning, but things have really changed in the last five years. There were times when I would have wigs or weaves that would more reflect my real hair texture, and people behind the scenes would say ‘Why are you wearing this? You need a better texture.’ I was like, excuse me, but this is my texture. I've heard some things on set that were awful but they would never say it now because the awareness has shifted. I will say I don't judge characters [for their hair choices], however.

“So some with characters — for example there's a character I'm working on now — I feel like she would have her hair straightened because of the way that she moves in the world and the way that she sees herself, you know what I mean? So it's fun to switch it up and I'm glad I have wigs. Almost anytime you’ve seen my hair straight on screen, it’s a wig. The most I’ll do to my own hair is maybe straighten my edges.

“The narrative around natural hair has really changed even beyond just entertainment, though. I was walking down the street in Atlanta and there was a young girl who had her hair in twists and you could tell it was her natural hair. She looked so cute and confident and you could tell the boys were checking her out. Growing up, it was the girls with straight hair down their back getting that attention.”

And just like you said, you change your hair on set, but you change your hair in real life, too. What’s that experience like for you?

“Oh y'all haven't even seen half of the pictures of the hairstyles I’ve tried. Back in the day I would just go to my braider in Brooklyn with pictures from Eritrean and Ethiopian women with these beautiful braiding patterns. I used to have the most beautiful cornrows with my natural hair. Then recently, I cut my hair again and colored it — I cut my locs off. It was like a four inch afro kind of thing. Now I’m growing it back. My hair is really a lot of fun.”

What usually inspires a hair switch-up?

“Well first, I'm not a day-by-day kind of hair girl. If I'm working, I’ll probably do some sort of really pretty protective style that way I can easily throw on any wig or hair piece without bothering my real hair. But when I’m not working, I realized that I love a good twist out. I also do like these little afro puffs and the occasional blowout when I feel like it. I like to play around. Last year I actually grew my hair out quite a bit so I was able to try even more.”

Has there ever been a time that you tried something and felt like, ‘Okay, this was an epic fail?’

“I got a natural cut once and I hated how they shaped it up in the back. But you know, there's nothing you can do when you cut it that low — you just have to wait for it to grow and then you can put some braids in it or something. But then again, it was kind of a blessing being an artist at the same time because I saw my face differently. I was like, ‘Oh, I can play this kind of character.’ I didn’t feel my most glamorous, but it was really interesting what I learned. There's always some revelation in seeing yourself differently and if you can embrace it, then you can learn a lot from it.”

So I'm sure that you've also tried plenty of products then with all these hair changes. Do you have any favorites?

“Actually, I have very sensitive skin so I mix my own stuff. I have a garden and I'll make rice water and use chia, olive oil, and my own essential oils. I also like to use aloe vera straight out the plant. It’s really self-loving, and I really recommend if you have the time and resources to do it. You can keep it for a few months, label it, and store it away. I started doing this because I would look at the ingredients that worked for me in some of the products that I liked, and then just started buying them and fixing them myself.

“Nowadays so many things have preservatives in it and I think our hair is happier when we don’t expose it to chemicals. I feel like if there's anything that they advise against using while pregnant, it’s probably not that great for you at all.”

You mentioned self-love, and for us as Black women, hair is so much more than just aesthetics. What is your emotional relationship like with your hair?

“It's been challenging not seeing the representation for it. In the beginning, I thought that my texture was like so unmanageable and so coarse, but I’ve realized I have very manageable hair. Yes, it’s 4C but with just the slightest bit of love and attention, it does everything that I want it to do. It's this crazy ashy, weird color but I love it. My relationship with my hair is just like my relationship with my body — it’s ever-changing.” [x]

[limenysnocket]

Call Me Home

Summary: It's in the bloom of summer and both of you are tired. It's been hopping from film to film for months, set by set, and so it's time to relax. Pick a nice shack out in the quiet and humble native lands for a night or two, and watch the stars and the fireflies flicker around the butt of your cigarette.

Warnings: Really nothing other than swearing and smoking.

Pairing: Taika Waititi x Reader

Words: 1.5k it’s a shorty, I know.

A/N: This is just something I wanted to write. It's blazing outside, and it's right around the time I wish it was night already and down to 70-something degrees. Hope y'all enjoy this random bit of fluff.

This is all based off of a sweet and sappy blues/jazz song so--

@honorarytenenbaum @olyvoyl

•○●•○●•○●•

"I'm so damn tired," Taika moans and plops himself down in a rickety, old rocking chair beside you. You were atop a small glider. It wasn't enough to completely lay down in, but it was enough to kick your feet up and watch the sun start to go down. The grass, wet from a fresh storm, was now engulfed in orange flame. The light licked all the way up the wooden steps of the porch, and to the tips of Taika's work shoes.

Taika slumped in his seat, his long legs extending out and his arms laying lazily over the arms of the chair. His eyes were closed, and he just seemed to be taking in the last of the blazing heat. "I'm glad it's over," you murmured. His head, once angled to look at the horizon, then tilted to face you. He had a goofy, soft grin.

"It's not over quite yet. There's still the editing and putting it all together, then heading right over to Hollywood for the premier and it's just... oh, man," he put his hand on his scruffy cheek and rubbed at it. He had been wearing a smile all day, whether he liked to or not, due to the mass amount of press that was at the studio doors as soon as you both were done shooting. "Yeah. At least that part is done with. Hemsworth was starting to get on my nerves at the end there."

"What? Only at the end?" you guwaffed at him and he rolled his eyes. You knew he had a thing out for Hemsworth since the beginning. The way his muscles would bulge out in his costume turned Taika jealous-- especially when he realized they would have to do editing magic on him to actually make his biceps look normal-- and that's not all. The Aussie, on occasion, would be a flirt with you, and attempt to get your attention while on set. His little advances would briefly be shut down as soon as Taika spotted him.

Ever so slowly, the cicadas crept from their hiding spots, and began to serenade the two of you from trees. It was annoying at first, and you wanted to make a suggestion to go inside, but when you looked at Taika, all you could see was how at peace he was. He had rested his elbow on the arm of the chair and his hand was cradling the side of his face. His eyes were closed again. You were almost totally sure he was asleep.

After being inside of the little shack for some time, you realized why he wanted to come out here.

The place still had tin walls, and the doorknobs were made of copper. The wooden porch was splintered and cracked, and it squealed under even the softest of touches. The rooms still had wallpaper. It was a floral pattern with a white background, but it turned yellow at the tops and bottoms, and the paper curled and wrinkled. It smelled so old. What brought Taika here again?

He was the brand new, fresh out of his own late uprising, blessing to the directing world genius that everyone wanted on set. Hollywood smothered him in love, money, and women. So much so, the paparazzi followed him around like flies to manure. As much as he loved attention, those jackasses were hard to avoid and they got annoying real quick, especially when all he wanted to do was enjoy a party or two. Indulge in a sensory overload and drown in sex for a few hours.

The notoriety had gotten to his head. He changed into someone unrecognizable...

Did he?

You looked at Taika again. His heel was gently rocking his chair back and forth. He looked so happy and content. Happier than you'd seen him in days. His dress shirt was was unbuttoned from the top two buttons, and his belt was missing. His dress shoes were scuffed and his hair was a mess. He still had his tie on, but it hung low and loose on his neck. He looked almost the same as the first day you met him. Tired and hunched over from his latest piece of fine cinema.

“Doing okay?” you break the bug song and make him open his dreary eyes. “Just checking.”

He sat up again, adjusting himself in his seat and grinning wide. “Never better,” he looked back over to you, and the porch slowly grew dim. The crickets added a melody to the tune the locust sang, and little, moving, balls of light started to emerge from the tall grass. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m curious, you know that,” you nearly whispered to him, the new breeze making you want to fall asleep on the dingy little sofa.

“Curious about what?” now he had started to ask questions too, interrupting your doze. It was pay back and concern in a bottle.

“Why did you pick this place?” you approach the topic bluntly, but calmly. “You could be staying in the fanciest hotel there is in New Zealand right now with what Marvel is paying you, but you chose an old shack instead. I want to know why.”

His lips pursed. He’s back to staring at the horizon again. “It’s just something quaint I picked. No story behind it.” He sniffed and wrapped his knuckles against the tin wall of the house. It wasn’t familiar to him. 

“Okay, so you don’t know it, but is there something that you like about it?” you asked further questions. The answers you would received would be saved in the back of your mind for later.

“I like the peace,” Taika shrugged and swatted at a little June bug. “It’s nice to get away from the cameras every once in awhile. They bother me when I don’t want them around.”

You laughed to yourself about Taika actually hating attention for once. He had always been a seeker, in your eyes. It was almost weird to see him in such a way. Actually wanting to be away. And, with you, of all people to be with. He probably just needed a little bit of company with him at all times. Just to be safe.

“That all?” you wonder. “Cause this place sure does remind me of where you shot Boy. Little town, full of little people, and one lady who has all the jobs in the whole area, Taik.”

You managed to get him to blow an amused laugh out of his nose with the reference you made to his movie. It felt like he made that thing so long ago. That was back before his hair started to go silver. “I mean, I guess it’s a little like the Boy set, and you know my connections with that place.” His commentary was a bit strained, because he was reaching for the cigarettes he kept in his back pocket. They were probably a little smooshed by now. He settled back into his seat once he was comfortable again, and sighed. “It’s like a little calling, I guess. Something, I don’t know. I like having money and all, and as a kid, nothing about this was comforting. Fuck, all I wanted to do was get out of these shit conditions with teachers that hated me, kids that hated me, and the big fucking imagination  I had kept me from seeing things straight. Here, I thought I wouldn’t amount to shit, probably because I was told that, but,” he started to pause his rant, but just to set a cigarette between his lips and nudge out his lighter from his front pocket. “I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. I always kind of find myself wanting to come back to the bush.”

You didn’t really have to think of anything to say. You knew he didn’t want to hear much at all, but you had one question on your mind.

“How’s Hollywood been treating you, Taika?”

His head whipped around like an unstoppable force of nature. He pulled the freshly lit cigarette from his lips, eyes a little wider than you expected them to be. “You want me to be frank with you?”

“No, dipshit, I want you to be Taika with me- of course, I want you to be frank with me,” you snort, and his lips pull up just the slightest bit.

He took a moment to collect his words, his eyes flickering around like he was watching a little bug-Satan fly around his face for too long. He came to his conclusion after about a minute.

“It’s been treating me like shit, thanks for asking,” he said it in such a dopey manner, you had to smile. “It feels great to be home.”