#is really just turning out to be of use to the system

[cirtusmistress]

JJK Bridgerton Inspired HC’s - Gojo, Geto, Nanami

authors note: so your girl is on a Bridgerton binge and a JJK rewatch binge so like.. I’m boutta cater to such a niche audience lmao

genre: historical romance

tw: a lil horny sometimes but ultimately SFW

AO3 Crosspost

💙 Crown Prince Satoru Gojo and The Debutant 💙

• A prince by birth and next in line for the throne.

• Well bred, read, and wanted most dead. Has lived through multiple assasination attempts.

• Was never really interested in the prospect of marriage, was more invested in rehauling the royal system as a whole.

• Likes to spend his time with the young royals and nobles like his ward Megumi.

• W H O R E. Chronic flirt. Smart enough not to accidently sire an heir but knows how to have his fun.

• Met you during your debut year. You were the first woman to actually catch his eye.

• First he thought it was just more sexual attraction, but after a dance and a conversation he knew it was much more. Your wit was unmatched and you had snark enough to keep up with him.

• Played it cool though because he knew if he gave you too much attention you’d have a target on your back, and he wanted to make sure you were his.

• Goes out of his way to see you as much as he can. Lots of ‘accidental’ run-ins.

• The moment that sealed the deal for him was when you near bested him in a fencing match. It had been so long since someone had surprised him.

• Though being under the eyes of the crown prince doesn’t go unnoticed. Soon enough other men began attempting to court you. Even worse, certain parties started conspiring to use you against him.

• This all came to a head when you were cornered at a ball. You were meant to be taken hostage and used to lure and kill the prince. But there was no corner of the world they could hide you where he would not look. His day started and ended with you and if they harmed you the world would burn in your name.

• You were found and rescued by him, and your kidnappers were dealt with in a swift and brutal fashion.

• He proposed on the spot. No hesitation he was on that shit. You were to be his and that was that. And you would never be alone again.

• The wedding was huge. No expense was spared and he catered to your every whim and desire. You were his gorgeous only ever.

• Honeymoon was.. Oh baby. Literally. You weren’t coming back without being knocked up.

💜 Duke Suguru Geto and The Viscountess 💜

• Of common birth and rose to the rank of Duke after the former Duke passed away. He was the only living male relative, hence receiving the title.

• A former friend of the crown prince. The pair had a falling out when Geto grew power hungry in his new role. He is still a respected member of the ton, though under constant watch of the crown.

• As a Duke he is in charge of a small township. He’s known for his high taxes and using his citizens to collect rare birds from the surrounding area. He keeps them in an aviary with clipped wings, and sells them to other nobility for profit.

• He once was in charge of two townships, but one mysteriously burnt to the ground. An investigation brought no results, but it did reveal two survivors. Geto took them in as his wards.

• He met you during one of his bird sales to the Queen. You were a member of her entourage.

• You were a young widowed Viscountess with two young daughters of your own. Your husband had died of medical complications, leaving you alone with no sons. Luckily you had favor with the queen, but with no husband and no heirs you were in desperate need of saving.

• He found your unwavering commitment to your children admirable and you two began a long friendship.

• Your girls all got along well, and you loved his daughters with all your heart. Something about you doing their hair and tending to them so gently made his heart flutter.

• The friendship did eventually turn into more.. Especially after you admitted you urned for more children.

• Enter baby fever Suguru.

• He proposed in his aviary, promising to love your children as his own, and to give you as many more children as you desire.

• Townsfolk said Geto became far kinder after your marriage.

💛 Viscount Kento Nanami and The Housekeeper 💛

• Kento was born into his role as Viscount. And he takes it extremely seriously. Balancing finances and planning events, maintaining a reputation for his family.

• Unlike other men in the ton he rarely goes out to gentlemans clubs. He goes on the occasional hunt though he sees it as pointless and barbaric.

• His goal was to find a practical match, not a love match. He wanted someone who would bare him an heir, so that one day he could rest knowing he had done all he could for his family.

• His housekeeper eventually was forced to retire after injuring her hip. She had served his family for over fifty years and raised him, so he ensured she lived the rest of her life comfortably.

• But.. That meant he had to find a replacement. Easier said than done. No one could live up to the former housekeeper. Plenty of maids were recommended but.. None of them felt right. So he put out a request.

• And then you showed up. Younger, so he was skeptical. But you came on high recommendation from her majesty herself. Apparently you were quite capable and able to handle the heavy loads associated with the job.

• And lord were you. No one could have taken this job more seriously. Not a hair out of place, not a meal late. Sheets pressed. Animals tended.

• And Nanami found it.. Oh so attractive. Your dedication. Your concentration.

• Nothing impressed him more than your skills in the kitchen. You were an amazing cook. Although it wasn’t a listed priority in your job, you still took time out of your day to prepare one of his meals. Usually his afternoon tea.

• After a few months, he was starting to grow fond of you. It was improper to feel such emotions for a servant. But he couldn’t help notice all the little things. The crease of your brow as you kneaded dough. The satisfied smile after a days work completed. The pensive worry in your eyes as you dotted on him in his study.

• Eventually he had enough. Forgetting formality for once in his life, he gave you his heart. And you returned it.

• It was a scandal, but he took it. Because having you made it all worth it.

[in1-nutshell]

For the Ratchet and Drift adoption battle.  

The Lost light ends up on earth for some reason.  And trouble appears, Buddy’s birthparents.  Coming out of the woodwork demanding to see their child.  Now, depending on how long Buddy has been in the system, the state may have already relinquished their parental rights, but it does bring up another problem, by cybertron standards, Buddy is legally Drifts and Ratchets, Earth standards, less so.

This is just the start of an idea.  Maybe it's angst and the parents are a piece of shit who want the child who they abandoned back for some really selfish reason.  Maybe the parents truly do want some relationship with their child and poor buddy is just stuck in between the family that loves them and the family who they spent their life wishing loved them.

Maybe I just want the lost light to turn this custody battle into a fucking kangaro court.  They show up in their holoforms and Rodimus starts to boo whenever the birth parents try to say something.  He’s kicked out and the court goes into recess as they try and figure out how to hold him in contempt of court.  Luckily a good part of the remaining crew have assembled to always have someone audibly cough whenever birth parents try to speak.  Nevermind the fact that none of them even really need to breathe, holoform or no holoform.  And Ultra Magnus is acting as their attorney.  That's all I got.

The bio parents were done for the moment Magnus took on the case.

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy (Dratchet's kid) meeting their bio parents again

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Slight angst, Human reader

MTMTE

The ship had docked again on Earth for a mandatory, in-person, meeting that Buddy needed to go as liaison of the Lost Light.

It was something simple check in that honestly could have been done online but there wasn’t any harm in some sightseeing. Many of the bots on the ship hadn’t been on Earth or hadn’t been there in a while and wanted to look around.

Buddy stayed with Drift and Ratchet.

Before they headed back to the ship, Buddy wanted to show their bot parents one of their favorite parks they used to go to feed the pigeons.

Ratchet napped in the parking lot, while Drift activated his holoform to go after Buddy.

After a bit Drift started heading back to his alt mode with Buddy trailing behind after forgetting their water bottle at the bench.

Buddy walking back to Drift alt mode.

“Hey kiddo!”

“Buddy turns around and freezes as their face collides with someone’s chest.

A familiar chest.

They push themselves off the person as another person comes up too.

“Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?”--Buddy

“That’s what I’d like to know.”--Drift

Buddy looks behind them to see Drift’s holoform marching up to Buddy.

He gently places his hand on their shoulder and looks at the two humans.

“A who might you be?”--Drift

“I’m their father.”--Dad

“And I’m their mother.”--Mom

Drift raises his eyebrows.

“Buddy are they…”--Drift

“My biological parents? Yes, and I thought I’d never see you again after you put me in the system.”--Buddy

Neither of the parents get the little hint of venom in their voice.

“Well, we’re here now! And its time to take you home—”--Mom

“Take them home?”--Drift

“Take me home?”--Buddy

“That’s right Pal—”--Dad

“My name is Buddy.”--Buddy

“Whatever, we’re going home now, so if you’d just come here.”--Dad

The ‘Dad’ tries to grab Buddy’s wrist, but Drift pushes Buddy back.

The ‘Dad’ narrows his eyes at Drift.

“Are we going to have a problem here?”--Dad

Drift narrows his eyes as well.

“I think we are.”--Drift

Buddy’s eyes widen.

“Listen everyone, HE is legally my main guardian. Has been with my other guardian for a while now.”--Buddy

The ‘Mom’ huffs.

“Well until WE see the paperwork, if its not justified by the court here then its null and void for us. Now get over here and—”--Mom

“And what’s happening here?”--Ratchet

Buddy smiled at Ratchet’s holoform coming overlooking more annoyed than usual.

“These are Buddy’s biological parents.”--Drift

Ratchet’s eyes narrow and stands by Buddy’s side.

“The parents that put you in the system?”—Ratchet

“Yep.”--Buddy

The ‘Mom’ starts getting more annoyed.

“That’s in the past and we’ve already settled a court order to get Pal—”--Mom

“Buddy.”—Buddy, Drift and Ratchet

“—Back to us.”--Mom

Ratchet turns to Buddy.

“Wait in the ambulance.”--Ratchet

“But—”--Buddy

“Kid, trust me. We need to have a chat with your ‘parents’.”--Ratchet

Buddy looks at them all before walking to Ratchet’s alt mode.

Buddy wordlessly goes to the ambulance while the muffled yelling was heard outside.

They just strap themselves in the back and hug themselves tightly.

Everything went so fast…

They felt their seatbelt tighten.

It’s a heavy quiet on the drive back to the ship.

When they transformed Ratchet passed them to Drift who just holds them to his chassis.

A crew meeting was called.

“So, Buddy’s bio parents want them back because, and I quote ‘We want to embrace them once again!’. Am I missing something?”--Rodimus

“That’s about it.”--Drift

Half of the bots laugh.

“Good luck with that! Buddy’s legally Dratchet’s kid!”--Whirl

“Whirl we’ve talked about the name—”--Cyclonus

“Yeah! They’re Dratchet’s kid!”--Tailgate

“…Why do I even bother with you?”--Cyclonus

“But they did bring up a point, Earth courts and legal system don’t see Buddy as their kid. Meaning to them, Buddy’s still in the system. And if they play their cards right…”--Megatron

Drift and Ratchet stiffen at the thought.

The crew starts talking amongst themselves but all feel angry at this revelation.

“We can’t let that happen!”--Nautica

“That’s why we’re going to court to fight for Buddy’s case. Ultra Magnus has agreed to represent Buddy—”--Megatron

“Those Fleshy’s are so screwed!”--Whirl

Time to take this to court.

Buddy is put into a different home while the case gets settled.

Meaning no contact with anyone.

There had been attempts by the bots to go and see Buddy, but they complied hearing that any visit could jeopardize their position in custody.

Thank goodness Magnus was there to help with the court case and legal things.

Also to help mediate the humans and the bots ‘immature’ actions.

So many of the bots in their holoforms were making obnoxious noises (cough* Rodimus and Whirl*cough).

There were more breaks because of this.

No one of the bots are happy to see the parents when come to the stand, fuming when the pair put on an act.

Even going as far as stating that Drift and Ratchet were unfit parents, not being the same species.

Something strange happens the day when Buddy is supposed to take the stand.

Everyone is asked to come back the next day for the final verdict.

All the bots are confused and worried.

Ratchet and Drift are especially worried about what happened.

Today would have been the first time the pair or anyone would have seen Buddy, and all of a sudden, the day they are supposed to take the stand no one is allowed to see them?

Something is wrong and they can feel it.

The pair find solace in each other while riding high on anxiety.

What if the court decided they truly weren’t fit to raise their human kid?

Would Buddy have to leave the Lost Light for good?

There were too many questions going through their processors right now.

The next day Magnus is updated on what happened yesterday.

The next day the bots and bio parents come in.

Buddy is sitting behind a desk far from everyone else in the room with a guard by their side.

“Ultra Magnus and the crew of the Lost Light, in the case of the legality of the adoption document of Buddy, the jury recognizes that Drift and Ratchet are the legal guardians and will be formally recognized in the system here on Earth.”--Judge

All the bots are floored and cheer hearing the news.

Ratchet and Drift smile the happiest of the bunch.

“Excuse me? What makes these aliens even fit to raise a human child, our child Pal—”--Mom

“Their name is Buddy, Fleshy.”—Whirl and most of the bots

Magnus clears his throat getting everyone’s attention.

“To begin with, you two are charged with attempted kidnapping and aggravated assault of a minor.”—Magnus

The bots behind him eyes go wide.

The parents themselves go pale.

The police start cuffing the bio parents as they squawk in shock.

“What is the meaning of this!? Unhand us!”--Mom

“You have no right—”--Dad

“IF I may!”--Magnus

Magnus ‘clears his throat and intently stares at the parents with hatred in his holoforms eyes.

“You attempted and succeeded in breaking and entering the home where Buddy had been staying and attempted to take them to an unknown location against their will. They fought the both of you off sustaining injuries to both hands and you two fled the scene on foot back to your respected household to pretend that this ‘incident’ never happened the next day.”--Magnus

The bots behind him have a mixture of shock and anger on their faces.

Drift is glaring at the parents wanting nothing more than to punch them square in the jaw.

Ratchet is trying to look over at Buddy for any injury he could spot from where he was sitting.

Magnus looks at Buddy.

“Buddy, if you may show your hands.”--Magnus

Buddy reveals thick bandages on both arms and hands.

“I do believe that is enough evidence. The biological parents are set to a new court date to address these charges. The court once again recognizes Drift and Ratchet as Buddy’s legal guardians, court dismissed.”--Judge

With the swing of the gabble the parents are escorted out screaming and kicking, while Buddy is escorted to a different door.

Once the bots are outside, they can see Buddy running to them with arms wide open.

Drift and Ratchet open their arms as Buddy crashes right into them crying and wrapping their arms around them.

Drift is crying and ratchet is on the borderline of doing so too.

Ratchet carefully looks at Buddy’s wrapped hands.

“Those two good for nothings just wanted to get me back to get my income.”--Buddy

“We can add more charges to their case.”—Magnus

“We can jump them!”—Whirl

Buddy chuckles a bit.

“I think the grapefruit sized marks are enough for now.”--Buddy

Buddy pulls out a wrench from their pocket.

“Learned how to throw from the best.”—Buddy

Ratchet hugs them again as Drift joins in a second later.

The bots all head back to the Lost Light.

Ratchet and Drift never letting go of Buddy for an instant.

[maltesejjong]

after being ia for so long, and losing the passwords to my original tumblr and wattpad accts, i am happy to say i am BACK, even if you don’t know who i am lmao. For now, imma be doing reposts of my old tumblr and wattpad posts before i start new content. Enjoy!

꒰ঌ(⃔ ⌯' '⌯)⃕໒꒱

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What’s Really Going On?

Summary: you and you boyfriend Minho have been together for a while now. Years, as a matter of fact. There’s no reason for there to be secrets, especially when it comes to your body. But after missing an appointment you had been anticipating and tension from an argument nights prior still brewing, the truth comes spilling out

WARNINGS: dom!minho, afab!reader, oral sex (both receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it please y’all don’t be stupid), use of traffic light system, fingering (reader receiving), swearing, mentions of pregnancy complications, i think that’s it? Please lmk if i missed anything

Wc: 5971

MINORS DNI, THIS CONTAINS 18+ CONTENT

5:30 pm

You sigh and pocket your phone. Fifteen minutes. He's fifteen minutes late.

Of course, he's been late before, but never like this.

Fifteen minutes, you normally let slide. You just can't imagine that he'd be late when today is so important.

"Y/n! Babe!"

You turn at the sound of your name, and somewhere in you, even though it's not fair, you think eighteen minutes.

Nevertheless, you pocket your frustration and smile the smile only he can draw from you.

"Minho!"

He comes up to you, putting his arm around your waist and kissing your cheek. "I'm so sorry, baby. Traffic was horrible," he explains.

You understand, of course. It's a random Wednesday, but a major band is in town, and 500 lucky people in the area got free tickets.

But that isn't why today is so important to you.

"Why didn't you leave sooner?" You ask, slightly miffed that he ignored your suggestion to stay the night with you, so you would both be on time.

Minho doesn't answer, but you're sure you know what he's thinking. "Babe," you say, holding his arm to make him look at you, " I'm not mad, okay? It was just a bit...much." You bite down in the apology trying to jump from your lips, knowing it could just do more damage.

"What?" He looks slightly confused, as if he forgot the argument you two got in a few days ago. "Oh," he says as the memory resurfaces, "I know. I'm just thinking. Nothing bad, y/n. Just work stuff."

"Okay..."

You arrive your appointment with ten minutes to spare, feeling thankful for the cop that had created a barricaded lane for people not going to the concert, making it easier to navigate the traffic-choked streets of your usually quiet city.

"Wait here," you whisper to Minho. "Hi," you say as you approach the lady behind the desk, "I have an appointment with Mia Loffe."

The secretary, who you've never seen a day in your life at Mia's, types something on her keyboard. "Of course... Let me see... Okay, what's your name, dear?"

You swallow the reaction trying to escape at being called "dear" by someone so young. "Y/n Bang."

"Bang... Bang..." she mumbles to herself, searching what must be a busy schedule. You know Mia's been slammed with work, but she made sure there there was at least an hour for you to come in.

You even booked an appointment, something you never do with Mia, just in case.

"Okay, um, Ms.Bang?" Dread fills your stomach. "It says here that some things had to be rescheduled, but Ms. Loffe has maybe ten minutes, if you'd like to pop back there real quick."

"I, uh... No, that's alright," you say, knowing that Mia is probably getting ready for her next appointment. You don't hold it against her for not letting you know that between last night and today, there was a shift in schedule. "Can I leave a message with you? I don't want to call her while she's working. Will you please just tell Mia to call me when she's not busy?"

The secretary scratches the note onto a pieces of paper and sticks it onto her computer. "Of course. Is there anything else I can do?"

"No," you say, trying to fight the sinking feeling in your chest. "No, thank you though. Have a nice day."

"You, too, Ms. Bang."

You round the corner to see Minho scrolling through his phone. "C'mon," you say quietly.

Minho looks up at you. "Hey." He stands up. "Did Mia kick you out or something?"

You don't answer, except to say "There was a change in schedale, so i'm comine back another You don't answer, except to say "There was a change in schedule, so I'm coming back another day." You can't help but feel annoyed at your boyfriend for his lateness. Mia had even said to make sure you were there at least thirty minutes beforehand, just in case. This, you feel, is largely Minho's fault.

Minho picks up that you don't really want to talk, and doesn't pry as you drive back to your place together.

"Babe," Minho says softly once he's closed your front door, "What's wrong?"

You keep your back to him, trying to contain your feelings. "Nothing, Minho. I'm just a little tired," you lie.

"Why don't you change, and we can watch a movie?" He suggests. "I'll order takeout later, okay?"

You agree, and go change into one of his hoodies and a pair of shorts. When you come back to the living room, you see that your boyfriend's hands have not been idle. He set up a little nest of blankets and pillows on the couch, just the way you like it when you watch movies together, snuggled in close and pressed against one another.

"Is this okay?" He asks when he hears you behind him. "I wasn't sure how much you wanted snuggles, but..." he trails off as he turns and takes in your outfit. No matter how often Minho has seen you wear something of his, it gives him a rush every time.

Clearing his throat, he says "What do you want to watch?" Your ongoing agreement is that you get authority over movie snacks, and he gets authority over what food gets ordered. You both always pick what the other likes most, though, and you switch off who gets to pick the movie.

"I don't really care," you say dismissively. "You can choose. I just want muddy buddies and popcorn."

He smiles warmly, hiding his concern behind deep chocolate eyes. "Choi's alright?"

You nod, as he knew you would. "Don't forget the crab ran-goons and crispy beef," you say, putting a bag of popcorn into the microwave and nuking it.

"Oh, and egg rolls."

"Babe, I got it," he teases. "You act like I haven't known you for twelve years."

"And loved me just as long," you say to yourself, remembering the day your older brother, Chan, came home with his newfound friend, someone named Lee Minho. It wasn't the fact the he was Korean. No, Chan had lots of Korean friends, and you had you fair share. It wasn't his name. It wasn't his age or complexion.

It was his eyes. The way his nose crinkles when he smiles. It was how he acts like the mom of the group, even to the guys older than him, reminding someone to put on sunscreen, or, more often than not, cooking for everyone.

Later, it was also the way he started to look at you, like you weren't "Chan's kid sister" but a girl worth his attention, even though you're three years younger than him. It started as getting more "older brother" attention than the others. Then, you learned what flirting is. It became shy touches and bold smiles. Inside jokes and feeling jumpy if Chan was there when you were together. It became hidden kisses and climbing onto one another's rooftop in the middle of the night to watch the stars and talk. It became Chan walking in the room right when your lips touched Minho's, blouse slightly unbuttoned.

The microwave beeps, bringing you out if your trip down memory lane. Carefully picking the hot bag up by a corner, and reaching for the bowl you had put on the counter. You sigh as the smell of butter and salt taunts your stomach. You hear sounds from the TV as Minho skims past different movies.

Minho glances over his shoulder at you while you shake some ttekboki into a bowl. You can feel the worry and questions rolling off him. It took years for you to recognize the care, hidden beneath such a brash and forceful facade. He always plays his emotions close to vest, but knows how and when to pull back. That hasn't changed, except now, he has a heart that's completely open to you.

"What did you choose?" you ask, coming into the living room.

He's standing in front of the TV, arms crossed, remote pointed at the screen. "Action movie?"

"Okay," you say, setting the snacks onto the ottoman.

You lose yourself in the movie, and eventually, you don't even notice what's going on in the plot, because, as always, you re more tuned in to the Minho show. Every point where your bodies touch, his warmth, this feeling of security. You smile as his lips touch your neck for what must be the tenth time.

"I'm gonna put the order in," he says, his words warming your skin.

"Okay," you mumble, somewhat sleepily. "I'm taking a bathroom break."

He nods, his phone to his ear.

When you come back, you decide to get some water. You go to the kitchen and reach into the dish rack to get a glass. You aren't really paying attention, and nick your finger on the knife you washed this morning, after cutting an avocado. In your preoccupation with your appointment with Mia, you had left the knife pointing upwards.

"Shit," you yelp, waving your hand.

Minho comes into the kitchen. "What happened?"

"Nothing. Just cut my finger," you say, sucking on the cut, blood staining your tongue.

He gently pulls your finger away and examines the cut. "It's not deep," he says, sounding relieved. "Here." He turns the knob on the sink, and water starts flowing from the faucet.

You gingerly put your finger under the water, hissing at how cold it is. Minho stands behind you, his chest touching your back as he massages your hand under the chilly water.

"You gotta be more careful, y/n," he says with a slight laugh.

You ignore his words, and instead focus on the feeling of his fingers kneading your hand, his breath on your skin. Your pulse quickens predictably. As it always does with him.

"Thanks, babe," you say, gently pulling away, trying to calm yourself, but not entirely sure you want to.

Minho opens the medicine cabinet, searching for a band-aid. "Food'll be here in about half an hour. Maybe 45 minutes," he says, his back to you.

Something in you says "fuck it" and you go over, hugging him from behind.

You feel his muscles jump, but his voice is steady as he says "Hey, pretty girl. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you say, your cheek pressed against his back. You know you should talk to him about the appointment with Mia, but you don't want to. Not yet. You have other things on your mind.

You stand on your tiptoes and press your lips to the back of Minho's neck. He brings his arms down, abandoning his search for a bandage. "Babe?"

"Minho," you say quietly, in the same tone you use every time you're feeling a little naughty.

You can hear him swallow. "Y/n?" He turns to face you and you look into each other's eyes.

After a moment, you lean forward and kiss him, keeping your lips closed. You know he finds this as both an annoyance and a turn-on.

When you pull away, you see confusion in your boyfriend's gaze as he tries to decide which route to take. You know that he's going to wait to see what you do first.

Looking him dead in the eye, you say "Stop being such a gentleman." The code word you use to let him know what mood you're in.

You know he's decided to go with it, that he wants this too, when he says "I've never known a lady who doesn't wait for the man to make the first move."

He kisses you, hard. No playing around, no lead-up. You know this is going to get rough. Just how you like it.

He's still leaning against the counter, and you wrap your arms around his neck, feeling his tongue meet yours. You make some vague noise at the back of your throat as he somehow manages to kiss you even deeper. His hands grip the hem of his hoodie that you're wearing, and he pulls it over your head.

"Thought so," he murmurs against your mouth.

You aren't wearing a shirt. Somehow, no matter what, he always knows. One of the Minho mysteries you have yet to figure out.

Not wanting to waste any time, you yank his shirt over his head. He laughs, tousle-haired and swollen-lipped. You trail your fingers over his lean torso, one of the many results from years of dance. You love that he's a dancer, that he couldn't give less of a shit about stereotypes. It's sexy as hell.

You lean into him, forcing him to practically bend backwards, kissing him as roughly as you possibly can. He slips a hand into your waistband, his fingers teasing. You bunch his hair into your fists, knowing he won't go any further.

Not after the other day.

Not unless you tell him to.

His touch is like fire, burning into your skin. You moan slightly against his lips as his fingers slowly move to your clit, waiting to see if you'll stop him.

You don't.

What you do do is drag your fingers down his chest to his jeans, and start to unbutton them. Something you've done so many times that you could do it with one finger and your eyes closed.

Except.

There's a nervousness zapping your spine and bubbling in your stomach that hasn't been there in a while, making you fumble.

Thinking that your slip is due to him, Minho starts to pull back, but you grab his wrist with your other hand, leaning back to look in his eyes.

"Don't stop," you say.

He swallows, seeming to feel the same nervousness.

He nods and places his lips on yours, kissing his way down your jaw and to your neck, his lips gentle while his fingers are anything but, making your walls clench like crazy.

"Damn, y/n," he mutters.

"Minho... the couch. Please," you say in a strained voice.

He gathers you up and moves into the living room, a short transition in the small apartment.

You lay on your back, biting his neck, his lips, his tongue, as he works a second finger into you. Your hips lift off the couch.

"Y/n."

You look at him, seeing the question in his eyes.

You nod slowly, feeling your stomach jump. You watch him pull his fingers out, covered in your juices. He pulls your shorts down your legs, followed by your panties. He runs the same fingers that were just inside you up your ankle, your leg, to the inside of your thigh.

Minho makes eye contact with you again and you nod firmly. Yes. The green light.

He kisses the inside of your thigh, working his way to your entrance. When he gets there, you re clenching so hard around nothing it hurts. You ball your fists, trying not to make the noises so desperately trying to escape.

You wait, anticipation racking your body until he pushes your legs a little farther apart. Then he gets to work.

Finally, you can't take it anymore. "God, Minho," you moan.

"That's it, baby. Let it go. Sing for me, I want to hear that angelic voice if yours."

It feels so good. Perhaps too good. You can barely believe that you picked an argument with him over this.

You arch your back as his tongue enters your body and he makes some noise when your walls tighten even more. He pulls back and says "Relax, y/n."

"I'm trying," you mutter through clenched teeth.

As if to help, Minho starts rubbing your thigh. "No, babe, that doesn't—-" you cut yourself off, trying to get a grip. "Minho- I can't- agh-"

"Just let go, babe"

That's exactly what you're trying not to do. It's what you got so upset about on Sunday. The way you just lost control, how he encouraged it. He was a little confused, because you used to love it, the rush, the feeling, and now, he said, you're acting like it's your first time all over again. He was hurt because you called him greedy. You regret it, and you know he's going to make sure to make you such a mess and so needy that you really regret it.

One strong suck is all it takes to make you come.

You moan, grabbing at the couch as he pulls away, a devilish smirk on his face. He comes back with his fingers, shoving three fingers into your pussy, his thumb stroking your clit.

"Minho, I can't... You're gonna make me- uh!" You exclaim, coming all over his fingers.

"You know you want me," he hisses, but not maliciously. You shake your head, trembling. "Don't you?"

Again, you shake your head.

"Are you sure?"

"No. I don't want—"

"I can't hear you." He pushes his fingers even deeper.

You bite your lip, trying to pull him closer so you can kiss him, but he just raises an eyebrow in that way that drives you wild and pushes his fingers against your walls.

"One more chance, y/n. You know you want me, don't you?"

Yes," you gasp out. "I want... so bad..."

He smirks. "Who's the greedy one now?"

"Me," you pant. "Greedy bitch. I know. I'm such a dirty-"

"Keep going," he says.

"Dirty ho." Your clit aches painfully against his fingers as a fourth stretches it out. "So... such a- a slut,” you pant, somewhat hysteric.

"Mmm. You can do better than that."

You push him onto his back, yanking his jeans and boxers away.

"There you go," he says.

"In me," you beg. "Please?"

"Hmm.. I don't think you've said 'thank you' yet."

You start kneading around his dick. "Why should I?"

“I require payment," he says, his voice still so steady.

You cup your hand around his erection and start moving up and down. You take the tip of him in your mouth, tongue circling as you suck gently.

"Good girl."

You decide to show no mercy and suck as as you can, making him groan.

"Y/n. I can't-"

"To bad," you snap. "Try."

"God, you're so hot when you're fired up."

"Stops fighting."

"Oh, but then there'll be nothing left for you."

"There always is," you reply. "I’ll even be nice and help you," you say, right before he lets go and comes all over your hand and chin. "There's a good boy."

He pretends that he didn’t whine at the pet name. “Shall we call it even?" He asks, even though you know he's in no way finished.

"Oh, no," you say. "I'll let you choose."

"On your back," he orders. You comply. "And get the bra off. Stop acting like you're some innocent angel."

You drop your bra to the ground, right before he starts kissing your neck, his hands squeezing your breasts.

He moves to sit on your stomach, and you know what's coming. He holds his hand under your chin, and you spit into his palm, obliging. He uses your spit as a lubricant for his dick before he positions it between your tits, moving them back and forth, rubbing against him.

You feel him go hard almost instantly and smile inwardly. You knew he wasn't done yet. He's never down for the count that early on.

"Minho. Stop wasting time."

He raises his eyebrow again. "Who's in charge here?"

“Asshole,” you spit out. “I just fucking tolerate your orders.”

He hums in consideration. "What do you think?”

You stroke the tip of his dick, making him shudder. "Fuck me, Lee Minho. Show me what you've got."

The second you say it, you wish you could take it back.

"Challenge accepted."

This is going to be a long night.

ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆ଘ(´•3•)⊃━☆

You're leaning against the arm of the couch, watching your boyfriend enthusiastically eat a bucketful of shrimp lo mien the same way he had eaten you out not too long ago.

"You hungry?" He asks, using his chopsticks to gather the noodles into his mouth.

"Mmm. Maybe later. I'm just exhausted. Tired."

"But not tired of me, right?"

You flash him an amused look. "Unfortunately not." Your entire body is sore, your legs are weak as hell, and your clit is pounding with pain. You give him an appraising look. "You seemed to hold your own longer than usual."

Minho shrugs, mouth full of noodles. His hair is a tousled mess, his bare chest and neck covered in hickeys and teeth marks. You're sure that you're no different.

You tug the sleeves of his hoodie down over your hands and pick up your phone. "Oh, fuck," you say, realizing that you have a missed call.

"What's up?"

"Mia tried calling me earlier," you tell him. "But..."

"You were a bit busy," he supplies with a shrug. He twists away from you to grab another carton of lo mien, and you see that his back is bright red and covered in scratches. You reach out and trace a puffy red line, feeling him shiver under your touch.

"God, babe. Your fingers are freezing."

You trace another line, realizing that there are tiny beads of blood on his back. "Holy shit. Minho. Baby. Why don't you ever stop me?"

He shrugs, opening the lo mien. "I'm fine with it. I like it. You seem to like it. It also kinda kills the mood.

"But if it hurts—"

"It dushnt," he tells you, noodles hanging from his mouth like octopus tentacles.

"Still. What if I scratch too hard and actually cut you instead of just scraping the surface of your skin? Stop acting like 'the mood' is more important that your health."

He doesn't meet you eyes as he quietly says "Are we really going down this path again?"

You sigh and push your fingers into your hair.

"Maybe. Yes. I don't know!"

"Babe. I don't really know what you want me to say anymore. I told you not to worry about me."

"I'm not just worrying about you, Minho. I'm also thinking about me."

He twirls his chopsticks in the lo mien container. "Do you, y/n? Because you seem to have a tolerance the size of fucking Kilimanjaro. You never tell me to stop, even if, quite frankly, I'm exhausted and can't keep going. But I do. I do for you."

You feel your neck getting warm. "Well maybe it's your own fault for not telling me you need to stop."

"I do, though. I do, and you listen when I tell you I'm out. I'm more so a bit ticked off that you never tell me to stop. Do you remember what I said to you all that time ago? Did you even care? Because that was me, caring."

You close your eyes, remembering the color system that he devised for you, signals as to when to tell him to stop, if something he's doing hurts. "Yes, Minho. I remember. But I said that also goes for you! And you-"

"Use it when I really need to," he interjects.

"Well... well maybe I just don't really need to, then," you huff.

He cocks an eyebrow, and you tell yourself it's just an eyebrow, not a sexy move from your boyfriend. Definitely not something that turns you on.

The truth is, you've always been scared to use the light system. It's always green. Green means go. Even though you and Minho had had feelings for each other since you were in primary school- the last year, but still— that didn't stop him, who was three years older, from meeting other girls and going out with them, and you didn't try to stop him. You yourself went out on dates, kissed guys and did everything short of getting fucked for real. You wanted Minho to be the one to get your cherry. And he didn't disappoint.

Through it all, though, he had plenty of experience, experiences that you couldn't compete with unless it was oral. He told you green light means all good. Yellow is "I need a break" and red is stop. No questions asked. Whatever you're doing ends and you do something that doesn't involve sex. Red and yellow both mean "this hurts, I'm uncomfortable" of some degree.

Though you've definitely needed to, you've been worried about how Minho would react if you tell him to stop. It's one of the other reasons you argued with him on Sunday, but he doesn't know it. You made it seem like he just takes and takes, when really, it was that it hurt. You couldn't keep going, even though it hadn't even been 15 minutes when the pain kicked in. You were embarrassed. He was able to go on for God knows how long, and you weren't lasting anywhere near as close as him that day.

The look Minho gives you tells you that he's calling BS.

"Y/n."

You look at him. "Minho?"

"Look." He's always down his container of noodles and shrimp. "I know that's not the case. Why don't you try telling me what's actually up."

A spark of frustration heats your chest. "What's up, Minho, is that, thanks to you being late, we missed our appointment with Mia!"

Minho leans forward, massaging his temples. Finally, he drops his hands, his elbows balancing on his knees, and he looks over at you. "Is that what this is all about? I'm not ignoring the fact that you're dodging my question, but why didn't you say something to me?"

"Because... because it's just-"

"Not worth it? Babe, clearly it is. You wouldn't even tell me why this appointment was so fucking important to you. So important that I had to be there, which I found odd, because you usually tell me you want to see Mia alone. Which is fine, because I know that's the only girl time you two get together, so I found it strange that you wanted me there."

You clench your fists, hidden from view by the long sleeves of your boyfriend's hoodie, trying not to explode.

"And," he continues, "you still haven't told me the full story as to why you were actually upset on Sunday. You just called me greedy and said you weren't in the mood anymore. So please, please, will you tell me what's wrong? What's been going on?"

"I..." you look into his amber eyes, trying to fight the truth.

Minho puts a hand on your knee. "Y/n. Baby. Please."

The words come spilling out. "It's not that you're greedy. It's not that I don't enjoy the sex anymore. It's that... it's that I'm scared," you blurt. His expression is startled, incredulous as you go on.

"I'm scared to tell you no. To tell you to stop, that something hurts. It makes me feel like shit, when something hurts and I start to feel tired by the fifteen minute mark when you haven't even gotten started. It's not every time. But that's what was happening on Sunday. Sometimes it makes me ashamed, how much I just... it's like I'm a different person when we have sex. Sometimes I don't recognize me. Like, I turn into a mess. You turn me on like that" —you snap your fingers— "and somehow, you get me to cum four times in less than half an hour. I needed to feel justified in my feelings of 'I can't anymore' and I was scared to flat out tell you to stop, so I told you that you were being greedy and it was a turn off. And I'm sorry, Minho. I'm so so sorry for calling you greedy and disgusting. The truth is, I feel greedy and disgusting, wanting so badly, wanting so much, when I can't go on, or when you need a break. Sometimes I feel annoyed that you need to stop." You bury your face in your hands. "God, I'm such an asshole." You try to prevent the tears prickling behind your eyes.

"Y/n. Look at me. Please." You lower your hands to see Minho. "I'm sorry. Babe, why haven't you said something? If it hurts, if I'm hurting you, then you should tell me. If you can't anymore, tell me. Yellow light. Red light. Doesn't matter. Don't feel ashamed, okay? To tell you the truth, sometimes I can tell you're tired, but I'm never sure whether or not I should slow down and stop because you never tell me to, and I worry about accidentally offending you. I don't want you to think I'm assuming you're weak."

"Anyone that can ride Lee Minho for even fifteen minutes cannot be weak," you joke.

"Point taken. As for being a totally different person during sex? Well, yeah, you're gonna act differently when you're fucking. Think about it: do you go around constantly calling yourself a dirty ho and greedy bitch when you're at work?"

You don't say anything.

"I mean, unless you're getting it on with a coworker. Then we might have some problems."

That gets a laugh from you. "God, no. No, Minho. I understand what you're saying. It just... I feel ashamed and dirty after the fact. Like 'was that really me'?"

He smiles gently. "Yes, and I get that. But you have to know that there's no reason to feel that way. I don't think any less of you. And, in case you don't remember, you aren't the only one yelling and moaning and talking dirty, okay? You also aren't the only one that gets turned on instantly and cums a billion times. Then again, I, personally, can't really help it."

You smile again, that special smile that you save for him.

"Now. What about this appointment with Mia?"

The smile drops from your face as a slight panic sets in. "What about it?"

"Baby, please don't shut down now. Keep this going, okay? Why were you so upset to miss a meeting with Mia?"

You bite your lip, contemplating. "I... I'm maybe... something came up, and she... she's had a few times dealing with this with other people and knows what to do and I wanted you there so we were on the same page."

"Okay," he says slowly.

You feel your hands start to shake. "I guess it has to do with why I was so punchy these past few weeks..."

"Oh. I though it was PMS."

You shake your head. "No. Maybe a little bit, but mainly no. The truth is.." you hesitate, trying how best to go about this. "I have a rare immunodeficiency."

Minho looks at you with disbelief. "What?"

"I... I have a rare immunodeficiency," you repeat shakily.

"What is it? How did you find out?"

"Well... I actually found out from... from us having sex."

Minho's eyes widen. "Have I somehow gotten you sick? What happened? Does this have to do with why it hurts you so much?"

"No, I'll explain in a second, and possibly." You look down at your hands. "Let me ask you this: you'd say we're usually pretty... careful, right?"

He nods. "If I remember correctly, told me to download that app that tracks your cycle so we both have a record of your ovulation schedule and know what days to avoid completely. And you regularly remind me to make sure I have condoms both here and at my place and you have some sort of birth control, but you stopped taking it because it was causing some sort of issue, so no more of y/n's birth control. Correct?"

You nod. "But we're only human, and even technology can't predict something that fluctuates like a woman's period. Because it does change."

Again, he nods. "True... Wait." He looks up at you, lips parted. "Are you..?"

You shake your head. "No, babe. I'm not pregnant. Not anymore."

"Anymore?"

You nod. "Yes. I've technically been pregnant five times in the past two years."

Your boyfriend stares, mouth agape.

"After the fourth time, I went to the doctors. Do you remember how I had that constant bout of sickness?"

"I remember."

"Well.." you squeeze your fingers, preparing yourself. "I was getting so sick because my body was thinking that each fetus was actually a virus. At the same time, my body was naturally like 'okay we've got a life force in here to grow and protect'. Essentially, my body was waging a two-sided war on itself. One side to protect the baby, the other trying to get rid of it."

"But why?" You can't help but be thankful for how calm he's staying.

"You're taking this remarkably well. Better than I thought you would, anyways." You hug your arms to your chest. "Explanation: my body isn't accepting your DNA."

"So, essentially, I'm making you sick. But only when you end up pregnant?"

"Exactly."

He shakes his head. "God, y/n. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I... I wasn't sure how," you say meekly. "I mean, I'd be like 'hey, babe, guess what? I'm pregnant. Surprise!' Just to be like 'Ha. Sike!I'm not pregnant anymore' within a month."

He sighs. "True. Holy fuck. Five times?"

You nod and laugh a little. "Yeah. Guess we know what that means."

He nods conspiratorially. "Yep. Probably should've listened to everyone being like 'be smart. Be safe. Always use protection', huh?" He rubs the back of his neck. "Is there a way to fix it?"

"Fertilization treatments," you say glumly. "I hear they're absolute hell."

"But it'll be worth it, right? I mean, you don't get sick and... I mean, if you don't want kids, that's fine, I just thought... I'm not saying I'm assuming anything. I mean, obviously it's your choice, I just thought..."

For the first time, you realize just how… nervous this news is making him. Your boyfriend, the always cool, calm and collected Lee Minho is a flustered and stuttering mess. It also hits you that he actually, really, truly wants kids. He wants kids... with you. Which must mean...

No. You can't get sidetracked. Whether or not he proposes is up to him. You'll always be ready to say yes.

Back to the task at hand.

"Minho. Babe, calm down. Of course it'll be worth it."

He starts shaking his head, almost frantically. "No, no, no. Don't make a decision based on me. Do it because you want to. Don't-"

You put your hand on his knee. "Hey. Deep breaths. Yes, I want the treatments."

His body sags in relief.

"I want to get this fixed. I can't have a family if my body is killing off our kids. I dare say you'd prefer it if your children actually made it out alive."

His eyes widen at your statement. You run it through your head, trying to catch your mistake.

Then you realize: you just laid out a future of togetherness, marriage, and parenthood with Minho in those three sentences.

You try to backpedal, feeling like you've overstepped, even though you've talked about a future together many times. "I just meant, if you were me— I didn't mean—"

He cups your face in his hand. "I'd prefer it if my children made it out alive," he says softly, placing a hand on your abdomen.

You smile, relieved that you've finally told him. As Minho leans in to kiss you oh so softly, you close your eyes, envisioning your future.

[rainydayathogwarts]

Valley-girl Charm - Bucky Barnes

Summary: In which reader from the 1940s knows just how to play the damsel in distress to get exactly what she wants in the modern age after coming out of the ice. Or should I say: 3 times Bucky did things for you, and the 1 time you did something for him. SMUT!!!

2.9k wc

Natasha knew body language better than anyone. Tony knew how to play the knight in shining armour better than any hero in the old tales they told.

So of course, they were the first ones to pick up on the little game you were playing. It had started the second you were back from under the ice, charming anyone you spoke to with your 1940's valley girl accent, using words you'd only hear in old television. Men fell at your feet the second words came out of your mouth, offering you anything you'd dream of, and it didn't have anything to do with the super-soldier serum in your system either. You politely declined every time, but eventually understood the kind of power you held.

The second charming method they noticed you had came from your gorgeous smile. The moment you looked up at someone through your long lashes and beamed widely, looking so innocent and kind, people were willing to give you the clothes off their back if you asked. Of course, you never accepted anything from complete strangers. The two Avengers had come to their conclusion that you were still accustoming yourself to the norms of the new world, unaware of your ability to bewitch people with your natural appeal, however it was not long before they were proven wrong.

They didn't know if it was the fact that you were so familiar to Bucky and Steve, a comfort amongst all things new that made them more vulnerable to do anything for you, or if it was just your flirt, but they were immediately intrigued after seeing your interactions with the soldiers. They'd seen the way you spoke to the two soldiers just after coming out of the ice and hadn't noticed anything unusual apart from the fact you'd essentially come out of a time machine. As the weeks, months passed, they knew your intentions.

It had started by witnessing a simple conversation between you and the two soldiers. "Well I'm all nerves about going to speak to Agent Fury about that last mission. He's going to get all bent and blow a fuse." The two soldiers stood either side of you turned to face you in such synchrony it had almost been comical. Bucky was the first to speak, "Don't worry doll, I can go speak to him if you'd like. You shouldn't be the one he chews out." "Anyway," Cuts in Steve "We were the ones who screwed up honey, not you." From across the kitchen, Natasha rolled her shoulders back, nudging Tony with her elbow lightly as she stirred sugar into her coffee. Their eyes widened slightly at the wide smile sprawling itself on your face, peeking back and forth between the two men.

"Really? You boys don't have to do that just for me." Steve straightened his posture impossibly at your comment, but it was Bucky who beat him to the comment. "Honey, I'd do anything for a broad like you." You cocked your head to the side, a hand coming up to rest on his muscled bicep. "Why, thank you Sergeant. You dreamboats are too kind". Natasha's eyes trailed over to Tony when the three of you finally left, the two boys accompanying you seemingly wherever you wanted to go. "See, I didn't understand half of that conversation, but they are wrapped around her finger." Tony hummed "She's smarter than we thought."

The second time they witnessed it, they were convinced that you did it on purpose, their image of you quickly turning from innocent and naive to a femme fatale, manipulating men into thinking they're doing things for you because they want to. You'd all been hitting the bars, only missing Thor from the team. You had been occupying a large round booth, wedged between Bucky and Natasha, giggling with her about the man she found attractive sat at the bar, whilst the four men at the table shared stories. Natasha's eyes were quickly drawn to your hand as you placed it on Bucky's thigh, the man putting his own hand over yours almost instantly as he glanced down at you. You returned his look, grinning widely before turning back to your conversation with the tall red-head.

Natasha carried on with the conversation, pretending not to notice the intimate moment you'd shared with the soldier, but her jaw went slack nonetheless when Bucky leaned closer to you not two minutes later, whispering "You're drinking a margarita, right?" And rising from his seat when you nodded at him, humming in agreement. Bucky joined the group once more with two drinks in hand: one for him and one for you, smiling proudly when you cocked your head to the side, insisting he didn't have to. He only wrapped one muscled arm around your shoulders as a response, pulling you closer to him despite the humidity of the bar.

When you leant your head on Bucky's shoulder, stealing a glimpse up at him though, Natasha was no longer assured that those tricks up your sleeve were to get what you wanted. Perhaps you used them to get who you wanted. She sipped her drink instead of making a comment, afraid to scare you away with any questions when you'd only just begun getting close to her. Maybe in a couple of weeks during a girls' trip to the bathroom she'd bring up your relationship with him.

That girls' trip didn't end up being in a bathroom, but in a changing room, because next time something so significant had happened, the entire team was training together for the first time in a while, and Steve had declared that you were all doing a round robin. If you were still in the military, sure - you'd have moaned about it, throwing your head back in disappointment and hoping your supervisor hadn't seen you complain. But now, with the super-serum in your bloodstream? Well, you supposed you could be in a worst position, like Tony's, who didn't have any super-powers or spy training. With so many of you on the team, it'd take numerous matches for everyone to have their turn against each of their teammates, so after a quick warm-up, everyone had settled down on the mats of the martial arts training area to watch.

Soon later, everyone who was sat on the mats was trying to catch their breath as two team-mates sparred on the mats. Tony stood after Thor and Steve's match, adding another tally next to Thor's name on the big planning whiteboard before turning around with a wide smirk on his face. "Last match of the day." Bucky hopped up from next to you, sticking a hand out for you to take. Hesitantly, you took it, only for him to pull you up to your feet. "Us?" You asked, only for him to nod. "Well, I'm gonna let you have it, Barnes." You teased, tightening your ponytail. "Oh come on, might as well reach for the sky now, y/n."

"Steve, what the hell are they saying?" Called out Clint, leaning over to see the blonde man from across Natasha. "She's gonna hit him hard, and he says she should just give up now." Replied the man, taking another sip from his water. Tony picked up the whistle next to him, blowing into it, before scrambling back to watch with the others. The second the time started, Bucky faltered - how the hell was he supposed to hit you? But there was already a fist flying to his face which he barely dodged, instead swatting your wrist away from him.

You stared at him intensely from behind your fists, shielding your face, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Come on Barnes!" Steve yelled from the sidelines. Bucky's face mirrored yours, his eyes laced with confusion, but he threw a fist anyhow, going for a body shot instead of your face. Nevertheless, you moved to the right, dodging his fist, and grabbing his arm as leverage to help you jump up. You threw your right leg over his shoulder, and behind his neck, swinging your other leg over his second shoulder, and crossing it over your right leg to trap his arm between your legs and over your torso. You tensed your quads as much as you could, hoping the triangle choke would work on him, but instead he used his metal arm to push your thigh over his head as much as he could. It was working, slowly but surely.

"Fuck" you muttered when he slipped his head in the gap between his shoulder and your thigh. You were now essentially hanging onto his arm, both legs over one shoulder. Before he could react, you flexed your core muscles, and sat up onto his shoulder. You released his arm, jumping off his shoulder so you landed behind him, and softly push-kicked him the back so he stumbled forward. As he did though, one hand reached behind him and grabbed your ankle, so you were dragged along with him. You slipped onto your back as he fell forward but Bucky was quicker, getting up instantly to straddle your hips. He leaned forward, above you, trying to get his arms around your neck to get you in a chokehold, but the second you giggled, he shot back up again.

"Sorry, that tickled." You insisted, hand coming to your neck to play the part better, a broad smile gracing your lips. Just as Bucky opened his mouth to say something, you reached out to grab both his hands, bucking your hips up and turning to the side to flip him over. You were on top of him in the blink of an eye, mimicking his movements as your arms snaked around his neck. You successfully put him in the same chokehold he had tried to put you in, but when you twisted your wrists, the blood supply to his face immediately cut off and you felt his hand tapping you twice on the shoulder. "You cheat." Was the first thing he said after his gasp for air, but you only shrugged, rolling off his chest. "I was only using sources available to me."

You giggled as you ran off to catch up to Natasha, already waiting for you by the doors to the changing room. "So..." She started, quite obviously. "So... What?" You echoed, looking up at her curiously, shimmying out of your shorts. You turn around so your back faces her as you struggle out of your sports bra, wrapping your towel around your sweaty body before spinning back around. "You and Bucky. This flirting has been going on for weeks. Do you like him, are you dating?" You laughed, cocking your head to the side. "You don't know?" She shook her head quickly, sitting down on a bench. On the other hand, you just opened one of the doors to the clean showers, calling out to her.

"Well, before the ice, me and Buck knew each other from the military, we got along well. The only problem was, he was my superior. I couldn't possibly make a pass at him and be known as the soldier who had the nerve to try and lay paws on her superior. But there was always something there..." At the lack of response, you stuck your head back out of the shower, to make sure Natasha was still there. "Natasha?" The spy looked at you with her mouth wide open in shock. "What!? And you never told me?" You shrugged, turning the water on. "Well I thought y'all knew."

Her silence told you enough about how much she really knew. As she muttered to herself on the other side of the door, you submerged yourself in the water, massaging shampoo into your hair, hearing flashes of "before the ice" and "he was your superior?" so you assumed she was still talking to you, even though you ignored most of what she said. You barely heard her goodbye and the sound of the changing room door opening and closing one more time, before the sound of water running was all you could hear.

"Y/n? Natasha let me in, she said you were done." You perked up at the sound of Bucky's voice, exclaiming "Here!" He approached the sound of your voice, stopping when he realised Natasha had deceived him. He stood in front of the dark wooden door, watching the steam dance in the space above your door. "Is it anything urgent?" The towel hanging from the door disappeared into the other side, and Bucky realised shaking his head wasn't enough of an answer because the door swung open to reveal you, soaking wet and completely naked with the exception of the small towel that barely covered your private parts. "Oh! Hey you!" You exclaimed, taken aback at his proximity, yet smiling all the while.

Bucky stood frozen in place, mouth ajar as he search for his words. "I'm sorry, I- I, you look beautiful." You giggled at his words, approaching his shirtless, freshly showered figure. His long hair was wet and skin was glistening, and he only wore a pair of jogger shorts to conceal himself. You have to admit, they weren't doing a great job and covering the growing tent in them. Your eyes trailed back up his body to meet his, smiling at him again. "Anything I can help you with, Sergeant?" Bucky's hands hesitantly rose to meet your hips. "I-No it's fine." Your hand met his and you dragged him with you three steps backwards, back into the shower you had just exited. You reached your arm behind him, locking the door once more.

"You're sure?" Bucky shook his head, pulling your hips flush against his as he slammed his lips against yours in a needy kiss. You gasped as your towel started to unravel, but you didn't try to stop it, wrapping your arms around Bucky's shoulders instead. When he separated from you, opening his eyes, they immediately widened, and his bit his lip, poorly trying to suppress a moan. You pushed Bucky back gently, urging him to sit on the small wooden bench. He sat down, legs spreading to make space for you between them, but when you started lowering yourself onto your knees, he shook his head frantically, begging "No, no, none of that, doll. I just want you sweetheart."

The cold metal of his arm flush against your skin chilled you as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you up to sit on his laps. He grunted, frantically pulling down his cotton shorts. You aided him at doing so, gasping when his cock sprung out, the absence of any underwear surprising you. You immediately took his dick in your hands, watching as Bucky's face scrunched up in pleasure. You guided him inside you, sitting down flat on his dick, but you couldn't help the loud moan that escaped you as you did. You whined, beginning to drag yourself up and down his dick, gradually speeding up your movements. Bucky's hips met your frantically, until his pace was so quick you couldn't keep up. "Buck!" At your plead, he wrapped an arm around you, using his metal one to support both your weights on the wall, and he stood up, walking forward until your back was pressed against the cold shower wall.

You gasped at its feeling against your skin, jerking forward once more when Bucky's metal hand came up to play with your nipples as his speed increased once more. Bucky leaned his forehead against yours, cussing loudly before biting his bottom lip in fear of being heard. His hand left your breasts, instead blinding searching for the shower handle. When he found it, he immediately pushed it upwards, the instant noise of water shooting out moderately covering the sounds of pleasure you made. Your wrapped your arms around his tighter, grinding your pussy onto his pelvis as he thrusted into you, your clit rubbing on the short hairs near the base of his dick.

You busied yourself pressing kisses on Bucky's neck, the water squelching between your bodies as you passionately moved against each other. "Fuck y/n" Bucky moaned, chasing your lips, panting against them once he met them in a deep kiss. Your hands cupped his face as you kissed, deepening it impossibly, and his metal hand went straight to your clit, rubbing circles on it as fast as he could. Your leg twitched and you didn't have time to warn him before you were cumming all over him. "Shit!" Bucky grunted, pulling out of you as he balanced you on the wall, his hand coming to jerk himself off quicker. You put your hand over his, legs still wrapped around his torso, teasing his sensitive tip as you stroked him up and down. With a deep shudder, white stripes of cum shot out of him, painting your belly white, only to be washed away with the shower's stream.

Bucky put you down gently, making sure you wouldn't slip before cupping your face with his large hands and bringing you in for a much slower, more passionate kiss. You pulled away from him, keeping him close as you peppered kisses all over his face. He laughed, trying to pull away from you and saying,

"We should have done this about 80 years ago doll, don't you think?

[jellys-compendium]

Tethered

A Spicy Sukuna x F!Reader Oneshot

Rating: Explicit (18+Only, Minors DNI)

Pairing: TrueForm!Sukuna x F!Sorcerer Reader Cw: extreme dubcon, smut, themes of taming and breaking, dom!sukuna, rebelious!reader, oral sex (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, darcyphilia, claiming, possessiveness, and two dicks for Sukuna for double the fun! Word Count: ~800 A/n: This is debauchery and I have no excuse.

The battle is lost, your pride now nothing more than shattered glass scattered about your feet. It was foolish to think that you’d ever stand a chance against the king of curses.

Relishing in your defeat and hungry for your humiliation, Ryomen Sukuna takes no reservations in claiming his prize. He binds your hands and tethers you to him, forcing your body flush against the burning heat of his own. 

“Let us see how resilient you really are.”

All four of his mighty hands wrangle you down, easily blocking the kicks you aim at his most sensitive places.

Sukuna grins, delighted at your fight and ferocious ire. In response he tears your clothing from your body with ease. The angry shriek and colorful words you curse him with are entertaining beyond compare. 

He’s going to enjoy breaking you.

With little effort the king lounges upon his throne, forcing your pliant little body to sit upon his abdomen. Spread open, bare and exposed—you are ripe for his torment.

“Let me taste you, little sorcerer.”

The unnatural mouth on his stomach opens, soft lips grazing against your sex before that first wet glide travels languidly along your folds. 

Your body jolts and in your shock you cry out, pleasure ricocheting through your nervous system as you twist in his grasp. But Ryomen Sukuna’s hands hold you still.

“If you think that I’m just going to roll over and let you turn me into one of your concubines—ah!”

A smug smile spreads across the king’s face as his second tongue circles your clit, coaxing it full to bursting with his seductive mastery. You’re so sensitive, your body so eager for his touch. It won’t be long until you’re a coming mess in his arms.

“Then resist me, little one.” Sukuna purrs. 

Two of his hands glide up your body, worshiping your generous curves with his touch before reaching up to grope your tender breasts.

“I would love to see you try.”

Shudders of rapture and disgust course through your body at his words. Your arms tense, fighting against the ropes restraining them behind your back. 

The mouth along his stomach grins, sharp teeth glistening between your legs. You watch with bated breath as that fat, pink tongue slithers out of the orifice like a snake, slimy and sickening as it slips between your folds to probe at your entrance.

Teeth sink into your lip as you stifle the pathetic little mewl that crawls up your throat. But the king of curses is not to be denied.

“So sweet.” Sukuna purrs, tongue retreating so that devilish mouth can greedily suck at your folds. “You’ll be begging for mercy in due time.” 

And true to his word, Ryomen Sukuna tortures you until you cry. Holding you tightly against his skin, the mouth on his navel sucks and licks and fucks up into your tight little cunt relentlessly, reddening and bruising your skin with the sheer force of his hunger. 

You come, over and over and over on his belly, grinding against him like a bitch in heat as he mercilessly drives you to one earth shattering release after another, drenching his torso with the evidence of your shameful lust.

It’s not until the aftermath of the fifth tortuous orgasm that you sag forward, landing on his chest with your drooling mouth agape—panting as your body weathers against the storm. 

Sukuna’s four massive arms come to circle around you, two of them gripping at the wrists secured against your back while the other two cup your hips, forcing you to grind your oversensitive pussy against the heat of his wicked tongue some more.

“S–Sukuna,” Your choked gasp for mercy rings as he continues to play with you.

The king of curses hums, that mocking sound of his approval reigniting the embers of spite you’d thought snuffed out.

“Had enough, my little sorcerer?”

Trembling, you look up and glare into the king’s eyes.

“I will never be yours.”

A dark and ominous chuckle leaves the king, the sound a rumbling vibration that sinks into your very bones. 

The oppressive hands on your back disappear and you feel them move down past the small of your back and your ass. Down, down, until they reach the hem of his pants.

You turn your head, lifting your face from Sukuna’s chest as you peek over your shoulder. 

Your breath catches and your heart nearly stops at the sight.

Pulling down his pants, Sukuna reveals his two massive cocks. Each stands hard and proud, thick and glistening and decorated with more of those same black markings. 

You swallow the hard lump in your throat as you watch those cocks twitch and lewdly drip strings of precum onto the globes of your ass.

“You will be mine.” Sukuna promises softly into your ear. “You’ll be screaming my name before the night is through.”

dividers by @/saradika

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Grey 43

First / Previous / Next

Fen and the others - except Stormy - looked blankly at the former Empress.

She raises her eyebrow and puts her hands down. "Come on, really? I thought it was a good reveal." Helen pouts a tiny bit and takes another sip of her coffee.

"I'm surprised." Stormy counters. She looks pointedly at the closed conference room door. "Are we going to survive this encounter?"

"Why wouldn't you? It's not like I'm going to space you all."

"You have to admit, you might have gained that reputation."

Helen rolls her eyes. "Okay, maybe back in the beginning before I became Empress and before I went to Melody I had a reputation of being a little... intense. And Maybe after Melody's death I fell back into that way of thinking while I was getting Sol under my thumb and maybe I was directly or indirectly responsible for some deaths." She shrugs. "Show me a ruler that wasn't."

Fen sat forward. "But, why are you out here? Why aren't you on a resort over Venus partying all day long?"

Helen waves her hand dismissively, and reaches for the carafe of coffee and pours more into her mug. "Boring. Dull. I don't work that way, never have. If I'm not doing something I find something to do, and my daughter didn't want to deal with that, so she let me take an officer's commission again. Everyone here calls me Admiral and just between you and me, I think like half the kids on this boat don't even realize who I am." She takes another sip of coffee and smiles. "I like it just fine like that." She gestures to the window in the conference room. "This is where I am meant to be. Not on some throne, ordering people around, and not sitting on a chair by a pool slowly becoming one with the fruit flavored drinks."

Northern crosses her arms. "So you're telling me it's purely coincidence that you and your ship find us as we link into a random system where the Heap is and without radio contact you link next to us and grapple us aboard? Just 'in the neighborhood'?"

"No of course not. We were going to pick you up one way or the other, it was only a matter of time" Helen takes another sip of coffee.

"Is this about the current Empress? We don't know where she is. We left before they decided where they were going to go." Zhe says. She can't drink coffee, but it still toying with an empty mug.

"No, it's not about my great-granddaughter. I know she's off galavanting with the remnants of the AIs, probably trying to move against the Nanites."

"How do you know that?" Fen asks.

Helen taps the side of her head. "The Nanites told me. Unlike my daughters and granddaughters, I do what the Nanites ask. They still speak to me. They have never asked me to do anything I wasn't comfortable doing, never asked me to do something that wasn't right."

While Helen says this, Stormy's face radiates rage. Fen notices her, and it looks like she's working very hard to control her self. "So you were okay with the AI purge a few centuries ago?"

Helen turns and regards Stormy coolly. "Two things. One, That wasn't me, that was Meredith's mother. Two if I was asked to do that, then I would. If you recall your history, you would remember that I banned AIs from operating in Sol. I left it at that. I didn't go after them, I didn't persecute them, I felt no ill will towards them. I have to admit, that it was a little tougher getting around the galaxy without them, but we managed."

Fen has been eyeing the carafe of coffee this whole time. Finally she reaches over and Helen slides it to her. She fills up her mug. "So why did you capture us then? Because the Nanites told you to?"

She nods. "Basically. They said "The clone of Melody is important. We still need her. We last saw her outside of Picaresque." So I went. Then you avoided our attacks - nice work by the way - and linked away."

"But how did you find out we went here?"

Helen puts her mug down and leans towards Fen. "Because we can track wormhole links Fen. It takes a lot of energy and computation and I'll admit it's relatively new technology, but it's doable. More than three or four links in quick succession is tricky, but even that isn't impossible." She leans back and looks at Fen. Her expression softens slightly. "Fen, you're not getting out of this that easily. This is much bigger than you realize. Things were set in motion back when I was Empress. You can get up and walk out of this room, I won't stop you. You and your friends can link away to anywhere in the galaxy. Sooner or later, someone tangentially related to the Nanites is going to find you and rope you in. You can't stop this."

Fen sat in her chair, stunned. She stared ahead, eyes unfocused as she heard Helen's words. It would explain a lot. How no matter how often she tried to get away, things would coincidentally rope her back in. She hung her head.

"What do I do?" She whispered. Tears fell from her cheeks and splashed onto the conference table.

"Fen, you're missing it. When you're Empress you can do whatever you want."

She looks up, her eyes red rimmed, her cheeks wet. "What do you mean?"

"Fen, when you're Empress? Everyone will do what you say. Everyone. Want to go kill what's his name - that gangster that killed your wife - Tam'itarr?" Helen laughs.

She nodded.

Helen snaps her fingers. "Just like that, not only is he gone, but his entire familial line is gone. His memory is erased. Do you want to open up a dialog with the AI? Do it. Nobody will stop you. Nobody can stop you. Voice aside, you'll be Empress of Sol and her Protectorates. You'll have fleets at your command. You could crust the K'laxi, or the Xenni, or the Gren, or any of them." She forms her hand into a fist.

"Just like that?"

"Quite. You'd be the richest human alive. Do you want to be plastered on every screen in the Galaxy? On all the chat shows, on all the casts? You can. Do you want none of that, and just live a quiet life in the Palace, never having to lift a finger for your own self? You can. Do you want to decide the fate of trillions? You can. Do you want to delegate that decision to someone else that you can conveniently 'get rid of' when the people turn against the decision? You. Can."

Helen is on a roll now. Not even checking to see if anyone else is paying attention, she stands and starts pacing the conference room.

"The problem Fen, is your upbringing. You were raised on a Gren station, far away from Colonial space, far away from human culture. You were raised by K'laxi. You were far from your birthright. On the Gren station you had to keep your head down, think fast, avoid conflict. You did these things to survive, and what did it get you? It got your wife murdered. It got you set adrift by Gord. It got you with a ragtag bunch of friends who - yes - will stick with you through it all, but you keep having to go through it." She stopped and stared at Fen, her eyebrows raised, and her eyes bright.

"What if you didn't have to go through it?"

Fen looked at her friends. They were staring at her, except for Stormy who was watching Helen like a mouse watches a cat. Anything. She could do anything.

"It wouldn't be me doing those things though, it would be the Nanites." Fen slumps in her chair.

"No!" Helen pounds the table with her fist, and they all jump. "You know better than that Fen. You've had Nanites. You are you. They're... more like an advisor. They offer suggestions, hints, recommendations. They can't stop you if you don't take them." Helen's face softens. "Fen, I've had them for almost five hundred years. Do you know what they want? They want more gates to be built. That's how they reach into our dimension. If you built Gates, you will rule the Galaxy, and they will help you."

Helen stopped pacing and sat back into her chair. She reached for her coffee cup and Fen noticed her hand was shaking slightly. "Melody had them too. She started from nothing, and was ruler of Sol before she was killed. She was going to do so much to help everyone. That's all she ever wanted. To help. They never changed her into someone, something she wasn't." She shook her head and tossed back the coffee.

"Why me though?"

"Really Fen?" Helen sighed. "You already know you're a clone of Melody. You've met my great granddaughter; If it's not at the bottom of a wine bottle, she's not interested in it. We're stagnating. We haven't built a new Gate in a century. The Nanites grow impatient. Take your rightful place, build the Gates. All will follow that."

Helen stood up and walked to the window in the conference room. She stared out into space. Without turning back she said. "I'm sorry. I've been ranting. It's been a while since I was so animated about something, it feels good." She turned. "Take the night, sleep on it. You and your friends are welcome to rooms on my Ship, or you can go sleep in your frigate."

She strode to the door, and it opened for her. "I'll see you in the morning." The door hissed closed behind her.

Fen stared at her empty coffee cup. When did she finish it? How many did she drink? She looks up at Northern and Stormy. Northern makes a face like she ate something she didn't like, and Stormy's face is blank.

Zhe looks at Fen and smiles brightly. "If you rule the Galaxy, can I have a job?"

A giggle escapes Fen's lips. She smirks. Eventually she collapses into laughter. After a few seconds, the laughter turns to sobs. She lays her head onto the conference room table and gulps air in huge wracking sobs.

Northern stands up and walks over to Fen. She sits next to her and puts her hands out, then stops, then puts them out, then pats Fen's back awkwardly. Fen looks up at her, and Northern swears. "Fuck," and hugs Fen tightly. "Whatever you pick Fen, we're here for you."

"But you and Stormy are AIs" Fen says, muffled under Northern.

"And like the old Empress said, you can do whatever you want." She released the hug. Fen sniffed. "Make it so we're not frightened to be anywhere with the Empire's Hegemony, and I guarantee the AIs will be friendly."

"Ahhhh" Stormy raises a finger. "Best not make promises you can't keep, Northern. It will probably take more than a Nice Empress to undo centuries of persecution."

"We'll figure something out."

Fen stands up. She feels suddenly weary, and the weight of these decisions on her shoulders. "Let's go back to the ship. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry, and tired."

[nekropsii]

Atomic Ask Bomb 3!!

We got a shorter one this time around! I hope everyone's evening is going well!

Content Warning: Long-ish, Discussions of Ableism + Queerphobia, Weird Cronus Moment™.

Same. I'd read a fanventure about that, I think.

Like, I don't personally believe WV would be allergic to being a mentor or something of a father figure, but I do have to wonder the level to which he was wigged out by the way that Dave and Karkat treat him, because Dave in particular imprints on him in a way that is... Kind of strange.

The later portions of Homestuck really baby WV. It's upsetting.

------

Easy. The actual things wrong with them.

A lot of the discourse surrounding them is fabricated, or has such poor priorities it might as well be fabricated. Most critical conversations about them surrounds things people just made up over the course of years of mythologizing their #Problematicness.

For Example: Most of the discourse surrounding why Horuss had problematic writing had to do with how he was "Bad Otherkin Representation", when the real issue was the fact that Hussie was conflating Being Otherkin with having a Dissociative Disorder, and in turn saying both of them are the exact same level of Fake And Gay for the exact same reason, because to Hussie they were the same thing. To this day, people get startled every time I point out that Horuss is canonically a System despite him bringing it up just as regularly as he does being Therian. Those are totally wack priorities.

------

...That's scary... I don't even have words...

------

LOL. The Lost Weeaboos was a Grade A bit. Thank you Aranea, very cool.

Honestly, I don't even count Cronus as a "facade character", because it's not like he's making any efforts to hide jack shit. It's been... Interesting, watching several people refer to "his facade" lately, when, like... What are they talking about, honestly? He's pretty bold-faced about his whole deal. This isn't really a Dave situation where you could be capable of falling for it when you're younger, because Cronus couldn't be doing a worse job at "hiding" how awful he is. He's not even trying, because he knows he can get away with it. What are the other Alphas gonna do? Leave?

Hope you're having a good time!! The Alpha Trolls may be a Trash Heap, but they are my Trash Heap.

------

There comes a point where it's almost comedic how unaware people are of it... Like, what do you mean you know he's a Horse Therian but not that he's a System? He literally calls himself the Host of a System and talks about Switching. IN THOSE TERMS. He's not even obfuscating it by using some esoteric Troll terminology, he is LITERALLY using the words "Host", "System", and "Switching".

It's painful. I know this is a moment befitting of an XKCD comic, but... Jeez. You'd think these things would both be on the same level of common knowledge, considering how they're traits that are directly related to each other and given equal amounts of screen time, but nope!

Unfortunately, it is a situation where this is relevant. Sad!

------

All characters will become AroSpec and/or ASpec with the help of my Beam Attack.

... Except for Cronus. It's just not funny when it's him. Due to The Themes. It's not fun to headcanon a character as any minority when a huge part of their character is that they pretend to be minorities for Pity Points to eventually cash in for Sex. Ew. Making him literally anything other than Just Cronus plays directly into so many vile Queer stereotypes it's insane. Those are stereotypes that have gotten people actually genuinely killed. Just... Ew. Gross.

------

[nightlilly0110]

I have not paid attention to My Hero Academia in ages. It got boring for me, I especially didn’t really like the “yes and” sort of fights they were doing where it was like “oh no he’s dead, oh wait no he’s not, and he also has gotten stronger and has somehow developed more powers” (I’m staring so hard at Dabi vs Shouto and Dabi spontaneously developing an ice quirk after having his ass beat multiple times already).

Anyway. Regardless on me having issues with that, because I know that when your main villain’s power is All Of Them, you gotta shove a whole lot of shit into your grand act, your finale.

The story of My Hero Academia did a really good job at pointing out all the flaws in hero society. Everyone wants the prestige with becoming a hero so they gotta limit it to people who have a strong enough power to get into hero schools, specifically the hero track. Not all heroes are good people and it’s dangerous to blindly give out this status as a top member of society. Not all villains are inherently evil - as the manga states, all it takes is one bad day. Racism, abuse, and mental health issues are overlooked because it happens to the people on the bottom rung. It’s realistic. It’s great. It gets the point across that this world isn’t as fantastic as it first seemed.

And then all of that immediately gets undercut by the reveal that Everything in the manga is AFO’s fault. He gave Shigaraki Decay and groomed him, he’s the one who caused the surge in crime and the anti-mutant rhetoric. They establish him as born evil, as the devil incarnate, that he has always been this way and will never change. I expected that he would never have redemption and is beyond saving, but to say he was Born Evil contradicts the “one bad day” narrative that is literally on the first page of Volume 24.

Gonna Devil’s Advocate myself for a second. I think the idea that AFO being irredeemable and going against the “one bad day” narrative would have been a great contrast to Shigaraki and the rest of the LOV.

Here’s the but.

They also go on to imply that Everything Will Be Okay As Long As We Kill AFO. Since he’s the Root Of All Evil, if they kill him, everything will be 100% perfect and nothing will be Evil or Wrong or Bad ever again.

Please hear my sarcasm. That’s unfortunately not how systemic racism, classism, abuse, or any other social issues work. They unfortunately do not vanish because you get rid of one guy. It’ll definitely help consider AFO won’t be around to fuck shit up, but it’s not a be all end all situation.

Additionally, having all of this realistic worldbuilding and establishing all the problems in this hero society, having testimonies from the villains and from Deku himself that if you are different you will suffer, and then turning it around and going “actually it wasn’t the system, the system it’s fine, it’s just this one dickhead lol” fucking sucks. Okay yeah, it’s cool to see all the ways AFO was pulling the strings behind everything and manipulating society how he wanted it, but it seemed very shoehorned in???? We see some glimpses of his control of resources with the Nomu labs and the implications of using doctors to scope out good quirks to use, but we spent too little time on that other than focusing on Kurogiri.

Moving on to the spoilers I saw today for the most recent chapter. Deku’s motivations have always been “I want to be able to save as many people as I can, just like All Might.” He’s stated many times throughout the last few fights that he wants to be able to reach Tenko - not Tomura, but Tenko - and this is the end he gets?????

Liberties with the translations as it’s not official but like. Come on.

“I’m a crying brat just like you said.” We established a long time ago that Shigaraki fights because he wants to build a better world for him and his friends. While he might have been a “crying brat” in his first few appearances, he hasn’t been that way in literal years. Deku calling him this (which I can’t find a good image of, sorry) goes against his entire character. He’s not a brat. He has reasons to do what he does.

“I wanted to stop you because you wanted to be stopped.” Stopped, not saved.

“So your sadness wouldn’t be passed on.” What Deku is saying here is that he is acknowledging that Shigaraki was wronged, but he isn’t going to do anything for him other than stop him (kill him) because he was hurting other people. Again, reminder, this was the kid that wanted to save as many people as he can, and Shigaraki wasn’t past saving. What was the point of emphasizing that Tenko was still a part of him that existed if you were going to kill them both?

We also don’t know what happened to the other villains as of right now. None of their statuses have been confirmed, but they’re presumed to be dead. None of them got their happy ending. None of them even got a good ending. None of them have the closure that their injustices were wronged. None of them have the closure that they left this world in good hands for other people like them. They just died.

So who exactly are we saving? What’s the point?

[louisisalarrie]

Hello love. I like sending you asks because you’re always great at responding. This one is a bit sensitive. Don’t post if not appropriate.

Louis and alcohol. You’ve worked with him and seen him a little more closely than most. Is he a massive drinker (like, every day) or is his alcohol consumption a little exaggerated? I’ve seen other posts referring to him as having a problem, which seems a cruel assumption when people don’t know the guy.

It looks to me like there’s a ton of boozing on tour (lots of stories from other artists who’ve worked with him confirm they all drink a lot when they’re all together) but L never looks as though he goes on stage p*ssed. He tends to have beer on stage with him but never drinks the whole thing (I kind of feel like it’s a bit of a nervous habit, to have a drink there he can grab but not to be necessarily knocking it back show). I mean he definitely looks like he drinks a lot post show but we never hear of him turning up to meet fans drunk or smelling of booze (and there dont seem to be any major boozy stories about him doing something bad because he was drunk - oh apart from breaking his arm!) so I’m on the fence about whether or not he does have unhealthy drinking habits or not. He seems pretty controlled and put together with the occasional post show drunken/stoned selfie!

What are your thoughts?

I guess I just want a healthy Louis.

Hello anon! Apologies for the hold up on this, I wanted to do a good and thorough job at responding because it is a sensitive topic, for sure. I’m not sure how much you dabble in substances, your age, or your experiences with said substances, so what I say may feel like it’s still too much, but yeah, I hope I can provide you with some reassurance. So, lovely anon, welcome to the show!

TW for alcohol and drug use

Drinking and drug use is heavily glorified, over indulged in, and used as a crutch in the entertainment industry, but often times you only hear the worst of it. You’ve got the stories of overdoses, media analysing stars because they look drunk performing on stage, and artists having a bad/shocking image because they partake in alcohol/drugs depending on who their demographic is (zouis weed video, for example).

It’s often used as a coping mechanism, to just take a bit of the edge off. This doesn’t mean that all artists use it to an extreme extent to where they can’t perform/can’t live without it (like it’s portrayed in A Star is Born), and don’t get me wrong, some do, but from what I’ve seen and my pals and colleagues in the music industry have seen, Louis doesn’t overindulge.

I mean, they’d have a drink (or multiple) for the same reasons as we do, to just… chill out the nervous system, or carry on the energy. Dissipate some anxiety before going on stage and while on stage, calming down your body and mind from the adrenaline afterwards, partying and carrying on a bit more heavily if you’re celebrating. I’ve toured, not to the same extent as L or H, but it becomes quite normalised within people from the artist’s direct team, their direct touring crew, to the promoters, to the artist’s personal friends. It’s SO much work putting on these shows and travelling and when everything goes well, it’s a huge relief and time for a beverage or a joint. It’s just kinda… very normalised, which is also really bad, but Louis, from what I’ve seen and heard, is smart with it.

You’re correct in saying he isn’t drunk on stage, he doesn’t smell like substances (only cigarettes but that’s a whole other story), and only has 1 beer on stage.

His rider is pretty standard too. Artists over order so they don’t need runners to go get them stuff causing a delay. And then they take whatever they don’t finish to the hotel with them or whatever. If you were famous you’d wanna milk the free stuff 100%, so yeah, if that is a cause of concern for some fans seeing the leaked LATAM rider, I can assure you that it doesn’t go that far between the amount of people in his band and crew. It’s just… very normalised, but doesn’t happen every night.

Louis also just loves to dabble in the devils lettuce (im super annoyed that I have a story about this that I can’t share but he’s fucking hilarious) and loves a drink. Alcohol is also super normalised and encouraged in the UK, and here in Australia too. So I see a lot of it and it’s just kind of a thing you… do. It’s more so if you don’t drink, people are like ????? Hahaha.

So growing up in a country where it’s very normal to drink a beer or get pissed, it’s kind of engrained, and then being in an industry where it’s also normalised, it’s 100% natural to lean into it. When I drink on tour, it’s certainly less often than artists, but it’s just a social celebration thing and it’s kind of expected to a degree. In my opinion, and from what I’ve seen of him going on tour, he doesn’t have a problem nor loses any professionalism on or off the stage. He’s very serious about making these shows good and proving himself.

When I was backstage with him at one of these shows, he was in a green room that wasn’t too far from my office. He is so LOUD and hearing his giggle and talking shit was so wild hahaha. I could smell cigarettes, and heard him and his band/crew do a shot before the show, but apart from that I think maybe they had one or two beers in the late arvo together. I don’t clean/service green rooms so I can’t tell you 100% how much they drank, but it was pretty lowkey. I also don’t think he gets stoned before going on stage (I would’ve smelt it). I think it’s purely an after show fun time which also helps him sleep from jet lag/adrenaline etc. like I mentioned earlier.

He eats well, and while not as healthy as H, still filling food and has an appetite (im talking during the day, not the wild amount of munchies he orders post show), so he’s not letting alcohol/nicotine curb his appetite to that point. He did have bottle service at his hotel on a couple of those nights, too. But again, the bigger indulgence seems to be post show. He’s overall still healthy.

From what we’ve seen, it would be very easy to spot if he was going too far. He’s 100% in control and uses it as a small crutch like a lot of us do due to the intense stress of our jobs. Tbh he also just likes a drink and a joint or two and there’s no reason to worry. Hell, I like a drink or a joint or two and im good at my job, know when to stop, and uphold my professionalism to a high standard. There’s truly no reason to worry, he’s just louder about it than the other boys (I’ve heard that Niall gets on it just as much, but we don’t see it).

Now, it may seem like im making excuses for the industry or for Louis or whatever, but truly, it kinda is what it is. There has been a small but significant shift in the industry around drinking and drug use though, and how it affects mental health, which is great. In Australia, we have a resource called “Support Act” which is an organisation that now has a 24/7 wellbeing hotline for artists, industry folks, and crew, and while it has been around since 1997, it is obviously far bigger and more accessible now due to technology etc., and has great resources. The UK similarly has “Music Minds Matter”, and there are multiple around the US. So there is definitely a larger awareness on the toll touring and an industry career can take on you, and I have no doubt that Louis is aware of his limits and has supportive and wonderful people around him.

Wow okay this turned into a whole other thing. Sorry!!! Hahaha. Look, in short, he drinks nowhere near as much as other artists I’ve worked with (8 bottles of top shelf whiskey in one night thanks) and unless we see any cause for concern, im sure he’s okay, 100% in control, and just living his best life as a 32 yr old successful rockstar. Try not to worry!

[bots-and-cons]

Silly ass request but can I get shockwave and knockout with part vampire and or fruit bat reader headcanons lol

A/N: I wasn’t really sure if you meant it as vampire or fruit bat reader, or vampire bat or fruit bat reader. So what I decided to do was make a vampire reader that can turn into a bat. I just felt I would get more out of it this way. And again this is a bit of a bad ask because that’s just a character trait and not a situation, which is a big reason I decided to go with the vampire thing. There's also this old post about a vampire reader

~Knockout~

•Being a vampire, you of course need blood, and that’s not really easy to get sometimes

•Knockout is working on synthesizing it for you, but it’s not really going well

•There are people who willingly give blood to vampires, so you usually just make use of their services

•Anyway, the first time Knockout learned you were a vampire, he wasn’t really sure if you were joking or not, because to his understanding, vampires weren’t real

•Like sure he’d seen the twilight movies, but that didn’t really seem to be you

•You don’t sparkle under sunlight nor do you feed from animals unless you don’t have any other options

•And then there was the tiny thing of you being able to turn into a bat

•Knockout honestly finds that to be the most interesting of your abilities

•It’s probably because of the transformation aspect, but also because WTF?

•You like flying circles around his head, or hanging upside down from his audial fin

•You’re like an earring when you do that

•You don’t deal well with sunlight, as in it will burn you eventually, but it’s not like you explode into a cloud of ash if a sun ray touches you

•But it is incredibly uncomfortable, eventually painful and dangerous, and gives you a wicked headache.

•Knockout has tinted windows, so you can go for a drive even during the day if you want to 

•Knockout isn’t really bothered by the fact that you’re dead, and he’s very glad you’re immortal, because that just means more time with you

~Shockwave~

•Shockwave is of course interested in how your transformation works and the whole “being dead” thing is also interesting to him

•Because your body doesn’t have the normal functions you’d see on a human, no heart beat and no need to breathe

•Your need for blood is also of interest, but he doesn’t seem to be able to figure out why you need it

•You of course tell him it’s some magic reason like life force and stuff, but Shockwave isn’t really satisfied with that answer

•This mech needs something scientific, not some “magical” explanation that doesn’t actually explain anything

•Shockwave is of course interested in how you became this way, but you don’t really know much yourself

•You know you died with vampire blood in your system, but you don’t know who it was that actually turned you

•Shockwave of course speculates that it is some kind of virus or blood disease, but you’re more on the magic side of that debate

•You don’t have to be that careful at the lab, because it doesn’t really matter if you get exposed to some fumes or something, because you don’t breathe

•Of course if something corrosive were to fall on you that wouldn’t end well, but the wounds from smaller drops or spills heal quite quickly

•You turning into a bat is the one thing about you, he doesn’t even have a theory for, because that’s just abnormal

[inbabylontheywept]

Someone had to go first

The first ship that arrived was pretty matter of fact about its fate. The pilot introduced himself as Eric, then told us he was part of the first sublight resupply attempt in modern history. He then gave me and the ground control team his bad news.

“So,” he said. “Without real time telemetry, we weren’t even sure which half of your orbit you’d be in. That’s half a solar system’s worth of wiggle room. Decelerating enough to survive contact with your low orbit would take me two weeks, which, you know, it looks like we don’t have. That means that in order to get the second ship in before you lose orbital control to the Kresh, I’m gonna have to make a sacrificial flyby. Ten to the negative four torr is good enough for a lot of things, but at point-seven c it’s gonna be like sandblasting a soup cracker. Good news is that all the expensive toys are in the next ship, so this really ain’t costing you more than a ship and a pilot.”

“You knew,” I said. If they put the expensive toys in the second ship, they knew that the first was likely a sacrifice. No one smart enough to handle orbital physics would miss that.

“I did,” he replied. “But someone had to go first.”

That was, of course, a lie. No one had to go first. No else had had, at least. When our connection to the FTL network was lost, we’d understood that as the end of our reinforcements. Doing resupplies via sublight was just too risky. It was a testament to Earth that it had accepted the risk and continued anyway.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” I asked. This man had come here to die for us. I wasn’t sure how much I could give, but what I had was his.

“I do have a few requests,” he said. “First up, I need as much high-orbital data as you got. The whole lot.”

I began directing tightbeam resources to him immediately. It was an easy resource to exchange - it wasn’t like there was anyone else out to talk to anymore. When we lost FTL, we found ourselves very, very alone.

“Second,” he said. “Right, I know I’m gonna sound like a princess right now, but I have been stuck in this stupid tin-can for almost two-years now, and I seriously overestimated how much I like synth music. If you have anything that’s analog - I don’t care what kind of string or drum or brass you play, but I’d kill to hear something without a beep in it.”

I jumped my own queue in the tightbeam, and added a short playlist that I ripped from the local web. Human Music, it was labeled. 3 Terabytes. I prayed there was something on it that he’d like.

“And third,” he said. “Third. The uh, next pilot is pretty mad at me. Turns out this will just be one of those things left unfinished. That’s all death really is, I guess - a lot of unfinished things. Let him know that he was right: He is a better pilot than me. But tell him that wouldn’t have made a difference here. Bad luck beats skill, and this luck was shit.”

I promised, and he went silent after that. We could see what data he was analyzing, and the short answer was all of it - everything from atmospheric density to troop positions and his own ship’s blueprints. He knew he had one shot at this, and that if the price wasn’t paid here, it would be paid by whoever came next.

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

Ground control didn’t get a verbal warning that he’d entered atmosphere. Just a ping. A little here-I-am, whispered in the dark.

After that, we could keep track with visuals alone.

He hit the outskirts of the exoatmosphere in his first pass, burning bright enough to be seen with the naked eye. He caught the sparse particles like a kite, trying to shed enough speed to hit actual low orbit. Automatic telemetry updates gave us the grim news for the ship: Thermals were holding up decently, but the ablative was wearing out fast.

The entire descent brought us more than two hour’s reprieve. The Kresh hadn’t expected to see a resupply, but they knew what one meant: Get it now, get it fast, or deal with a stream of new troops. They could buy themselves ten days' time by shooting this one ship down now.

That was an eternity during a siege.

The first loop lowered the speed by about a twentieth of light. The pilot responded by pulling the ship in tighter, trying to preserve more ablative plating by trading off with thermal. Seven fighters were close enough to fire off heat seekers. I don’t think the Kresh had ever anticipated shooting down a craft coming in that hot - the missile's decoy avoidance countermeasure actually made it steer around the thing, chasing down loose pieces of shrapnel. Cooled fragments, still hotter than an engine should be at full blast. The simple mistakes bought it enough time to enter pre-orbit, and the fighters had to stop their pursuit. They weren’t willing to die to stop the ship.

Our man, on the other hand, was already committed to that course.

A third loop followed a fourth. Ablative coating went from 65% integrity, to 30%, to 5%. Telemetry scans were exceptionally detailed - the pilot was making the flyby count. The last message we got from him was simple:

Are you EMP shielded? he asked, not even bothering to encrypt the text stream. He didn’t have time to process more than that.

Yes, we replied. We knew what he was thinking, but it was still a shock to see it. The fusion torch that was driving his ship flared hot, burning through the nozzle and feeding directly into the craft’s deuterium supply. The reaction went super critical, and the resulting neutron pulse set off everything in the ship with a z-count higher than iron. Three continuous seconds of EM interference screamed through the comms as the hulk burned brighter than the sun.

The explosion itself wasn’t powerful enough to reach the Kresh ships still in high orbit, but it made enough broadband radiation to blind both sides LADAR. The man must have been a hell of a pilot - half the shrapnel went down and burned up as it entered the standard atmosphere, sacrificed to move the other half past lagrange. Standard evasion would’ve made the pieces easy to dodge, but with LADAR down, all the Kresh could do was sit still and cower as the wrath of a dead man riddled them full of holes. Our best ace had managed to shoot down seven ships before this before getting shot down himself. The wreckage of the freighter took down six.

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

The second ship came in stealth. One second, we were holding attrition in high orbit, the next, something the size of a small station came ripping through the atmosphere.

It did the same trick as the former - swapping between ablative and thermal loads, coming down at a speed that the Kresh fighters didn’t even try to match. Armies could be built in years, but skills like this took decades.

Telemetry connection was established almost as an afterthought. The way the ship casually ate through ablative armoring made my eyes water, but the pilot himself seemed pretty non-plussed.

“You’re down to fifteen percent coverage. You need-

“What I need,” he said, “is to see the previous ship’s telemetry as soon as I land. And I don't need your help landing it.”

He cut off my chance to reply by flicking the channel off. We watched, and we wrang our hands, but sure enough he came in six minutes later with 4% of the ablative left.

I met him on the landing pad. Under normal circumstances, we’d have needed twenty-four hours for the craft to cool enough to even approach, but we’d had cryo ready just in case. Three tankers of nitrogen, and the loading area, at least, was cool enough to touch. Safety would have to take a backseat to speed here - we needed the supplies fast.

But those both would take a backseat to a promised conversation with the second pilot. He was out of the craft as soon as the air was cool enough to avoid scalding his lungs, picking through the workers to try and find who had the telemetry data.

I found him first. The drive went into his hands, but I needed to keep my promise with Eric before letting go.

“You’re better than the first pilot,” I said, and I wasn’t lying. If the previous flier had been a saint, this one was a god. “But you wouldn’t have been able to manage the landing either. There just wasn’t time.”

“Let me see,” he said, tugging on the drive. “Just let me see. I have to know I couldn’t do it either. I have to know that someone had to die.”

I let go of the drive and he stalked back into his ship. I didn’t follow. I figured I’d pushed things far enough.

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

The second pilot left the ship six hours later. He looked bleary in a way that put me at ease. I’d been up the last six hours directing supplies from the ship. Everything from ground-to-orbit rails to AGI targeting systems was inside - to call it gamechanging would be an understatement. It was good work, but I was tired, and I didn’t want to have to pretend otherwise. Seeing the other man with bags under his eyes meant we could just be frank with each other.

“I couldn’t have managed it,” he said, half-ashamed, half-relieved.

“It just wasn’t possible,” I agreed.

We sat there a moment longer. I didn’t mind the break. This was time well spent.

“Did it hurt?” he asked finally.

“Ablative failed before heating,” I said, which was the technical way of saying no. “He overloaded the reactor before the ship actually broke up and did some kind of slingshot maneuver - hit the main body of the Kresh fleet with half a space station’s worth of shrapnel.”

“Good,” he said.

I knew the signs. The tremor in his cheek, the way his jaw clenched - it wasn’t professional, but I hugged him anyway. Let him have the dignity of choosing to weep instead of having it wrenched out of him.

It was a gift we’d all been given at some point in this war. At least now, there was the hope it could be over soon.

[y3ager]

RODEO NIGHT

— a weekend visit back home leads you to the annual blueforest rodeo, where a certain man in red is competing.

jean k. x black!fem!reader

tags: modern au, cowboy au, fluff.

YOUR LEMONADE JOSTLES in the translucent plastic cup, crushed ice knocking against itself and fresh lemons releasing more of their sour juice as you roll your wrist in a lazy circle. your glossed lips wrap around the bright red tip of the straw, sucking absentmindedly as your dark eyes scan the rodeo arena.

rodeo-goers like yourself file into the stands, boots and tennis shoes clanking against the metal as they seat themselves after purchasing their concessions of cheesy nachos and sour green pickles, excited chatter filling the air around you.

itching to get away from the hustle and bustle of the big city, you decided to escape to your hometown of blueforest, a quaint and quiet town tucked off in the corner of the state. you left soon after graduating high school, a full ride paying you to attend the big university of your dreams. you didn’t really appreciate blueforest’s peacefulness then, but wiser and older you love its predictability, its peacefulness.

the mounted speakers crackle as the host begins to speak, his drawl thick and country as ever. “ladies and gentlemen that was our bull ridin’ event. please give those boys a hand! they put on quite a show and gave our judges a tough time!”

the crowd erupted in cheers and hoots, shoes stomping against the stands. it really was a good show, with the win being determined by mere fractions of seconds.

“with that let’s move on to the next category, yeah?” the announcer’s voice called over the sound system, his voice reverberating all around the ring. “up next we got seven talented boys competing in our tie ropin’ game. a little calf is gonna run out into this ring, and these boys gotta catch ‘im and tie ‘im up. his horse gotta be well trained too, because he better come to a stop once that calf is caught and he better not drag the poor thing along when he’s all tied up! now, let’s give it up for ‘em!”

the crowd cheered in excitement again, the audience giddy for arguably the most popular event in the blueforest rodeo. from your seat in the stands, you could see the men lining up on their horses. their shiny, healthy coats gleamed and glistened in the slowly setting sun. anyone with sense could tell that these were prized beasts, they were huge with healthy fat. they snuffed and nickered quietly as they rode in, their tails swishing as them and their rides waited patiently for their turn.

one particularly gorgeous mare stood close to wear you sat. fitted with some expensive looking tackle, her coat was a black so stunning you could almost see your reflection in it. your eyes roved over her appreciatively, recalling the horses your grandfather used to care for when you were a little girl living in this town. on her behind, J. K. was imprinted into her otherwise blemish free flesh. your eyes finally trailed over to the horse’s tall rider, where his golden eyes stared back into your own.

“oh, i’m so sorry for staring.” you gently raise your hands in surrender, suddenly feeling a bit sheepish as you took in the rider. he was tall, probably a bit over six foot. his light brown was long, a mullet that tickled the back of his neck. “your girl was just so pretty.” the light of the sun catching your glossed up lips as they break into a polite smile. “she’ll do you right.”

the rider smiled back at you, his light eyes flicking to your lips before quickly snapping back up to your brown eyes. “means a lot, hun,” his deep voice rumbled out, his position on his mare shifting a little to get comfortable. “she not quite pretty as you are, though.”

you laugh, your head tilting to side slightly as you study the man before you. “aw, you tell all the girls in the stand that, huh?”

“no, never, ma’am,” he affirms earnestly, his eyes widened slightly as he placed a hand over his heart. you chuckle again at his antics, and his smile widens. “i only say a girl’s pretty if she really is. and you’re downright stunning.”

“mmhmm, i bet.” you feel like some lovesick teenager, giggling and making goo-goo eyes at this man, and right before he’s up to compete, no less! out of the corner of your eye, you see the horses in front of jean marching forward, their thick tails flicking and twitching. “ah, you’re up soon. i won’t distract you any more.”

“ah, no, you’re doin nothin of the sort, ma’am.” the rider shakes his head, his horse pawing lightly at the ground as if she’s eager to start too. his smile shifts into more of a self assured grin, as he straightens up in his saddle. “matter fact i just might do a little better now that i know you got your eyes on me. can’t come off as a fool now, can i?”

the speakers overhead crackle again as you watched as the rider you were flirting unabashedly stepped up the box. “and now for our final contestant for the tie-down, a mr. jean kirschtein! don’t let his pretty-boy looks fool you, this is a born and bred cowboy right here! time to beat, ladies and gentlemen, is 9.3 seconds. can he do it?”

the crowd erupted again cheers and applause, and you find yourself sitting up straighter in your seat to get a really good look at jean and his performance. 9.3 seconds was a pretty tough time to beat.

down in the box, jean shifted anxiously in his leather brown saddle. pre-performance jitters. he was confident enough in his abilities, but knowing that that pretty girl in the stands had her eyes on him made his heart throb in his chest under his dark red shirt. bijou, the black beauty underneath him, pawed at the dirt again, her head bobbing up and down in excitement and making her mane tickle the bright white diamond adorning the front of her head.

“easy there, bijou,” jean hummed, adjusting his grasp on his loop, the rope scratching his calloused hands. “we’re almost up. gon’ give that doll up there a good show, eh?” reaching down, he procured his pigging string and clenched it tight between his teeth. he had to focus. any minute now, that calf would burst from that chute.

once the calf reached had his head start and the barrier was dropped, jean flicked his heel against bijou’s side, the mare shooting out like a hot bullet, kicking up dirt and dust alike in her wake. jean’s rope was like an extension of his arm, easily encircling the calf’s neck. as trained, bijou skidded to a stop immediately, her hooves digging in the brown earth.

jean moved on instinct, his body moving before his brain. his hands were on that calf almost instantly, picking up the small beast and dropping him back first to the ground. holding his legs still, jean yanked the pigging strip out of his mouth. “easy, kid, easy,” he muttered, tying the string around three of the calf’s legs. the second the knot was tightened around his ankles, he flung his hands high into the sky.

his heart thrummed in his ears as he made his way back to bijou, who waited patiently for her master. she huffed, her breath a cloud that cut through the humid arena air, as jean remounted her with a slight grunt. the next 6 seconds were like agony, ticking along slowly as a bead a sweat ran down his hot neck. the calf shifted slightly on the ground, but didn’t break the rope that held his legs together.

“and that’s time!” the announcer cheered. “the time to beat was 9.3 and that there jean kirschtein did an astonishin’ 8.8! 8.8, why, that’s a blueforest record! ladies and gentlemen, give that man a round of applause!”

the crowd broke out in raucous cheers and applause to congratulate jean’s stellar performance. atop bijou, jean waved, his slightly sweaty face broken in half with a wide grin. “y’hear that, bijou? we did amazin’, little lady.” his hand came down to pat her shoulder affectionately as she began to exit the arena. jean’s eyes scanned the stands for any sight of you, that beautiful brown face in a sea of people. when his eyes met yours, his heart thrummed in his chest again and his breath caught in his throat. he smiled sheepishly, raising his hand in greeting before turning forward, guiding bijou along. ‘god,’ he thought to himself. ‘what a woman.’

the rodeo went on as planned. you enjoyed the rest of the categories, but you couldn’t help but crane your neck for another glimpse of jean kirschtein. the name didn’t sound too familiar, he had to have been someone visiting just for the rodeo. if that was the case, your chances of seeing him again were pretty slim. you were anxious, picking at your nails, and you were embarrassed about it. you and that man exchanged about five sentences, and here you were breaking your neck trying to find him! you groaned quietly to yourself. ‘girl, get it together…’

the summer sun is setting by the time the rodeo finishes, the sky painted in a myriad of dark oranges, reds, and purples. you shuffle behind the rest of the audience as they make their way down the stands and out of the arena, trying to accept the fact that you won’t see that jean kirschtein again, at least not anytime soon.

you’re following the rest of the crowd towards the parking lot, narrowly avoiding horse droppings from messing up your boots or the hems of your flared jeans. people are buying last minute treats from the stands as they excitedly reminisce on their favorite scenes from the rodeo.

unbeknownst to you, jean weaves in and out the thicket of the crowd. his light brown eyes are trained hard on the back of your head as he tries to get close to you. as soon as the rodeo was over and he received his award money, he practically threw bijou’s reins into his buddy marco’s hands and ran off, promising that he’d be right back, he had something really important to do.

as he’s sliding past guests, he wishes that you just turn around, look over your shoulder something. he groans internally. he was so busy ogling you he didn’t think to catch your name before he rode up to the box. he clears his throat, his hand held out slightly ahead of him. “ma’am,” he calls softly. ‘cuse me, ma’am!”

you’re not sure what, but the sound of someone calling out behind you makes you turn your head to peek over your shoulder. your eyes widen slightly as you watch jean pace up towards you. “oh, it’s you!” you stop your determined stride, allowing jean to finally catch up. his red shirt has the first three buttons undone, and your eyes can’t help but rove downwards towards his tanned, exposed chest before snapping back up to his face. “you were amazing out there.”

jean laughs breathlessly, giddy to be in your presence again. the crowd mingling around her fades into the background. right now, with the sun setting and the summer breeze gently stirring the around him, it’s only you two in this moment. his grin is slightly crooked as he sticks out his hand towards you. “only because i had my good luck charm out there cheerin’ me on. i’m jean.”

“…,” you greet back, sliding your soft hand into his. his large, calloused fingers easily envelope yours, shaking it firmly but politely. his grip lingers for a bit, sending sparks through your body before he finally pulls away. your lips break away into another grin, one that sends butterflies careening in jean’s stomach. “a pleasure to meet you, sir.” the lilt of your voice, the accent decorating each of your words, its music to jean’s ears.

“pleasure’s all mine, ….” jean slides his slightly sweaty hands in his jean pockets, his thumbs sticking out and rubbing against the stitching. “i hope i’m not bein’ too forward when i say i’d love to take you out while i’m still here in blueforest.” he pulls one hand out and dusts away a dirt spot on his jeans, smiling nervously. “i clean up rather nice, i assure you.”

you laugh again, clear and melodic as a bell. “well,” you muse, tilting your head to the side as if you’re giving it some serious thought. “i am in town for a while. i think i’d enjoy getting to know you more, mr. kirschtein.” you slide your handbag off your shoulder, rooting around for your phone. you quickly procure it, opening it up to your contacts for jean to add himself in. “i think we’d have a grand time.”

jean bristles with excitement, his fingers a blur as he types in his number. “oh, i’ll make sure of it, .... don’t you worry.”

when he’s done you slide your phone back into your bag. “i don’t wanna keep you.” turning on the heel of your brown boots, you wave back at jean, the gold rings adorning your manicured fingers twinkling against each other teasingly. “til then, jean.” you don’t want to come across as too giddy just yet, but deep inside you’re practically bouncing with excitement. a date with him? you might not even be able to sleep later that night.

jean tips his head at you, his own hand raising in farewell. “til then, ….” aw man, just wait til marco heard about this!

*quick lil ting inspired by my visit to the rodeo. if i got anything wrong i apologize. 😖 hope y’all enjoy!

[sophieinwonderland]

I heard there was a new blog for pointing out endogenic "propaganda."

So let me start!

The Future is Plural...

Is a slogan...

It's designed to be repeated ad nauseum...

And it's a bandwagon. Specifically, the inevitable victory type.

I wasn't aware of what that last one was until about a month or so ago, after I had already started using the phrase. But part of the intent of the slogan was always countering the anti-endos' own bandwagon propaganda. The "join the crowd" variant. That is, their idea that they're right because most people don't believe in endogenic systems and siding with them is supporting the majority.

Let me let you in on a secret...

Propaganda isn't bad!

At least, not by definition.

Propaganda has negative connotations.

But it's not inherently bad. And there are plenty of good examples of good propaganda.

You've probably spread a lot. Yes, you, the person reading this.

Propaganda is just a means of persuading large numbers of people of something.

And if you're doing so honestly rather than in a way that is designed to hide or obscure facts, then that's fine.

Some propaganda is bad by its nature.

The Big Lie, for instance, is an example of propaganda that's always deceptive and wrong.

But on the other hand, it's not wrong to repeat a positive slogan for a just cause nor to appeal to fear of legitimate threats to convince people of the truth, or even to use emotions to convince people.

For example:

(Keep in mind that sometimes the fear is justified and people should be afraid.)

I could go on forever.

The Future is Plural is propaganda.

If you look hard enough, you'll see propaganda in any attempt at convincing people to change their minds. Much of the progress we've made for human rights in the past century has been because of the propaganda, whether people realize what they're doing is propaganda or not.

Simply having a blog that points to things and says "this is propaganda" isn't really useful except to play on people's negative connotations with the word propaganda and manipulate them into thinking the message is bad just because it happens to use some sort of propaganda technique.

This would be an example of...

And the specific labeling of it as propaganda could even be considered...

Turns out that you are not, in fact, immune to propaganda.

It's not productive to just point at something and say "this is propaganda" without actually analyzing it any deeper or trying to differentiate between harmful and non-harmful forms of propaganda.

Oh, and The Future is Plural! 😁

[misscammiedawn]

You may have discussed it before, but would you mind speaking a little bit on how you discovered you have DID?

I feel like I have a pretty stable core identity but there have been times under intense stress where I’ve experienced sudden “switches” in my personality. During a particularly bad period for a little over a year there was a time where I distinctly felt like a different person and did things I wouldn’t normally do, and I remember the specific moment where I came back into my body and became “me” again. This doesn’t happen often, but it has happened more than once throughout my life. When I see people talk about plurality I feel a little confused because their identities often seem to have their own names and genders and ages and backstories, and it seems so cut-and-dry.

I know these are all things to discuss with my therapist but I love how you talk about your own experiences. How can you differentiate between DID and other kinds of dissociation?

Thank you for asking, anon! I'm glad you are going to talk to your therapist about it while also doing the reading and reaching out-- heaven knows our own journey within the US mental healthcare system was rocky at best. The latest chapter of Madison/Belladonna is heavily sourced from IRL circumstances both in receiving the diagnosis and the decades long journey in the mental healthcare system to get there.

But to answer more directly-- (as always we are answering from a psychopathology lens for care and treatment, we recognize the beauty of plurality and do not reduce ALL experiences to mental healthcare concerns, we are approaching our own situation and experiences this way as it is how we lived it)

Our journey was guided from the outside. Both therapists and our partner who was able to see these "mood swings" in us were able to gently guide us to water despite our fierce denial and rejection of our situation. What started as "we're fine" turned to "mood swings" turned to "BPD" turned to "---maybe we should read up on OSDD?" Turned to our current therapist telling us over a year ago that we had DID after months of testing and interviewing to determine.

I should also note I likely realized it MULTIPLE times in my history and buried it again and again. I legitimately think that people in my former life knew and either assumed I knew too or worse I had told them and forgot that I told them. It worries me because I cannot ever be certain. I once asked my ex-wife about it after the divorce/diagnosis and she did say it was weird how she had a "different husband" depending on environment and social group. She said she never noticed it during the interactions, but she would always think back and feel that the "me" in any given moment was different from the ones she observed in social/work situations etc.

So like--- even if people notice, sometimes they don't even realize what they're seeing. Honestly I go full No Mask at work even when a male part fronts and no one really bats an eye. I don't think *most* people are as observant as we worry they are.

ANYWAY! Looking back these are the signs that I ignored:

- I not just wrote a consistent journal through every phase of my life (even going as far as to have a "memory list" that I populated "when I felt like it" (<- IE: when a part that associated with the memory was fronting and wanted to type about it) and more importantly I READ it. Often. I sometimes think that the majority of our memories are just imagined versions of what we wrote. That notion is helped by the fact we [used to] stop journaling during times of crisis or delete journal/chat log to prevent us thinking about distressing things.

- I wrote a lot of plural characters in my stories since my teenage years. Kinda like I kept writing female versions of myself? Funny how the Trans and DID acceptance arcs are so dang similar.

- I would emotionally cave in on myself after gatherings, berating myself for how I had acted all evening. Getting deeply upset at how "out of control" I was. We outright AVOID mood altering substances like alcohol or weed.

- When talking about traumatic memories we typically just tell the story rote. It doesn't bother us. We told therapists without batting an eyelid. This is dissociation. We were disconnecting ourselves from our memories. Emotionally distancing ourselves from the experiences.

- In the same vein, when we remember things we imagine things in locations like a 3rd person camera. Not populated. We don't hear or feel or associate. It's just a place and a knowledge. Our whole "context packet" thing where we just understand something without *feeling* it.

- Deleted emails and chatlogs, references to things we don't remember. Discord messages with people we don't remember talking to. It bothers me how many people in our online communities we were actually close to at some stage of our life and then erased. This is specific to us but Dawn has opened many accounts in the hypnokink community and Camden has shut them down and this has happened so many times that we don't even get upset when we find a buried email from 2013 with sign-up to a Yahoo Email account we don't remember having. That sounds dramatic. It's more just. Go into your emails, pull stuff up from 5-10 years ago and just scroll a while. See how much you remember and associate into. It's NORMAL to forget what websites you were browsing a decade ago. It's not normal to have an entire *LIFE* you hid from yourself.

- Sometimes people just... saw/knew us before we did and there were times when they would describe a version of us they weren't supposed to see and we got complete dysphoria over it. Sometimes it as joyful. Someone we love saw Cammie well enough to say when we transitioned that they wanted to see that "windswept girl with the big smile" all of the time. Sometimes it's mortifying, like when someone approaches Camden as if she is Dawn and Camden REJECTED that side of us so heavily that it caused emotional meltdowns and turmoil because Camden didn't WANT to be a sexy confident domme, she could barely see herself as a woman, when people saw the wrong version of us *without permission* it was just a violation that made things WORSE.

- On that note-- meltdowns-- we mentioned the whole "after a social gathering we'd emotionally cave in on ourselves" thing, there was a lot of that. After work we'd get a complete drop from having to be in Manager Mode all day or we'd have a crisis after erotic intimacy encounters because we're sex repulsed ace. The fact is our nervous system was activated during those times, our survival instincts were kicked in and brought the part associated to the surface to DEAL and when they backed off our body was still reacting to the trauma trigger and it would cause us to implode.

All of these things in therapy brought us to the conclusion of BPD. Because therapists be like that at times. A *TRAUMA* therapist gave us some DES-II, MID and ACE tests and worked out what was going on within 3 months.

It took a further 6-9 months with constant support from loved ones who were able to see us as individuals to *ACCEPT* it. This is a denial disorder, it doesn't want to be found. Asking questions, being honest and being accepting is the best way to come to terms with it. I wish it were easier and I wish you luck and support in your journey. Our inbox is always open!

You're not alone <3

[wizardofrozz]

Ghosts of Kamino

CT-2697 "Sawbones", Alpha-23 "Fang", mention of CT-9181 "Aiden", CT-6116 "Kix", CT-7007 "Jax", and CT-2525 "Quarter"

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: past violence, past medical procedures, angst, mention of war

A/N: I've been taken over by OC brainrot and needed to get this angst about Sawbones out of my system. There isn't any in depth detail about what happened to Saw on Kamino (that can be found here xx if you're interested) but this fic is a little on the heavy side.

Fang and Aiden are also two of my clone OCs while Jax and Quarter belong to @hetalianskywalker ❤️

Dividers were made by me 🖤

White. It's all there is to see in every direction for miles. Sawbones spent so many years walking these halls, feeling so small in comparison. Little '97 following in formation with his brothers as they went about their day-to-day. Now, Sawbones walks through the halls of Kamino: empty, pristine, cold. If only that was how he felt inside but the long-necks made sure that wouldn't be the case.

Saw is scheduled for a training class to update his medical license but he has a few hours to kill; the last thing he wants to do on Kamino. Moving on autopilot, he doesn't even realize where he's going until he stops in front of a familiar door. The only reason he recognizes it is because of the deep gash in the door frame. Saw smiles to himself, remembering when one of the other batches that shared a space with them first got to practice with long weapons. The memory turns sour just as quickly when he remembers what followed. 

Saw lets the door slide open, pointedly not looking at the door frame as he steps inside. Most of the cadet classes are still in session, meaning the pods stretching toward the ceiling should be empty. He still remembers where their five pods are and comes to a stop in front of the tower they called home for so long. Tilting his head back he recites their numbers as his eyes follow the pods from floor to ceiling. 

7007

2525

6116

2697

9181

The echo of soft, uncontrollable laughter fills his mind and Saw closes his eyes. Aiden's laugh used to drive the other cadets nuts but what he wouldn't give to hear his little brother laugh like that again. Or to hear Kix and Jax plotting to get into trouble. Quarter's unimpressed look when they did get in trouble. Maker, he misses his brothers. 

Letting his eyes drift open, Saw repositions his helmet on his hip and tries to fight off the inevitable. While this room holds good memories, bad memories aren't far behind. It's the paradox that is Sawbones. 

Aiden's laughter lingers here just like Saw's agonizing screams. His batch aren't the only ones scarred by his pain and a part of him is glad he hasn't come across the other batches they shared this space with. The other cadets who woke up to his hoarse sobs and his brothers' desperate attempts at soothing him. Saw didn't know what it was like when he was stuck in the medbay for days on end but he can imagine the rest of his batch weren't the most pleasant to be around. 

His throat feels tight, ash sitting on his tongue as his thoughts drift to the medical suite nearby. The room he spent long days and even longer nights wasting away in. So much of it is muddled in his head; oxygen masks, sickly gray skin covering long, cold fingers. And pain. Don't forget the pain. 

The back of Saw's neck stings and he quickly covers it, trying to rub away the feeling. It doesn't work, not really, and he almost expects to turn around to find a long-neck standing over him, empty syringe in their hand. 

There's no one there. Just the ghosts that haunt him even when he's lightyears away. They just seem more corporeal on Kamino, the home of Saw's worst nightmares.

The air feels too still without young voices echoing through the room and it starts to feel suffocating. The ringing in his ears sends a chill down his spine and he quickly turns to leave just as the door shoots open. 

Saw stumbles back a step. Relief floods his system seconds later when a familiar set of armor stands in the doorway, blue paint less pristine than the last time he saw it. The Alpha lifts his helmet off, shaking a few stray curls out of his face, and even years later, Fang looks the same as when Saw was a kid. 

There are a few more wrinkles around his eyes but at the end of the day, this is still his big brother. He's nearly as tall as Fang now but he still feels small even if he doesn't have to look up anymore. But there's the ghost of a smile on the Alpha's face, chasing some of the storm clouds away from Saw's mind. The same way Fang's presence did for so many years. 

"Thought I'd find ya here," Fang says, although he doesn't step into the room. His eyes drift around the space, looking up toward the ceiling before eventually lingering on Saw's face, and Fang's smile grows the slightest bit. 

"Been a long time since I've been in here," Saw notes, looking over his shoulder toward the tower of bunks. Not long enough if he's honest. 

"Surprised you wanted to see it again," Fang mumbles, crossing his arms, helmet dangling from one hand. 

"I didn't," Saw whispers, staring up at his old bunk. "I never wanted to come back here. Even in a body bag." 

"Why did you?" 

That made Saw pause, twisting back around to look at his older brother, the man who kept him as safe as he could and raised him along with the rest of his batch to be the men they are today. Why did he come back here?

The memory of Aiden and Jax's uncontrollable laughter comes back to him and the corner of Saw's mouth twitches. The smile isn't happy per se, more...forlorn. 

"Miss 'em. All of 'em. Can't even remember the last time I saw Kix without a blue hue." The words start spilling out and in the back of his mind, he curses Fang's uncanny ability to get him to spill his guts. "Guess I wanted to remember a time we were all together." 

"I know," Fang says, his voice soft just like when Saw was a kid, scared out of his mind. It's a comfort he's missed too. 

"Miss you too," Saw admits, dropping his eyes to the floor. 

A hand gently grabs the left side of his breastplate and Saw doesn't fight it when he's pulled through the threshold.

The hallways are bright, too bright, compared to the barracks, and Saw automatically squints. Fang throws an arm around his shoulders, a harder maneuver than the last time Fang did it years ago, and it brings a smile to Saw's face. 

"Come on, I know someone else who'd like to see your ugly ass." 

The insult shocks a laugh out of Saw and without thinking, he wraps his arm around Fang's waist, letting the older clone drag him down the hall. 

"You look just like me," Saw retorts, fighting off another laugh.

"My hair's better." 

Saw laughs again, his body bowing forward slightly but he catches the grin in Fang's face. 

The ghosts of his past still linger, waiting to drag Saw back to the brink of despair. That'll never change but that doesn't mean he's stranded alone. His brothers, younger and older, will always pull him back. They've done it his entire life and he knows they'll do it for the rest of their lives. 

And Saw loves them all a little more every time.

taglist:

@a-single-tulip @wings-and-beskar @anxiouspineapple99 @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit

@moonlightwarriorqueen @msmeredithrose @starrylothcat @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness

@trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @hetalianskywalker @sev-on-kamino @dickarchivist

@bankseys-rat @dukeoftheblackstar

[aleprouswitch]

I wanted to make a post about this topic a while back, but I realized it was something I needed to mull over a bit before I shared my own opinion.

During System of a Down's set at Sick New World 2024, Daron Malakian said something to the effect of "To all the protesters on college campuses - where was your outrage when the babies of Artsakh were crying?". His words have polarized a lot of SOAD fans and frankly, they've polarized me a bit, too.

On one hand, I think that Daron does have a good point. At least here in the United States, there's a tendency for Leftist activists to turn certain human rights abuses into huge movements for change while ignoring many others that are very similar. I've seen posts from friends of color, especially black friends, about how the crises in Sudan, the Congo, etc. aren't getting the same attention en masse.

When it comes to Armenians especially, so many people don't even know about the genocide in 1915, little on what's happening to Armenians now in Artsakh. I completely get the frustration that some Armenians are feeling when it comes to some activist groups not giving enough attention to what is essentially the destruction of native Armenian land and the mass murders that have come with it.

At the same time though, Daron is kind of missing out on something very important - there's a sizable Armenian population in Palestine and they too have been targeting in state-sponsored attacks. Armenians and Palestinians often see their struggles to survive as the same struggle - take note of the poem "Who Remembers the Armenians?" by Palestinian poet Najwan Darwish, and the responding poem "Who Remembers the Palestinians" by Armenian poet Sophia Armen.

In other words, this really doesn't need to be turned into an "us vs. them" sort of situation. It's important to remind those of us stateside that atrocities are happening all over the world and not in just one region, but don't just disregard the efforts of student protesters all over the country who are fighting for justice.