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mywitchyblog · 6 months ago

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Reacting Answering and debunking Kristine s take on shifting (girl who talked about genetics and shifting)

Let’s clear the air, babes. 💅✨"

So, I know some of y’all might have stumbled across that TikTok from @sectumsempress (Christine), and if you haven’t yet, let me sum it up: it’s a video where she dives into her takes on shifting—some thought-provoking, some solid, and others… well, let’s just say they need a little rethinking.

Now, before anyone panics or starts spiraling, let me reassure you: you’re not doing anything wrong. Shifting is a personal journey, and one person’s opinions (even if they’re loud and sassy) don’t define the truth. If you’re feeling overwhelmed by her claims, breathe, because I’ve got you.

I’m here to break down her points one by one: where she’s spot on, where she’s almost there, and where she’s just plain off the mark. This isn’t about dragging anyone—it’s about keeping the shifting community informed, confident, and empowered.

Remember, babe: shifting is real, it’s valid, and you are more than capable of mastering it. Let’s dive into this post with clarity, sass, and a sprinkle of tough love. We’re addressing it all, and we’re doing it together. 💖✨

Taglist :

1: "I don't know what it is, but I do think there is a genetic component to who can and cannot shift."

Oh, honey. Let me stop you right there. Reality shifting is about consciousness, not chromosomes. No one’s out here unlocking DRs with their DNA. If shifting were genetic, then wouldn’t identical twins always have the same shifting abilities? Newsflash: they don’t. Shifting is deeply personal—it’s shaped by belief systems, practice, and the state of your subconscious mind.

Let’s talk logic:

If shifting were genetic, why do people from all backgrounds, ages, and cultures shift successfully?

If genes dictated shifting ability, how do beginners with no spiritual training manage to shift while seasoned practitioners struggle sometimes?

This "genetic component" claim feels like an excuse to gatekeep shifting behind a veil of exclusivity. You don’t need elite DNA—you need clarity, discipline, and faith in your abilities. What you’re really saying here is “I’m struggling and need something to blame.” Blame your approach, babe, not your ancestors. Shifting doesn’t care about your family tree; it cares about your mindset. 🧬✨

2: "Out of everyone who can shift, most of them shouldn't, including myself when I first started."

Now this is projection if I’ve ever seen it. Just because you weren’t ready when you started doesn’t mean the rest of the community isn’t. People shift for their own reasons, whether it’s healing, exploration, fun, or growth. Who are you to decide who should and shouldn’t explore their consciousness?

Let’s unpack this:

Shifting is a skill, and like any skill, it comes with a learning curve. Mistakes and missteps are part of the process. No one is perfect at it from the jump, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t try.

This idea of “most people shouldn’t shift” reeks of elitism. What’s the criteria? Who makes the rules? Oh wait—you don’t, because this is an individual journey.

And let’s not ignore the thinly veiled guilt here. “Including myself when I first started” screams “I made mistakes, so no one else should try.” No, sis, you made mistakes so others can learn and grow. Let people figure it out for themselves—your experience isn’t universal. Stay humble. 💁‍♀️✨

3: "If shifting is affecting your current reality to the point where your mental health plummets and you can't function, the cost is too high. This is also at past me."

Okay, valid point. For once, we’re aligned—but let’s add nuance. Shifting itself isn’t the villain here. The problem arises when someone uses shifting as an escape or obsesses over their DR to the detriment of their CR.

Here’s the truth:

Shifting works best when you’re grounded in your CR. Neglecting your CR responsibilities, ignoring self-care, or avoiding real-life problems will inevitably lead to burnout. Your CR self is the foundation for all your realities. If you’re not taking care of yourself here, it’s going to show up in your DR too.

Balance is key. Shifting can be an incredible tool for healing and self-discovery, but it’s not a replacement for addressing your mental health or real-life challenges.

Let’s also call out this “past me” comment. You’re shading yourself for your mistakes, which is fair, but don’t let that self-criticism turn into fear-mongering for others. Instead of saying “the cost is too high,” try saying, “Learn from my mistakes and prioritize your well-being.” That’s the energy we need. 🧠✨

4: "I think there will come a time when shifting is able to be explained scientifically."

Now we’re getting somewhere. Yes, science may eventually catch up, but let’s not act like shifting is waiting for permission to exist. Just because something isn’t fully understood doesn’t mean it’s invalid. Dreams weren’t “real” until REM sleep was discovered. Electricity wasn’t harnessed until the right tools were developed. Shifting is the same—it’s ahead of its time.

Here’s the tea:

Quantum physics already hints at the nature of reality being far more fluid and observer-dependent than we once thought. Concepts like the observer effect and parallel universes align with what shifters describe.

Neurology is just scratching the surface of how visualization and intention shape the brain. Lucid dreaming, meditation, and neuroplasticity all prove that the mind is capable of extraordinary things.

The fact that shifting isn’t yet measurable doesn’t diminish its validity. Science is a tool, not a dictator of truth. Shifting is real now, and science will catch up later. Don’t let the lack of a peer-reviewed study make you doubt your own experiences. 🔬✨

5: "The majority of people on Shiftok in 2020 were lying."

You’re not wrong, but let’s dig deeper. Were there liars? Absolutely. TikTok’s algorithm rewards drama, and fake success stories grabbed attention. But dismissing the entire Shiftok community as liars is lazy and reductive.

Here’s what really happened:

Many people on Shiftok were genuine shifters sharing their tips and experiences. The problem was that TikTok favored sensationalism over authenticity. Real advice got buried under Hogwarts weddings and Draco stans claiming they had seven kids in one night. 🐍✨

The fake stories weren’t malicious—they were clout-chasing. People wanted likes, and exaggerating their experiences worked.

But let’s not let the liars overshadow the genuine shifters who were out there putting in the work. Misinformation thrived because of the platform, not because everyone was lying. Don’t throw out the whole community just because some people were playing the algorithm. 🌟✨

6: "Way more people outside of the internet shift than we think they do, and most of them are adults."

This one is surprisingly solid, but let’s add some layers. Shifting has been around forever—it’s not a TikTok invention. People have been exploring alternate realities under different names, like astral projection, lucid dreaming, and deep meditation, for centuries. These practices have roots in spiritual traditions across cultures, often led by—you guessed it—adults.

Why don’t we hear more about these adults?

They’re less likely to post about it online because they don’t care about clout or “DR trends.”

Many adults see shifting as a private, sacred practice rather than something to flex.

But here’s where the take falters: don’t dismiss teens and younger people just because they’re more visible online. Shifting transcends age. The internet didn’t create shifting; it just gave teens a platform to talk about it. And let’s not act like adults are automatically better at it—age doesn’t guarantee discipline or skill, hun. Stop pitting age groups against each other. Shifting is for everyone, whether you’re 15 or 50. 🌌✨

7: "Nine out of ten times, teenagers do not have the emotional maturity or mental capacity to handle a DR. I know I sure wouldn't have been able to."

Okay, this one SCREAMS projection. Just because you weren’t ready doesn’t mean an entire generation of teenagers isn’t. Emotional maturity isn’t an age—it’s a mindset. While it’s true that some teens might struggle with the responsibilities or intensity of a DR, plenty of them are capable of handling it.

Here’s what you’re missing:

Shifting is deeply personal. One teen’s DR might be about living in Hogwarts, while another’s might be about exploring their self-worth or healing trauma. What they can handle depends on their intent and preparation—not their birth year.

This take also assumes that adults magically have their lives together. Let’s be real—plenty of adults couldn’t handle a DR either. Emotional maturity is learned through experience, not something that just arrives with age.

Instead of writing off teenagers as too immature, why not empower them to approach shifting responsibly? Help them understand the importance of grounding techniques, journaling, and balancing their CR. Support them instead of gatekeeping, babe. Growth comes from guidance, not judgment. 🖤✨

8: "Shifting to live as a child when you are an adult is wrong."

Oh, let’s unpack this nonsense, because the judgment here is LOUD and unnecessary. Shifting to live as a child isn’t inherently “wrong”—it’s all about intent. People shift to younger ages for all kinds of valid reasons:

Healing: Someone who had a traumatic childhood might shift to experience the innocence and joy they missed out on. That’s not “wrong”—it’s deeply therapeutic.

Nostalgia: Revisiting a simpler time in life can be comforting and grounding.

Where’s the harm if someone is revisiting their childhood for healing or self-discovery? The only time this could be “wrong” is if someone’s doing it for malicious, fetishistic, or exploitative reasons. And let’s be clear—that’s an issue with the person’s intent, not the act of shifting itself.

This take reeks of moral grandstanding. If you don’t understand why someone might shift to a younger age, maybe try asking instead of judging. People’s reasons for shifting are complex and personal. Stay in your lane and let them live. 🍼✨

9: "Shifting to live as an adult when you are a child is wrong."

And here comes the hypocrisy. Why is shifting to an adult age suddenly a problem? If a teenager shifts to experience independence, maturity, or even just to see what adulthood is like, how is that “wrong”?

Let’s break it down:

Exploring independence: Teens often feel powerless in their CR lives. Shifting to adulthood can give them a sense of control or help them explore who they want to be.

Learning experiences: Shifting to an adult DR doesn’t mean teens are out here taking real-world risks. It’s an internal journey. They’re not suddenly going to have access to bank accounts or responsibilities in their CR.

The issue isn’t teens shifting to adult ages—it’s how they approach adult themes. If a teen shifts irresponsibly or romanticizes harmful aspects of adulthood, that’s a learning opportunity, not a reason to gatekeep. Let them explore and grow. The real world isn’t handing out “mature enough” badges; why should shifting? 🔑✨

10: "Shifting is a perception of reality that takes place inside your own mind, and this does not make it any less real."

Babe, what even IS this take? Calling shifting “a perception of reality inside your own mind” is the laziest oversimplification. It’s like saying the ocean is just “wet stuff” or the universe is just “space.” Shifting is SO much more than a mental exercise.

Here’s why this is bullshit:

Shifters report full sensory immersion in their DRs—smells, tastes, and even physical sensations. That’s not just perception; that’s a relocation of awareness.

Many shifters describe gaining knowledge or skills in their DRs that they couldn’t have fabricated in their CR minds. That’s evidence of connection to a separate reality, not just “perception.”

Saying it’s all in your head is reductive and dismissive. Shifting isn’t just a daydream or lucid dream—it’s a deliberate movement of consciousness.

By this logic, everything you experience is just “perception,” and therefore not real. Do better. Shifting is as real as the CR you’re reading this in—it’s just on a different frequency. 🌀✨

11: "Therefore, perma shifting is impossible."

Who told you this? Perma shifting isn’t just possible—it’s the logical extension of what shifting already is. If infinite realities exist and your consciousness can relocate temporarily, what exactly is stopping it from staying permanently?

Let’s debunk this thoroughly:

Shifting doesn’t require you to return to your CR. You’re not tethered here by some metaphysical leash. If you can spend weeks in a DR, why not forever?

This take assumes that your CR body is what keeps you “alive.” Wrong. Your consciousness is the seat of your existence, not the meat suit you’re wearing in your CR.

The only barrier to perma shifting is fear or lack of belief. People who say it’s impossible are projecting their own limitations. If shifting is real, so is perma shifting. Stop trying to box people into your doubts. Perma shifters are already out there living their best DR lives while you’re here arguing with yourself. 🖤✨

12: "Your body will not get up and do things while you're shifting."

Okay, I’ll give credit where it’s due—this one is spot on. Your CR body doesn’t suddenly start sleepwalking or doing the cha-cha while you’re in your DR. Shifting doesn’t override your physical body’s autopilot mode. Instead, your CR body stays in a deep state of rest, like sleeping or meditating.

Here’s why this is accurate:

Shifting is a relocation of consciousness, not physical movement. Your awareness moves to your DR, while your CR body stays put. It’s like putting your computer on sleep mode—it’s still there, just inactive.

If your CR body did start moving, you’d be blending realities, which isn’t how shifting works. Shifting creates a clear boundary between where your consciousness is and where your body remains.

That said, your CR body can react slightly to your DR state—like twitching or deepened breathing—but it’s not going to hop up and do laundry. So yes, you’re right, but don’t act like this is revolutionary knowledge. Most people know this already. Your body stays put while your mind does the exploring. 🛏️✨

13: "Most people treat scripting and shifting as a choose-your-own-path fanfic instead of reality."

This one’s got layers, and I’m ready to dig in. First of all, who cares if someone treats scripting like fanfic? Scripting is a personal tool, and people can approach it however they like. But let’s get real: scripting is way more than fanfiction.

Here’s the nuance:

Scripting is a powerful manifestation tool. It sets clear intentions for what you want to experience in your DR. Treating it like a story doesn’t make it any less valid. If imagining yourself as the protagonist in a beautifully detailed “fanfic” helps you focus, then it’s working, period.

Not everyone scripts for the same reasons. Some people use it to map out specific DR details, while others treat it as a loose guide. Neither approach is wrong—it’s about what works for YOU.

Also, let’s not act like scripting takes away from the “reality” of shifting. Scripting isn’t fake—it’s preparation. The moment you shift, what you scripted becomes as real as your CR. So stop invalidating people’s methods just because you don’t like the format. 💁‍♀️✨

14: "Putting your DR on a pedestal makes it harder to get to."

Okay, now we’re talking sense. This take is 100% accurate, and it’s a trap that a lot of shifters fall into. When you treat your DR like it’s some magical, unattainable place, you create mental resistance that makes shifting harder.

Here’s why this is true:

Your subconscious mind follows your beliefs. If you see your DR as something distant or godlike, your subconscious will act accordingly. It’ll say, “Oh, we’re not worthy yet? Cool, let’s not shift.”

When you overhype your DR, you’re also adding unnecessary pressure. Shifting becomes less about the journey and more about the desperation to “make it happen.” That desperation creates doubt, which blocks your progress.

The trick? Normalize your DR. Think of it as a natural extension of your existence, not some impossible dream. It’s real, attainable, and waiting for you—you just have to stop psyching yourself out. DRs are exciting, but they’re not fairy tales. Treat them as real, and your subconscious will follow suit. ✨

15: "I'm really excited about going to my DR in the same way that I'm really excited about going to a theme park or to a museum. Something very exciting but also very real and attainable."

Another solid take—this is exactly the right mindset. Approaching your DR with excitement, but without putting it on a pedestal, is the sweet spot for successful shifting. It’s the energy of anticipation, not desperation, that aligns your mind with your destination.

Here’s why this works:

Excitement fuels intention. When you’re genuinely excited about shifting, your subconscious is more likely to cooperate because it associates your DR with positive emotions.

Seeing your DR as “real and attainable” grounds your belief system. If you treat it like a natural part of your reality, your mind will perceive it as such.

This take is also a great reminder that shifting is a journey, not a chore. Approach it with the same joy you’d have for any adventure, and the process becomes smoother. Your DR isn’t some untouchable fantasy—it’s a place you can visit with the right mindset. Theme park energy, but make it metaphysical. 🎢✨

16: "I'm not excited about going to my DR like some heavenly dream world. That's just unrealistic."

Thank you for saying this, because it’s time to drag the “heavenly DR” myth. DRs aren’t utopias, and expecting them to be perfect sets you up for disappointment. Shifting is about experiencing another reality, not escaping to some flawless paradise.

Here’s the tea:

Every DR has challenges. Just like CR, your DR will have ups and downs. That doesn’t make it any less real or amazing—it just makes it dynamic and authentic.

Thinking of your DR as a “heavenly dream world” adds unnecessary pressure. When you finally shift and realize your DR isn’t perfect, you risk feeling disillusioned or disappointed.

The truth? Your DR is real, but it’s not going to solve all your problems or fulfill all your fantasies. Treat it as an exciting new chapter, not a flawless escape. The more grounded your expectations, the more satisfying your experience will be. ✨

17: "Judging people for what they do in their DR based on CR standards is usually wrong."

Finally, a take that makes sense! This is the kind of nuance we need in the shifting community. DRs operate on their own rules, and trying to apply CR standards to them is like judging a fish for not climbing a tree.

Here’s why this is on point:

Different realities, different rules. What might be morally or socially acceptable in CR could be completely irrelevant in a DR. People shift to explore and experience, not to replicate the exact conditions of CR.

Judging others is counterproductive. Shifting is deeply personal. Someone’s DR journey might be about exploring sides of themselves that they suppress in CR, and that’s valid. As long as they’re not harming others, it’s not your business.

Let’s be clear, though: this doesn’t excuse harmful behavior in DRs. If someone’s intentionally scripting unethical or damaging scenarios, that’s a different conversation. But for the most part, let people live and shift without your CR morality checklist. 🌀✨

18: "Every single thing you script has far-reaching consequences that you cannot imagine until you get there. If you script that you can't sweat or can't grow body hair, you'll show up in your DR with some medical condition that causes those things."

Girl, when we thought there was progress... you do THIS?! Let’s break it down, because this take is serving a mix of paranoia and half-truths, and I’m disappointed.

Yes, scripting can shape your DR reality, but this idea that every single detail comes with “far-reaching consequences” is dramatic and misleading.

Scripting sets intentions. If you script that you don’t sweat, your DR might interpret that literally, but it doesn’t mean you’re suddenly cursed with a medical condition. Your DR adapts to your intentions, not in some twisted monkey’s paw way, but in alignment with your desires.

This take leans heavily into fear-mongering. It’s important to script mindfully, but implying that a poorly worded script will backfire catastrophically is unnecessary drama.

Let’s not scare people into thinking shifting is a minefield of unintended consequences. Scripting is flexible and intuitive. If you don’t like something in your DR, you can shift back and adjust. Chill, girl—it’s not that deep. 😒✨

19: "Things in reality don't just fucking happen for no reason."

This is facts, but let’s unpack it fully. Whether it’s CR or DR, reality operates on cause and effect. Your actions, intentions, and beliefs shape your experience.

Here’s the tea:

In shifting, your subconscious mind plays a huge role. Nothing “just happens.” If you experience something unexpected in your DR, it’s often tied to unintentional thoughts, emotions, or residual CR beliefs.

This take is a good reminder to take responsibility for your scripting and intentions. You are the architect of your DR. If something goes awry, it’s not because the universe is out to get you—it’s because of how you set the framework.

That said, let’s not act like every single thing needs to be micromanaged. Part of the fun of shifting is letting your DR surprise you. Control the big stuff, but leave room for spontaneity. Your DR doesn’t need to feel like a sterile checklist. ✨

20: "Scripting yourself a dysfunctional abusive family on purpose is fucked up."

YES, babe, say it louder for the people in the back! This is a take I fully agree with. If you’re intentionally scripting harmful or abusive dynamics into your DR, you need to seriously reflect on why.

Here’s why this is so problematic:

Your DR is a space for growth, healing, and exploration. Why would you willingly bring toxicity into it? If you want to explore complex relationships, that’s fine, but scripting outright abuse is deeply concerning.

This kind of scripting raises ethical red flags. Even if DR characters are technically constructs, the energy and intent behind scripting abuse can reflect unresolved issues or harmful tendencies.

Shifting is a powerful tool—don’t misuse it by scripting negativity for the sake of drama. If you’re scripting toxic situations, ask yourself what you’re really seeking. Your DR should uplift you, not drag you into unnecessary harm. Do better. 🖤✨

Let’s wrap this up with love and clarity, babes. 💖✨"

So, after unpacking @sectumsempress’s (Christine’s) points, here’s the bottom line: Shifting is YOUR journey. Some of her takes were valid, others were shaky, and a few? Well, they needed a reality check. But hey, that’s the beauty of conversations like these—it gives us a chance to reflect, grow, and strengthen our understanding of shifting.

Remember:

Shifting is deeply personal. What works for one person might not work for you, and that’s okay.

Misinformation doesn’t define you. Always question, explore, and trust your intuition.

You are capable, worthy, and enough. Whether you’re scripting, visualizing, or just starting out, your DR is closer than you think.

At the end of the day, the shifting community thrives when we support, uplift, and educate each other. So let’s keep pushing forward with confidence, kindness, and a whole lot of sass. Your reality is yours to create—don’t let anyone dim that light. 💅✨

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sebstanaddict · 2 months ago

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Bucky Barnes : Domestic Menace

A Day in The Life of Congressman Bucky Barnes

A/N : Ever wonder what a domestic life with Bucky is like? Well.. celebrating again the upcoming release of Thunderbolts, and inspired by the trailer, I have come up with another one shot featuring Congressman Bucky Barnes. This time doing nothing but domestic stuff which should be boring but when it comes to Bucky Barnes, it becomes hilarious and entertaining XD

Warning : nothing.. just some physical and possibly slightly emotional pain for Bucky but in an entirely different way XD

Word count : 2.4k

Read more Bucky Barnes and Sebastian Stan one shots here.

Check out my master list here for more Bucky and Sebastian stories.

---

Bucky Barnes : Domestic Menace

A Day in the Life of Congressman Bucky Barnes

If you had told James Buchanan Barnes, a hundred-something ex-assassin, part-time Avenger, and full-time national security risk, that he’d one day be a congressman, he probably would've laughed in your face.

Or grunted. He did a lot of grunting back then.

But life has a funny way of handing you things you didn’t ask for - like responsibility, public office, or a very aggressive HOA newsletter from your new neighborhood.

He’d left the world of espionage behind. No more secret missions. No more assassinations. Just town halls, angry emails about potholes, and neighborhood kids who asked if he knew Captain America like he was a Pokemon card.

Sundays, at least, were his.

Just a chill, domestic Sunday. No suits. No voters. No one watching

And so, it started like any other Sunday.

The sun was out. The birds were singing. Somewhere in the neighborhood, someone was mowing their lawn entirely too early, probably in the hopes of being assassinated by an ex-assassin turned congressman with a hangover and a questionable moral compass.

Bucky Barnes groaned, his face still buried in a pillow. He could already tell this day was going to be too long for someone who hadn’t even opened both eyes yet.

His bare feet found the floor reluctantly. He shuffled to the bathroom like Frankenstein’s monster after leg day, scratched the side of his scruffy jaw, and glanced in the mirror.

Hair? Chaotic.

Eyes? Bloodshot.

Metal arm? Making a weird clicking sound he chose to ignore.

Mental state? Debatable.

He blinked at his reflection. “Okay,” he muttered. “We’re gonna be a functional adult today.”

—

Step 1: Coffee. Or Die.

The coffee machine in his kitchen sat smug and futuristic on the counter, mocking him with its glowing buttons and unnecessary levels of digital sass. It looked like it had been designed by Tony Stark just to spite him.

“How hard could this be?” he asked aloud, hitting a button labeled Brew Now.

The machine beeped angrily. He jabbed another. Something hissed. A nozzle moved. He jumped back like it had tried to bite him.

After a long moment of blinking lights and robotic whirring, coffee actually came out. Real, brown, hot coffee.

He took a cautious sip.

Promptly scalded his entire tongue.

He glared into the mug like it had betrayed him on a molecular level. “Okay. We’re awake now.”

—

Step 2: Yoga for Idiots and Former Killers

In theory, yoga sounded relaxing. Stretching. Deep breathing. Serenity. All things a war hero in Congress desperately needed.

He rolled out a mat in the living room, started a video titled “Gentle Beginner Yoga for Stiff People and the Chronically Tense”, and tried to copy the perky instructor who chirped things like “Open your heart to the universe!”

Bucky tried to open his heart. Ended up pulling his shoulder.

The “Happy Baby” pose made him feel like a cursed beetle. His legs wobbled. His arm thunked. He ended up on his back, blinking at the ceiling, wondering how far one had to spiral before they pulled a hamstring during child’s pose.

“This is fine,” he grunted. “I fought Thanos. I can handle this.”

The video chirped, “Breathe through the discomfort!”

“Lady, I’ve been doing that since 1943.”

—

Step 3: Laundry (a Shakespearean Tragedy in Three Cycles)

Laundry was next. That seemed safe.

He grabbed every piece of clothing in his hamper - dark socks, white shirts, that suspiciously patriotic boxer brief Sam had gifted him “for morale,” and one very expensive, very soft wool sweater - and shoved it all into the machine.

He paused.

Stared at a red hoodie sitting on top of the pile like a ticking time bomb.

“Whatever,” he muttered, and threw it in.

He hunted for detergent and found a bottle labeled “Lemon Shine Ultra Dish Foam.”

He squinted. “Soap is soap,” he declared with unwarranted confidence, and dumped it in.

The washer started. He walked away.

Five minutes later, bubbles were spilling out like the machine had rabies.

He stood in the hallway, staring at the soapy tide rising slowly across his floor. “This is how I die. Drowned in lemon-scented shame.”

But the true horror hadn’t revealed itself yet.

When the cycle ended, he opened the washer door and immediately knew he had done something irreversible.

Everything was pink.

Bright, shameful, Valentine’s-Day pink.

White shirts? Pink.

Socks? Pink.

Underwear? Flamingo-core.

And his sweater -

He held it up slowly. It had shrunk to a size that might fit a squirrel. Maybe. If the squirrel was shredded.

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no…”

He tugged it over his head anyway.

It clung to his torso like it had personal beef with him, squeezing his ribs like a blood pressure cuff and revealing just enough skin to make him uncomfortable.

He peeled it off with a grunt and hurled it into a corner.

“That’s what I get for trying to self-care.”

—

Step 4: Cleaning With Unchecked Enthusiasm

Bucky turned on his playlist - heavy on Springsteen and vaguely dramatic film scores - and committed to the one task he could do: cleaning.

Wearing only his underpants, socks, white tank top and a white button down shirt unbuttoned (which he told himself was for comfort and not for showing off), he glided across the floor like a low-budget version of Tom Cruise in Risky Business.

He vacuumed under the couch. Under the dining table. He vacuumed with vengeance.

Then came the showstopper: he lifted the fridge.

Straight up.

With one arm.

Just to stare down the dust bunnies living in the shadows like they owed him rent.

“You mess with the best,” he growled, sucking them into the vacuum. “You get evicted.”

He flexed his vibranium arm with all the subtlety of a gym bro in an empty mirror.

Then immediately regretted it.

Maybe I should livestream this,” he thought. “Get that TikTok clout. Congressman Cleans.”

He made a note to never say “clout” again.

—

Step 5: Hot Wings (and Crimes Against Cotton)

Feeling like a domestic king, he decided to reward himself with lunch: hot wings. Because nothing said victory like buffalo sauce and burned tastebuds.

He still had the white shirt on.

He still didn’t change.

He should’ve changed.

He didn’t.

The sauce splattered like an abstract painting. One wing launched a projectile that landed squarely on his chest. The bright orange stain bloomed like a nuclear accident.

And somehow - somehow - there was sauce in his vibranium arm. Inside the joints.

He lifted it. It squelched.

“Absolutely not.”

Without hesitation, he removed the arm and marched it to the dishwasher.

“Wash cycle. Heavy duty. Go.”

He closed the door. Pressed start.

The arm clanked ominously.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

—

Step 6: The Lasagna Gamble

Realizing he was still hungry and now armless, Bucky dug a frozen lasagna from the depths of the freezer and shoved it into the oven with all the subtlety of a man abandoning a bad decision.

Timer set. Seemed safe.

He turned away.

—

Step 7: Cleaning Up Buffalo Carnage (One-Handed Edition)

He turned to face the scene of the crime. Hot wing sauce had claimed the kitchen like it was staking territory - on the counter, the walls, the floor, the cabinet handle, somehow the window, and of course, what remained of his dignity.

One arm down, he grabbed a sponge.

Which promptly slipped out of his hand and flopped onto the floor like a resigned fish.

He stared at it. “You’re not better than me.”

He bent to pick it up. Accidentally knocked over the bottle of hot sauce.

More splatter. Bright, blazing orange.

“Okay,” he muttered, digging in. “Let’s do this.”

He managed to smear the sauce around impressively with the sponge, trying to be strategic, but one-armed cleaning meant everything took three times as long and resulted in at least one drawer being opened with his teeth.

A paper towel got stuck to his elbow. The sponge flipped out of his grip and landed in the sink. He knocked a cup over trying to catch it.

He stopped, panting. Glared at the disaster zone.

“This is my villain origin story,” he mumbled, shaking hot sauce off his wrist.

---

Step 8: The Bathroom Adventure - Starring Only One Arm and a Dream

Still stubborn, still sweaty, and somehow still optimistic, Bucky moved to the bathroom.

“How bad can it be?” he muttered as he opened the door.

Answer: very bad. The kind of bad that deserved its own horror movie score. There was a layer of dust on the vent thick enough to support agriculture, ancient toothpaste fossils encrusting the sink, and something suspicious happening behind the toilet that he refused to acknowledge on a spiritual level.

He picked up the mirror spray with his flesh hand like a functional adult - and then immediately knocked it against the faucet. It ricocheted into the sink, bounced off the bowl, and exploded its soapy guts all over his one clean sock.

“Okay. That’s fine. We adapt. We evolve.”

He grabbed a rag and, for reasons known only to the ghosts of his 1940s upbringing, started scrubbing the counter with his forearm while still holding the rag in his hand like a sandwich. It worked, kind of, but mostly just made it look like he was slow-dancing with the vanity.

Then came the mopping.

This should’ve been simple. He had a working hand. He could’ve just… held the mop.

But no. No. He tucked the handle under his arm like he was about to joust a medieval toilet and went at it with the intensity of a man avenging a fallen comrade.

Predictably, he stepped on a puddle he forgot was there, both feet went out from under him like a cartoon, and he slammed his knee on the side of the tub with a thud that shook the shampoo bottles.

He laid there on the tile, staring at the vent he still hadn’t cleaned, one sock soggy, dignity leaking out like grout water.

“This is fine,” he muttered. “I’m thriving.”

---

Step 9: Reunited (And It Feels So Clean)

The dishwasher beeped.

He rose from the bathroom floor like a man reborn.

“Finally,” he muttered, limping into the kitchen.

The dishwasher door creaked open, releasing a warm, lemon-scented fog. His vibranium arm sat inside, sparkling, still slightly steamy, and gleaming like the sword of a freshly bathed knight.

He picked it up, shook off the moisture, and clicked it back into place with a satisfying click.

The fingers flexed and he rotated his arm just because it looked cool.

Bucky grinned. “Let’s finish what we started.”

He looked around at the chaos.

“…After I sit down for like… five minutes.”

—

Step 9.5: Collapse Dramatically and Pretend You're Not Crying

Arm reattached. Victory claimed. Lemon scent lingering faintly in the air like a trophy.

Bucky stood in the middle of his kitchen, chest heaving from mild exertion and emotional damage. The world was quiet - too quiet - except for the occasional drip of sauce from somewhere behind the toaster.

He slowly backed out of the kitchen, arms at his sides like a war survivor, and fell backwards onto the couch like he’d just taken a sniper shot to the soul.

The cushions let out a whumph. He laid there, staring blankly at the ceiling.

His body ached. His shirt was ruined. His bathroom smelled like cleaning chemicals and defeat. His laundry had undergone a pink renaissance. His only clean sock was still soggy from the sink.

The vibranium arm twitched in agreement.

He sighed so hard it moved the curtain.

“I used to be feared,” he whispered to the ceiling. “Now I fear mop handles.”

He laid there for a while. Long enough to question everything.

Then his eyes tracked up… to the ceiling fan.

A new enemy revealed.

“…Right,” he muttered, sitting up with the resolve of a man preparing for battle. “You’re next.”

---

Step 10: Gravity is a Liar (The Ceiling Fan Incident)

The ceiling fan.. was dusty.

And just out of reach.

He didn’t have a step stool.

So he jumped.

Repeatedly.

Bucky Barnes, ex-Winter Soldier, Avenger, current Congressman, was doing vertical leaps in his living room swatting at a ceiling fan with a sock.

It went as expected. He whacked it once, twice, dust exploded everywhere like a mushroom cloud, falling on the carpet and floor he just vacuumed and he fell back on his ass, coughing.

“Cleaning is violence” He muttered.

—

Step 11: Irony (and Actual Irons)

Remembering he had a press conference tomorrow, Bucky grabbed his last clean shirt and started ironing.

He plugged in the iron. Set up the board. Gave the shirt a hopeful pat. Glided the iron over with his vibranium hand - straight onto his flesh fingers.

“SON OF A - !”

He screamed, dropped the iron, hopped around the kitchen. Waved his hand like that would somehow help.

Then -

Ding dong.

The door creaked open.

There stood his neighbor from 3B. Gorgeous. Leggings. Holding a container.

“Hi,” she said. “Sorry to bother - could I borrow some sugar?”

Bucky froze.

Burned fingers. Sauce-stained shirt. The iron - still on - resting peacefully on the shirt he’d just been ironing.

They both turned toward it.

It now had a massive, smoking hole.

“Oh no,” he whispered.

Then -

BEEP.

The oven.

“OH NO.”

He dashed to the kitchen, opened the oven, and was hit with the combined scent of cremated lasagna and shame.

Smoke filled the air. The shirt was ruined. His dignity evaporated.

He stood there, singed, covered in dust and sauce, with lasagna that could be used as a weapon.

It was time to surrender.

---

Bucky: Hey Sam

Sam: Hey Bucky

What did you set on fire

Bucky: Why is that your first question

Sam: Because it’s you

And it’s Sunday

And I feel it in my soul

Bucky: Okay well

I may have overcooked a lasagna

Destroyed a shirt

Turned my underwear pink

Burned my fingers

And also the laundry room is… foamy

Sam: …how foamy

Bucky: Picture a rabid dishwasher with dreams of expansion

Sam: my God

Bucky: Also I put my arm in the dishwasher

Sam: WHAT

Bucky: There was sauce

Inside the elbow joint

I panicked

Sam: You are a federal official

Bucky: A federal official with buffalo-scented prosthetics

Sam: I’m ordering you a pizza

And possibly an adult supervisor

Bucky: Make it pepperoni

And tell the delivery guy not to judge me

Sam: No promises

---

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was a normal Sunday in the life of Congressman Bucky Barnes.

Public figure. War hero.

Domestic menace.

#sebastian stan #sebastianstan #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky barnes #buckybarnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #congressman barnes #congressman bucky

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nthspecialll · 11 months ago

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Red dead characters as horses, based not on vibes but personality.

Firstly, I am an equestrian of twelve years I know that a horse's breed doesn't fully determine it's personality and you can find any horse of any breed with any personality, but this is based on stereotypes, my own personal experience and well... Google. Again, this is not by vibes, but personality so reflect a little from horse to person.

Arthur Morgan - American Quarter Horse

No matter if it is a show pony or a workhorse you are looking for, the American Quarter Horse got you. It is known for being easy to handle but reliable no matter the job given. It is a good all-around horse and can handle anything from beginner lessons to high-level competitions.

Hosea Matthews - Norwegian Fjord Horse

Very sweet and docile-looking horse but make no mistake, this beast has more opinion, sass and stubbornness than you would ever imagine. Intelligent in the way that it is fully aware of the people around it and knows when it is time to play tricks and run corners and when it is time to play it sweet. The second you dare underestimate it it will remind you that it is in fact stronger than what you might expect.

Dutch Van Der Linde - The Andalusian

A horse breed known widely for being elegant and fancy but unlike many other hot blooded (reactive) horses, tends not to get hurt as easily, coming out fine from situations where the other hot blooded might have gotten wounded in. Although known for being smart, attentive and sensible, they can easily become too much to handle if handled wrongly.

John Marston - The Arabian

Now I know some people are gonna be like "no that doesn't fit at all!" but hold on, just listen, hear me out. Although generally known for being hot-headed, hard to control and stupid, they are actually quite intelligent, have a high endurance and are well aware of their surroundings. With dense and strong bone structure they are quite resilient to much, however they do tend to get wounded in their own hot-headedness... (John I am looking at you strolling up to Fort Mercer and getting fkn shot on sight, tf you thought was gonna happen?)

Javier Escuella - American Mustang

A wild horse known for its stubborn spirit and the lengths it will go to for freedom. It takes a long time trusting, however once having earned its heart it is the most loyal you can find. It is also a highly adaptable horse.

Bill Williamson - Irish Cob/Gypsy Vanner (Same breed, different name)

Lazy, hard to get moving and often seen as bad, the last choice or a breed that wouldn't hold up in bigger competitions, however is actually quite good and does any job well. They are eager to please (Bill to Dutch) and can also grow a beard!

Till Jackson - The Shetland Pony

Small and very adorable looking to a point one thinks they are harmless, and while they can be very sweet, they are going to throw you the second you least expect it. They will not let their short stature and cute appearance be a disadvantage to them but instead use it against others. (Knew one that bit the taller horse's stomach and became the damn leader of that herd)

Charles Smith - The Friesian

Often seen as scary and frightening looking due to their tough exterior, however they are very kind-hearted and highly intelligent. They are loyal and well-mannered, very reliable and makes a good companion.

Kieran Duffy - The Haflinger

A very gentle and generally curious fella. Known for being very friendly and people-oriented. If you spend any time around them you will also often find out that they are quite silly, however make no mistake, they are still horses and thus will always be dangerous.

Josiah Trelawny - Pryor Mountain Mustang

An endangered form of Mustang that are known for elegance and athleticism and while could easily make for a great show pony there is a few problems. They are not very reliable as they are quite skittish and tend to flee as well as be quite hard to tame and tie down.

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clearwillow · 1 year ago

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"If you're interested in learning, I teach classes for beginners," she called down from her seat in the long silk scarf. "Age doesn't matter!"

Sesshomaru was about to bite back at the woman's audacity for thinking him old, but the young girl next to him grabbed his hand with excitement. "Please? It looks like so much fun, Uncle! Please can I sign up?"

He pursed his lips, knowing what the answer was going to be. Above him, the nameless harlequin-knockoff kicked her leg out to propel herself forward. She continued to watch them with a smirk that he didn't care for.

A circus AU in which Kagome sasses Sesshomaru in the air for @acb6293's birthday.

#kagome #sesshomaru #sesskag #inuyasha #iy birthday crew #sorry I'm not very good at sesskag fic

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eleanorfenyx · 1 year ago

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I have finished Mysterious Lotus Casebook, and here are some of my thoughts! (Obviously not spoiler free)

The cases are absolutely batshit insane and I loved it every single time they were like 'we totally collected this evidence that incriminates a secret suspect, just believe us and also don't question when the fuck we had the time to do this or when we figured out that we needed to look for it'. 10/10 no notes, that's a hilarious way to have a genius detective. Show us nothing, tell us everything, YES king.

That being said, I could have done with a lot less standing around having the supporting cast repeat whatever Li Lianhua and Fang Duobing announce, maybe in an attempt to make sure their genius is clear for the audience? I get it, but at the same time it felt a little too hand-holdy for me, especially in scenes where LLH and FDB had already discussed their findings between themselves before presenting them to the concerned bystanders. I can read between the lines (or else understand what has just been explicitly stated) without having every conclusion filtered through a slightly different sentence structure to make sure I got it.

Di Feisheng amnesia arc my fuckin beloved

Di Feisheng destroying his 'father' and freeing everyone in Di manor in a vicious act of catharsis that tied nicely into the main Nanyin bug-mind-control-thing narrative my beloved

Di Feisheng my beloved

The amount of times I was like...genuinely surprised he and Li Lianhua didn't kiss is both embarrassing (because I do in fact understand censorship and what I sign up for with these dramas and yet and yet) and numerous enough that I could...possibly...theoretically..write a 5+1 fic of every time I want them to kiss about it. No one hold me to that but it's something I think I'd like to do.

Re: the above point: because what the FUCK was that ending?!!! EXCUSE ME?! I gotta FIX THAT SHIT.

There will come a day when the strength of my hope for an unambiguously happy ending in a queer(-coded? is the source originally bl or is this its own thing?) wuxia drama is rewarded....but it is not this day. I must fix this myself.

Jiao Liqiao's laugh is one of the most annoying things I've ever heard. I was reaaaaally hoping someone would just up and stab her during one of her little evil laughing fits. At one point I was shouting "KILL HER, KILL HER" at my screen because I could NOT take anymore of her (unfortunately, I did in fact have to take more of her).

I still think her insistence on being obsessed with DFS is hysterical when he is so VISIBLY only interested in LLH. Explicitly STATES that his only life purpose is to fuck fight LLH again. Babygirl (derogatory) he is so fucking gay let's get you a nice knife to the gut instead, okay?

I thought the whole Shan Gudao plot was interesting, going from looking desperately for his body -> putting him to rest -> hunting for his murderer -> finding out he's alive/the mastermind behind everything going wrong (which I was proud of myself for realizing before the reveal, I'm normally bad at that) -> thwarting him with sass and superior martial arts at every possible turn -> killing him stone fuckin dead with beginner level skills because he's so up his own hole he can't see that's what's happening - was really fun!

He also has a SUPER annoying laugh he can fuck off

OH OH OH MARTIAL ARTS SKILL OF TRANS YOUR GENDER?! I MARRIED HER SO HER AFFAIRS ARE MY BUSINESS NOT YOURS??? ASKING YOUR WIFE FOR HER FORGIVENESS AND UNDERSTANDING AS YOU LAY DYING AND SHE GIVES IT TO YOU?????? OKAYYYYYYY

The twist at the end that LLH is the one with royal blood was so funny to me. Like it's a good twist and I love that Shan Gudao was just quite literally always a fuckin try-hard loser in ways he didn't even know, but also it was SO funny. Granny coming in clutch at the last fuckin minute with secret knowledge she just literally never shared.

LLH is such a smooth motherfucker. Shame about his insistence on dying when quite literally everyone (bar the people who suck) is begging this man to just live. Just LIVE DAMN IT!!!!! I really liked it when FDB begs him to just consider his own life as important for ONCE and remember that people care about him because YES his self-sacrificing and committment to Chilling Out Farmer Style was not the mercy he thought it was!

LIVE AND GROW OLD WITH DI FEISHENG YOU DAMN IDIOT (the likelihood of me resisting the urge to write at least the one fic for them is zero to none)

Unironically love spitting up blood as a plot device and this show is no different. The Drama. The Panache. The desperation of everyone around you because you have BLOOD coming out of your MOUTH and you are FAINTING. Poison acting up? Spit blood. Someone bitch slap you with their magical palm ability? Spit blood. Get stressed? Spit blood. Get stabbed? Spit blood. It's always good!

Okay I think that might be all I've got for now, if I think of anything else I'll add them in a reblog. I thoroughly enjoyed it, would definitely recommend!

#mysterious lotus casebook #my thoughts #for whatever they're worth #it was nice too because unlike say Word of Honor I didn't mind the overarching plot about the jianghu #and the magical cures/objects that everyone is racing/fighting each other to get to first #WOH was just plain boring outside of the interpersonal relationships in my opinion #but in this there were only a few times I really just did not care about the latest fetch quest and wanted to get back to the relationships

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chilagliasnsfwblog · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! I managed to come up with another idea for a part 3 of the ROTTMNT Vampire AU that you’re doing if you wanna check it out, no pressure of course;

After Adriaen’s vampire transformation Leo ends up teaching Adriaen how to be a vampire basically, and eventually Leo lets Adriaen meet his brothers and Splinter (who are also vampires obviously), and they all pretty much accept Adriaen as a vampire and they show him how fun it is to be a vampire as well as the drawbacks of being a vampire, and another side plot of this part could be that the turtle bros and Adriaen end up running into Ronin during a night out (Ronin is also a vampire but he’s from a different vampire group), and Ronin figures out that Adriaen is a newly turned vampire and tries to steal him from Leo in a sense (he doesn’t know that Adriaen and Leo are dating until one of them says so), but Ronin ends up being unsuccessful and the others continue to enjoy their night out. Also this part can be either SFW or NSFW, it’s entirely up to you.

Of course I had to go out with a vampire

(part 3/finale)

I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER TO MAKE! I honestly kinda forgot about this and it this was basically lost in my in inbox, but I was scrolling through and found it—

Can’t believe I missed this BUT I FOUND IT AND THIS SHOULD HOPEFULLY MAKE UP FOR IT!

This will be SFW, but NSFW is implied at the end.

Warnings; Swearing, heavily making out, sexual touching??, etc

——————————————————————————————————

The process was….painful. Adriaen really did feel like his body was on fire. Luckily his screams of pure agony had awoken Leo who was quick to tend to him, reassuring him that all will be okay.

Adriaen believed him. He really did. Though he did apologise when he accidentally punched Leo in the snout, it wasn’t entirely his fault, his body just reacted when someone touched him.

The transformation happened only 2 weeks ago, and Adriaen who was now a full fledged vampire was…adjusting.

“You’ll need to have blood at some point, babe.” Leo reminded, sitting down on the chair of the kitchen island at his place. Adriaen had basically moved in with Leo, only until he was confident enough to be alone as a vampire.

“And I told you that I’m not drinking anyone’s blood.” Adriaen sassed, eyes narrowed as he turned away, he walked to the couch, only to yelp in shock when his body moved incredibly fast and he basically slid himself into the couch, knocking it back briefly.

Leo raised an invisible brow at him, unfazed as he knew this was normal for beginner vampires. “See? You can’t be going around at lightning speed and knocking into everything. Having blood can help control your body.” Leo reasons, but Adriaen crosses his arms and looks away, stubbornly.

Leo sighs, shaking his head. Maybe turning Adriaen into a vampire was a bad idea. Leo wasn’t that good of a teacher when it came to this sort of stuff. Sure, he was able to give good advice and instructions, but he’s just one guy.

He perks up and smirks, standing up from the stool and walking over to his boyfriend who eyed him suspiciously. “Remember how I told you, I have brothers?” He asks out of the blue, making Adriaen taken aback but he nods in reply.

“Well, I think it’s about time you officially meet them, no?”

“…wait, really?”

Adriaen was both nervous and a little excited. This was a big step into meeting your partner's family, right?

“Are they…?”

“Vampires? Yup! Whole fam is. Come on, I know it’s sudden but it’ll be good to get it out of the way now.”

He offers his hand as Adriaen hesitantly takes his grip, being pulled up and dragged out the front door.

-----

They live in the sewers.

Was the first observation that Adriaen noted. He did remember Leo saying that the apartment is just a building that he sometimes likes to go to whenever he needs space.

Leo confidently led Adriaen around the dark tunnels before arriving at the entrance of what he called ‘the lair’.

“I’m home! And I brought a guest!” Leo announces, and in an instant, figures all appear in a blink of an eye as they stare at Leo and Adriaen in stunned silence.

Right, vampire speed.

“Nardo, please tell me why you invited a stranger into our home?” The mutant turtle with a purple bandana slowly hissed out.

So this is Donnie?

Adriaen recalled how Leo one time told him about his brothers. How you can easily identify them based on the coloured masks they like to wear.

“Wait a second…ohmigosh! Is this the guy you told us you were seeing?!” An orange masked turtle exclaims with a bright eye grin, bouncing over.

Mikey.

Adriaen then blinks and gives a dumbfounded look to Leo. Mouth slightly agape.

Wait, he talked about me to them?!

Leo clears his throat, “Okay, I know you all have questions. But first, introductions. Everyone, this is Adriaen, my boyfriend. We’re official.” Leo stated with pride. Donnie blinks and hums, he walks over and observes Adriaen.

“All right spill, did Leo kidnap you or something and made you agree to be his lover?”

Adriaen blinks, noticing the offended stare from Leo. He then glanced at Donnie, deciding to have some fun and play along.

“I’ve been in his basement for months now. I haven’t seen the light of day until today.”

Leo squawks in offence, hand going on his plastron where his heart is. “What?! Adriaen!” Leo gasps as his partner side eyed him, before adding with a blank stare.

“He calls me Adriaen, but that’s not my actual name.”

Donnie snorts and pats Adriaen on the shoulder, no longer on edge. “You and I are gonna get along swimmingly.”

Leo rolls his eyes, standing in between them, “Okay, okay, you had your fun. Adriaen, this is Donnie as I’m sure you’ve already guessed. Over there is Mikey—“ Leo points out to the youngest brother who smiles and waved excitedly.

“Hello! Leo told us a lot about you!”

“Has he now?”

Leo clears his throat, a soft blush gracing his face. “And over here is big brother Raph!” Leo introduced, smiling as his brother, Raph gave a polite smile and nodded in acknowledgment.

“Nice to meet you, Adriaen. I hope Leo isn’t bothering you.”

“He always is. But that’s what I get for dating a cocky vampire.”

Upon his comment, and the mention of the word ‘vampire’, everyone tensed and stared widely at the two. Leo awkwardly laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, so…he knows about us.” Leo informs before quickly reassuring everyone by adding in another comment.

“But don’t worry! He’s one of us now, I turned him into a vampire 2 weeks ago!”

All his brothers let out a screech in unison.

“You did what?!”

Adriaen sighs, shaking his head lightly at Leo’s terrible way of speaking. So, he steps in to intervene. “It’s a long story, but to sum it all up, I kinda accidentally discovered he was a vampire when we went out one night. But I didn’t mind and all has been well. Um…I kinda have been giving him my blood whenever he needed it, and it kinda had me going dizzy and such. Leo told me that turning into a vampire would be helpful and whatnot, so I agreed and well…here I am.” Adriaen explains the situation, although the concern was still plastered on their faces.

“We’re sorry…being a vampire isn’t easy.” Raph apologised, slumping his shoulders. “I’m…adjusting. I can’t quite control myself sometimes.” Adriaen says, fiddling with his fingers as Leo comes up to his side. “He refuses to drink blood.” He bluntly stated which immediately had the others panic.

“You gotta have blood Adriaen! You’ll go into a frenzy if you don’t!” Mikey gasps, shaking his shoulders as Adriaen blinks and gently takes the young box turtle mutant off him. “I know, I know. I just…it sounds weird to me. I have to eat blood now?” He shivered at the thought, Donnie blankly stared, arms crossed.

“Drink the blood actually. But we understand, it was strange for us as well when we got turned. But you don’t need to have blood every day, maybe like…once every few months.”

Adriaen still grimaced at the thought of drinking any blood. Leo notices and gently lays his palm on his lover's head, comforting him as he looks to everyone. “Where’s dad?” He asks as Raph gestured down the hall by nodding his head in the direction.

“Sleeping. You know how he is after milk and cake.”

Leo chuckled lightly in amusement as he looked at Adriaen who gazed back at him. “I’ll introduce you to the old man later.”

After that, everyone relaxed and began asking questions about Adriaen. They were curious about him after all, they weren’t expecting him to be another turtle, but that just made everyone more relaxed.

Donnie couldn’t help but ask everything about Adriaen’s species, wanting to collect any and all information he could. Mikey was more curious about Adriaen’s life, asking what he did for work, his favourite song is, favourite pizza toppings are.

Raph was the most…normal? Out of his younger siblings. Giving Adriaen time to process everything and he offered water or any snacks.

Raph then began to ask about him and Leo, more specifically anything worth embarrassing. Big brothers just love to tease their siblings.

Splinter had awoken at some point, where he was introduced to Leo’s boyfriend. Which ecstatically had the rat began demanding when he will have grandchildren or when Leo is going to propose. The poor slider had choked on air upon these personal questions.

Adriaen however couldn’t help but smile at the family. It was quite obvious that he was easily accepted, especially when Leo told his dad that he was the who turned him into a fresh vampire, which did earn him a whack of Splinter’s tail, but Splinter would assure and smile warmly towards Adriaen that he is part of the family now, and that if he had questions or needed any help, he was welcomed to come to them.

-----

It was an interesting few weeks. Another 2 weeks had gone by after Adriaen met with the other Hamato’s. He was also introduced to April, a regular human girl who was like an older sister to the boys, hence she wasn’t so surprised upon meeting Adriaen and learning about his newly awakened vampire skills.

Overall, it was nice and for the first time in the longest time that Adriaen has been alive…

He really felt like he had a family.

“You ready babe?” Leo walks over, smiling as always. “Huh? Oh, right, yeah.” Adriaen blinks in confusion before recalling what was happening. Mikey had sprung together a boy's night out, to show the ropes of vampirism talents to Adriaen, to help him out. And of course, to have fun.

“You nervous?” Leo softly teased, strolling over and standing behind Adriaen, he wrapped his arms around his waist, resting his chin on the black masked mutant's shoulder.

“I’m not. Just got distracted for a moment.”

Adriaen turns his head slightly to stare at Leo who smirks and nuzzles into his neck. “We can just say we’re busy and stay home.” Leo muttered, churring into Adriaen’s ear, making the latter blush.

“We can’t. We agreed days ago. Now open a portal you moron.”

Leo pouted playfully but let him go, grabbing his katana’s and slicing open a portal. The two step through and they are greeted with the night breeze of New York, along with a couple of greetings from the brothers who had been waiting for them.

Adriaen gazed around his surroundings, taking a mental note that there on a rooftop.

“Who’s ready to have some fun?!” Mikey cheered, running over to Adriaen and grabbing his arm, pulling him along. “Mikey, please don’t break my boyfriend.” Leo calls out, smiling playfully as he trusts his brothers to be careful of the newly turned vampire.

The five turtles jump into action, using their speed and strength as well as agility to jump across rooftops, Leo and Donnie aiding Adriaen who sometimes slipped and almost fell into the alleyways.

Adriaen had gotten used to it however. Sometimes he was already ahead thanks to his newborn vampire speed, but that sometimes led him to trouble.

Like now for example.

He had grinned challengingly when Raph proposed that he was the fastest, Adriaen took him up on the competition and went on ahead.

Only to then gasp when he collided with a chest standing in front of him. He grunts, falling down to his ass as he groans and looks up.

“Well, well, look what I stumbled upon tonight.”

Adriaen widens his eyes at the stranger. He was another turtle, with darker green skin and light grey patterns on his legs, arms and white thin stripes down his face.

He wore a grey mask over his striking yellow eyes that gleamed down at Adriaen in interest. “W-Who are y—“ Adriaen began to interrogate, but he stopped short when suddenly the Hamato brothers crowd around him, all their weapons pointed over to the stranger who stared, unfazed by them.

Leo’s glare was the more dangerous, grip tight on his sword.

“Ronin.”

He spat out the name.

“Leo.”

The stranger—no, Ronin, replies back, with a lazy smirk. Adriaen blinks, looking around at the others' faces, who all looked on edge.

They…know each other?

“I see you’ve got yourself a newbie on your side. Which one of you turned him, huh?” Ronin grins, his eyes predatorily stared at Adriaen who hesitantly stood up to his feet.

Raph being the largest, stood in front of him protectively. “Let’s see, if I had to take a guess…” Ronin adds, humming childishly before pointing at the leader in blue.

“Leo, I thought you were better than this. Turning an innocent into a monster?”

Leo grits his teeth, clicking his tongue. “As far as I’m aware, what I do is none of your business.” He retorted, causing Ronin to chortle as he ignored Leo and gave a smile to Adriaen who raised a non-existent brow at him.

“I’m a vampire too. Though, I’m not with these clowns here.”

He opens his mouth to show his fangs, making Adriaen taken aback. He thought Leo and his family were the only vampires around.

Ronin sniffs the air and lets out an amused snort. “Wow! Bluey, you didn’t waste any time on claiming someone did you? He’s got your scent all over him.” He laughs, teasing the slider who only took a threatening step towards Ronin, his blades aimed high up to his neck.

Scent? Do I smell like Leo?

Adriaen briefly lifts his arm up and sniffs himself. He didn’t really notice a difference.

“Get lost Ronin.” Leo growls but Ronin sighs dramatically, placing a hand over his plastron. “Aw, but I want to get to know my new friend here.”

He suddenly vanished in a blink of an eye. But he reappeared behind Adriaen, slinking his arm comfortably around his shoulders.

Adriaen flinched and turned his head to face Ronin who grins.

“I don’t want to be rude now. So what’s your name handsome?”

Leo eyeballed the two with shock before he snarled and jumped in-between them, “Adriaen!” He called out in worry, slicing his sword towards Ronin who giggled and dodged the attack with ease.

“Adriaen huh? Suits you well.” Ronin smiled at the black masked turtle who gave a narrowed glare, standing next to Leo for both comfort and protection. And to also calm down the slider.

Ronin took a moment to survey his surroundings. The others were on edge and quickly ran to aid their brother and newly found friend.

Ronin huffs, “All right, all right. I’ll leave. I’m in no mood to fight any of you anyway.” He gave up, turning around and walking to the edge of the rooftop.

He paused and gave Adriaen a wink.

“See you around handsome.”

He jumps off, making Adriaen flinch as he runs to the edge. He expected to see a body on the floor, but to his surprise there was nothing.

Right…vampire speed.

He was just relieved that the guy didn’t jump to his death.

-----

They called it a night there and then, with Leo instantly opening a portal and leading Adriaen inside to safety, he bid his brothers a farewell for the night and jumped into his portal.

The blue mystic circle closed as they were back in the apartment.

“So…who’s Ronin?”

Leo scowls at the name, “He’s another mutant like us. Um, he was a vampire before us so we’re not sure if he was born as one or if someone turned him. He’s also the one who turned me into a vampire in the first place.” Leo gives a brief explanation as Adriaen gapes in bewilderment.

“He turned you?”

“Yup. Trust me, I hate it too.”

Leo sighs and sags his shoulders before walking over to his lover and embracing him. “I’m just glad you're okay.”

Adriaen blinks before humming in agreement. He could feel the tension in Leo’s body the moment he hugged him. He must’ve been very worried.

Adriaen felt a bit bad about that.

“Leo.”

Upon hearing his name, the red eared slider pulls away and tilts his head. Only to go rigid when Adriaen cups his face and kisses him passionately on the lips.

Leo immediately responded back, gifting the kiss back to him. He pushed Adriaen against the nearest wall, their moans soft but audible together as their kiss became sloppy and needy.

Leo’s hand gripping at his boyfriend’s waist as Adriaen tangled his fingers into the knot of Leo’s mask, one leg slightly lifted up and curled around Leo’s leg.

They pant, the atmosphere between the two hot and heavy as they pull away to breathe. Leo glazed his beak against the neck of Adriaen who buried his own beak in Leo’s shoulder.

“Adri…”

Adriaen shivered at his name, the way Leo said it was low and sexy that Adriaen couldn’t help but whimper at. Slowly grinding himself needlessly against Leo who let out a soft moan at the sight.

“That’s it…”

Leo grabs Adriaen by his arm and pulls him towards their shared bedroom.

“L-Leo?!”

Adriaen was shoved down onto the mattress the moment they were close. Leo straddling him from above as he leans down, licking his boyfriend on his neck.

“I’m fucking you here and now.”

——————————————————————————————————

WHOO finally finished this. Sorry again for taking a long time to respond to this! But hopefully I did it justice and made up for lost time!

Parts - 1/2/3

#unpause rottmnt #rottmnt #save rottmnt #save rise of the tmnt #rise leo #rottmnt leo #oc #rottmnt oc #tmnt #tmnt oc #riseadriaenficsfw #riseadriaenficnsfw #Vampire au #Leo vampire #Rottmnt vampire #vampire au (leo x adriaen) fic

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fullbattleregalia · 1 year ago

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I love the sass of Jedi: Fallen Order.

I was stuck on this one section. You slide down an ice slope, jump, catch a rope, swing at just the right angle to the right height, let go of the rope straight into a wall run, and then jump off the wall onto a ledge. Get any of this wrong and you fall to your death. I’d done this once without too much trouble (beginner’s luck), but I’d died before the next save point and respawned, and I just could not get it a second time. I kept missing the rope or timing my swing wrong and missing the wall run. Argh. After at least ten tries, I finally got to the ledge. The first time Cal didn’t say anything when I made the ledge. THIS time Cal was just like, “I guess you can’t fix all your problems with a lightsaber.”

OUCH, game! 🤣

#have lightsaber; will stab #jedi fallen order #star wars #I love the writing for this game

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mjonthetrack · 2 months ago

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vice: book II

Chapter 4: “You Know He Can’t Keep Up!”

“Come on, Nadi! Please!”

Jimmy was damn near on his knees in the kitchen, hands clasped like he was begging for rent relief.

Nadia sipped her coffee, cocked her hip, and gave him a slow once-over. “You sure you built for it, Jimmy? That ain’t no regular gym. That’s Marsai’s gym. That’s Amazon Bootcamp. That's suffer-on-purpose cardio and baby-wearing burpees, with trap music.”

“I can lift.”

“This ain’t lifting. This Pilates, HIIT, hip hop, kettlebells, and holy ghost all mixed into one. I’m telling you—Mars is gon’ eat you alive, bro.”

He leaned on the counter. “I just wanna see what she be doing. You know…support Black women. Empowerment or whatever.”

Nadia snorted. “Uh huh. You just tryna stare at ass in warrior pose.”

Jimmy didn’t even blink. “And I’m not ashamed.”

Later That Day – The Den of the Goddesses

The gym wasn’t even regular. It had jungle vibes—green plants everywhere, incense lit near the check-in table, rap music booming through Bluetooth speakers. SZA transitioned into Ciara , and the energy in the room shifted with the bass.

Sweaty, muscled moms lined the mirrored walls, squatting deep, jumping ropes, or baby-wearing toddlers while doing plank taps. No one was cute. No one was slow.

And Marsai Monet, in a matching olive green set that clung to every curve like it was scared to let go, was already center mat.

She had her curls up, sweat glistening on her collarbone, tattoos on display, and that look in her eye—the one that said, Y’all came to die and I’m the executioner.

She clocked the tall male figure behind Nadia the second they stepped in.

And without missing a beat, she hollered over the music:

“NA! WHY YOU BRING TESTOSTERONE UP IN HERE?! YOU KNOW HE CAN’T KEEP UP!”

Everyone turned.

Nadia doubled over, laughing.

Jimmy just blinked.

Marsai pointed a long, inked finger, leaned on one leg, and tilted her head. “What you gon’ do, big man? Cry when we do jumping split squats?”

Jimmy raised his chin. “I came to sweat.”

“Oh, you will,” she grinned wickedly. “That’s a promise.”

Warm-Ups – Death by Sass

The warm-up alone had Jimmy questioning his existence.

Suicides. Planks. Burpees. Jump squats. With kids on hips, on backs, hanging from ankles like monkey bars—and these women didn’t miss a beat.

Marsai led them like a warrior drill sergeant, yelling over Cardi B blasting from the speakers.

“SQUAT LIKE YOUR BABY DADDY’S IN HELL AND YOU REACHIN’ FOR THE CHILD SUPPORT CHECK!”

The women cheered. Jimmy wheezed.

At one point, JJ and Messiah ran by mid-circuit and high-fived each other. “Mommy strong,” Messiah giggled.

“Uncle Jimmy look sick,” JJ whispered.

Halfway Through – And Jimmy on the Floor

Marsai stepped over Jimmy’s body like he was a towel.

“You still breathing?”

“Barely,” he groaned, eyes closed.

“You didn’t even get to the resistance bands.”

He flipped her off weakly. She grinned.

Nadia? Taking selfies mid-core circuit, fully in her element. She paused just long enough to crouch by Jimmy and smirk.

“Told you.”

Cool Down – Ego in the Dirt

As the women moved into deep stretches, Marsai dropped into a seated split like it was child’s play. She wiped sweat off her brow and looked down at Jimmy, who was now sitting against the wall, red-faced and panting like a dog.

“You survived.”

He nodded. “Barely. I think my spleen filed for divorce.”

Marsai sipped water and tossed him a towel. “You ain’t too bad for a beginner. Might even let you come back.”

He looked up at her, cocky. “You inviting me back?”

“Don’t get gassed. I need someone to mop the floors.”

Nadia clapped, “Oop—AND SHE DRAGGED YOU AGAIN!”

Everyone howled with laughter.

Jimmy smiled through the roast, heart racing harder from her wink than the cardio.

He was down bad.

Chapter 5: “Ain’t No Man For My Mommy”

The gym was still buzzing with energy as the women filed out, laughing, stretching, towel-wiping the sweat of a full-on war off their brows. Jimmy was still leaning on the wall, clutching his water bottle like it owed him money, staring at the ceiling like it had answers.

Nadia, meanwhile, was posted by the cubbies with JJ in her arms and a smirk stretched across her face, watching her friend Marsai stroll up in a slow, deliberate strut with Messiah balanced on one hip like a designer accessory.

Marsai bent her tall frame low, boots squeaking slightly on the polished floor, leveling her rich brown eyes with her son’s face.

“Messiah,” she said sweetly, “what you think of the tall uncle over there?”

The little boy squinted, unimpressed. Real unimpressed.

Messiah folded his arms across his chest, cheeks puffed up, mouth twisted, and full of judgment. He looked at Jimmy like he was a knockoff toy in the clearance aisle.

“Ain’t no man for my mommy,” he declared, in the deadliest toddler tone possible.

Nadia keeled over laughing, holding her stomach.

Jimmy just blinked, stunned into silence.

Marsai’s laugh rang out like a melody, deep and smooth, the kind of sound that made heads turn.

“Well,” she shrugged dramatically, “that’s it then. Lil man makes the call. Sorry, champ.” She tossed a wink Jimmy’s way and walked off, hips swaying, curls bouncing, unfazed.

Jimmy stared, lips parted. “Did I just get curved by a four-year-old?”

“You sure did,” Nadia wheezed, wiping tears. “Don’t take it personal. Siah’s been cockblocking since birth.”

A Minute Later – Truck Goals

Outside the gym, the sunlight painted gold streaks across the parking lot. Jimmy followed them out still shaking off the L, watching as Marsai popped open the door of her massive lifted red truck—a beast of a machine sitting high on thick tires, cherry red custom body glinting like candy paint.

Int’l Players Anthem hit hard from the subs as soon as she turned the key—UGK and Outkast booming like war drums.

“Keep your heart, 3 stacks! Keep your heart!”

Messiah was dancing in his booster while Marsai fixed his straps, rapping under her breath, all casual—like she didn’t just fold Jimmy’s confidence like laundry.

She slammed the door, turned, and waved lazily at Nadia. “Text me later, lil mama!”

JJ shouted, “Bye Miss Mars!”

Jimmy opened his mouth like he wanted to say something clever, but it died on his tongue.

Marsai hit him with a grin that made his chest stutter.

“Next time, tall boy, bring an inhaler. And a prayer.”

Then she hopped into the driver’s seat like a damn superhero, slammed the door, and peeled out with the bass rattling the pavement behind her.

Nadia was cracking up again, already fishing for her keys.

Jimmy finally turned to her, dazed. “...She just—she built like a gladiator. She rapped while buckling a toddler.”

Nadia shrugged. “And she still didn’t break a sweat.”

JJ tugged Jimmy’s shirt and said solemnly, “You need to train harder.”

Jimmy just nodded. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

Chapter 6: “You Brought What to the Field?!”

The next rugby match hit the island like a storm warning. Word had already spread—Marsai was suiting up again, and this time, the whole damn Fatu clan was invited.

Not just invited. Posted. Field side.

Rows of folding chairs sat with perfect view, shaded by canopies Marsai’s people had put up early that morning. Coolers filled with homemade drinks, fans spinning in slow lazy turns, kids running barefoot in the grass.

And every single person—from Auntie Lani to Sefa, the triplets, JJ, baby Kyree strapped to Jimmy’s chest, even Jey—was wearing Marsai’s jersey.

“#33 — MONET ‘BODY BAG’ NIKOA”

They all had different versions—crop tops, tanks, baggy shirts—but the name glared loud across their backs in that signature bold red.

Nadia was grinning ear to ear, posted with a camera ready, whispering to Kyree on her hip: “Your Auntie Mars about to wild out.”

And she wasn’t lying.

Pregame Warmup: Straight Disrespectful

The stadium DJ was spinning grimey remixes, the beat low and mean, the announcer’s voice echoing:

“And warming up now—Team Island Reign’s own, the captain herself—NUMBER 33, BODY BAG MONET!”

Cue thunder from the stands. The ground trembled with cheers. JJ lost his whole mind yelling, “THAT’S AUNTIE MARS!!” while the triplets copied, bouncing and screaming her name.

Jimmy stood frozen, one hand shading his eyes.

Marsai was in motion—doing suicides across the entire field, that thick braid swinging behind her, thighs pumping like pistons, gliding like a damn stallion.

And then she stopped and did a full split to stretch.

Sefa’s jaw hit the floor. “She just—what the—yo.”

Jimmy blinked. “I’m sweating and I’m not even on the field.”

“She’s not even winded,” Jey muttered, stunned. “What kinda gene pool…”

Nadia cackled from behind the camera. “Y’all better get your prayers in now.”

Game Time: Somebody Call the EMTs

Once the whistle blew?

It was absolute carnage.

Marsai didn’t run. She charged. First hit of the game, she mushed a woman mid-run with one hand, spinning her entire soul into the turf. Crowd screamed like a homicide had happened.

Then the next play, she jumped clear over another woman’s head, landed like a cat, snatched the ball, and tackled two more chicks with the same motion. It was disrespectful. Illegal in ten countries. One of the girls on the other team laid down like she was choosing peace.

The Fatus?

Losing it.

Sefa was screaming.

Jimmy stood on his chair with Kyree still strapped to him yelling, “BODY BAAAAAG!”

Auntie Lani fanned herself dramatically. “Is that child single? No, for real.”

Nadia filmed everything, muttering to herself, “She did not just stiff-arm that girl into next week—oh no she did—oh my god, she pointed at her—”

Even Jey had to admit it, watching her snatch another touchdown with a no-look pass and a sprint that would’ve humiliated half the NFL.

“That’s the most terrifying woman I’ve ever seen,” he said in awe. “Jimmy’s in so much trouble.”

After the Match

Sweat slicked down her arms, Marsai jogged over to the family, grinning like a villain, pulling off her pads and shaking out that braid like a music video. Cheers rose around her like a wave.

Jimmy was still stuck blinking, looking at her like she was a mythical creature.

Marsai winked at Messiah, who was bouncing up and down in his jersey two sizes too big.

“Mama did it,” she told him, voice hoarse and proud.

“You crushed them!” he shouted.

Marsai turned to the others. “Y’all good? Water? Snacks? Ain’t none of y’all pass out, right?”

“Are you serious right now?” Jimmy asked. “You jumped over a grown woman.”

“I told you not to bring testosterone to my turf,” she smirked, bumping his shoulder. “Y’all keep sleepin’ on me. It’s cute.”

The kids swarmed her. Siah got lifted to her hip like a prince. Nadia tossed her a towel. Jey gave her a fist bump and mouthed “respect.” Auntie Lani just fanned herself harder.

Jimmy shook his head. “Yeah. I’m in so much trouble.”

Chapter 7: “Hey Girl, Hey Family!”

The Fatus didn’t even need a GPS. All they had to do was follow the smell. The street was laced in smoke and savory perfume—wood-charred meats, peppery citrus marinades, fresh garlic, and some kind of spiced-up heaven floating right off the breeze. The music was loud—classic Southern rap and reggae bouncing off the rooftops—and Marsai’s massive beachside house was glowing like a warm fire pit right there by the waves.

“Na,” Jey squinted through the tinted window of their SUV as they pulled into the cul-de-sac. “Your girl got a damn resort down the street?”

“No. She got a compound,” Jimmy muttered, peering out the window with baby Kyree snug on his chest and JJ bouncing in the back yelling “Uncle Jimmy look!!” at a giant inflatable bounce house shaped like a rugby field.

The house was three stories of red brick and black stone with wide-open double doors, massive glass panels, and wraparound decks. The backyard bled straight into private beach sand, and out front—the grill was clearly getting manhandled by someone who knew what they were doing.

That someone?

Marsai “Body Bag” Monet, in all her tall, delicious chaos, hair in a messy bun piled high, a cropped tank top and a very short jean skirt, toe polish glinting in designer Dior slides. She had one arm muscled up, waving a pair of grill tongs like a wand, the other slapping down a tray of ribeyes onto the fire like she meant war. Her skin gleamed, her thighs were flexed, and the aroma from her grill was aggressive.

“Na!!!” she screamed, arms wide just as Nadia sprinted from the passenger seat, barefoot and laughing, curls flying.

The shorter woman jumped right into her friend’s arms, legs off the ground like a damn reunion on daytime TV.

“Hey girl, hey family!!” Marsai yelled over the music, hugging Nadia tight and laughing, grill tongs still in one hand. “Y’all better get up in here before the food start fighting back!”

Jey was still standing on the walkway with the triplets, blinking.

“Is that a porterhouse stack next to a seafood salad… and them loaded potatoes with the cheese melted through the middle?” he asked dumbly, watching a tray get passed like an offering to the gods.

Jimmy was already moving. “I ain’t bring no to-go plates but I will steal her Tupperware.”

Inside the yard, the vibe was full chaos and comfort. Long tables were stacked high with side dishes in silver pans—mac and cheese baked with three cheeses, grilled veggie skewers, buffalo wings, garlic parm, and one pan everyone was whispering about.

“That’s her secret sauce wings,” someone told Jey as he hovered with a plate already too heavy.

There were giant coolers packed with kid-friendly juices, sparkling waters, and homemade lemonade. A separate table—clearly labeled “ADULTS ONLY”—had gallon pitchers filled with brightly colored drinks that smelled like they came with a legal warning.

“Her ‘grown up juice’ will take you out,” Nadia whispered to her husband as she sipped from a pink one with a slice of watermelon on the rim. “Sip slow, baby. I’m serious.”

Meanwhile, the kids were feral. JJ was chasing after a rugby ball with Sefa, Jasmine had climbed up on Marsai’s outdoor furniture trying to spy on Messiah, and the twins—Isaiah and Jeremiah—were stomping around like they owned the place.

“Where the hell did they find this woman?” Jey asked nobody, chewing a ribeye off a bone with one hand and holding Kyree with the other.

“She found us,” Nadia said with a grin, wiping wing sauce from her mouth. “Now behave. You in her house now.”

#x black oc #mature fic #romance #jimmy uso fanfiction #jimmy uso x black oc

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