#sharks against terfs

[quercus-queer]

And- oh my god is that? Oh god it is! A shark has entered Hogwarts. Dear god it’s a massacre- Arms are being devoured oh it’s a nightmare!

[lostloveletters]

Give Me Shelter, The Night Is Dark (Vampire!Michael Corleone x Reader)

Summary: Local superstition and a reclusive man offer you refuge when your parents grievously misstep in Sicily, putting your life in danger in more ways than one.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. This incredibly self-indulgent gothic romance-esque idea came to me while I was half-asleep, and the time period is intentionally vague, but it’s not a modern setting (here's a little aesthetic tag for this fic). Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Major canon divergence. Canon-typical violence. Emotional manipulation. Vampirism, including non-consensual blood drinking and compulsion (in the context of it being an ability vampires possess and can use on humans). Sexually explicit content involving elements of bloodplay. Do not interact if you’re under 18.

You couldn’t remember what had brought your family to the village of Corleone, only that your father had promised you and your mother an extravagant Sicilian vacation. Three days of beachside paradise in Mondello, eating fresh seafood cooked to perfection and entertaining the antics of handsome men with scars that stood out like bolts of lightning against their tanned skin were hardly enough to sate your voracious appetite for the weeks of bliss you were promised. 

Despite your attempts at bargaining to stay in Palermo on your own, your mother refused, insisting she’d be better off throwing you into shark-infested waters than alone with the men who came calling to your hotel. Some days of travel through the breathtaking Sicilian countryside later, you and your parents arrived in Corleone, a village that appeared all but frozen in time, as if decades had passed it by with no one any the wiser. 

To your dismay, you found the selection of eligible men to spend your time with far more limited than in Palermo. The working young men were too tired from their labor in the fields or their trades to engage in foolish antics with a vacationing foreigner. The rest were mafiosi, as you gathered from the veiled comments and numerous euphemisms the older villagers used. 

These elderly became your companions during your stay in Corleone, talking wildly with their weathered hands over coffee or wine. Filomena, a woman of nearly eighty years and fluent in English, lived in the house next to the one your family was renting. Her husband Gianni only left the house if absolutely necessary, and she considered him a burdensome hermit. Each morning, she fetched you to accompany her into town. Some days, you’d do little else than sit outside of a cafe on the sleepy main street, eating and drinking and gossiping. 

Your Sicilian improved immensely in the near month you kept up with their chatter. Those women always had their ears to the ground, as far as knowing more about your father’s business in Corleone than you did. The vacation he promised you was little more than a gesture of confidence toward Don Manusco, a man notoriously difficult to meet directly with. That your father achieved this naturally generated interest in the village, as no one knew of him. When pressed for more information about your own family’s line of work, you answered what you knew, that your father invested, mostly in stocks, but occasionally in new business ventures. 

You were privy to little else, much to the disappointment of your companions, who moved onto other topics of discussion. One woman’s son sought work in Milan and within three months of getting hired at a factory, married a Northerner, much to her displeasure. In contrast, Filomena’s daughter was cloistered elsewhere in the countryside, preparing to take her vows and become a nun. 

Their superstitions, however, intrigued you most of all. A curse and blessing existed for nearly every conceivable situation. The most striking tale they spun regarded an abandoned villa about a mile past the rental house. Foreboding and hostile, its faded facade peeking out from thorny vines, it was once the envy of the village. At one point in time, though no one could agree quite when, the Don of another family lived there. He took in a strange young man, reclusive yet polite, wandering the countryside with two armed shepherds as bodyguards. He married a local girl, but the marriage ended tragically soon after the wedding. In a sudden blaze of fire and betrayal, she was killed. The strange man vanished not long after, and anyone associated with the villa—including the old Don Tomassino—were soon found dead or had disappeared altogether. Thus, no one dared approach it for fear of the curse surely cast upon the place.

Some of the gruesome murders in the vicinity of the villa could have been attributed to the tradition of violence Don Manusco carried on following Don Tomassino’s death. It didn’t explain the livestock dying of unusual causes, an older woman interjected. Even the land surrounding it was cursed, and the local shepherds knew better than to let their flocks graze nearby, explaining the abnormally tall grass and overgrown foliage that surrounded the villa.

Yet another woman claimed to have seen a demon or ghost in the form of a man wandering the villa’s grounds at night. Of course, she didn’t get close enough to take a good look, instead uttering Hail Marys as she ran into the local church to take refuge until her husband found her some time later.

Your mind drifted to the villa sometimes, this forbidden and mysterious monument to grief and superstition that seemed to cast a longer shadow over the village than the mafiosos who ran it. Like Don Manusco, who your parents were joining for dinner one evening, and Filomena insisted you join her and Gianni instead of eating alone.

The scent of stewing summer tomatoes with garlic and mouth-watering spices invited you inside the house, its windows open for hopes of cool breezes moving through. Gianni offered you wine and a simple antipasto spread of cheese and oranges to snack on while Filomena cooked dinner. Despite his reclusiveness, he somehow knew that your father’s dinner with Don Manusco involved more business than a friendly visit, the final chance for your father to seal what he hoped would be a lucrative deal with the mafia boss.

Two hours later, you sat across from Filomena at the small wooden table in their kitchen, filling your plate with the delicious meal she prepared. You ate silence while Filomena spoke, bickering with Gianni every now and then. As the sun set over Corleone, unease crept over you, though you chose to attribute it to the heat of the day and eating too quickly.

Until a commotion erupted up the street, almost deafening as it approached, finally arriving outside of Filomena’s house. Frantic Sicilian shouting mingled with rapid pounding on the front door startled you into dropping your fork. Filomena and Gianni shared a worried glance before both getting up from the table to answer. 

Wailing. 

Screaming. 

Arguing. 

All you found yourself able to do was sit in confused silence. When they returned to the kitchen with a few other locals, panic truly set in.

“You have to leave!” Filomena cried, pulling you out of your seat by your arm.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

“Your father’s a fool–”

Gianni shook his head. “A dead fool–”

“Your father should have never brought you here if he were going to try to cheat Don Manusco!” an older woman said.

Another cursed. “Selfish bastard!” 

“Go! As far from here as you can!” Filomena implored.

A hard push toward the back door was the extent of the help you’d receive from the villagers of Corleone. 

Blood pounded in your ears, your heart beating in time with your feet against the uneven dirt path that nearly tripped you up in your desperate rush to the rental home. You opened the door, scrambling upstairs in a frantic half-crawl to reach your room.

You shoved clothes and essentials into a bag, hardly paying attention to what exactly you were packing, just knowing you couldn’t flee empty-handed and hope to rely on the goodwill of strangers. 

In the kitchen, you grabbed what you could from the pantry and shoved everything into a wicker basket. With just that and your suitcase in hand, you clumsily ran across the uneven countryside roads, hoping to find somewhere to take shelter for the night. Every rustle of leaves and animal cry sent chills across your skin. Just when you felt hopeless for a place to hide, you saw the abandoned villa's high walls, overgrown with vines and bramble in the distance. Superstition be damned, it was better than dying at the hands of a mafioso.

The iron gate was closed, but not locked. You held your breath as you opened it, sending out silent thanks to the universe that it didn’t release some otherworldly screech and announce your presence. Hardly visible in the dead of night, the villa peeked out from beneath the plants that had overtaken it. Even from a distance, it appeared as if the building were hollowed out somehow. It remained your best bet. 

Superstition offered you refuge, as masculine voices drifted above the villa’s high walls, the structure still sturdy despite the general state of disrepair.

“Should we go in?”

“You sound as much of a fool as that old man. That place is cursed. Even if she were in there, she'd be dead anyway.”

Their heavy, rushed footsteps against the rocky terrain fell silent after a few moments. You sighed in relief, allowing yourself to relax just the slightest bit. Until you glanced back at the villa again, a new sense of dread making your stomach turn at the prospect of having to go inside the place. While you didn’t believe all of the rumors you’d been told over the previous few weeks, being in its presence unsettled you.

Then again, feeling unsettled in an abandoned villa was preferable to whatever would happen if Don Manusco’s men got his hands on you.

After a moment of hesitation, you approached the shadowy building, hoping your luck wouldn’t run out when you got inside. 

To your surprise, the interior wasn’t as poorly maintained as the exterior. The furniture betrayed the wealth of whoever lived there previously, though they’d seen better days. Dark wood scuffed or splintered. Dull fabrics that must have been rich violets or crimson upon their initial purchase. 

You walked into the living room, freezing upon seeing lit candles around. Someone was living there after all. 

“Hello? Is anyone–” you gasped upon seeing a man standing on the other side of the living room, partially obscured by shadows.

Even in the cover of darkness, his features rendered you speechless as he approached. Handsome seemed too pedestrian of a word to describe him. His raven hair fell across his forehead with a deceptive boyishness. Brown eyes, almost black as the night itself bore into your own. His skin wasn’t nearly as tan as the villagers you’d met, but you supposed someone who lived in such a place was wealthy enough to not have to partake in the grueling manual labor typical of the area, the strong Sicilian sun giving its residents a healthy glow which he lacked. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked quietly.

“The men who were outside before—I think they’re going to kill me,” you said, panic overtaking your senses as his face remained unmoved by your explanation. “Please, I didn’t know anyone lived here.”

“Why do they want to kill you?”

“I think my father tried to cheat Don Manusco. I don’t know all of the details, but if they don’t want to kill me, then they’ll probably—“ Your voice caught in your throat. 

“You can stay.”

“I’ll leave tomorrow and find a way to get back to Palermo.”

He shook his head. “You have a vendetta out against you now. Getting back to Palermo so soon will be nearly impossible, especially if Manusco has allies there.” He watched in unreadable silence as hopelessness ate away at your resolve. “You can stay,” he finally repeated. “Don’t leave the villa. Not during the day, and especially not at night. You’ll be safe.”

“Thank you. I owe you my life.” You offered him your name, as a courtesy and as collateral. More valuable than anything else you carried with you, he could use it to betray you for his own gain whenever he wished. You prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

“Michael Corleone,” he said.

“Like the village.”

He smiled the slightest bit, his dark eyes shining an almost betraying crimson in the moonlight. Ethereal. That was the right word for him. “Yes, like the village.”

Your host led you upstairs, helping you with your meager belongings despite your insistence you could handle your small suitcase and a basket of food, which you left on the console table in the foyer. The villa had certainly seen better days, its plaster walls cracked, crumbling in some places. You would’ve used caution going up the stairs if Michael hadn’t been so confident as he ascended them. 

He paused at the top of the stairs, glancing at each of the doors along the hallway. After a few moments, he seemed to settle on one, leading you to a dark bedroom, full of odd shadows that made you pause. It seemed otherwise better taken care of than the rest of the villa you’d seen up to that point.  

“It’s just me here. I’m afraid I’m not the best homemaker,” he half-joked in response to your hesitation to enter the room. 

“No, I’m sorry. It’s nice. I can’t thank you enough, Michael.”

He nodded. “I have insomnia, so you’ll see more of me at night than during the day. The cellar stays locked, but you can have the run of the place otherwise.”

You bid each other good night. 

When he shut the bedroom door behind you, you collapsed onto the bed and cried into your pillow, both from heartbreak and exhaustion, until you fell asleep. 

The following morning, you awoke to fresh bug bites on your arm–inflamed and itchy, though perfectly in line with each other, oddly enough. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and you supposed you’d rather deal with mosquito bites than whatever Don Manusco and his soldiers had in mind for you. 

True to his word, Michael was nowhere to be found when you went downstairs to eat a breakfast of bread and hard salami. Again, not ideal, but you’d make do with what you brought with you. For the rest of the day, you explored the villa, acquainting yourself with your new albeit temporary home.

You found yourself with little to do to pass the time. Venturing out onto the surrounding grounds of the villa was hardly an option, most of it so overgrown you couldn’t take a proper walk. There were a few books in the house, but often you found your mind drifting to your parents, what their fate looked like and what could await you if Don Manusco found out where you were hiding. By the time you’d finally see Michael around in the evenings, you’d force yourself to stay up as long as you could to be in his company. Soon, your schedule nearly matched his nocturnal one.

Over the following weeks, you got to know Michael. At times, you couldn’t help but stare at him, but sometimes it felt as though you couldn’t do much else if you tried. He was a gracious host for how you imposed on him, showing concern for the bug bites you tried to hide from him. A good thing he noticed, as he brought you a cup of tea, a deep maroon color that he explained was a natural remedy from the village for the discomfort you were experiencing. A common occurrence that you’d been fortunate enough to avoid since arriving in Corleone.

“You’re not from around here either,” you said one night. “I can tell from your accent.”

“I’m from New York, but my father was born here,” he explained. “My last name is a mistake from when he immigrated.”

“Do you miss it?”

He was silent for some time, lost in thought before answering with a soft, “Terribly.”

“But you can’t go back.”

“No, I’m very sick. I wouldn’t survive the trip.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your curiosity getting the better of you when you asked, “What do you have?”

“What I have is incredibly rare, there’s no word for it. Sunlight puts me in excruciating pain, and my appetite is abnormal.”

“How long have you been sick for?”

“Years. More than you’d believe.”

“You know, everyone in the village thinks this place is cursed. If you just talked to them, then they’d understand what was going on and maybe be able to help.”

“I can’t be around people. It’s not safe for them.”

“I don’t understand,” you said. “Are you contagious?”

He hesitated. “Not how you’d think.”

“No matter what you have, it’s not good to be alone,” you argued.

“You’re here now.”

“Only until it’s safe for me to go to Palermo and leave Sicily.”

He shook his head. “You won’t be able to leave. Not when a man like Don Manusco has a vendetta out against you,” he said, his intense gaze boring into you. Your chest grew tighter as he spoke. “This villa is the only place you’ll ever be safe.”

“Michael, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just know what he did to your parents…he and men like him have done to many others on this island, too.” Your silence perturbed him. He grabbed your shoulders, squeezing them gently, though his eyes seemed to blaze with fury. “I’m keeping you safe here, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice nearly catching in your throat.

“Then what’s there to be afraid of?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s right, as long as you stay here.”

“I can’t stay forever.”

He hummed dismissively, not bothering to acknowledge your statement. You soon excused yourself to go to sleep, a sudden uneasiness settling in your stomach.

You awoke late into the afternoon the following day, judging by the amber sunlight that streamed through the broken shutters. Still, your limbs felt heavy, and your head pounded as if you’d hardly slept at all. A quick glance at your arm revealed twin bug bites on your wrist again, this time darker than the previous ones, leaving your skin tender to the touch. 

Dizziness turned the room over when you sat up from the bed, and you nearly considered going back to sleep, if it weren’t for the hunger that ached in your bones. 

You ventured down into the kitchen, relieved to find a pot of tea sitting out. You didn’t even bother reheating it, though the consistency was odd, thicker in its room temperature state. The texture didn’t deter you, as the more you drank, the better you felt, your dizziness and aches gone as the tea overflowed from the corners of your mouth and dripped down your chin, insatiable until there was nothing left. Wiping off your face, you went back up to your room and fell back asleep.

A knock on the door woke you up in the pitch black some hours later. You lit the candle on your bedside table before getting up to answer. You knew it was Michael, concerned about why you hadn’t joined him yet. 

Just as you got up to answer, he opened the door, letting himself into your room–except it wasn’t your room. It was his, and you supposed he could enter whenever he wanted. 

Frozen in place by his gaze alone, you stood still and silent as he approached, demeanor darker and more intense as his presence filled the room, as if his essence somehow intermixed with each breath you took. A citrusy sweetness with a bloodcurdling undercurrent of violence filled your lungs. Despite this, you felt no fear, but rather anticipation when he finally reached out and caressed your cheek, his hand freezing against your warm skin.

“Michael,” you whispered.

“Don’t fight me, sweetheart.”

And you couldn’t. Not even if you tried. His eyes took in your face with a softness that betrayed his fondness for you. His lips pressed against yours, a chaste kiss to start, but it proved to be insufficient for him, as he claimed your mouth with the fervor of a man long starved for affection. His desire for you tangible as you kissed him back, allowing his hands to roam your body above your nightgown until his fingers brushed your thighs, pushing the hem up to your hips. 

He laid you back on the bed, ridding you of your panties and slipping his fingers between your folds. “Tell me how it feels,” he said, his lips against your skin. “Tell me everything.”

Before then, you would have died rather than admit it to him, but at his urging, the dam broke. Of course your thoughts of him weren’t always innocent. Some nights, when you were sure he was elsewhere, you touched yourself to the thought of him. The confession slipped from your mouth so quickly that shame couldn’t catch you, not when Michael pushed his fingers inside you, the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit, denying you any sensation but absolute pleasure. 

“I’ve wanted you since I first saw you,” he whispered, pressing desperate kisses into your neck. “You have no idea how hard it’s been for me not to–”

Your whine interrupted his train of thought, and a knife-sharp pain jolted through you when he sunk his teeth into your throat, breaking the fragile skin. His fingers curled inside you, a moan clawing its way out of you as you came, ecstasy pulsing through your limbs in waves that threatened to drown you in it. Spots clouded your vision and breath evaded you, the poignant scent of copper mixed with your sex made your head spin. 

“Michael, I–” You passed out, though you awoke later, curled up next to him, your body sore and more fatigued than ever. You winced when you tried to move your head, a dull ache coming from your neck. “What did you do?” you mumbled.

“Sweetheart?”

“To my neck.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, petting your hair. “I got carried away. I haven’t felt this way in a long time.”

“Me either,” you admitted. 

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. From then on, he was ravenous, and like a woman possessed, you gave in to him every time. Nights with him blurred together as thoughts of escaping Sicily and the danger that waited for you outside of the villa walls were almost nonexistent. 

Some time later, though you’d largely stopped keeping track of the days by then, you realized your food supply was running low. Michael would go out at night and get some for you if you asked, though he never revealed where exactly he went. Still unsure of your safety from Don Manusco, you figured the farm up the road would be a good place to swipe some fruit from the orchard and anything else they might have lying around and not exactly miss.

The sun felt especially harsh when you went outside. Each step brought about unimaginable fatigue that made your bones ache. You hardly made it halfway to the farm before you had to rest beneath a large tree’s shade to rest your tired limbs and eyes. 

“Excuse me, miss? Are you okay?” 

You jolted awake, surrounded by a handful of elderly villagers from around the countryside. You recognized at least one of the older women as one of your old cafe companions in Corleone.

“I’m fine.”

The woman in question squinted at you. “Where do I know you from?”

“We’ve never met before,” you said, voice tight with panic. “I have to go. Goodbye.” You forced yourself up, using what little strength you had to return to the villa, ignoring their calls for you to wait. Exhaustion swept over you by the time you made it inside, promptly collapsing in the foyer. They had recognized you, and surely they had seen you retreat into the villa and were on their way to let Don Manusco know of your whereabouts. They’d be foolish not to with the price on your head.

Michael was nowhere to be found, and you worried that by the time you finally saw him that night, it’d be too late to tell him what transpired. Tears rolled down your cheeks as fear and guilt crept up on you. Your carelessness had put Michael in danger, too.

With no way of knowing how long it’d be until word got back to Manusco, you considered the layout of the villa, which you knew like the back of your hand, and the best place to hide if he or his men intruded in search of you.

In hindsight, the kitchen cupboard was a more obvious choice for a hiding spot, but it was the most your fatigued brain could come up with while you were panicked. 

Your instincts had been right, though. The inevitable intrusion did come.

The voices that echoed through the foyer were the same ones from the night you first arrived in the villa. You kept a hand over your mouth, the other with an iron grip around the kitchen knife. 

“Come on, Don Manusco isn’t angry with you. He just wants to talk,” one of the men called out.

“It’s a misunderstanding,” the other added. “He knows you didn’t have anything to do with your father’s schemes.”

You couldn’t take a chance on whether or not they were telling the truth. 

Footsteps approached, growing louder with each passing second. You readied yourself for attack, until you heard a blood-curdling scream rip through the night and you dropped the knife in shock. 

With all of the foolishness of your father, you opened the cupboard door. Blood pooled around the man’s head, a look of terror etched into his face, betraying his final thoughts. Your gaze lifted, and you stumbled backward, unable to comprehend the gruesome sight before you. If you hadn’t been watching Michael with your own eyes, you would have assumed an animal attack was responsible for the carnage at your feet. What more, after the initial shock wore off, an almost physical pull drew you to the spilled blood.

The villagers had been right. It wasn’t mere superstition, but reality, one more horrific than any of them could have fathomed. The unexplained murders, the livestock deaths, all by his hand. His illness a fabrication to conceal the true nature of his being, something unnatural that existed in the worlds between life and death with a hunger to match. He’d been feeding from you for weeks, allowing you to carry on believing lies. Of course you felt awful, constantly fatigued. You could only hazard a guess as to what was really in the tea you’d been drinking like a fiend.

You wished you could scream at yourself for your naivete, as if he’d help you out of the kindness of his heart and not expect something in return. Your willful ignorance of his odd behavior in exchange for refuge in the one place where you’d be safe from who you thought were the only men who wanted to harm you. But he saved you from Don Manusco and his men. He kept you alive. He could gain little from drawing out your death for so long. Unless…your eyes widened, and you looked at him in horror.

Michael spoke your name softly. “Do you understand now?”

“You–You’ve been making me like you.”

“I should have done it sooner. It’s the best way to keep you safe.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would you have believed me?”

“I guess not.”

He cupped your face in his hands, “Things won’t be that different. We’ll be together. No one will be able to hurt you.” 

“How–How much longer until I’m–”

“As soon as tonight, if you’ll let me.” Sensing your hesitation, he pressed a bloody kiss to your forehead. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You trust me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you whispered, overwhelmed by the urge to trust him, to commit to an eternity of all-consuming, reclusive violence with him. “I want to be with you. I want to be like you.”

His hands drifted down to your neck, his fingers digging into your pulse as he leaned in, his teeth grazing the half-healed wound he’d inflicted all those nights before. “I knew you’d make the right choice.”

[deadboystims]

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horror media , bugbo , monster high , sonic , cats , clowns , lps , pusheen , laceygames , rob zombie , horror movies , plushies , nerdy prudes must die

# color(s + combos) i enjoy..

blue , red , green , pink , yellow + purple , blue + brown , blue + green , blue + orange , blue + white , orange + green , green + yellow , pink + green

# inbox :

x

x

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# long stimboard requests :

x

x

[sandwichsugarbong]

I'm constantly being accused of disgustingly using intersex people as an argument against terf bullshit (like the chromosomes and genitals)

but those were terfs as well

so

did intersex people really asked to not bring them up or is that another attempt to disinform a person for the sake of "winning"?

So, speaking from personal experience, I've never met an intersex person who was against trans rights. Funnily enough, a radfem once told me that intersex people constantly say they oppose transgenderism (this is obviously paraphrased; I don't remember her exact words), but she provided no evidence or proof whatsoever. I think the reason they say that is because the existence of intersex people, while rare, goes against their narrative that XX chromosomes = female = woman and XY chromosomes = male = man. (The existence of women with XY chromosomes disproves this—I posted about it here). So, yeah, they hate it because it shows that sex doesn't determine your gender, and one's identity is determined by the individual themselves and not solely by their chromosomes, so they resort to accusing you of using intersex folks for your "agenda" or whatever bullcrap they made up in hopes of getting you to shut up.

Hope this answers your question.

Here have a shark:

[celestiall0tus]

Siren's Song - Chapter 1 - Our Worlds

Next

            Ivan navigated the Paris back alleyways to the Seine. He checked over his shoulder at every corner and rushed past areas lit up by the warm streetlights that gave off a misty glow fresh after a rainstorm. He hurried down to the under bridge that was his destination. He leaned against the wall in the dark and let out a breath. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it up, and took a long drag from it.

            “Hey, Ivan! There you are. And here we were about to go looking for you,” a boy’s voice echoed.

            Ivan turned and squinted in the dark. He smirked seeing a group of boys his age: Yves, Antoine, and Victor. He welcomed each of them as they relaxed.

            “What took you so long?” Yves asked.

            “Yeah. We thought Leon’s guys got to you,” Antoine added.

            “That’s what I was avoiding. Didn’t what to deal with those punk ass wannabes. Y’know?” Ivan remarked.

            “Man, we gotta do something about them. I’m tired of them encroaching on our terf and killing the vibe. We should take it to their terf and see how they like it!” Victor roared.

            “Easy there, Vic. They ain’t here now. Let’s just enjoy the night. Who has the cold ones?”

            Yves held up a case of beer. Each guy took a can and leaned against the wall. Ivan chugged his beer between drags of his cigarette.

            “Man, this is living! Way better than staying home and listening to my bitch ass mom complain all the damn time. ‘Oh, Victor, when you are going to grow up?’ ‘Oh, Victor, you need to stop acting like a five-year old and act like a seventeen-year-old.’ ‘Oh, Victor, why don’t you ever listen to me? You know you’ll end up cleaning bathrooms for the rest of your life if you don’t listen.’ Ugh, I hate her damn nagging.”

            Antoine and Yves buzzed in agreement while Ivan remained silent.

            “I hear that. My mom and dad are on my case. They love to go on and on about how I’m not a good role model for my younger sibs. Like, when did all the responsibility fall on me to be their role model? Isn’t that what you two are for? Fuck, I got my own problems. I don’t need that too,” Antoine grumbled.

            “Well, I don’t mean to brag, but I managed to get a girl to talk to me today,” Yves boasted.

            “Yeah? What’d she say? Get the fuck away from me, creep? Or was it, I’ll get a restraining order on you again?” Ivan mocked.

            “Hey! Fuck you, ok? At least I shoot my shot. Can any of you say the same? Especially you, Ivan. Have you even had a crush before?”

            Ivan rolled his eyes. “What’s the point? No girl or guy could handle me.”

            “What about that Alix chick we’ve seen you with? She’s tiny but fuck me if she doesn’t look like she can step on someone,” Antoine pointed out.

            “Please. Alix is just another of the guys. Besides, I don’t like midgets like her,” Ivan retorted.

            “I dunno, man. It’s usually the fun-sized ones that are the freakiest,” Yves mused.

            “Maybe, but I raise you one better than Alix. Megalodon,” Victor said.

            Yves and Antoine oohed in awe while Ivan rolled his eyes.

            “That Megalodon is a baddy. That wild red hair, those sick shark threads, and those teeth. She can tear me to shreds any day of the week,” Yves cooed.

            Ivan grimaced while Victor and Antoine agreed with Yves.

            “Oy! What are you louts doing here?” a boy yelled.

            Ivan and the others turned to see Leon and one of his boys. Ivan and the others jumped to their feet, ready for a fight.

            “What are you doing here, Leon?” Antoine demanded.

            “Yeah! This is our terf. Go back to your own!” Victor yelled.

            “Not anymore. This is ours now. Rush ‘em, boys!” Leon yelled.

            Ivan gritted his teeth as Leon and one guy rushed from the front and three others from behind them. Ivan, Antoine, Victor, and Yves were staggered as they were ambushed, beaten, and tossed out from under the bridge. Ivan roared and tried to retaliate, but got his butt handed to him. He readied to charge back in when Antoine held him back.

            “Enough. They won tonight, but we’ll get it back. You can count of that, Leon!” Antoine declared.

            “Man, fuck this. I’d rather be home than getting my ass beat. I’m going home,” Victor complained.

            “What? The night is still young!” Yves countered.

            “I don’t care. Later, losers,” Victor hissed.

            Yves sighed and shrugged. “Well, I guess that’s this night. Later, guys.”

            Ivan frowned as Yves and Victor left. “Fucking pansies!”

            “Let it go, Ivan.”

            “Fuck no! If they weren’t so weak, we could have beaten Leon.”

            Antoine shook his head and left Ivan alone. Ivan sneered and headed back home. He pulled out his phone and called Alix. It rang twice before she picked up.

            “What up, hoe? What you up to?” Alix asked.

            “Getting my ass beat.”

            Alix laughed. “Sounds like a skill issue. Was it Leon?”

            “Who else would it be?”

            “Could be anyone. Y’know, you have a natural talent for pissing people off. Except me. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not, bitch.”

            “Look, can you just get rid of him?”

            “Ugh, again? Why can’t you? Weren’t you one of those champion wrestlers the school loved so much?”

            “This. Isn’t. The. Same! That was a controlled match facing one person. Not a free-for-all in a dark passage with dirty ass fighters.”

            “Sounds like a skill issue.”

            Ivan growled. “Just get rid of him, ok?”

            “No.”

            “Excuse me?”

            “I didn’t stutter, bitch. Look, I’m getting tired of cleaning up your messes. You think you can start fights with everyone, get your ass beat, and come crying to me to fix it. You need to wise up or get your ass off the streets. Cause one of these days, you’re gonna pick the wrong fight and end up dead.”

            “Well, excuse me, but not everyone is as lucky as you! We don’t all have little trinkets that instantly make us the coolest thing to ever walk the planet that people literally drop to their knees to worship the very ground you walk on. Some of us have to struggle to get no where in life and have the one thing they can enjoy ruined by others!”

            “Of all the… Ivan, do you want to talk about it?”

            “No. Bye.”

            Ivan hung up the phone as he headed up the steps to his apartment. He unlocked the door and headed inside. He paused near the dark living room that was lit up by the TV screen. Anger and desperation clawed at him as he saw his mom in front of the screen in a drunken stupor with empty containers all around her. He looked away and saw the glints of a wrapped plate left for him on the table. He sneered and threw it at the wall before he stormed off to his room.

            Ivan slammed the door and leaned against it. He used it to guide himself to the floor as he looked around his messy, filthy room. The anger and despair tore through him and brought him crashing down. He took a sharp breath, pulled his knees close to him, and cried into them.

~~

            Kagami headed out of the academy her fencing classes are held at. She hurried past the other fencers to her ride. She tossed her bag in and climbed into the backseat. The car started on its own and drove off towards home.

            Kagami let out a sigh of relief. It had been a long day of classes and activities, but she was finally on her way home. She watched the buildings fly by as she shuddered in disgust. She hated this feeling. It came at the end of every day she was forced to be out in the mundane world, away from home. When she was forced to tolerate the primitive monkeys and their third-rate technologies. She had begged her mother to have her homeschooled but refused. Tomoe always spoke about the importance of seeing the world. She certainly saw the world, and she didn’t like it.

            The car pulled into the garage. Kagami jumped out and headed inside. She took a deep breath as she felt at ease being home. Her shoes were taken off by a robot while another came and took her gym and school bags. She headed into the kitchen where Tomoe sat at the table with dinner already laid out. She took her seat as her plate was filled for her.

            “Welcome home, Kagami. How was school?” Tomoe asked.

            “Same as every day.”

            Tomoe chuckled. “Boring?”

            “Extremely. A lot of the stuff they’re teaching I’ve already learned. I try to focus, but I know it already, so I zone out. Then the teachers think they’re cheeky and call on me, to try and make me look like a fool. Well, those that don’t learn their lessons.”

            “It’s a tragedy. You’d figure the schools around here would be top notch. Well, at least they’re not those American schools. You want to be a bumbling buffoon, that’s your ticket right there.”

            “Well, I could learn so much more if you, I don’t know, had me homeschooled.”

            “Kagami, I’ve told you, you need to leave the house. If I home school you, you’d never leave. Besides, you only have this year left before your exams. There’d be no point to it.”

            “But I could learn so much more from the AIs you’ve made than from those idiot teachers. And I wouldn’t have to subject myself to such horrible technology. I know you make it all, but why doesn’t everyone else use it too already?”

            “I’ve wondered that myself. The best thing I could guess is they’re afraid.”

            “Afraid? Afraid of what?”

            “Change, my dear.”

            “But change is good. You’re always saying change is life itself and to always embrace it.”

            “As you should. If you don’t-.”

            “You’ll be stuck in the past, blinded to the future,” Kagami finished.

            “Exactly, and yet there are people that would cling to the past. It’s those people that will always prefer past happiness to future uncertainty.”

            “It’s still stupid. They should just get over themselves already.”

            Tomoe chuckled. “Anyway, made any friends?”

            “Why bother? Everything everyone says is the equivalent of hot garbage that never should have left the trash chute they spewed it out of.”

            “What of that Agreste boy? I was told of a message from his mother, hoping to make something of a friendship with the two of you.”

            “No, thank you. He’s so broody and moody all the time. And he uses too much eyeliner like those so-called goth, emo boys.”

            “What of the Bourgeois girl and Audrey’s love child?”

            “Chloe and Zoe? Chloe is tolerable at best, but Zoe is so annoying. It’s always nature this and nature that. I don’t want to hear about forests and animals all the time, but she never seems to get that through her thick skull.”

            “And what of that female model for the Agreste brand? What was her name? Something Cheng?”

            “Marinette? She’d be a little more tolerable than Chloe, when she isn’t swarmed by her adoring fans. They literally worship the very ground she walks on. I don’t even want to count all the times I’ve heard her compared to Aphrodite, Venus, or whatever.”

            “That’s unfortunate. I suppose it was too much to expect better of them.”

            “So, about that homeschooling?”

            “Kagami, no. I understand the pleasures and comforts of technology, but we must not be blind to the world we live in. If we grow complacent, we won’t seek change. I want you to see the world as you will and be inspired to carve your legacy into it.”

            “What legacy is there to be carved into a world obsessed with the past? Why even bother with those primates at all?”

            Tomoe sighed and stood. She used the table for guidance until she was at the opposite end. She reached out her hand to find Kagami’s face. Kagami leaned in and guided Tomoe’s hand to cup her cheek.

            “You are a Tsurugi, my darling daughter. We are artists, true visionaries. We don’t let the world define us, but we define the world. Never forget that.”

            Kagami smiled as she pressed her hand against Tomoe’s. “I won’t. I promise. I’ll make you proud. I’ll be sure to fill your shoes and be a great artist like you.”

            “Not like me, Kagami. Always be better. The future is yours. Make it how you’d like, not how I’d like it. I’m doing that already. Soon it’ll be your turn to make the future yours.”

            “I will, and it’ll be a future where everyone has our technology. One where the past won’t need to hold us back anymore. We can look forward, and never back. That is the future I want.”

            Tomoe smiled and giggled. “You really are my daughter, aren’t you?”

            “You mean your amazing, intelligent daughter raised by the greatest Tsurugi visionary, then yes. Yes, I am.”

            Tomoe leaned in and kissed the top of Kagami’s head. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

            Kagami swelled with pride as tears rimmed her eyes. “And I’m so lucky to have you.”

            Tomoe hugged Kagami. “Finish your dinner, Kagami, then get your homework done.”

            “That stuff? I finished it at school during study hall. As per the usual.”

            “Then how about a movie night? It’s been a little bit since we’ve had one of those, and I’ll be leaving soon for another business trip.”

            “Oh, where are you going this time?”

            “I’ll be heading over to Tokyo again. I’m hoping to finally seal the deal with another big tech company. So long as they are pains in the you-know-what.”

            “I know you can do it, Mom. They’ll finally see they’re fools for not agreeing sooner.”

            “That’s the plan, as always. But once they agree, I can finally make our future a reality.”

            Kagami’s eyes lit up. “Really? That’s amazing. Could I help?”

            “If there is a way you can, I will gladly have you help. It is your future too. It is only fair you play a part in leading the charge.”

            Kagami squealed. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you! Oh, let me finish dinner and we can watch a movie. But I get to pick. I’ll make sure it’s something new. I hope its bad so we can rip into it.”

            Tomoe smiled and pulled Kagami into an embrace. “As always, my darling daughter. I love you, Kagami.”

            Kagami returned the embrace. “I love you more.”

            “And I love you most.”

Patreon || Discord || Ko-Fi

[duhragonball]

All right, let me put this under a cut, because this doesn’t come up often, but I think I’d like a single post I can refer people to when this topic gets brought up.

Short version: I read all seven books and hated them, and now the author is an unapologetic transphobe, which is something I have no patience for.  In recent years, critics have begun to connect the author’s neoliberal politics with a lot of the flaws in the writing, and this video by Shaun is a pretty good exploration of what was so frustrating about the books and the characters.  

Long version: I “liveblogged” all seven Harry Potter novels between 2005 and 2012.  I use the quote marks because back in those days I’m not sure “liveblog” was a term, but I certainly hadn’t heard of it.  I called it a “review”, but I basically would read each chapter and recap the whole thing with my smartass commentary.  In hindsight, this was probably more like me trying to do Nostalgia Critic’s bit in prose format, but I wasn’t very familiar with him at the time either. 

Soon afterward, I moved my online presence to tumblr, which was sort of a fresh start for me.  It sounds like I’m implying there was some sort of bad experience that came out of the whole thing, but there wasn’t.  I was proud of the work I did at the time, and while I’m not sure if it holds up in the 2020′s, I got a lot of satisfaction out of finishing a multiyear project like that.  But by the end, I was ready to move on, and so I have moved on, which is why I don’t speak of it much in this space. 

The point I’m making here is that I read all the books and I examined them pretty thoroughly, and my conclusion was that they all sucked.  Yes, even your favorite one.  No, it didn’t start out good and jump the shark later on.  They all sucked.  That’s what I had against Harry Potter.

I say “had”, because even though I’ve moved on to other pursuits, J.K. Rowling continues to maintain a public presence, selling her video games and spin-off movies and so on.  She’s also gone full-on TERF, spouting transphobic rhetoric and using her platform as a billionaire best-seller to bully people who are much less fortunate than herself. 

I’ll embed that video I linked to up top.

I think Shaun does a really excellent job explaining just what bugged me so much about the Harry Potter books.  I found the main characters extremely unlikeable, and I could never quite put my finger on the reason.  And the villains were pretty weak too, despite all their terrible crimes and talk of conquest.  Superficially, the whole thing feels like a classic good vs. evil struggle, with good wizards fighting bad wizards, kind of like how the Transformers are about good alien robots fighting a war against bad alien robots.  But it never seemed to work in the Harry Potter books.

Shaun explains why: Despite the “good versus evil” premise, a lot of the good guys just act like thoughtless, selfish pricks sometimes, and it’s justified because they’re on the good guy team.  Sometimes a character will do something terrible to another character, and it’s deemed acceptable because they’re nominally a “good guy”, and the person they’re being a jerk to is a “bad guy”, so they’re fair game.  It’s less about “good vs. evil” and more about “us vs. them”.  

Shaun doesn’t spent a lot of time getting into Rowling’s transphobia, but he does talk about a lot of the other problematic stuff in the books, like the lack of thought she put into Cho Chang’s name.  He also points out the hypocrisy in having all the other characters act irritated with Hermione’s anti-slavery campaign.  The whole thing with the house elves was half-baked from the start, and Rowling kept stumbling through each book trying to correct course, ultimately settling on having one character stand up for the Right Thing, only to have all the other characters ignore or dismiss her concerns.  Harry himself seems to have no particular opinion on house-elf slavery, which sums up the character very succinctly.   He’s the protagonist and the viewpoint character, but he doesn’t stand for anything in particular.

Now that I think about it, I suppose this was why I kept working anime characters and Transformers and professional wrestlers into my liveblog of the books.  At the time, I would have told you I was just doing it to keep myself entertained as I trudged through the series, but in hindsight, I think I was just starved for characters who actually believed in something bigger than themselves.   Harry can barely be arsed to do his own homework, meanwhile, I’ve known what passions fuel Omega Supreme since I was nine years old. 

“Diction: Straighforward.  Personality: Complex. (*snif*)”

I don’t know what sort of person you are, @endmylife69​ . You strike me as a reply guy, contrarian for its own sake.  I see feminist and antifeminist posts in your likes, and one of the three posts on your blog is about how much you hate Chi-Chi, so I don’t know why you even show up to my blog, where I think Chi-Chi is awesome.  The point is if your agenda here is to sea-lion me into “proving” that Rowling is a TERF and that TERFs are bad, I’m not interested in playing that game.  There’s plenty of critics out there who will walk you through that discussion step by step.  You asked what my problem is with her, and I’m telling you.

There are fans of hers who have to struggle with the moral implications of liking her work while distancing themselves from her hateful beliefs.  I respect the fans who have to figure that out.  I don’t respect the fans who just pretend like the dilemma doesn’t exist, because they care more about playing that new Hogwarts vidya game than anything else. 

For my own part, I can’t relate to the fans’ dilemma, because I always thought Rowling’s book series sucked shit.  What’s frustrating for me is that I spent about seven years roasting her books on the internet, and the whole time I was going “Ha ha these books suck shit!”, and it all just feels so dated now, because she’s going to go down in history as this rich, hateful bigot.  Her lousy writing is going to be a footnote to her career.  It’s like writing an “epic takedown” of Mel Gibson movies without ever getting into all the antisemitic stuff he’s done.  In retrospect, I feel kind of disgusted for engaging with her work at all, even to insult it. 

I’m sick of talking about Harry Potter, so let me make this about Chi-Chi, since that seems to be the only thing I know you have strong opinions about.  Part of the reason I like Chi-Chi so much is because she’s basically right.  She objects to a lot of the things that happen in Dragon Ball, which makes her seem like a killjoy, but her motives are sensible and important.  She grounds the other characters, keeping them with one foot in the real world. 

This is because Chi-Chi understands that there’s more to life than fighting gonzo anime battles.  Yes, she lives in a world where laser karate is real and quite prevalent.  Yes, her sons are insanely powerful warriors who are sometimes the only thing standing in the way of world annihilation.  But at the same time? Gohan and Goten really do need to study and get good jobs.  Protecting the world is important, but so is family, and home life, and the work you do.  Also, maybe it’s important to stop breaking the furniture all the time.  Its expensive, dammit. 

These are messages that a lot of DB fans don’t care for, because they tuned in for gonzo anime battles, and this loud woman is scolding everyone for wanting that.  But the point of the character is that there’s a bigger world in the lore.  There’s places to live and people to meet and things to do besides fighting Frieza all the time, and she wants her loved ones to thrive in that world, which is why she keeps reminding them of it. 

And that’s a metaphor for our own world, where there’s more to our own lives than the shows we watch and the books we read, and the internet arguments we get into.  We each have to ask ourselves what we stand for, what we’re trying to be on this planet.  My problem with the Harry Potter franchise is that it doesn’t seem to stand for much of anything.  The characters only seem to care about stopping big league threats, but have no interest in reforming their broken society.  The protagonist spends much of his time just passively experiencing the story like he’s sitting in a theme park ride.  The author only seems to feel strongly about punching down, attacking trans people and surrounding herself with anyone willing to congratulate her for this despicable attitude.  Her supporters only seem to care about being on her side, no matter how morally bankrupt it is. 

Like, okay, that video game came out a few months ago, and I saw people on Twitter trying to angrily justify their decision to buy it, even though a lot of people have pointed out that it directly supports a woman who uses her wealth to justify her bigotry platform.  They’d go “It’s just a game!” and someone made a really snotty TikTok about it or something, and I’m like “Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?”  If it was just a game, then they’d just play it and not say anything.  But they know it’s not just about the game, and that’s why they’re so defensive about it.  They want to be on both sides of this thing, and that doesn’t surprise me much, since their favorite book series taught them that they can be a real selfish dickbag and still be a good guy as long as you oppose the main villain. 

Chi-Chi would see right through that.  It’s not enough to just oppose the final boss.  It’s the life you live before and after those kinds of battles that defines you as a person. 

Anyway, Harry Potter sucks rotten eggs, and the author is a giant toolshed.  Also, that funeral they did for the giant spider was a fucking ordeal to read.  0/10 would not recommend. 

[gameboyvoid]

Howdy!

I'm Vinny/Zero!

I'm finally making some kind of intro post. My pronouns are He/They and Bug/Bugs. I do art sometimes.

I have a special interest in Pokemon but am currently hyperfixated on:

Ace Attorney

Creepypastas (especially videogame ones)

Sonic Horror AUs & Sonic.exe content

My commissions are [Open]. My Linktree is here. Creepypasta Art Sideblr is here.

[last edited 04/07/2024] DNI below cut

DNI if you are/support/here on behalf of:

You are younger than 18 years old -- I am 24 and it makes me uncomfortable.

You are, are here on behalf of, or support the users (I suggest blocking them):

- AuRoraSullivan / Amaerat Last known as Aspen Nightray / Aspen||CM. Unfortunately part of the DAGames staff (I hope Will Ryan is okay) and has gotten into bad shit (ex. pedophilia). - shatteredsoul1930-blog / greg-tudor-of-bendyinkdemon-blog / necroskullia Past abuser who manipulated myself and my friends. Tried to guilt trip me and a friend by faking suicide. Also tried manipulating me to draw NSFW for him when I was underage. - Bitey-Baby-Shark / its-blip-on-the-radar Nothing against SFW Agere stuff, he's not the "saint" (/good person) he claims himself to be. Don't trust him. I did date him, but, I gave him everything and was left to die for it. - Matchu_Madori One of Blip's SOs. Practically his "yes-man". If Blip tells them to jump, the response is "How high?". Just.. Don't.

Pedophile/MAP/etc

Nazi

Against BLM

TERF or Transmed

Sysmeds or are active in Syscourse

Are against LGBTQIA+ individuals, such as being an exclusionist or gatekeeper of identities

Support Autism Speaks or believe Autism can be cured

You think triggers are a suggestion

Cringe blogs

You support the original creators of FNF (mod supporters are fine) or One Night at Flumpty's.

You support NFTs

[flaame]

Intro Post ?!

(since my last one is outdated as hell) (includes extra things about me and my DNI / BYF)

🥀 Quill

🦇 Minor (14-15), Dec.24

🥀 Transmasc Genderflorer (He/Vey/it)

🦇 Quite a few labels but the main ones are aromantic, pan(platonic), and aceflux

🥀 Digital artist specializing in feral, anthro, and more recently human(oid) art

🦇 Neurodivergent (ADHD), very likely disabled (N24, currently looking into diagnosis), anxiety disorder (via nyctophobia + pyrophobia)

DNI :

Basic DNI Criteria

If you’re against neopronouns, xenogenders, etc

Transmed / TERF / Truscum / Transphobe / etc (I’m like,, I’m literally a transmasc genderflorer person. Lol)

If you are ok with / costume / support feral NSFW

Are heavily right-wing, a Trump Supporter, a conspiracy theorist, or anything of the sort. If you are any of these then I will block you for personal comfort.

If you are an NSFW-centered account

If you support or are an ‘AI Artist’

If you are pro-life / anti-abortion. Your beliefs genuinely scare the shit out of me.

BYF / BYI :

I have some major trauma due to politics, to the point where I am unsure if I’ll even vote when I’m old enough to. For that reason, please do not bring them up around me unless I bring them up first.

As previously said, I have nyctophobia and pyrophobia, which for me the two are particularly bad. Do /not/ show me pictures of wildfires or bring them up please. Same goes for that ‘momo’ creepypasta thing.

I swear pretty freely if that wasn’t apparent already! If you don’t want me to swear around you then please let me know ^^

I have a very hard time telling when someone is teasing me, even if I am close to them / know them. Please don’t tease me and if needed then please use tonetags!

I think I’d consider myself as someone who kins, specifically I’d consider myself to kin Shiver from Splatoon 3 (+ Hollyleaf from Warrior Cats). I don’t really mind people who also kin them, but if you’d be comfortable not interacting with me because you also kin them then that’s fine! (/gen)

EXTRA NOTES / THINGS TO KNOW :

Due to my own personal irl (mental) safety, as of September 1st I’ve had to stay off Tumblr for a while. I am slowly beginning to come back as of September 18th, but for that safety reason I will not be uploading my art as much as I did for a while.

I block somewhat freely. If I see that you are queerphobic, bigoted, very right-wing, a Trump supporter, ableist, pro-life, or ANYTHING of the sort then I will block you.

I’m always open for conversation! However if you do want to talk to me then it’d be appreciated if you could do so on ToyHouse (Flaame) or Discord (Flaaminq), and if you do so through disc then please let me know where you came from ^^

INTERESTS :

SHARKS!!!!! Literally BIGGEST hyperfixation for me rn omg pleasepleaseplease talk to me about them

Dog breeds! Been fixated on them for like 7 years now lol

Splatoon (especially,,, especially Shiver……)

Panic! At The Disco

Set It Off

My ocs (feel free to ask me about ANY of them!! Always happy to share :3)

ok uh well that should be all!! Again feel free to talk to me about anything really, just preferred that you do it offsite like on Toyhouse or Discord :DD

[viipertoxin]

intro post!!!

ㅤ🦷ㅤㅤ⏵ welcome to my blog !! ㅤㅤㅤmastiffㅤ⋆ㅤ7teenㅤ⋆ㅤhe it lycan this is my main blog! ill post about whatever i want here.

ㅤㅤ/ got loads of therapy, and it turns out i’m still a bitch. \

ㅤ📌ㅤㅤ⏵ abt me !!

ㅤㅤㅤ⇨ ㅤㅤ�� names ㅤ♯ㅤㅤ≻ㅤlukas, luke, mastiff, or any kin-related names + nicknames.

ㅤㅤㅤ⇨ ㅤㅤ⋮ pronouns ㅤ♯ㅤㅤ≻ he/him, it/its, lycan/lycans, mutt/mutts, fang/fangs, hy/hym, and any moon related emoji pronouns.

ㅤㅤㅤ⇨ ㅤㅤ⋮ gender ㅤ♯ㅤㅤ≻ transmasc, demiagender, and lots of xenos.

ㅤㅤㅤ⇨ ㅤㅤ⋮ sexuality ㅤ♯ㅤㅤ≻ gay, polyamorous (taken, not looking),

ㅤㅤㅤ⇨ ㅤㅤ⋮ interests ㅤ♯ㅤㅤ≻ㅤtaxidermy, vulture culture, digital art, writing, wolrdbuidling, canine poetry, dark aesthetics, dogs + canids in general, blood aesthetics (no real gore), goth, grunge, and alt. fashion, monitor lizards, sharks, snakes, beetles, supernatural creatures & fantasy settings/theming, infodumping (if u let me :3)

PLEASE TALK TO ME IF WE SHARE INTERESTS OH MY GOODNESS I LOVE TALKING ABOUT MY INTERESTS :3c....

btw i might edit this a lot over time,,, sry if its different each time u visit :>

ㅤ📌ㅤㅤ⏵ speaking of a dni...

ㅤㅤㅤ⇨ ㅤㅤ⋮ basic stuff ㅤ♯ㅤㅤ≻ㅤendos/non-traumagenics, proshitters + any other problematic shipping stuff, anti-therian/otherkin, racists + xenophobes, homophobes/transphobes + any exclusionists (terfs, transmeds, etc.), transids, rcta

ㅤ♯ㅤㅤ≻ㅤanti neopronouns/xenogenders, r/fakedisordercringe mfs (that entire subreddit is full of misinfo and is built on poorly-disguised albeism, dont even get me started) + and anyone that thinks children/teens cant possibly have a debilitating mental disorder and/or physical disability solely bc they arent adults.

ㅤ♯ㅤㅤ≻ㅤif u support certain therian creators such as Therian Territory, PDTherian, LycanTheory, and anyone associated with these people.

ㅤㅤㅤ⇨ ㅤㅤ⋮ personal specifications ㅤ♯ㅤㅤ≻ㅤtcc + sh/ed blogs. nothing against yall (mostly) those corners really do just trigger ocd & stress symptoms for me. this also includes if u use REAL gore for ur profile aesthetics. idc about blood but anything else expect to get blocked on sight.

ㅤ♯ㅤㅤ≻ㅤand anyone who associates with anyone that fits my dni/basic dni criteria in general. [ with certain subjects, there is a level of guilt by association if you choose to associate with bad people on purpose. only exception is manipulation/abuse cases obv. ]

ㅤ📌ㅤㅤ⏵ before you interact...

ㅤㅤㅤ⇨ ㅤㅤ⋮ important ㅤ♯ㅤㅤ≻ VERY anti-endo. free palestine + i stand with ukraine. passionate about my interests, kins, and theriotypes. WILL infodump if you let me. adhd, ocd, and pretty bad social anxiety - im trying my best but pls be patient (handle with care :,3). blunt/sarcastic way of speaking both in text and irl, will supplement with tone indicators only if asked.

ㅤㅤㅤ⇨ ㅤㅤ⋮ extra ㅤ♯ㅤㅤ≻ i block VERY freely on this site. if i see you are following certain accounts (especially those paraphilia [specifcally zoo] positivity accounts) i will block you for my own safety & mental health. i block for a reason, please do not evade just to ask why. pls just guess and call it a day.

thanks in advance :,3

ㅤ📌ㅤㅤ⏵ my links <3

https://listography.com/satyrwulves <- kinlist https://toyhou.se/viipertoxin <- view my ocs (must be logged in sorry </3) https://viipertoxin.carrd.co <- cleaner about me n shit https://rentry.co/caninekennel <- idk i just made it cuz everyone else was. it leads nowhere u havent already visited (i dont have a lot of accounts lol).

#.caninekennel <- for my posts. will create other tags eventually but this is mine for now :3c

[secretcreak]

Obligatory Intro Post

Hi! My name's Creak and this is (not) my secret side blog where I post stuff I don't want to put on my main...

🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️[22 Spider Web Emojis]

📌About:

I'm just a disabled queer woman trying to figure some stuff out. I'm fully supportive of the LGBTQ+ community.

Sometimes I swear. Sometimes a lot. If you don't like that just block #swearing.

I am pro-Palestine, I'm not anti-Jewish.

I'm also not religious but I'm not against people who are.

I'll never post NSFW stuff, but I'm not not going to post some more mature stuff every now and then.

If you don't like the stuff I post then, respectfully, fuck off. I've been here a long time; I genuinely cannot be arsed with discourse and I will block you if you try.

However, if I make a mistake somewhere, please just tell me. I'm very willing to fix them.

📌Stuff I like:

Sharks

Cats

Dogs

Animals in general

Video Games

Books

Music

Animation

Anime

Writing

Archery

Baking and Cooking

History

Stuff I've probably forgotten and will come out in time

📌Leave me alone:

Terfs/Swerfs

Disabled Fetishists

Discourse Blogs

Etc. etc.

You get the point. I block liberally. If I don't like you or your blog, I will block you. It is very simple.

🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️ [22 Spider Web Emojis]

Well, that's it I think.

Again, if I've made a mistake somewhere- wrong/outdated terminology, for example- or there's something you think I should be aware of, do let me know.

I'm trying to get better at my tagging- 8 years and I've never developed a proper system- so I'll tag everything that I can. If there's something in particular you want me to tag, again let me know.

My current main tags are:

#creaksqueaks- I talk

#swearing- Self-explanatory

#reblog- Again, self-explanatory

#image or #video- This post contains images and/or videos

#described- This post contains elements that are described

#undescribed- This post contains elements that are not described

#queue are you- Queued posts. I thought I'd give it a fun name this time.

And then just anything else is tagged appropriately.

Ciao for now,

-Creak

[nowomenhavedicks]

relevant quote for all us terven wonderbabes ❤︎

most of us have never "hated trans people", & yet we are forced to continuously draw a line in the sand when trans activists & utterly brain-dead morons assert that trans women are literally women. how fucking stupid is that backwards-arse bullshit? clown shoe levels of ridiculousness. i peaked in 2015 & i'll never get over how truly deranged mob mentality can be. would not have believed it unless this mess of malicious brainlessness hadn't taken hold the way it has. it won't win in the end, but it's causing such devastation that i find it hard to comprehend the lightening speed women were dumped in favour of propping up the egos of a smattering of porn obsessed y-chromos. these are dark days for women, unfortunately for everyone, as it's during a time when humanity & the earth needs our strong intelligent tough intuitive resilient female xx energy more than it ever has before.

remember our "gang sign", sisters! ☻

♡ ヽ(＾▽＾)人(＾▽＾)ﾉ ♡ & remener i sincerely & deeply love you all.

to all the misogynistic whackjobs who act like they just can't help trying to push women down & stomp all over our hard fought for rights, here's a couple of words from saint mags:

like saint mags says "just stop. own your shit." trans woman are trans women. women are women. tomboys are not boys. protect female children & young lesbians during this storm of lunacy. they need us to be fearless leaders, to be the light at the end of this dark, depressing tunnel. the younger women weren't around to see how it used to be in lesbian & gay circles. it never used to be like this at all. trans people hadn't started outright lying & saying they aren't trans, they were never trans, they were "misgendered" at birth & are actually literal women. a lot of trans people understand that they're trans cos duh, but an entire younger generation of trans activists are totally delusional - they're unhappy, bitter & looking for scapegoats in order to inflict their male entitlement & violence upon women who defy them. not to mention the wealthy, narcissistic, conniving older trans women (lawyers, politicians, celebrities, etc) who have weaponised peoples' empathy in order to propagate & activate our current society's innate misogyny, & these y-chromos do it knowingly, purposefully, for their own hellish reason: those kind of trans women hate us cos they aint us.

but please don't forget, my sisters ♡ ♡ ♡

[marcodiazisatransgirl]

Would opposite of antis be "pros" would ya say?

Lol what - you trying to sneakily catch me admitting some terrible secret? I'm anti purity culture and anti censorship. I'm anti conservative beliefs, I'm anti truscum and anti terf, I'm pro abortion and pro choice. I'm anti paedophilia, anti grooming, anti abuse, against racism and against ableism. I'm anti boy-who-called-wolf-ing "paedophilia". I'm pro gay rights, and pro queer fandom spaces and I've been on this ride longer than you and can see the blood in the water and the sharks circling.

Oh yeah, and I'm a pro shipper.

[runawaybouqet]

HELLO HI HEY HELLO :]

[mutuals can ignore this!!! ITS JUST AN INTRO SINCE THE ACCOUNT MASTERLIST WAS JUST A PLACEHOLDER!!!]

!!ME!!

💮 // ZADKIEL / KEL / ZADDIE / ANY KIN NAME

🌊 // AGELESS / MINOR

🌟 // AROACE AGENDER [THEY/IT/XEY/FAE/SHARK + OTHER]

🌺 // PLATONICALLY TAKEN [shy and milo my beloveds]

🌸 // SENIOR YEAR HIGHSCHOOLER [against my will]

🍡 // DIGITAL ARTIST

💮 // SHARK

🌊// OBSIDIANLXGEND -> C0DYCL0UDII -> XENODOXIA -> MONOCANDII

🌟// AUTISTIC + DEPRESSION + PSYCHOSIS, PLEASE BE PATIENT!!!

!!ACCOUNT MASTERLIST!!

@monocandii // main

@tibumako // oc ask blog

@fnf-hueshift // fnf au blog

@daily-desertduo // bbqduo/desertduo blog

@orthodoxius // weirdcore [arg wannabe] blog

@kerucloudii // mlp blog

@bloomingkorpses // that blog where i try convincing myself that im ok

@puppetprompts // color palette/prompt blog [temporarily inactive]

@sharkiibrutus // moodboard blog

@sharkiiuser // userbox blog

!!ABOUT ME!!

!!IRLS!!

-XENOPHANES.EXE

-ALDRYX

-GIRL N BOY [TWINSOMNIA]

-FLEETWAY SUPER SONIC

-SAIKI

-V4FLOWER

-HATSUNE MIKU

-RASAZY

-ENA

-GABRIEL [TMC]

-SONIC THE HEDGEHOG

-SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG

-INVADER ZIM

-LITERALLY ALL OF MY OCS

-AND MORE

!!OTHER SOCIAL MEDIAS!!

TWITTER // @/MONOCANDII

TOYHOUSE // @/XENODOXIA

ART FIGHT

DISCORD // XENODOXIA#6070

!!TAGS!!

🌊.reblog // REBLOGS

🍡.asks // ASKS

#korpse.art // ART

PLEASE CENSOR!! [CENSOR TAG: KORPSE DL]

-skephalo /srs i get genuinely physically ill when i see it. i dont mind skephalo fans interacting but please keep it in mind

-abuse / r//pe / groomers

!!DNI!!

-TERFS / TRANSMED / TRANSCUM

-ENDOGEN "SYSTEMS"

-NSFW / FETISH BLOGS

-RACISTS / SEXISTS / MISOGYNISTS / MISANDRISTS / ETC.

-XENOPHANES.EXE DOUBLES / SELF-SHIPPERS

-PRO-SHIPPERS

-DSMP/MCYT MAJOR-ANTIS [IF U DONT LIKE IT THATS FINE!! BUT IF UR GONNA BE A HUGE BITCH ABOUT IT THEN PLEASE, DODGE MY PAGE!!]

-AGEPLAYERS / P3D0PH1L3S / INCEST SUPPORTERS

-N//ZIS

-SERIAL KILLER SIMPS / KINS

-CONSERVATIVE CHRISTIANS

-SUPERSTRAIGHTS

-ANTI-AGE REGRESSION

-IRL SHIPPERS

-APART OF / SUPPORT DICE CULT [fuck you lmao.]

-USE "they're just fictional characters" AS AN EXCUSE TO SHIP PROBLEMATIC THINGS.

-THINK R//PESEXUALS AND MAPS ARE APART OF THE LGBTQ+

[brynwrites]

OUR BLOODY PEARL’s ebook is $1 for PRIDE!

(until June 19th)

After a year of voiceless captivity, a bloodthirsty siren fights to return home while avoiding the lure of a suspiciously friendly and eccentric pirate captain.

Highlights:

Fluff and adventure

Disabled, nonbinary siren protagonist who has all the sass

Asexual romance with the smollest freckly pirate love interest

Steampunk vibes in a Caribbean setting

The companion novel to a trilogy coming out in 2021

Also this is non-cis book written by a non-cis author so buying it will anger TERFs like JK Rowling ;)

Find the ebook here!

(Or add it to your Goodread’s TBR.)

You can also read the first page below the cut! 

And, while you're here, check out these fantastic mer-centered books by black authors, because we wouldn't have pride at all without black lives:

THE DEEP, an adult novella by Rivers Solomon.

The water-breathing descendants of African slave women tossed overboard have built their own underwater society—and must reclaim the memories of their past to shape their future in this brilliantly imaginative novella inspired by the Hugo Award nominated song “The Deep” from Daveed Diggs’ rap group Clipping. Yetu holds the memories for her people—water-dwelling descendants ...more

A SONG BELOW WATER, a YA novel by Bethany C. Morrow

Tavia is already at odds with the world, forced to keep her siren identity under wraps in a society that wants to keep her kind under lock and key. Never mind she's also stuck in Portland, Oregon, a city with only a handful of black folk and even fewer of those with magical powers. At least she has her bestie Effie by her side as they tackle high school drama, family secrets, ...more

RISE OF THE JUMBIES, a middle grade novel by Tracey Baptiste

Corinne LaMer defeated the wicked jumbie Severine months ago, but things haven’t exactly gone back to normal in her Caribbean island home. Everyone knows Corinne is half-jumbie, and many of her neighbors treat her with mistrust. When local children begin to go missing, snatched from the beach and vanishing into wells, suspicious eyes turn to Corinne. ...more

OUR BLOODY PEARL

[1] CHAPTER ONE: Swell Beginnings

There is one thing I know for certain: We were right to hate the humans.

HUNGER HAUNTS ME like a bull shark. With every roll of the ship, the gunk inside my stagnant tub sloshes against my waist, stinging anew. The tight wooden room's stale air burns my lungs.

Steam whistles in the pipes that run along the walls, their copper gleaming in the dim ceiling light. My wrists throb where the metal cuffs locking me to the tub dig into my silver scales. The gill slits along my neck are clamped shut after a year without seawater and my head fins stick to my scalp like barnacles to rock.

I try to anchor myself with the memory of home, of fine sands and vibrant reefs, but I can barely recall the rush of the warm current or the thrill of the hunt. Even a single wrasse sounds like a feast now. Or a few human fingers.

At least I can still smell the sharp brine of the ocean. When the ship rocks, the small, circular window to my left reveals the sea rolling in an endless stretch of deep blue, begging me to return. The silhouette of an approaching vessel forms a blur on its horizon.

I squint at the hazy shape, but Captain Kian’s roar of irritation from an upper deck makes me recoil. My captor’s harsh voice is so loud it seems to shudder its way down my spine.

The new vessel leaves my sight as the ship I’m captive on—the Oyster—turns toward it. The steam stacks clatter to life somewhere beneath me. Fabric and metal wings stretch out from the sides of the Oyster, and the ship bursts forward, riding just above the crests of the waves.

The sudden change in speed shoves me backward, tossing up my putrid water. As the liquid recoils, it grazes my largest tail fin, lying limp over the far edge of the tub. For all the pain I suffer, I nearly forget my tail exists, its iridescent gleam washed away by the filth and grime of the tub. It must still be impaired from the massive, anchor-like weight my captor crushed it beneath when she first locked me here. I can’t bring myself to focus on its lifeless form for long. I wasn’t meant for this.

I need the sea.

Read more with Amazon’s preview function!

[tlcwrites]

Two Hearts Make a Whole

Prompt: “Kiss me again, like you mean it.” Photo prompt below.

Summary: NYC Pride is for celebration, and occasionally, long-overdue revelations.

Word Count: 2,001

Tags/Content warnings: Marvel. Stucky. If you have a problem with it, there's the door. SFW. Slight TFATWS spoilers so read at your own risk. Platonic Reader. Two idiots in love. Technically canon-divergent because I'm still in my everyone-is-alive-and-in-this-timeline happy place that I will never ever leave fuck you very much Russo brothers but not AU. Found family. All the feels. Complete and total LGBTQ+ support. Lots of bad language words because #me. Un-beta'd.

Author’s Note: Okay so yes this is technically 4 weeks late for @autumnleaves1991-blog's Writer Wednesday weekly challenge. BUT, it was incredibly important to me to finish this one before Pride month is over. Made it by the skin of my teeth.

Happy Pride, y’all. If you’re out, you’re amazing. If you’re closeted, you’re amazing. However you identify is valid and important. Trans folx are LGBTQ+. Bisexuals are LGBTQ+. Ace folx are LGBTQ+. Anyone who identifies or thinks they may be as queer is LGBTQ+. All are welcome in the family. You have the right to choose your pronouns and we have the responsibility to use them. Live whatever your truth looks like to you and love each other. Love is love is love is love. If your family doesn’t accept you for you, I’m your mom now and I’ve got mom hugs available on demand. Homophobes and TERFS can fuck off and roll in poison ivy. Always punch Nazis. Pride shouldn't be limited to the month of June. And don’t you dare forget that Black and Brown trans women were the ones who rioted at Stonewall, and we owe everything to their bravery. Don’t forget that much of popular ‘gay’ culture was appropriated from Black women. And for more facts about Pride that you should absolutely know, Rawiyah Tariq (@ mammyisdead on Instagram) has a phenomenally good overview.

“Oh my god.” You gasp loudly. "Oh my GOD. Is that-"

“What?!” Instantly in First Avenger Protective Mode™️, Steve surveys the crowd, wishing he had an actual shield instead of the screen printed one on his shirt. “What is it?”

You gasp again, smacking Sam’s arm repeatedly. “OHMYGOD IT IS HOLY FUCK.”

“First; ow.” Now-Cap rubs his bicep. “Second; clue in the class before Steve has an aneurysm, please.”

Vibrating with excitement doesn’t begin to describe your current state. “HER ROYAL HIGHNESS MISS LEMON MERINGUE IS STANDING RIGHT FUCKING THERE.”

With the finesse of a shampoo commercial, Bucky's dark locks fly as he whips around. “What?!”

“RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE.” You abandon a relieved Sam and latch on to Bucky’s vibranium arm. “Oh my GOD I love her so fucking much.”

“She was robbed, absolutely fucking robbed,” he agrees, craning his neck to get a better view. “Divine Tension’s lip sync was shameful.”

Sam glances at Steve, who is slowly coming out of protector mode. “What the ever-loving hell are they talking about?”

“RuPaul’s Drag Race.” Nat flicks more confetti at both Cap-the-former and Cap-the-current. “They watch it every week.”

“Really, Steven, for a guy with enhanced super senses, you miss a lot.” Tony hefts a bedazzled Morgan higher on his back. The toddler, accompanied by Scott playing air-piano on the ground, sings along with the ABBA song being blasted at full volume through the street. Tony continues as if this is an everyday occurrence. “Why do you think both of your People disappear every Friday evening?”

Ears pink, Steve mumbles something.

“What?!” The only other one with hearing enhanced enough to hear a murmur over the cacophony of several thousand people belting out the chorus of ‘Dancing Queen’ at the top of their lungs, Bucky turns to stare at his friend. “You thought we were datin’?”

Steve’s blush extends down his neck.

You and Bucky stare at each other for a moment before you both collapse on each other, exploding into stomach clenching, thigh slapping laughter.

“I’m gonna guess that’s a ‘no’?” Clint confirms with Nat.

“Oh, a big ‘no’.” She watches affectionately as you and Bucky calm down enough to look at each other, breathe for a second, and both promptly dissolve into hysterics once more. “Like, the biggest ‘no’.”

Sam crossed his arms across his chest, his stoic stance so reminiscent of Steve it’s amusing (as well as a beautiful disparity to the sequined crop top he’s sporting. Oof, those abs.). “How do I not know about this?”

“Because you’re not a former super spy?” The usually-Black-but-today-Rainbow Widow tosses the last of her confetti at Tony, who spins a jubilant Morgan into it. “Or because you and that leggy barista from the lobby coffee shop are too busy playing hide-the-“

“-Baby Shark!” Morgan suddenly shrieks, flailing towards a guy on roller blades wearing a fin and tail (and not much else).

“Yeah,” Nat finishes with a smirk, “Hide-the-Baby Shark.”

Sam flips her a gesture that makes Clint laugh and Bruce sigh.

You and Bucky have finally managed to pull yourselves together. “Oh my god, Steven Grant,” you gasp, wiping tears from your eyes. “That’s the funniest fucking shit I’ve ever fucking heard.”

“Language!”

Steve glares at Tony. “One. Time. It was one. Time.”

Bucky slings his flesh arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Oh, punk. You may have perfect vision now, but sometimes you’re still as blind as you were before.”

Visiortn himself nods sagely. “Humans can be quite unperceptive when it comes to matters of the heart.” Vision casts a fond smile at Wanda, who is using her powers to make Pietro’s tinsel wig fly on and off. “Sometimes you have to look harder to see what’s right in front of your nose.”

A confused frown on that handsome face, Captain Clueless looks at Bucky. “Why do I feel like everyone else knows something that I don’t?”

His bestie sighs deeply. “Because, Stevie, almost everyone else on this planet knows that my tastes tend towards tall, blonde, blue-eyed knuckleheads who have zero sense of self-preservation.”

“And an ass you could bounce a quarter off of,” Scott helpfully supplies.

“And that,” Bucky agrees.

Steve frowns.

You press your palms to your eyes in vexation. “You, Steve. He’s talking about you.” (Seriously, how has this idiot survived for over a century while being so dumb?)

Whatever he was expecting, it was certainly not that. “He-“ The Man With A Plan gapes as he turns to his oldest friend. “You-“

“Me,” Bucky says gently.

Even though you’re slightly surprised that Bucky is going to do this in such a public forum, you can’t help but be so proud of your friend. It has taken a long time for Bucky to believe he deserves to be happy. There are days he still sinks into that dark place, where his inner demons whisper that he should have fought harder against his Hydra captors, and that his past actions were still somehow his fault. Those are the days no amount of baking or Modern Marvels will bring him out of his funk. You, Steve, Sam, and Nat have all held those strong shoulders as they shook with sobs, overwhelmed by the shame and horror at what his hands had done without his consent.

But he’s here. He’s free. And he’s smiling nervously at his best friend.

“I-” Steve is short-circuiting. “Me?!”

“Stevie.” With the kind of tender patience that can only be born of a lifetime of keeping (or attempting to keep) an idiot such as one Steven Grant Rogers from flinging himself headlong into every fight he comes across, Bucky moves his flesh hand to the back of Steve’s neck. His face is full of such soft affection that you almost want to look away for fear of intruding on this suddenly intimate moment. “What do you think ‘til the end of the line’ means, you idiot? You’ve been it for me since I was thirteen-years-old.”

Blue eyes are locked with blue eyes as Steve processes this revelation. “I-” He shakes his head as if to declutter his thoughts. “This whole time?”

“Since the first time I saw that asshole knock you down, and your scrawny ass climbed right back up.” A wry chuckle escapes as Bucky reminices. “You were ninety pounds soaking wet, and you stood there, against a guy who was three times your size, and never waivered for a second. It was magnificent.”

“I don’t like bullies,” is Steve’s quiet response.

Bucky’s grin is adoring. “I know, sweetheart.” He gently strokes the back of Steve’s neck with his thumb. “You’ve always had a heart way bigger than your brain.”

Steve is still back on the first part of Bucky’s admission. “If you’ve felt- if you-” He’s practically pleading. “Why didn’t you say anything then?”

Bucky shrugs, attempting and failing nonchalance. “It was a different time, you know?” He’s uncharacteristically unsure of himself, the subtle waiver in his voice revealing the anxiety born of a lifetime of being forced to hide his truth. “I mean, you remember how it was; you didn’t talk about, no one talked about- about being- about people like...” He swallows thickly.  “And I was so scared you didn’t, that you weren’t-” His voice breaks.

Even though you’ve all been emotionally invested in this love story for years, the entire team respectfully pretends not to listen as the former Winter Soldier quietly admits his deepest secret to his closest friend. It’s enraging as Bucky confesses yet another way he's been a victim of his circumstances, and denied his right to live freely without derision. Once more, you’re awed by his resilience.

“-it was a risk I couldn’t take,” Bucky finally gets out, that stubborn fire back in his eyes. “I couldn’t lose you, Steve. I couldn’t chance it. I could live with just being your friend and only your friend so long it meant you were in my life.”

Stunned silence meets the end of his confession. Steve’s face is impassive, those cerulean eyes uncharacteristically inscrutable.

You can all tell Bucky is heading steadily towards dread and heartbreak the longer Steve takes to respond. You and Sam exchange a look, both ready to intervene if Steve demonstrates any of the abhorrent attitudes that were so prevalent in the society of his youth. It would be completely out of character for him, but...

Finally, Steve speaks. “You’re telling me,” he says, his words slow and deliberate, “that you made me wait ninety-three years to tell me you’ve felt the same way about me as I have about you since the day you picked me up out of that alley?!”

The whole found family breaths a collective sigh of relief as Steve pulls Bucky even closer, broad chest to broad chest.

“Okay, to be fair, you were an ice cube for most of that time and I wasn’t exactly available for a relationship.” Bucky’s grin stands in contradiction to his mullish defense. “But yeah, that’s the gist of it.” There’s the Bucky you all know and love, biting his lip with those perfect white teeth. “Now, punk, I’d really like to kiss you now, but first I need you to say you want me to.”

“You-” Steve’s throat works as he attempts- and fails- to rein in his emotions. “You jerk.”

And then the Star Spangled Man seizes the president of the Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club by his ridiculously perfect face and crashes their mouths together.

At any Pride event, seeing two men kissing is, obviously, to be expected. But seeing The First Avenger and The White Wolf attempting to swallow each other’s tongues is not at all routine. As people realize what is happening, the crowd is whipped into a frenzy the likes of which is usually reserved for the aftermath of sporting events and elections that defeat fascists.

Watching the two men embrace, Scott sniffles loudly. “I’m gonna cry, I’m so happy.”

He’s certainly not the only one. Wanda has a watery smile as she wraps her arms around Vision and Pietro; Pepper, Tony, and Bruce are watching with fond parental energy; you and Sam sandwich Peter between the two of you, grins practically splitting your faces. Even Nat’s eyes look suspiciously shiny and she and Clint sling their arms around each other with platonic affection. And that’s not counting the several thousand people who are cheering for love being love being love being love.

When they finally break their embrace, the Centennial twins are startled to see they’ve collected quite an audience.

“Uh, so…” Suddenly bashful, Steve glances back to his- partner? Boyfriend? Soulmate? Is there a word that can accurately describe two people who have found each other time and again in a world that seems hell-bent on keeping them apart?- his ears practically maroon with embarrassment. For a guy with one of the most-recognized faces in the world, Steve is still incredibly and endearingly uncomfortable with attention. “Buck?”

Bucky seems just as stunned as Steve.

Thankfully, the masses demonstrate the usual support that’s the hallmark of Pride. “LOVE IS LOVE!” someone screams in the crowd. It’s quickly echoed, and chants fill the park.

The attention momentarily off them, the former Winter Soldier and his giant himbo of a soulmate look back at each other. You pretend not to watch through the happiest tears as they embrace again, bringing their foreheads together. The relief they share is palpable, as they’re finally able to show the world- and each other- the love they’ve each hidden for so long.

Bucky’s voice is so soft you have to strain to hear it. “You have no idea how much m’in love with you, Stevie.”

“Pretty sure I do,” Steve answers, bringing a hand up to carefully wipe the tears from Bucky’s face. “‘cause it’s as much as I love you, Buck.”

Bucky's answering grin can only be described as saucy. “Then kiss me again, like you mean it.”

And Steve, for once in his long life, does exactly as ordered.

---

A/N: “The Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club” is from Starry_Emerald173’s BRILLIANT The Avengers Wrangler over on AO3. If you haven’t read it yet, drop what you’re doing and do so immediately. Make sure you're not drinking any liquids, or your keyboard/phone may be in peril.

[rose---child]

What if a mobster just kills the joker and inherits his terf

Like what shit lips, you’re not even a clown. You’re just a bad standup comedian.

The penguin is rich

The riddler is smart

The scarecrow is atleast outlandish enough how would you even kill him. Hard to kill with little reward

But the joker is the king but I feel he’s actually easy to kill long as you don’t listen to him. A single union of his workers could topple his whole operation.

Like Harley and ivy atleast have empathy. The joker if he stuck with stand up would complain about poor people and being canceled while having a right wing audience. That man would be on the Ben Shapiro show if he wasent a villein.

Like the Gotham police would easily get their city under control if they used their corruption and weapoized it for good but it’s the police so all they would do is become the mafia and never install real trust, like if they installed a crime boss that was in between Batman and two face and was in the pocket of the law, then gothem could be safe

Go after joker, become ceditable over night. Becomes friends with two face and the penguin. Turn them against the riddler and scarecrow since riddler is unreliable and scarecrow is two. Manbat, crock, and them just need to be thought as citizens who need meds but in this case it’s a good living conditions.

Clay face, king shark, Harley, ivy, cat women, old man, and the misogynist are harmless long as eventually you get ivy a plant and Harley a hammer and maybe a copy of the dsm-5 and a few other gifts.

Next invite Batman and Wayne to dinner as Gotham’s two greatest assets and you want to get on their good side (Our mobster wouldn’t know they are the same)(by mobster I just mean crime lord)

Next find dirt on penguin finically and find dirt on two face. Manbat could be your layer in court against two face.

Eventually you would have to fight Batman

Make him understand that Gordon is working with you and you have been a net positive for the city by using money for good