#the relatability of this post tanks when you read the tags

[waywardsalt]

sometimes you make aus just to see how far you can push your favorite fictional little guy within the bounds of their canon characterization before they’re straight up an entirely different character

[reiderwriter]

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (GN + AFAB)

Summary: The AC at the BAU decides to take a holiday during a summer heatwave, and when you decide the FBI’s dress code is merely a suggestion, you unwittingly catch Spencer’s eye.

Genre: smut (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, semi-public sex, fingering, car sex, degradation, name-calling, edging, praise-kink, dumbification, basically Spencer is a tease and the reader really gets off on using his official title.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: Hello! This is my first posted fic, so any feedback is welcome and absolutely appreciated (I tried to keep it GN!AFAB but if you notice any gendered pronouns pls lmk immediately!) I finally decided to start writing again after a few years, so I might be a bit rusty but I recently started rewatching Criminal Minds and I am so in love with Spencer! This little fic was inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge, so big thank you to them for the inspiration! This could also develop into a multi part fic in the future, so if that’s something you’d be interested in, please let me know in the tags and comments! XOXO K

Part two!

After three years in the BAU, you should know that summers in Quantico, Virginia are nothing to play about. Sure, it could be cloudy sometimes, and summer rain did allow for some relief, but with a heatwave on the way and a week of office work ahead of you, it seemed every member of your team was excited for the office AC. 

That was, of course, until the maintenance department sent out an office-wide email telling you it was “undergoing work” for the foreseeable future. 

You received the email during your commute, and immediately turned around to change. There was no way you were surviving in your slacks and long-sleeve shirt, and, truth be told, you knew that your bosses wouldn’t mind if you were a little more relaxed in your workplace attire if you weren’t going to be spending time in the field. 

It took all of thirty seconds to shoot a message to Garcia, telling her that you’d be a few minutes late for your daily carpool, letting her know the situation so she didn’t hack into your car GPS (which she still claims she absolutely did not do the last time you accidentally slept in, but would in an emergency just to know you were safe). 

She quickly sent you a reply: “put on that floral number we picked up last week! Between you and Morgan, I'm hoping my eyes will be feasting today 😉.” 

You let out a little chuckle as you read the message, and quickly complied. A sundress didn’t sound too bad right now at all. 

The dress in question was perhaps pushing it slightly for office work. It was short, and you knew immediately when putting it on that you would spend the day pulling it down to a more appropriate length. But the shade of blue fit your skintone perfectly, and the floaty material was exactly what you needed to beat the heat. 

Grabbing your keys again before you could second guess yourself, you didn’t let your mind linger quickly on the thought that perhaps the dress was a little attention grabbing. And perhaps there was someone in the office whose attention you wanted to grab. 

-X-

The commute into the office wasn’t bad, but stepping out of your nicely temperature regulated car into a wall of heat made you thank yourself for your foresight. And it seemed that the rest of your team was dealing similarly. Walking into the office, you noticed that Prentiss had divested herself of her shirt, sitting comfortably with an iced coffee and red tank top, an electric fan inches from her face. Morgan was similarly outfitted in lighter clothes than usual, and you could audibly hear Penelope’s brain working to come up with the best heat related compliment for her work husband. You couldn’t see Hotch or Rossi, but you knew they kept their own back-up units in their offices, so they wouldn’t be struggling at all today. You assumed JJ, too, was in her office.

“Well, look at you Cutie. You’re gonna break some hearts today, I know.” You roll your eyes as you throw your bag down. You were used to Morgan’s playful teasing by now, but compliments and affirmations were always welcome. You grimaced looking down at your desk chair and realised you had another problem. Your very recent purchase of a black leather office chair was going to absolutely make your day a living hell. Before you resigned yourself to a day of sitting in the orthopedic seventh layer of hell, your heard the angelic call of your office BFF.

“It feels like the devil’s armpit in here, god, do not expect an miracles from me today, I’m collecting my laptop and immediately moving away from all the heavy heat-producing machinery in my cave. Anyone got any space at their desk for me to work at?” 

“Yes!” You replied a little too quickly. 

“Feel free to make yourself at home, Pen, I have to look over some files with Reid later anyways so I’ll just pull up a spare chair to his desk, it’s all yours.” You thanked your lucky stars that everyone was too hot to tease you about your imminent proximity to the office’s Boy Wonder. 

It turns out hiding a small, tiny, stupid crush from a team of FBI profilers wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but you were confident in thinking the only one who had clocked on so far was Penelope. And that was only because of your weekly girls nights and an unfortunate habit of spilling secrets while intoxicated. Sure, the others still teased sometimes, but that was only because the two of you were the easiest targets. And they just didn’t know how on the nose they were sometimes. 

She gave you a quick look, of the ‘we will be discussing this later’ variety but didn’t say anything else and quickly excused herself to collect her things. 

You quickly pulled up a (non-leather) chair next to Reid’s and straightened out your dress as you started searching for the file you were looking for. Although you absolutely had an ulterior motive to intruding on his space, you actually did have work to do. But the heat, and the knowledge that you’d be working closely with Reid again any minute now did nothing to help you stay focused. 

Of course, having worked on the same team now for three years meant that you’d been alone together before. In all honestly, he was your partner of choice for any field task and you complimented each other well. The two of you worked together on Geographical Profiles for the majority of your cases, using your people skills, and his practical knowledge to gain insight into the locations unsubs lived, worked, murdered and hid their victims. And of course, you were friends outside the office, too. But you felt there was a distance between the two of you that made itself known the minute you stepped off the Jet or out of the bullpen. 

As you searched the desk, you let your mind wander to what he would look like in this heat. You knew he didn’t deal with the heat well, and could often be found with his shirt sleeves rolled up and top buttons undone on the cases in the warmer climates. You thought about him panting in the heat, pushing his hair out of his face, glistening with sweat and grumbling quietly about the heat. You specifically thought back to a case from a few weeks back, where the two of you had an awkward run-in with an automatic sprinkler when you made your way to interview a witness. His purple shirt had ended up soaked, and on day six of the investigation, his go bag was thankfully short of replacement clothing. So he’d sat in the precinct, shirt semi-transluscent, completely oblivious to your brazen oggling and sudden lack of anything intellectual to say. Or anything to say in general. 

It was only as you felt yourself getting warmer (a particularly impressive feat on today of all day’s) that you had to pull yourself out of the fantasy. But of course, as you stood up to get yourself a cool drink, you realised you were face to face with the man of your fantasies. 

“Y/N? Did you need something?” He looked down at you, with a soft smile on his face. 

“Oh! No, it was Garcia, she, um, she needed somewhere to work because her office is practically a sauna with all those computers. And I was thinking, we still need to work on that report on the geographical profile from the last case, so I offered her…my…” You trailed off, noticing you were rambling and allowed yourself a second to look at the man in front of you properly for the first time that day. 

It was going to be a miracle if you got any work done ever again.  

Like you, he’d opted for a change in uniform. He’d rid himself of his usual waistcoat-cardigan combo and was left in a button down shirt. It was, as you’d hoped and prayed, open slightly more than usual at the top. You frowned unconsciously as you realised he had also pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, unhappy that you wouldn’t get to watch him do it in-person, his veins popping out as he exerted himself in the smallest way. 

A few seconds of silence passed, and you had to make yourself tear your eyes away from a droplet of sweat that was neatly making its way down his throat, tracing a line that you could only hope to one day follow with your lips.  When you snapped your eyes up to his, he nervously did the same, gripping  his bag a little tighter to him. 

“Oh, yeah that sounds good, um, let me just put my bag down and we can, uh, get started I guess.” 

“Yeah of course. I was just gonna grab a drink first, do you want one?” 

“Sure, yeah, a coffee would be good.”

“Okay, I’m no expert but that cannot be healthy in this heat. I know you’re practically a caffeine addict at this point, but I’m getting you a glass of water and you’re going to thank me, okay Doctor?”

He rolled his eyes and settled comfortably into his seat, but made no complaints as you walked away. 

-X-

“This is ridiculous, how can they expect us to work like this?” Agent Prentiss grumbled from her desk. 

“Oh, come on now, Prentiss, you can’t be complaining about a little heat, now.” 

You rolled your eyes at your coworkers playful back-and-forth, doing your best to not melt into your borrowed seat. You’d been working side-by-side with Reid for the last three hours and the heat was now unbearable. You were stuck to the seat in an uncomfortable way, especially with the extra exposed skin from your dress. It had ridden up your legs more than you expected it would, so you were constantly shifting in your seat attempting to keep yourself decent. 

The heat rolling off your teammate didn’t help. You had assumed that his love of cardigans, scarves and layers in general meant that he usually ran on the cooler side, but he was practically burning up next to you, making any and all accidental touch near intolerable. 

Each accidental brush of his fingers as you passed files between the two of you, each knock of your knees together under the desk as you moved to read over one-anothers shoulders, and every time you got up for another drink, it’s like he’s read your mind because he stood up at the same time and you had to awkwardly untangle yourself from the mess of desk chairs and office furniture. With every touch, you feel yourself getting hotter and hotter, the heat pooling between your legs embarrassingly.

It’s only when, later in the day, he brushes the seam of your skirt with his fingers when reaching over you with his other hand for a file you know for a fact he does not need, you realise that all of those accidental touches may have been absolutely intentional. 

Lowering your voice to a whisper, you bring your lips closer to his ears.”Spence, what was that?” You try to keep your voice steady, but his fingers are stil lingering closer to your sensitive areas than you found comfortable.

He drops his eyes to yours, looking you in the eye for the first time since you started working together in a comfortable silence. 

“What was what?” He asks innocently, his cheeks flushes as he starts drawing small circles on your thigh.

“You’re touching me. You’ve been touching me a lot today, Doctor.”

“Oh, I’m Doctor now, am I?” He smiles at you before quickly moving his attention back to the file he was reading. 

“Don’t change the subject.” You feel your whole body flush, as he ignores you and continues his reading, not removing his hand from your leg the entire time. 

“S-Spencer, I’m serious.”  He looks at you again then, and your heart jumps into your throat as you realise he’s removed his hand from the hem of your skirt, only to have it return under the material, moving closer and closer to where you really wanted him. 

“You know,” he whispers under his breath, so quiet you’re sure that no one could overhear, “you look really pretty in this dress.”

Your brain is short circuiting as you feel his hand on your inner thigh, failing to register the implication of his words as you do your best to stammer out a reply. 

“A-actually, Garcia chose it out for me. She said that you would-” you cut yourself off before you can say anymore. You’re surrounded by a room of your close friends and teammates and you’re doing your best not to beg your incredibly attractive coworker to push his fingers into you right then and there. Biting your lip so you don’t say anything else, you try to stand and shift away. 

But Reid is there, and with his other hand he maneouvers you even closer to him somehow.  

“She said I would what, beautiful?”

He’s so close now and you find yourself again staring at his exposed neck, wanting nothing more than to bury your head in him and kiss and lick and bite until he gives you what you want. The little circles he’s drawing on your legs are removing your inhibitions quicker than any alcohol could. 

But then he grips you a little tighter, and forces you to look up into his eyes again and respond. 

“She said that you would, uh, she said that you would’nt be able to take your eyes off of me. We were shopping together and she was just teasing and, well, yeah.”

“All dressed up for me, then? You thought you’d test the theory and see if she was right?” 

And suddenly he’s ghosting his fingers across your panties and you’re doing your best to not make any other noises as he looks you deep in your eyes.

“Do you think she was right, Y/N?” He asks. But before your brain can catch up and choose whether or not to answert, he’s pulling away. He’s standing up and he’s walking over to Morgan, file in hand, asking questions about another previous case file, and you’re left sitting at his desk questioning if any of that actually just happened.

-X-

You spent the rest of the day in a daze. Luckily, your team was so busy complaining about the heat that you were sure none of them noticed the tension you carried through the rest of your day. With the AC still not working, Garcia had gained permission from Hotch to head back to her own apartment to finish up the day with more appropriate equipment, and had quickly evacuated your desk, allowing you to retreat back to your own space. 

Emily had finished her own paperwork early due to a well-timed bet with Morgan, and had taken herself off to JJ’s office, and Morgan was meeting with Hotch in his office to discuss a potential death row intervew. So with the end of the workday in sight, only you and Reid remained in the bullpen. 

After your little run in, you knew that you weren’t going to get any effective work done. Emily had once joked that Reid’s high IQ gets slashed to 60 every time he comes in contact with an attractive woman. At the time, you’d laughed, joked along. Nowthat it was your reality, it wasn’t as funny to you. 

He’d played with you, called you beautiful, had his hands on you in the most frustratingly dizzying way- and then just as soon walked away from you. It wasn’t as if you wanted him to take you right then and there, in front of the entire office. 

In fact, you’re quite sure that no matter how horny you were, you’d have stopped him before he went any further that publically. But you weren’t as sure you wouldn’t have dragged him off to a supply closet and forced him down on his knees and under your skirt. 

To be short, you were pissed. He had left you, hot and bothered, on a day where you literally could get no relief from the heat. 

You watched him work for a while after that. His desk faced away from yours, which meant you could covertly watch him whilst he worked and he would be none the wiser. After catching yourself staring a hole into the back of his head for the fifth time in an hour, you  grunted out a curse and started packing your things up for the day. Unfortunately, you were just loud enough to catch the man’s attention. 

“Leaving so soon, princess?”

“Yes. It’s hot and I’m tired and I just want to go home and take a cold shower and get into bed.” You started packing your things up again, but you quickly noticed that Spencer was doing the same. 

“Are you leaving as well?” You asked, your stomach doing a small flip in apprehension of his answer. 

“Yeah. I’m also hot, and tired and a cold shower sounds amazing right about now.” 

You flushed at even the slightest change of a double meaning. Did he want to shower with you? Was he really going to step over that line? 

He continued to pack up his things calmly, and you did the same. You walked towards the elevator, and it wasnt until he reached from behind you to press the call button that you realised he was so closely following you. 

“And besides, your bed sounds amazing right about now.” The hairs on your neck stood up as he whispered into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your neck as you felt heat pool between your legs for the second time that day. You froze up like a deer in headlights, and as the elevator dinged open, you felt Spencer walk you in, press the button, and close the door before making his next move. 

“You didn’t answer me earlier, you know? When I asked about the dress? Do you think Garcia was right?” He had crowded you into one corner of the elevator, and your brain was still short-circuiting. Shit, maybe you were the one whose IQ was cut in half, because the man in front of you seemed more confident than you had ever seen him before. 

His placed his hands on the guard rail either side of you, as one of his legs found its way between yours and you let out a small whimper, then cursed yourself when you saw the smirk growing on his face. 

“Come on, Princess, use your words.” He teased again. 

“She wasn’t right.” You breathed out. “You looked at me a few times, but nothing too long and nothing…inappropriate, but-”

“But what?” He pushed his leg further into you, moving his hands to grip the fabric at our waist,  and suddenly you were counting your blessings that no other agent in the building had decided to use the elevator right now. 

“But you can’t keep your hands off of me.” His lips crashed into yours the second you finished your sentence, as you desperately grabbed at his hair, desperate to feel more and more of him against you despite the sticky heat. 

He pulled away reluctantly as the elevator came to a stop in the basement carpark, but you still desperately clung to him, pressing kisses into his jaw and down his neck as you breathed in the scent of his sweat on his skin. Your words had failed you, but your body was desperate to communicate exactly what you needed. 

He chuckled as he pulled you off of him, stroking your hair as he pulled you to your car. Opening the passenger side door for you and taking the keys from your bag, he placed a kiss to your temple, pulling away only enough to whisper into your ear. ”Which one of us can’t keep their hands off the other now?” 

You were hot and delirious and you were not going to interrupt him now. He climbed into the driver’s seat, something you knew he didn’t do often, and placed his hand on your leg again as he drove. 

“Spread your legs,” he ordered as soon as you were far enough away from the building. You complied immediately, not wanting to interrupt anything the man might do to you. “Good girl,” he mumbled as he immediately picked up where he left off earlier, rubbing your sensitive nub through your underwear. Your dress was pushed up now 

“You know, Garcia was right” he spoke again, his fingers snaking their way under the elastic of your underwear. You could only moan in surprise, desperately close to getting exactly what you wanted.  

“I have been staring at you this whole day. You came in this short dress, practically on display for anyone to see.” His fingers were now slowly circling your clit, going torturously slowly as you bucked up your hips for some much needed friction.  

“When you got me that glass of water, I followed you, you know. Watched you reach for the glass on the top shelf, saw your skirt riding up. We’re you so desperate for me to notice you that you put yourself on display for the entire office like a little whore?” You moaned in surprise as his words registered in your mind. 

You tried to reply, to deny and protest your innocence, but he chose that minute to thrust a finger into you, the awkward angle forced by your position in the car creating a beautiful friction. You started rocking your hips quicker against his hand, opening yourself up to him fully, and grabbing his wrist so he couldn’t pull away for a third time that day. 

“You can’t even deny it, Look at you using my hand to get yourself off. Are you gonna come for me? Gonna do it right here in your car?”  You moan out a yes as he adds another finger, stretching you out further as you whimper around him. 

“Fuck, yes Spence, I’m a whore, your little whore.” You feel that familiar coil in the bottom of your stomach tighten and soon your releasing yourself all over his hands.  Gasping for air, your head falls back on the passenger seat, and you release your grip on Spencer’s hands. 

“Good job, princess, you did so well for me. We’re almost home now, let’s get you in that shower.” You whimper a little, nodding as you allow your brain to settle once again, completely comfortable with letting Spencer take control and do whatever he needs to do with you for the rest of the night. 

-X-

[tswaney17]

Accidental Chemistry - Part 2: Life Changes

Am I back? Is this my return? God's I hope so. Life is finally starting to settle a bit and I've been feeling a touch more creative than in months past. I'm hoping to finally kick this creative funk soon. But until then, please enjoy this update. 💗

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics​​​

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘 Dedicated to @duskwhisperer. 💜

Trigger warnings: language, some dark thoughts

Word Count: 4,433

This fic will be posted on AO3 only. Read the beginning below or click here to head to AO3.

It had been just over a week since Elain moved into Azriel’s house. They were figuring things out, how to work around each other, planning dinners, and of course, Ollie’s schedule.

Her little boy was still trying to adjust to his new home and he was very much making them aware of his displeasure. His sleep schedule was in the tank, waking up at godly hours for any and every reason. It took Elain two hours that morning to calm him down when his little lungs started screaming just before five.

She couldn’t even count the number of times she’d apologized to Azriel for all the crying, but he seemed to take it in stride, waving off her worries.

“He’s a baby, Elain. He’s going to cry, it’s fine.”

There was no real way to show him her gratitude for it, but she hoped he saw it.

But she pushed her concerns aside, needing to focus on her task for the day.

Getting a job.

Read More

~~~~~

Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it. 💕

While I have moved these fics to AO3 only, I am still going to utilize a tag list here on Tumblr. This as a permanent solution and may change in the future. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3. If you would like to be added to my tag list, please leave a comment on this post.

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My ao3 account: tswaney17

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[midwestmade29]

Just The Way You Are 🥰

Thanks for the request @officialchristiancagebbgirlblog! I could relate to the topic of your request 100%. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it 🖤 Word count: 1,146 Divider by: @saradika-graphics *GIF is not mine Original Request:

Could I please request a turtleneck Christian Cage fic where he helps the reader feel better about herself after self confidence issues regarding her weight arise please?

Disclaimers: None. All fluff 🙂

When you're feeling down about yourself, Christian reminds you just who you are...

Christian had been written off TV for a while after earning a much-needed break. He just lost his TNT title to his childhood best friend, so to give his mind and body a rest, the two of you were set to go on vacation. Through the entire planning process, you had been so excited to get away with your man and soak up some rays, but unfortunately the closer the vacation got, the more self-conscious you started to feel. Every commercial, magazine and internet post you saw were of women who looked differently than you. They appeared to be flawless from head to toe, from their skin to their small waistlines and everything else in between. The bikinis they wore along with the dresses and other summer clothes were cute, some even sexy, but you had a hard time picturing yourself in them. Your self-confidence was taking a major hit and it started to rob you the joy you once felt about the vacation.

One afternoon, you were trying on some of the clothes you ordered for your trip. There were several dresses, shorts, tank tops and bathing suits you hoped would bring back some of the excitement you had lost, but no such luck. All you saw in the mirror when you stood in front of it was a stretch mark here and a stretch mark there, fabrics that seemed to hug every one of your curves in the wrong way, and patterns and colors that made you stand out more than you wanted them to. When frustration got the best of you, you let out a loud groan and plopped down on your bed with tears in your eyes. A soft knock on the doorframe caught your attention, pausing your thoughts momentarily. “Everything okay in here?” Christian asked softly. He looked around the room and noticed all the pieces of clothing thrown around with tags still attached, most of them inside out and starting to get wrinkled. He walked over to the bed and smiled down at you, but you only covered your face with your arms in response. “Hey, what’s wrong baby? Talk to me,” he murmured as he sat down. “I’m just having trouble finding things to wear for our vacation. Nothing seems to fit right, or I don’t feel attractive in it. This would be easier if I looked like the girls in the pictures,” you said with a sniffle. “I’ve been feeling bad about myself lately,”

Christian propped himself up on his elbow, listening intently to your thoughts and feelings. While he disagreed wholeheartedly about what you were saying, he never interrupted you or made you feel bad for it. Only when you started to apologize for your current state did he stop you mid-sentence, “No need to apologize Y/N. Your feelings are important to me. You can always talk to me about anything,” Christian got up and stood at the foot of the bed, extending his hand to you before walking you over to the mirror. He stood behind you with his chest pressed against your back, gazing lovingly at your reflection.

“Ugh, do we have to stand here? I look terrible,” you groaned. You averted your eyes from the mirror and Christian, but he gently grabbed hold of your chin and turned your head back. “Yes, we do. I have some things I want to show you,” He wrapped one of his arms around the top of your ribcage, resting it beneath your breast before speaking softly, “These here are just one of my favorite parts of you. Do you want to know why?” Your cheeks flushed when you thought about the answer, but Christian surprised you when he explained something totally different. “Your chest is one of my favorite places to rest my head. At the end of a long day when we’re snuggled in bed, I love laying there and listening to your heartbeat. It’s soothing, especially when you run your fingers through my hair,”

You couldn’t help but smile at his sweet remarks, but he wasn’t finished yet. He placed both of his hands on your hips, gripping them lightly and grinning. “Your hips are another favorite of mine. I love the way they look in your jeans and how they can make any dress you wear that much sexier. The way they sway when you walk makes me stare in awe every time,” Goosebumps spread all over your body as his fingertips tickled your skin on the way to his next destination. He grabbed the outside of your thighs and squeezed, but this time you cringed at the handful he had. “Please don’t tell me you like those too,” you begged. He ignored your request and continued, “Now these, these are the best. Not only do they look great in shorts, but they look even better when they’re wrapped around me,” You gasped at his last comment and turned around to face him, playfully smacking him on his chest. Your laughter filled the room causing Christian to smile brightly.

He took you in his arms, embracing you as he kissed the top of your head. “You are stunning, Y/N. I love every inch of you, every curve. I don’t want you to forget that. No one else compares to you and they never will. I have one more thing I want to show you,” he said before releasing you. He took his phone out of his pocket and opened his gallery before handing it to you. “I want you to look through all the pictures. You’ll notice there’s several of the same kinds because nearly all of them are of my favorite thing,” Christian instructed. As you tapped and scrolled through the gallery, tears started to well up in your eyes again. This time, they were happy tears. Almost all of his photos were of you, or of you and Christian together. There were photos of you sleeping, ones of you dressed up and some of you in your sweatpants. Pictures of you without makeup on and candid ones that you didn’t even know he took. The ones you noticed that he favorited were pictures you would never have considered to be good ones or flattering of you, but he loved them.

You handed his phone back to him, nearly knocking him over from the force when you hugged him. You buried your face in his chest, holding onto him tightly as you thanked him for everything, “This was so sweet, Christian. Thank you for helping me see myself through your eyes and making me feel better,”

“Of course, baby. You’re perfect in every way, there’s nothing I would change about you. I’ll always be here to remind you exactly who you are, and that’s the most beautiful girl in the entire world,” Christian said lovingly in between planting kisses all around your face.

[drama-nonsense-v]

10 BL boys I want carnally <3

Thank you for tagging me to do this @blneobin <3 I'm a little behind on this but i FINALLY have time today to write it so here we go! I've had so much fun reading all the one's I've seen thus far~

Keita Machida - Kurosawa (Cherry Magic Japan)

I absolutely ADORE this man. Attentive and kind and he's ssooo pretty. He is 5'11" (180cm), I want to climb him like a tree, thank you. I would do anything he asked. I have watched this show so many times in the last 6 months since i first watched it, its a little ridiculous. (eepy Kurosawa...oh how i adore him)

Khaotung Thanawat - Ray (Only Friends)

I love this man so much it hurts. I adore everything I've watched him in thus far but there is a /reason/ Ray is pictured in my about me on this blog. I related to Ray so much and his and Sand's scenes....oh wow... I have so many edits and gifs saved in a folder on my computer of this man, I am unwell about it (someone should recreate their dancing in the parking garage scene with me...)

Nut Supanut - Solo/Way (Oxygen/PitBabe)

I adored Nut in Oxygen (is it a little stiff, yeah, but i still liked it) I am a sucker for puppy like characters like Solo and hes just so incredibly Handsome. And Way is just...oh my god. Nut is legit the one of two reasons I started watching PitBabe. (Obsessed with the fact that Way is still kinda Puppy coded. He can take his frustration out on me, I'd consent to that)

Jimmy - Peun/Mohk (Vice Versa/Last Twilight)

I enjoyed Vice Versa and Jimmy immediately caught my attention when I watched it. And now with watching Last Twilight, many of my friends know just how UNWELL I am about this man. Mohk is so kind and attentive and he's so so handsome I cannot handle it. I made so many people watch the clip of him getting angry with August. When he got super quite? Lost my mind. (Look at him...look at his arms, are you kidding me??)

Ja Phachara Suansri - Leo/Punn (Don't Say No/Be Mine SuperStar)

THIS MAN IS 6'2" (188cm) THAT'S NOT FAIR. HE'S SO TALL (i'm a little jealous...) Ja is so pretty and him just throwing around First in Don't Say No like he was nothing? I lost it. The scene in the pool in Be Mine SuperStar where Punn and Ashi are talking and then Punn stands up? I was UNWELL (Punn is also another Puppy coded character and I will forever be a sucker for it)

Perth - Ae/Kanghan (Love By Chance/Dangerous Romance)

When I tell you some weird things came out of my mouth when I was telling my friends about Perth, I wish I was kidding (@darkroseespeon can attest to that). He's so incredibly ridiculously handsome and his smile is absolutely infectious. He's another that I would do anything they asked. (cue to me just repeatedly saying "he's so pretty" as i was trying to find a gif...)

Nat Thewphaingam - Nawin (Laws of Attraction)

I was living with some roommate when I was watching Laws of Attraction and they had a good laugh watching me LOSE MY SHIT when this man came on screen. I was immediately obsessed with Nawin. The bgm, the bloody tank, and the brass knuckles? I was a gonner. Truly in love with his antics and i would give a lot to be under him. (do you see his arms? the lighting? just...HIS FACE?)

Ji Sub - Jae Won (The Eighth Sense)

OMG one, this show is so important to me. Two, Ji Sub is a meal I could eat every day. I don't even have much more to say than that. He's just so handsome and he had such sad eyes... Jae Won, once they're finally boyfriends, is so sweet I just adore it so much. I love this man. (He was so cute in this scene I cant...)

Us Akkarachotsopon - Tay (Kinnprosche)

Tay is fully the embodiment of my never ending delima of do i want him or to i want to /be/ him???? His fashion sense is glorious and I will never be over it. The minute I start talking about it, its hard to get me to shut up. I would give ssoo much to take care of Tay and love him like he deserves. (Where the post that's like "i'll do anything for a boy with big brown eyes" or something like that. Also, this shirt?? I need it.)

Kiseki: Dear to Me

Am I cheating a little bit by talking about all four of them? Maybe. But I have made SO many people who are not into BLs watch this show FOR A REASON. I love it so much and I love all of them so dearly. AiDi and ChenYi's fashion? IMPECCABLE I'm obsessed and want to recreate some of their looks so bad. All their scene once they're finally together??? unbeatable to me. omfg. ZongYi and ZeRui's kitchen scene?? In shambles. SHAMBLES (I have a stuffed animal I named ZongYi cause he's so precious to me...and I want to get one to name AiDi)

Aaaahhh this...took me way longer to write than anticipated. Though part of that time was looking through endless amounts of gifs. to which, thank you to the gif makers, y'all make my day (haha xD) I have no idea who hasn't done this yet, (@mb-bls idk if you have or would want to?) but if you see this and want to do it, tag me so I can read it!!!!

[fizzingwizard]

joking with bf about tumblr and realized I don't understand what people get out of social media anymore - like at all.

My first real "social media" was myspace. It was short-lived. But I liked that (back then) you had your own page, you filled it out with your information, you had your music and banners etc. Not so many images back then, but the point was your page was yours. Customizing your own space was fun.

Then I moved on to livejournal which was even more self-involved. You had your journal that was just yours. You could put anything in it, anything you wanted, and it wouldn't go away unless you chose to delete it. But other people could look at it and interact with you in the comments. And you could join communities where you'd meet other people with similar interests, which would then lead them to visit your journal and you to visit them.

When lj tanked I moved to tumblr, where once again, I have my own space, I can talk about whatever I want, people can choose to interact with me if they feel like it, plus there are visuals and video and a feed which delivers new posts from people I follow. It's easier than ever to just explore, meet people with similar interests, and make connections, while cultivating my own journal/scrapbook that is a record of myself over the years.

It seems to me that self-involved element just isn't interesting to many people anymore. Even though Instagram and Tiktok are definitely very invested in the self! I guess the argument is probably that no one reads text posts anyway, the best way is to post video or images and at most have a short quick to read blurb attached at the bottom. But the attraction of text posts, for me, was never the idea that other people were going to read them. It was simply self-expression. The enjoyment of talking about what's going on with me and working through it. It's nice to get comments, but sometimes the comments, well, make you feel worse, especially on a personal post.

On fandom posts I hoped for notes, but in general I liked to stew in anonymity. I thought about having separate blogs for fandom posts and personal ones. But you know why I didn't? Because I like going to someone's blog and seeing more there than just their art or fanfiction. I like knowing a thing or two about their lives. Not so I can judge them. Because it makes them feel real, relatable, like a friend. Someone I'm not meant to worship for their skill, but appreciate and support, by my own choice, as part of a community. When there's no info at all and it's just a fandom blog, it feels commercial to me. I'm always relieved when a fandom blog links to their personal blog, although I also find that much more jarring than if everything's just in one place and searchable by tags.

These days everyone tells me to be on Discord, Tiktok, or Instagram. But in none of those places can I develop my own personal space the way I like to. I can't even find groups with similar interests on them. Maybe some exist, but if they do they're nowhere near as easy to find as they used to be. When I was in my twenties I could always find people to chill with, no matter how tiny the fandom was. Now the point is to have a sleek, clean, specific persona so people know immediately what you're selling (even when no actual money is involved). You're selling art, you're selling fanfiction, you're selling meta, you're selling activism, you're selling witticisms. That's all great. And what we've all known, even since the days of myspace, is that what doesn't sell is personal posts. Talk about yourself = followers walk away. There's nothing for them here. Multi-fandom blog? Yeah but I only like one fandom you do, so clearly we have nothing in common and shouldn't interact. Lol. Honestly there are so many people here on tumblr I'd like to interact with, except when I visit their blogs they seem like they wouldn't want to interact with me. I'm only a little bit cottagecore, not 100% cottagecore. I sometimes post about books, but sometimes about anime. So the book-lovers who stick up their nose at anime don't want to hang out with me, and the anime-lovers who don't get classical literature maybe think I'm gonna be a snob toward them. Because they know "too much" about me. If they knew less, if they knew only what they'd feel comfortable knowing, because my blog is anime-only or something, then maybe we'd be friends. Not that I'd call that friendship :) but you know, in that shallow, hyper-specific social media sense of the word.

That's my theory. I never was popular on any social media site - personal blogs rarely are! Never wanted to be either (I've been here since I was in college and uhhh absolutely do not judge me please by anything I wrote when I was stupid nineteen). And it may be that very personal feature of tumblr which makes it less attractive to people than places where the point is to be a persona, instead of a person. Persona attracts, person not so much.

I just feel sad that this type of social media seems to be disappearing when I have no appreciation for the type that's replaced it. Believe it or not, I want to see y'all's novel-length text posts. Even when I don't read them, I still want to see them. I like having my little group that I follow and the only people I unfollow are blogs which self-promote more than I have a taste for. Small spaces are so underrated and I guess that's only to be expected.

[liliallowed]

BRO ok i was reading your tags and you mentioned crimson not having a DT soul, but a soul of Obsession, and i just giggled a bit at that and got excited hehehe.

i like seeing people play with concepts but EXPAND them yk??? like not being bound to them but using them to make you think

i have an au i’ve yet to share about (because it’s. so convoluted at this point and is being rewritten HEIDBDJ) but a big part of it has to do with soul traits and such, at least in regards to the humans right

like for example, one of the human characters has the trait of justice, meanwhile one of the antagonists (with relations to some of the mains) is Retribution.

Retribution is like…a corrupt justice. when you decide YOU define what is just, and you take that into your own hands, it becomes more about vengeance then what is right.

sans has karmatic abilities as well, which is sort of an in between…. fair vengeance, the vengeance isn’t for HIM, he’s moreso a vessel for what is fairly brought upon someone??

ANYWAYS IM RAMBLING, both the justice soul (and kinda sans actually) have to grapple with their similarities with said antagonist. several characters have to grapple with the positive traits they have and the negative or toxic paths those same traits could lead them down. patience turning to passivity. bravery to recklessness and pride, etc

ALL THAT TO SAY i was curious, do you see “obsession” as an evolution/ sub category/ branch OF a determination soul? the determination to push on towards this thing you are fixated on to an inhuman extent? the refusal to let go of this thing you are fixated on (which i find a cool concept because, undertale a message has a LOT to do with letting go…)

ANYWAYShope you don’t mind rambling in your inbox i just find ideas fun and want to hear yours if you’ll humor me HEE HOO

ramble away dear friend!

I love reading these ideas!

as for obsession, yeah it's more like an evolution of determination.

I think there was a post about moral traits being used in excess can corrupt into harmful behavior...

ambition => obsession was one of the given examples.

but well crimson started with determination.

it's like muddied water. its been left to rot away.

but the water NEEDS to move or it will fade away so it spirals around it's contained pool into a whirlpool.

(idk if that allegory made sense but yea)

crimson NEEDS to constantly push themself. Ben if there's nothing to gain. even if their story has already been told.

you are correct! crimson's issues is mainly the lack of closure. the inability to let go.

they TRIED severing the bonds so dear to them by killing everyone but that only made them want to stay to suffer with them instead.

trivia:

obsession has a stronger density than a normal DT soul.

like it can take on 4-5 other human souls (not 6 tho. that's beyond them)

so you'd have to absorb not one not two but six or seven human souls to over power this bich's DT.

obsession also allows them to [refuse] death once, every 24 hours without a reset. even if you take away their reset they won't die that easily.

obsession has a higher LV cap than determination. it maxes out at 50 and can absorb [self inflicted pain] to boost the number up. if there's no one left to kill there's still ways to increase that LV. and their soul is one tank of an endurant killing mechine.

a direct jab at their soul won't kill them.

cutting their head off won't kill them (instantly at least. if they use a healing item in a minute or so their vessel would glitch back to a normal form.)

they're a lot like a zombie minus the infection part that can spread and the slowness and dullness of a shambling corpse. they're fucking FAST.

obsession can allow puppeteering powers and psychological manipulation through [ACT] but crimson doesn't use it. they think it's cowardly and they want to do things "legit".

if there WAS a new foe out there though... they have many abilities they don't use on dust to face them.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

EXCUSE ME, you can't talk about that sub!Steve x Bucky fic in your tags for that post and not share! Holy shit, it sounds amazing and I want to read it!

related to these tags on this post

gif credit @/stevenrogered

That wasn't actually a particular fic that I read and could now recommend. It's just a thought that was in my head! I mean- maybe it's just the dom in me but, yeah... 👀 the idea of two subs just being absolutely useless while together is too fucking much.

Just, like, two subs, melting into each other; whining and panting into each other's sweaty skin, handing desperately grabbing at any part of the other's body they can. Both of them are squirming badly to try and get something done but it doesn't ever work- getting too distracted by the other's soft, pretty mouth to get too far into that half-formed plan. 🥴🥴

And with those two photoshoots of Chris and Seb in @fishcustardandclintbarton 's original post in mind...

Putting the rest of this under the cut because it got out of control and is way longer than I intended lol

I'm picturing these two subs, Steve and Bucky, as being unable to keep their hands off of each other after a night of straight-up fucking foreplay at a bar.

You know how it goes:

Dancing way too close, sweaty, with sneaking hands under skimpy clothing that only gets rucked up and pushed out of place to expose more the more they move together. Bucky's hands find Steve's fuzzy tits and abs under his flannel shirt that's been left open with stained white tank top under it, his ratty tank was at one point tucked into his belt with its chunky buckle shining in the low light but it's not anymore. Instead, there's a pretty big gap between his shirt and and his boot-cut, worn-from-work jeans- a delicious slice of skin for Bucky's eyes to devour, the v of his hips sharp and well-defined.

Then, God, soon enough Steve's huge hands find their way to Bucky's slick, summer tanned, dust-dirty skin too. Slipping under his thin, practically see-through shirt and down his tight pants, the bottoms of which have been stuffed into cowboy boots. The mark of a city boy that ran away from his home the second he turned 18 and is now trying to fit in here. Nothing but a pretty young face and a brand-new farmers tan; just a hand for hire, just trying to be rugged. Bucky’s gotten close to looking like a local but he's not quite there.

Steve's from 'round here originally and he fits right in (almost, he fits in here except for his like for getting a dick in his mouth so much that he'd do it for free but gets paid for it whenever possible, taking in all those sad John's that're too deep in the closet to find their way out). Well, not 'round, 'round here exactly...

Here is the only gay bar for miles and miles.

Steve is just from this state. Not the bar itself. And the bar...

It's a grimy little dive bar. Packed with all the fellas and gals and folks in between or beyond that everyone else will pretend they don't recognize once the sun comes up. For now though... the lights beat down on them like heat-lamps, cooking them and giving the heavy, humid air a raunchy, red color. It tints their vision and their emotions, turning everything into want. Seek and destroy.

It's so hot in the packed bar that there might as well be steam rising off them both with the way they're sweating. Sweating from all their dancing- grinding on the dance floor. Closer than they should be in public. Especially the public of these parts...

Steve buys the first round for them, watching with heavy, dark eyes as Bucky downs it like it's water. Like it's nothing. His throat bobbing, head leaned way back.

When he finishes, throwing the glass back down against the counter... he licks his lips, smirking. There's a wild look in his eyes too. Those pretty eyes that he can't quite tell the color of under the heat-lamp lights.

Steve's throat is dry enough suddenly that he's glad to have not taken his shot yet. He does, downing it with a wince.

Bucky instantly orders two more for them each. Cheers-ing him and taking it right to the face.

Steve is somehow already dizzy. The alcohol going right to his veins, no chaser.

And now re-hydrated, they go back out to the dance floor. Grinding closer, sweating more, swearing under their breath as the tension grows and grows. Shouting at each other over the other people and pounding music. They're hoping to hear the other's flirting fully but neither of them ever gets all of it until-

"DO YOU SMOKE!?"

"CHOKE!? I'M NOT CHOKING?"

"SMOKE! DO YOU SMOKE?" Bucky shouts again, his hand disappearing off of Steve's ass to find and rattle a carton he's gotten from... somewhere. Not from anywhere in his pants. Steve's felt him completely up, there was nowhere those pants weren't skin tight to his body.

Not that it matters where the fuck he got those smokes because, hell yeah, Steve wants a smoke. He wants that nicotine buzz and he wants to see Bucky's mouth wrapped 'round one of 'em. Bad.

He wants it bad.

"YEAH!" Steve shouts, nodding exaggeratedly so Bucky can see even if he can't hear.

Together, they go outside.

Bucky grabs his hand to lead them and Steve squeezes his back so they don't get separated in the pulsing crowd. They leave out the back exit next to the bathrooms that, if all else failed, Steve had thought about dragging Bucky into to f-

Do what about every other person that comes out of the bathrooms looks like they were doing. Clothes askew. Hair messy. Blush or bite marks decorating their skin.

Bucky shakes one out of the carton and lights it up, not offering Steve a second but instead taking a drag off his now lit one, then handing it off to Steve. Steve inhales shakily, not because he's never smoked - he's currently "quit" - but because there's a difference here. When Bucky's taste is so fresh on the smoke it's different.

The taste goes into his lungs, hazy and slow. He exhales. Inhales again. Blinking soft and slow. His head usually spins less as a result of these things but... now that he's smoking this unbelievably attractive and not-completely-strange stranger's cigarette? His head is spinning more.

They share the whole cigarette.

Breathing in each other's smoke and taking it deep into their chests, yet their breathing still remains uneven. Sweat drying on their skin. The burn of shots sizzling in the back of their throats.

Steve gets the last drag as he leans against the brick wall in the dim-lit, dirty alley at the veeeery end of town. Lungs and skin buzzing, he moans as he lets go of the last drag in a cloud because Bucky has his mouth on his neck, his fist curled so tight in his tank top that one of his nipples is exposed, peaked and hard like its cold out despite the sweltering summer night.

Bucky snatches the smoldering cigarette from between Steve's fingers, only the filter left, and flicks it away, stomping on it with his boot to put it out. One elegant move. Almost like he's practiced it, like putting out a cigarette is the new art of seduction.

Steve swallows.

There's a moment of silence.

Crickets complain of the humidity somewhere out in the darkness that envelops the rest of their surroundings beyond the back porch light of the underground, shady gay bar.

Quickly though, the silence explodes into kissing that tastes like smoke and alcohol and sweat. Steve moans into Bucky's mouth. The other man groans back, attacking him that much harder. But they just keeps kissing, Bucky's mouth stays a little slack, like he's expecting Steve to fuck his tongue in between his lips. Steve is expecting Bucky to take control though. He's- he's never on the other side of it. He's always the one taking and he likes it that way. He doesn't know how to give. And it seems like Bucky doesn't know how to give either. Why would he? Looking like that, why would he ever have to lift a finger... both of them might be something of pillow princesses. Maybe...

Their kissing is wet and messy. They keep moaning. Groaning. Gasping.

They keep coming to a stop with their messy kissing because they're both breathing too hard, fighting the thick night air and the arousal boiling up inside them. Steve pants hard against Bucky's lips. His mouth is tingling. His body is buzzing. He's hungry. He bites Bucky's bottom lip. Bucky moans in shock and recovers enough to bite him back, hands squeezing tighter around his forearms. And just like that, they both remember they have hands-

Fuck, yes.

Their hands roam viciously. Bucky slides his hands up his forearms to his shoulders, and around the back of his neck. Steve does the same with his own hands. They're chest to chest. Hearts both pounding.

Steve doesn't know who started the kissing or who got handsy again first, all he knows is that both are back and both are good. So much better than just dancing. So much better than breathing in each other's smoke.

Suddenly Steve’s leaned up against the wall tighter, harder than when he'd been smoking and leaning against it. Tighter not because Bucky is pushing him into the wall as he kisses him senseless but because Bucky is melting into him. His knees going weak just like Steve's own are. Pushing into each other.

Steve squeezes the back then the front of Bucky's neck as he melts forward. Bucky moans when the pressure comes to the front of his neck. His lips slip from where they were slotted against Steve's own down to his jaw, hungrily mouthing at him there. Oh. Exposing his neck more for more of that, Steve loses all ability to give a fuck about anything but this.

Right up until-

"Ay!" a voice breaks into the hot night air like the sound of two hands clapping together without warning.

They're shaken out of their lust, freezing in place.

The person, obscured by shadows mutters something to them about how they don't need another reason for the boys in blue to come sniffing 'round. No extra attention so no free shows outside the bar. There's a hotel down the way though. If you gotta.

One of them nods stiffly at the person as they keep on doing their thing- taking out the trash maybe?

They're startled but grateful to have been warned as opposed to beat or arrested or whatever hellish other thing might happen in this particular area. However, they're too into one another to really lose the heat, the hardness pressed up against the other's body, and so without a word between them... they understand they're going to the hotel. Steve knows the one the shadowed person is talking about. And the name "hotel" is generous. More a run-down motel than anything else. At least Steve knows they actually wash their sheets. And there's a couple a' rooms that have jacuzzi tubs... a few with mirrored ceilings too, just like you see in big cities with the glitz, the glam, the pretty fucking people just like the pretty boy Steve has in front of him.

Oh, Lord.

It's a struggle to get to the motel without giving away what is going on too much. But they do it. Stumbling under few and far between working, buzzing streetlights.

When they finally get checked in and pile on in, their bodies hit the shitty, squeaky mattress with enough force to bounce. Bucky is on bottom first but he squirms enough trying to get out of his shoes that they end up more side-by-side on the bed. Devesting themselves of their clothing in a mad dash. Bucky has one boot off. Steve has both off. Thats as far as they get before they both give up on their clothes. What the hell does it matter? They're already sweaty enough that the outfits will need to be washed twice and they both have a near literal puddle of pre-cum wetting their underwear so a little messy grinding doesn't matter. It doesn't feel bad. No. It doesn't feel bad, not even though the fabric is rough and heavy. No. It feels so good.

Squirming against each other on the bed without one of them moving to roll over on top and take control of the situation, they just stay locked together on their sides, pawing at each other. Grinding against each other with more desperation than technique. Panting into each other's mouths rather than talking and negotiating who's gonna do what here.

Words are a waste of breath.

Breath that feels so much better fanning out over skin, heavy and panting on sweaty skin. Breath that keeps being punched out of lungs in moans and gasps and whines.

They're both wearing too many clothes, fabric getting caught and tangling them up so, so close. Their necklaces too, keep getting caught up. It makes Bucky laugh recklessly, their hands fighting between their heaving chests. Steve's necklace is a cross on a chain leftover from when he actively tried to be the same as everyone else in the town he comes from, including prayin' and goin' to church, and Bucky's fashionable, pretty necklace from his days as a dangerous and salacious city boy- a thin string of leather that hangs down below his pretty collarbones under his stretched out shirt. He might've shoplifted it from some big-name, chain store that could survive without in as he made his way out here. To the middle of fucking nowhere.

It doesn't matter. Their necklaces don't matter. Their clothes don't matter. All that matters is that they're just as tangled as those fucking necklaces, in the way of each others pleasure like their clothes are in the way because together they're useless. Moving recklessly against each other. Grabbing and kissing. Spit mixing. Lust growing hotter and hotter until with a whine that's truly pathetic and shoves a spear of heat through Bucky’s gut, Steve gets his hands un-fisted from Bucky's already stretched shirt to shove the heel of one against Bucky's pants.

The bulge of his election under hand is so fucking satisfying. In the most animal way.

"Fuck!" Bucky moans, now even more desperate. He grinds hard into Steve's hand. Shaking. Trembling. He can feel the friction in his teeth. God.

So good.

Steve's hand is hot and heavy against him. His hips grind harder. Dirtier.

Although, before Bucky can get his shit together enough to throw Steve's dirty game back at him, getting a hand on the fucking huge bulge of his cock in his on-the-way-to-being-ruined jeans, Steve squirms down.

Bucky groans in complaint as Steve squirms and takes his hand off his aching dick.

Steve shoves his face against Bucky's bulge instead of his hand the second he's low enough on the creaky, uncomfortable hotel bed.

Bucky moans.

Steve shoves his face against Bucky's bulge and fucking nuzzles him like a kitten. Mouthing at his cock through the denim. Hot and humid. His tongue lavs over the shape of him through his clothes.

Shit.

It's so much. It's not enough.

Bucky wants to growl and grip his hair and demand for him to use his mouth to take his pants off with his teeth then really blow him like he thinks he should, based on how sex usually goes when he's the one in Steve's position, but he can't make himself do anything but grab weakly at Steve's shoulders and make useless little sounds in the back of his throat. Choked. Whimpered. Pathetic. He's just drowning in it. Drowning in the naughty pleasure. This shouldn't be so hot. This shouldn't be so hot! They're just grinding and acting all helpless like they're fucking teenagers again. Unskilled and just going with what feels the best.

It. Feels. So. Good.

Steve's face smashed up against his throbbing erection. Moaning and franctic with it. Continuing to mouth at him as his hands fail terribly at peeling Bucky out of his too-tight jeans. Unable to get a grip on them and tug them down. Unable to get what he wants and now whimpering, fuck, no, he's crying about it now.

It's so filthy and desperate. Steve is just trying to blow him but he's too fucking horny and fuck-dumb to figure it out as he grinds himself against Bucky's shin. It's so filthy. It's so desperate. It's so good that Bucky is cumming before he wants to admit it, biting on his full lower lip until he tastes copper.

It's okay, Steve can lick it off and out of his mouth later. Dirty and slutty.

Through the rest of the night and into the morning, they get into lots more of trouble. Steve gets hard again first and can't help himself from grinding into the bed. It's encouraged by Bucky, who grabs the pillow at the top of the bed, slipping it between Steve's legs... Steve, with heavy eyelids and an a lazy-open mouth, goes to town whimpering until Bucky can't help but grind up into the heel of his own hand watching.

They make out in the tub, side-by-side, trying to lean into each other, trying to sit in the others lap but not getting anywhere.

They sit in the jacuzzi tub with the jets going and touch each other's slick, wet bodies. Admiring the way water runs over muscles and skin and the other's pretty face. Taking full advantage of their nakedness.

They take turns fingering each other. Encouraging the other saying, yeah, yeah, yeah, feels good, could you just- because they're never been on the other side of fingering someone else. Usually they're the ones getting fingered and running off of the blueprint of what feels good when they're on the bottom.

They rut against each other's slick thighs, once they get naked for slipping into the tub and they don't get dressed again until they leave the motel room, painting each other in cum.

Bucky begs Steve to come and get 'im whenever he needs it, find him at one of his odd jobs and get filthy while on the clock. Take a literal roll in the hay when he's done baling hay but then is stacking 'em in the barn. Maybe find him when he's chopping down those trees that aren't growing good in the woods behind the Johnson's farm. Sweaty and naked from the waist up, muscles flexing with every chop. In need of a fucking break, held up against a tree and sucked off until his eyes roll back in his head. Steve wagers that he'll only do it if Bucky comes and finds him too, when he's hanging out in back alleys, by the convent store bathrooms and showers, or by the pool at the one nice hotel they've got... waiting for a lonely John to pick him up. He won't even charge Bucky. Not for the good time they could have, talkin' about what all those filthy men have been paying Steve to do. And, hey, there's an idea. Maybe Bucky could make a lil extra cash there too. Maybe they both could. Sell themselves as a pair. Two of a kind. Two pretty, submissive boys for use... if you're lonely, we can fix that for sure.

Just overall, they are completely unable to focus on anything else but the draw of the other pretty, subby boy. It's intoxicating. And the experience of subpiling like that has kinda ruined the possiblity of hooking up with a top/dom. Unless... yeah, maybe they get a dom between the two of them some time. Someone that can order them both around and make the hard decisions that their brains get too mushy to process like who's dick goes in who's hole 👀

[byberbunk2069]

@streetkid-named-desire tagged me for an OC association thing. I copy-pasted from their post

I tag @fourth-floor-at-langley, @medtech-mara, @aggravateddurian

I'm using the most recent pictures I have of them but their appearances are gonna be changing again over time (not so much with my netrunner tho)

First is Veil (aka V31L or any variation that other runners might have seen her handle as):

Animal: Standard domestic cat because that is just the general vibe netrunners give off tbh

Colors: 007BA7

Month: June/July (wrt birth month: January)

Plants: She's a California girl at heart so she likes palm trees

Numbers: I was gonna go for 23 for reasons relating to William Burroughs and Psychic TV but I'll go for 42 as the maximum RAM she had in the most recent playthrough

Songs:

Cowgirl - Underworld

Mindfields - The Prodigy

Teardrop - Massive Attack

Smells: Tropical fruits, coconut, vanilla

Time of Day: 10PM - 5AM

Food: Combination of classy Japanese dining and street food.

Drinks: Rum & Coke, beer, real coffee (bought off a black market dealer on the Net)

Elements: uwu the fifth one

Seasonings: the shit that makes Indian curries slap (I'm Bri'ish so I've only ever had a proper curry a few times and the others have been bastardised ones made at home)

Weapons: Quickhacks, Skippy, D5 Sidewinder, Hercules 3AX, suppressed Unity

Places: EdgeNet (Yoko Tsuru's shop), H10 rooftop

Sky: Clear night sky (so she can see the moon)

Weather: Rainy days, clear nights

Candy: I think bubblegum counts. Cigarettes definitely don't count.

Hobbies: Hacking, arguing with other Netrunners, remote controlling her Galena when she decides now is the right time to get in to a disagreement over the phone or with a passenger.

Artstyle: Patrick Nagel

Fear: The collective weight of guilt after spending 11 years of her life in NetWatch and the last few of those years sub-conning for Arasaka catching up with her. Losing her found family.

Clothing item: Black leather racers, knotted tank, personalised edgerunner with shoulder mounted monitor on the left sleeve and shoulder pad on the right, heeled boots (her wardrobe varies but that set in particular is her go to)

Three Emojis: 🧠⚡💥

Star Sign: Capricorn

Ronnie below the keep reading:

Animal: Some kind of attack dog, doberman maybe.

Colors: #660000

Month: August (birth month)

Plants: Roses

Numbers: 10 - which was the most she took on (so far) in an impromptu street fight in Northside. Unfortunately for her the gang was NCPD and they had to deploy a netrunner to pacify her.

Songs:

Boys Wanna Be Her - Peaches

Hips, Tits, Lips, Power! - Pigface/Silverfish

If You Want Blood (You Got It) - GWAR

bonus: Ratfinks, Suicide Tanks and Cannibal Girls - White Zombie (also Caramelldansen but because of that one Doom Eternal meme which is Ronniecore)

Smells: Pineapple

Time of Day: 8PM

Food: Pizza

Drinks: Beer

Elements: Fire

Seasonings: hottest possible chilli powder

Weapons: Cut-O-Matic, Baseball Bat, Carnage, her (cyber)fists

Places: Lizzie's, trailer park outside SanDom, Megabuilding H11

Sky: She was born way after the Time of the Red but that.

Weather: Rainy

Candy: leelou beans.

Hobbies: Fighting, sleeping, defending her output's honor (even though she's capable of standing up for herself).

Artstyle: Jamie Hewlett

Fear: Adam Smasher, Militech

Clothing item: black bustier, short shorts, harness, fishnet tights, combat boots

Three Emojis: 🦾👊🪚 < pretend thats a cut-o-matic

Star Sign: Leo

[sward-iak]

Intro Post!

Hello! Some of you may know me from somewhere else, and to that (unless you're a super close friend of years now) I say nay! You do not!

I am a in my 20s concept art/writer hobbyist. I work a full 40 hours with week, sometimes with overtime (so if I'm MIA, that's why!). When I'm not at work though I thoroughly enjoy reading, writing, drawing, playing video games, and hanging out with my family/friends!

Writeblr/Main: @sqeedledob

Request Info

I've been getting some DMs about my requests so hopefully this will clear things up! Commissions are always more of a priority than requests, and people who Donate to my Ko-Fi are my second priority. Requests will be completed at my leisure.

Primary Requests: CLOSED

Primary requests are in my typical style and can range from concept art to simple illustrations. These requests are actually colored and finished to varying stages just depending on how I'm feeling. I try not to spend more than a week on a request but if I'm really vibing with it, I'll probably finish it

Examples of what you can expect for a primary request

Sketch/Ask Box Requests: OPEN

Sketch requests take me a max of 20 minutes and I usually use them as a means of warming up. So if you'd rather quick art of an OC or character instead of something that could take anywhere from a few weeks to a few months, this is the way to go! These are only accepted through the Ask Box and MUST include a reference!

Examples of what you can expect for a Sketch/Ask Box

Below the cut are rules/expectations for requests, thank you guys for reading!

Also because a few people had asked for this, I am going to link my Ko-fi. There's no pressure to tip, I do all of this for fun, but if you want to I won't stop u! xD [Click here for da Ko-Fi]

PRIMARY REQUEST RULES

This is a request, not a commission. I will take the requester's input in mind when drawing, but I will not do revisions

Any fandom, cross over, and oc is welcome. I will do my best to characterize/draw them even if I'm not into the fandom myself, and you might just introduce me to my new favorite show/book!

NSFW requests are allowed, however keep in mind:

- I WILL NOT draw beastiality/Zoophilia - I WILL NOT draw Loli/Lolita or anything related to CP - I WILL NOT draw Furry NSFW. I have nothing against furries, furry NSFW just personally makes me uncomfortable and I do not like looking at it much less drawing it (this includes Ponies) - I WILL NOT draw anything for a franchise that is directed toward younger audiences, ie: anything rated PG or TV Y7 (PG-13 is Acceptable, DEPENDING ON THE FRANCHISE. ie: Marvel) - I WILL NOT draw Non/Dub Con, or anything that would cause someone to use the Dead Dove tag - I WILL NOT draw irl people in NSFW situations, ie Youtubers, Streamers, etc. Fictional Characters only IF A REQUEST SHOULD MAKE ME UNCOMORTABLE I fully reserve the right to Deny it, even if it is not on this list

If you do make an NSFW request, I will make a SFW version to post and send you the NSFW privately. I try to limit how much NSFW I share on this account

I can draw anything from landscapes to robots, humans to creatures. (Just cause I won't draw NSFW of furries or Ponies doesn't mean I won't do SFW art of them!) I fully enjoy testing the bounds of my artistic abilities and I invite people to help me challenge them!

Humans, robots, furries, dragons, anything. Put anything in here.

And to reiterate: Primary requests can take a while, especially since my queue is pretty long right now! I will make another post when my Queue opens up a bit!

In progress (Commissions): Tank (Color Picking) Simon (Line Art Clean Up) Wolfie (Sketch) Surplus (Sketch) Beth (Sketch) In Queue, not started (in order): @frlituj @jessica199616 @we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono @lovablenatsume @princeasimdiya12 @airfriedfruitcake @hallwriteblr

Sketch/Ask Box Requests

This is a quick request to help me warm up and will usually take max 20 minutes. So it'll be fast/messy!

Any fandom, cross over, and oc is welcome. I will do my best to characterize/draw them even if I'm not into the fandom myself, and you might just introduce me to my new favorite show/book!

NSFW requests are not allowed for this one, just so I can keep it simple and quick without having to put too much thought into it

Humans, robots, furries, dragons, anything. Put anything in here.

[starryseas-tardisdreams]

I just saw your recent post in the Palestine tag, I'm so sorry for what happened to you. How are you now?

Hey thanks for asking! I’m about as well as most people who still have their humanity are feeling right now. I feel angry, sad, hopeless, and powerless all the time.

A lot of my family died in or survived the Holocaust and it’s devastating to see genocides unfolding while people argue whether the genocide is valid or not

I am heartbroken for Palestinians. I am heartbroken my religion (Judaism) had been bastardized to this degree. I am now no contact with the few family members I spoke to outside of mailing them Palestine related reading materials which sucks. I wish humans were better.

I have been a victim of rape, so it is very triggering when these Zionist men come to protests screaming they’re going to rape and kill us. But more upsetting is seeing them harass children. I saw a zionist man pepper sprayed a small Palestinian child at the last protest I was at and I’ll never get that kid’s face out of my head, same for all the images out of Palestine - the kid is okay and a fighter, super ready for their next protest, but still disgusting.

Im also frustrated with Americans as a whole. Palestinian children throw rocks at military tanks, Americans should be doing so much more. I wonder if Americans will ever get to a point where they can mass organize, strike, and revolt against their government but my hopes are low at this point. I think we are all failing Palestine.

[trans-girl-nausicaa]

OAKBOUGH: A CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE STORY.

CHAPTER 10.

Read the rest of the story:

LOCATION: SOMEWHERE IN CALIFORNIA

>Meet the hacker at their location. (50% CHANCE OF ARREST)

RESULT: YOU DON'T GET ARRESTED.

"I'll go," you say. "I want to meet this hacker myself. And this is... My cause, I guess, so if anyone's going to put themselves at risk, it should be me."

"I really appreciate that," says Paul. "Here, read this over while I make some arrangements." He hands you a piece of paper.

It's a printed dossier.

You read it.

POTENTIAL CIVILIAN ASSET: Bunny Paulson

RELEVANT SKILLS: Cybersecurity, Firearms

POLITICAL IDEOLOGY: Anarchist

AGE: 29

GENDER: Female

OCCUPATION–

You look up from the paper.

Paul is putting away his radio, having spoken out some encoded messages.

"Yo, Paul..."

"Yes?"

"She's got the same last name as you."

"Oh, yeah. She's my sister."

"Your SISTER? Well... Can't you just, like, text her or something..."

"That's... I don't use a civilian cell phone. The security vulnerabilities of that are tremendous, silly."

"Oh, right," you say. "The darn NSA and shit."

"Yes, precisely. So that's why I'm sending you to go say hi."

"You're not coming with me?"

"Er, no... I have my own duties to attend to. Look, here's the deal: S.O.T.M. leadership is NOT sold on the existence of Human Displacement. So all the research I've done has been in my spare time, not using Organization resources. Officially speaking, you're not working for us at all. You're just a visitor going off-base. However, you're gonna be in the same car as Handel Eisensägen, a field agent. Her official mission is to meet up with Bunny and see if she'd be willing to use her skills for our organization. I've already talked to Handel about all this and she has agreed to drive you to meet with Bunny."

"Damn, you're pretty slick," you say. "Who's really running the Sands?" you joke.

"You flatter me," says Paul. "I just know how things work around here. Though... Some people wanted me to assume a leadership role back when I was looking to get out of combat. I have, like, seniority or whatever, but also... I didn't only go into visitor relations because I'm charming. Dr. Indigo advised against it. Said I should avoid stressors if I could help it. And I think she was right! My complexion has gotten a lot better as the visitor liaison." He winks.

You laugh.

You hear the jingle of the bell on the visitors center door as it opens. Paul takes the dossier and shoves it in his pocket and the two of you go to the waiting room.

There are two people standing in the waiting room. On the left stands a white woman of average height, wearing a sports jersey, basketball shorts, and sneakers. She has a snapback on her head and aviator-style sunglasses on. Hoop earrings dangle from her ears.

On the right is a tall, strapping East Asian man wearing camouflage shorts, combat boots, and a white tank-top.

"KEVIN!" yells Paul, and he hurtles across the room, and jumps into the large man's arms. Kevin laughs as the two hug.

The woman crosses her arms.

"O-M-G you're baaaaack!" squeals Paul. He turns to you. "Mulligan! This is Kevin Sòng, my boyfriend! He was out on patrol for SOOOO LONG!"

You wave to Kevin, a smile on your face. Paul's cheer is infectious.

"Okay cool," says the woman, flatly. "Can we go now?"

You look at her quizzically.

"Oh, right," she says. "I'm Handel Eisensägen. You're Mulligan Redux, AKA Wasp Ghelsig. Paul told you everything relevant, right? I'm supposed to leave ASAP, so let's go," she says.

"Yeah, looks like I had better leave," you say to Paul. "I'm sure you two have plenty of catching up to do!"

Paul waves good-bye with one arm, the other wrapped firmly around his boyfriend.

You follow Handel out the door.

The sun shines down on the two of you from a cloudless sky.

You follow Handel as she trudges across the street over to the parking lot.

She unlocks a sports car and gets in.

You sit down in the passenger’s seat.

She turns to you.

“Okay, here’s how it’s going to go: I’m heading to go meet the potential asset and I will return here as soon as I’m done. I’m not doing any extra shit on your behalf. As long as you stick with me and don’t interfere, I’ll take you there and back. Do not do anything to attract the attention of the cops. I can’t stop the cops from arresting you, and in the event of an emergency, I will do everything in my power to avoid being arrested. The consequences of arrest are much worse for me than they are for you. Do you have any questions?”

“I guess not,” you say.

She nods and starts the car.

Top-40’s music starts playing as the car starts. Handel immediately turns it down.

Handel pulls out of the parking lot and rolls up to the security checkpoint.

The masked security guard looks at her. They nod at each other.

The guard walks over to your side of the car. They’re armed with a rifle, but they hold it casually, with a shoulder strap.

“You’re a visitor, right? Can I see your lanyard?”

You take it off your neck and hand it to them.

“Okay, this seems to be in order,” they say.

“Did you acquire any items at all while you were here?”

“Uhh,” you say, and then show them the ALCOHOL RATION CARD. The guard looks surprised. “…Why? …You know what, sorry, I don’t need to know. Uhh… Yeah I don’t think I can let you take this off-base though, it’s a bit of a security thing,”

“Okay, fine,” you say.

The guard puts the lanyard and the RATION CARD into a manila envelope and writes your name on it and tapes it shut.

They show it to you.

“We’ll keep it here for you for when you come back,” they say.

“Yeah, no problem. Not like I can use it off-base,” you say.

“Uh, true. Well, have a good rest of your day. Stay safe out there.”

“You too.”

The guard goes back to the booth and the gate opens.

Handel turns to you and hands you a bandana. “Blindfold on, please.”

You comply.

She accelerates and your head hits the headrest. Not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to annoy you.

You can feel the air conditioning turn on, and you hear the music turn back up.

After about an hour, Handel asks you to take the blindfold off.

You’re on I-5, heading north. You pass by hotels, gas stations, dusty low hills of scrub-brush. You see an elaborate but faded sign for a theme park off to your left.

“How much further is it?” you ask.

Handel sighs. “About five and a half hours, traffic permitting.” You see that she has clipped a cell phone to the dashboard. The destination is an address in San Francisco. “364 miles,” reads the screen.

“Jesus,” you say.

“Hey, man, if you want me to drop you off so you can go back to doing normal people stuff, let me know,” says Handel.

“No way,” you say. “I’m in it to win it.”

She looks at you with a raised eyebrow. You shrug.

The landscape flies by.

Every time you see a cop car, you tense up, but none of them pay you any attention.

The upbeat music on the radio feels inappropriate, somehow.

After a couple hours, Handel exits the interstate and pulls into the drive-through entrance of a burger restaurant.

“Let’s get food,” she says.

“Is this the place that has that, like, secret menu with all the really good stuff on it?” you ask.

Handel rolls her eyes.

“Dude, just order something normal please,” she says.

“Hey, I was just asking,” you say.

You get a cheeseburger and a cola.

Handel gets a double bacon cheeseburger and a strawberry milkshake.

At the next window, she hands over a large bill and tells them to keep the change.

“Oh, how much do I owe you?” you ask.

“It’s just a burger. Don’t worry about it,” she says.

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

The attendant at the window hands over your orders.

“Aw, fuck yeah,” Handel says as she unwraps her large burger.

She eats it with one hand and keeps driving. Somehow she doesn’t make a mess. She doesn’t get any sauce on her face or drip anything on her lap.

You find your burger to be… definitely above-average for a fast food restaurant. Not the best you’ve ever had, but hey, it was ready in like 10 minutes.

After Handel finishes her burger, she crumples the wrapper and deposits it in the paper bag, then starts in on her shake.

“You must be really hungry,” you say.

Handel shoots you a look.

“We don’t get much meat or dairy at the base. We have to be as economical as possible. Plus, like half our members are vegan anyway. Me? I love me some meat.”

She sips her milkshake.

“Ice cream too. But yeah, that’s one of the benefits of missions like this. I can almost pretend to be a normal person.”

She laughs.

You don’t laugh with her. You don’t see the humor, and you feel like it would be… inappropriate? Or something.

You’re passing farmland now.

You keep passing farmland for quite a while.

Finally, you turn left onto I-580. You’re surrounded by brown hills and wind turbines that spin slowly in the hot breeze.

Like the breeze, you blow through towns that look the same, and then you meet green hills, and trees, and then the flat, infilled expanse of city between the Castro Valley and Oakland.

Highway after highway, city after town after city. You’re starting to zone out, and then you’re going across a suspension bridge.

“Is this the Golden Gate Bridge?” you ask. It doesn’t really look like the pictures you’ve seen.

“No,” says Handel. “This is the San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge. We’re coming from the East, not the North.”

You shrug. You have no reason to know that San Francisco had TWO large suspension bridges.

Finally, you’re on city streets, surrounded by tall buildings. This is the type of habitat you’re used to.

Handel turns a corner and you notice many of the businesses have names in both English and Mandarin Chinese. ‘Must be Chinatown,’ you think to yourself.

“Okay, we’re really close, just gotta find parking,” Handel mutters.

She circles the block and circles another block but eventually finds a parking spot.

The two of you get out of the car and stretch, both cramped from the hours of driving.

Handel looks at her phone. “This way,” she says.

You follow her down a narrow street, past a jewelry store and a hair salon. She stops in front of a Sichuanese restaurant. “Here,” she says.

“In the restaurant?” you ask.

“No, above the restaurant.”

She points and you can see a couple floors of what could be residential apartments.

She walks over to a nondescript metal door with an intercom system. She presses a few buttons then hits the call button.

"Who is it?" says a voice from the speaker.

"Is this Bunny Paulson?" asks Handel.

"I'm asking the questions here," says the speaker. "Who are you?"

"I'm Handel Eisensägen, and I'm here to talk to Bunny Paulson."

"Who do you work for?"

"I'm really only here to talk to Ms. Paulson, if she's not here, I can come back another time, or-"

"Answer the question."

"To whom am I speaking?"

"Answer my question first."

"We're friends of your brother!" you blurt out.

"Shut up," Handel says to you.

"I don't believe you," says the speaker.

"That is you, right Ms. Paulson?" asks Handel.

"Where did you get the name Bunny Paulson? What 'brother?'" says the speaker.

"Your brother, Paul Paulson, gave us your name and said you could help us hack something," you say. "Handel is a member of the Sands of the Mojave and I'm just... here on a personal mission. My name is Mulligan Redux."

"You're associated with those desert Maoists? LOL," says the speaker. Handel stares daggers at you.

"Still, if you're in contact with Paul, you can't be that bad. Hold on, I'll be right down," says Bunny(?).

Handel turns to you.

“What the fuck, man?” she says.

“Hey, look, if I wasn’t here, the two of you would still just be asking questions of each other and not giving any answers.”

“Information security-“ starts Handel, but you cut her off.

“Information security isn’t very useful if it prevents you from getting stuff done.”

She fumes silently.

About 5 minutes of grumpy silence later, the door opens, and a tan woman with short brown hair wearing a black tracksuit opens the door.

“Come with me,” she says, and walks towards the door of the Sichuanese restaurant.

You and Handel look at each other quizzically but you have no choice but to follow.

You enter the restaurant, and it has a warm, homey atmosphere. “Can I get a booth?” asks the woman who you assume is Bunny Paulson, and the hostess nods. You and Handel follow her to a booth and sit down.

“This is-“ starts Handel. “We have some very sensitive matters to discuss, and I’m not sure this is the most secure-“

“It’s my favorite restaurant,” says the woman. “Besides, I’m not letting you in my apartment. It’s rent-controlled. Can’t have you messing up the place.”

‘What are we, stray dogs?’ you think to yourself.

“But-“ tries Handel.

“We either talk here or we don’t talk.”

Even though none of you have ordered anything, the waitress brings a pot of hot tea, three cups, and a plate of freshly-cooked green onion pancakes. You can smell the sesame oil.

The woman in the tracksuit starts eating a slice of pancake.

“Sho,” she says with her mouth full, “Wha doesh my brudder Paul and hish group of shandy rebelsh wan meeta hack?”

“Well, we need some data from DARPA on their research into Domino Particles,” you explain.

“You ARE Bunny Paulson, right?” asks Handel, sounding cross.

“Yesh, ovioushly,” says Bunny Paulson. She swallows. “I’ve never heard of Domino Particles. Sounds made-up.”

“Well, uh, you’ll know they’re real if you get the data on them from DARPA’s servers,” you say, trying to sound tempting.

“And what’s the Legion of Dusty Insurrectionaries gonna do with the data?” asks Bunny.

“Well, The Sands of the Mojave doesn’t really wwnt that data,” says Handel. “Mulligan wants it for personal reasons. But if you’re able to get it, that would be really impressive to my superiors, and you’d be totally free to work with us on some really cool, revolutionary projects,”

“I’m not interested in working with a vanguard party,” says Bunny.

“We don’t think of ourselves as a vanguard party. We are not an officially Marxist-Leninist organization. In fact, we have members who belong to a variety of political leanings!” says Handel in a cheerful voice.

“If it walks like a duck, and talks like a duck, it’s probably… a duck,” says Bunny.

She eats another slice of green onion pancake, dipping it in the provided dish of black vinegar sauce.

“Can I have one?” you ask.

“Yeah sure,” says Bunny.

You bite into a slice. It tastes oily, salty, and of course it has the aromatic flavor of green onions. It’s very good, even compared to all of the ones you’ve had back in Chinatown in New York City.

You love Chinese food, no matter what side of the continent you’re on.

“I order the same thing every time, so now they just bring it to me when I come in,” Bunny explains.

You sip some tea. It’s a mild, flavorful green tea, not too bitter but full of grassy aroma.

Handel looks anxious.

“Er… We… I just want to accomplish things, revolutionary things, and since I joined the Sands of the Mojave, they’ve helped me do that, you see?” she says.

“Hmm. I see,” says Bunny, not seeming impressed. “Mulligan, tell me more about your ‘personal reasons’ for wanting to steal data from DARPA.”

You clear your throat. “Ms. Paulson… Have you ever heard of Human Displacement?”

She scoffs and dips the last slice of green onion pancake in black vinegar sauce. “I’m pretty sure it’s some fake thing that Paul used to talk about. Like a conspiracy theory or something.”

“Well… It’s not science fiction. It’s science fact. It’s caused by DARPA experiments, and we need to get all their data on it so we can stop them.”

“So you’re just another conspiracy theorist?”

“No. I’m a victim of Human Displacement.”

Bunny raises an eyebrow.

“How am I supposed to believe THAT?”

That rankles you.

“Look, if you’re such a great hacker, why don’t you look up the government records and, and social media shit, and all the information on Wasp Ghelsig and Mulligan Redux? Compare them. The data will show the same person in two different places at the same time. I AM Mulligan Redux and I have displaced Wasp Ghelsig from reality. It happened. Now their whole history has been overwritten, but I promise, it won’t make sense. DARPA fucking teleported me to California and now Wasp Ghelsig doesn’t exist anymore!”

You’ve raised your voice now. And you’re saying things that you’re pretty sure of, but you haven’t verified for yourself.

“Control yourself,” growls Handel.

Bunny Paulson is typing on her phone. Is she that bored with your predicament?

“Maybe this whole thing was a waste of time,” says Handel, and she starts to get up.

“What the hell?” says Bunny, staring at her phone. “One person… in two different places. At the same time. But that’s impossible…”

She types rapidly on her phone screen.

“These two passports’ photos were taken on the same day, in New York and California. But they are the same person.”

“…Are you illegally accessing government records with your cell phone?” asks Handel.

“I’m just that good,” says Bunny, still looking at her phone.

Bunny looks at you.

“I need to look into this more. What was the name of that particle?”

“Wait, are you gonna do it? Are you gonna hack DARPA?” you say.

Bunny smiles.

“You bet I am. No half-measures. This is something reeeeeal interesting. And you know what? When I’ve gotten some results, I’m gonna deliver the data personally. It’s gonna take a few days, but… Tell Paul that his big sis is gonna come visit.”

Handel Eisensägen looks from Bunny to you, apparently at a loss for words.

“It’s called the Domino Particle,” you say.

Bunny stands up and puts a bill onto the counter.

“Get outta here, I gotta do some real research.”

Handel speaks up. “Uh, how will you know where to go to visit us? Hold on, I can give you my phone number, and we’ll arrange to meet and rendezvous so we can escort you-“

“No need,” says Bunny. “I always know where Paul is. Your cybersecurity is good, but not good enough to stop me from keeping tabs on my brother. Just tell them to expect me. Brown pickup truck, license plate CYBRFUK. Now scoot,” she says, and starts walking out of the restaurant.

“Wait!” says Handel, and follows after her.

You follow as well.

Outside the restaurant, Bunny is heading towards her apartment door.

Handel is protesting, but Bunny is sismissing her.

“You can’t just show up! We have security procedures, and-“

“You can bend them for me. And you can tell your leadership that if they give me a reasonable request, I might procure some data for The Dust of Death Valley. I will be speaking to Paul first, though.”

Bunny types a long code into the electronic lock on her apartment building, and opens the door.

“Bye-bye! See you in a few days!”

“You can’t-!” says Handel, but the door has closed and Bunny has walked away.

Handel shakes her head in disbelief, her jaw slack, her gold hoop earrings flailing back and forth.

She’s silent for a moment, then she clenches her jaw shut.

“Let’s go,” she says through gritted teeth, and turns around and strides in the direction of the car. You follow after her.

In the car, Handel silently fumes for a minute.

“You okay?” you ask.

“That was a disaster,” she says.

You shrug. “I think it went fine,” you say. “She may be a bit unconventional, but it looks like she can really get results.”

Handel looks at you incredulously.

“SHE was difficult, stubborn and insulted the organization. YOU were reckless with information and yelled at her! AND we just found out that Ms. Paulson has compromised our operational security!”

“I don’t think she’d give out the base’s location. She just wants to make sure her brother is safe.”

Handel looks away from you and starts the car.

The music comes on and she turns the volume way up, as if to drown you out.

The drive back feels like it takes forever. The two of you don’t speak to each other.

As you’re heading South down I-5 you see a beautiful sunset.

By the time you get back to the base, the sun has set.

The security guard returns the lanyard and the alcohol ration card to you.

Handel parks in the parking lot and grips the steering wheel.

“Get out,” she says. “I need to write my report, and I don’t want to see anyone.”

She reaches past you and takes a pad of paper and a pen out of the glove box.

You get out of the car.

You shake your head and walk back the visitors center.

Paul is very surprised when you tell him what happened.

“Seriously? Wow. Well… On top of everything, I guess what surprises me most is… I never thought she would ever come visit me at a Sands of the Mojave base,” he says.

He shrugs. “I guess I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Yeah I… I guess all we can do now is wait. I don’t know how long ‘A Few Days’ is,” you say, making quotation marks with your fingers.

The canteen is still open, so you hurry over for some dinner.

DAYS UNTIL BUNNY PAULSON’S HACKING IS DONE: 3

STATS:

AGGRESSION: 5

CAUTION: 5

HOMOSEXUALITY: 5

ENDURANCE: 5

SKILL: 5

INVENTORY:

CASH: $50

MULTI-TOOL

S.O.T.M. ALCOHOL RATION CARD

EQUIPMENT:

SUNGLASSES

T-SHIRT

JEANS

HIGH-TOP SNEAKERS

S.O.T.M. VISITOR CARD

[navree]

“Haven't touched on everything I could talk about with Aegon; there's some sex stuff I've alluded to in previous posts that I almost included here but this is already long and it's an incredibly niche reading of the character, but if y'all wanna hear it lemme know.”

Yes please 🙏

I also remember reading some tags you wrote about him flinching on that “most pathetic moments” post or something like that.

So, as I said, niche reading of the character, but they appear to have unintentionally written him as someone who has a lot of trouble with physical intimacy. Which I find such a fascinating detail because it appears to have been entirely unintentional on their part and done in an episode that was largely meant to make us think "wow doesn't Aegon suck?" and instead I'm left thinking "I think Aegon has a lot more issues than they even decided on."

I unfortunately can't find the post, but I do remember that tag, and yeah, when Jace touches his shoulder during his toast (after he realizes that Aemond will beat his ass), Aegon very clearly jumps and/or flinches, which isn't a normal reaction one has to the person they're talking to patting them on the shoulder. So it's a general touch thing, for one, especially since the prior two episodes we saw him in saw that Alicent could kinda rough handle him at times. I'll go to my grave fighting the "Alicent is an abusive mother" crowing from people who have the apparent mental capacity of a frog but even still, that stuff happened, even if it makes sense (medieval society with different standards on childrearing and also one of the only two times that happened was when Aemond had literally just lost a whole eye and she was incredibly distressed). So there's already that to make the case that Aegon doesn't seem to be someone who enjoys being touched. And I'll admit that this can be chalked up to acting choices more than writing choices, that TGC likely made choices about Aegon's comfort level with being touched and that how physical Alicent would get with certain scenes would likely be more discussed between Olivia and Ty than in the script.

But here's the thing: they've also clearly and deliberately stated in the writing that Aegon has to be absolutely plastered, completely black out drunk, to have any kind of sexual interaction at all. Helaena says it explicitly, he completely ignores her as it relates to their maritals "unless he's drunk", he was so inebriated during the assault on Dyana that he straight up doesn't remember it, and even on Driftmark he's getting himself tanked before he goes to leer at serving girls (as well as telling Aemond that the way to get through an unpleasant experience like the dinner with the Blacks is to drink a lot). This is someone they've confirmably written as a person who is doing a lot of self medicating before engaging in sexual intimacy. And that's an important detail to mark when Aegon is married to his sister.

One of the reasons why Targaryen inter-marriage doesn't seem to have been that big an issue for most of the Targaryens even in their own thoughts is because it doesn't seem like they were raised to socialize with their siblings as siblings, but rather as potential romantic and sexual partners. I won't get into a whole thing about exactly why incest is bad, that's a long and very complicated topic and we all know that incest is, in fact, bad, but one of the main components into why it's Wrong is because that's a member of your family, which is a very specific kind of relationship (it's why some writers like to use it as a shocking plot twist *coughCassieClarecough*, because of the immediate sense of wrongness that sets in once you realize someone you've engaged with romantically/sexually is related to you). Targaryens don't do that, members of the family are clearly raised to view siblings not as siblings, but as a future wife or future husband, Dany herself says it in the main series when she ruminates on how she'd just naturally expected to marry Viserys, though that was complicated by the fact that Viserys wasn't just her brother but also operating as both parent and guardian and bodyguard all in one as well as being her brother. But Alicent's kids aren't following that mold. They do view each other through a familial lens, and it is reinforced by their mother that they are family, that they are siblings, and they were in all likelihood raised via more traditional sibling socialization, not Targaryen ones.

So Aegon is marrying someone he doesn't want to marry, someone he has spent his life viewing as his actual sister, and we have no reason to believe this didn't happen pretty soon after the betrothal (let's assume it's a year afterwards and Helaena's around thirteen while Aegon is around fourteen, that's normal marriageable ages in Westeros). Not to mention Aegon appears to follow the Faith of the Seven somewhat loyally, he also partakes in prayer at the family dinner and as I've said previously, he literally hides out in a sept under the altar of the Mother in a time of crisis (the symbolism, I cry), and we know the Faith holds incest to be an abomination. So you have all of that baggage, and then you add in all that alcoholism talk AND all those other statements? Then yeah, they've essentially written Aegon as someone who not only might dislike physical contact in general, but specifically needs to be inebriated to the point of passing out in order to stand any sexual contact or intimacy at all. And yet we still know he's done it, he has kids, and wow gosh this kinda reminds me of Alicent isn't that odd?

I don't think it was done on purpose, I think TGC and Olivia and Ty made some acting choices (and TGC especially likes to play up Aegon's poor little meow meow status so I assume a concept of Aegon not liking being touched was something he'd have in his wheelhouse), and the writers really wanted to get across that Aegon is a drunken lech, but the way they did it and the baggage of all the other stuff we've seen in the show, like how these kids were raised, means that, well, yeah. Aegon reads as a character who dislikes being touched, and has a pathological desperation to self-medicate before he sexually performs, especially with his sister to whom he is married.

And it's an interesting area to play around in, not only in his specific relationship to Helaena (that's a whole trove of stuff they can delve into, especially after Blood and Cheese), but also in his relationship to other people, his bond with Sunfyre, his relationship with his kids, how it might be compounded or mutate or otherwise develop after he's injured in the war. Again, I don't think it was intentional, that's just how I see it when I look at it, but if they want to lean into it and add intentionality and do stuff with it, they could, and I think it could be very good character work.

[robo-mox-motley]

[Video ID: Gorg, a tall blue mech, runs forward brandishing the blunt grip end of his tank gun. He lifts the whole long gun upwards by the barrel before striking down on the top of a tank. The original sound of the tank being hit is replaced with a coconut bonk stock sound. End ID.]

Always Gorgin' time at Mox(ter)'s

Aficionado número uno del Pavo Tecnicolor (al menos en el Occidente supongo), con yo mismo a partir de ahora conocido como un Archaditz!

-----

Mox(ter) reporting. Some things you might want to know. Or not ┐⁠(⁠´⁠ー⁠｀⁠)⁠┌

Things that keep me up at night: The camaraderie of the Autobots in Armada. Japanese punk and rock artists hitting Rs with that guttural growl. Trying to make up transforming figures in my head that don't exist for certain characters and getting pissed the next morning because I don't have them. Only thing stopping me is lack of access to a resin printer.

I am Mox/Moxter and have been a bot nerd since I was an anklebiter. Mostly gung-ho about other stuff like practical effects, costuming, figures/models, 3D modelling, old tech, lizards, and birding. I do art a little too, but I’m not too fond of the idea of putting it out on here quite yet. I mainly study tech communications, visual effects, and language. Couple years of Spanish but also picking up and learning bits of Japanese and Welsh when I can. I apologize beforehand if you see my dumb ass getting long-winded about Tailgate (full reason being too long to explain here).

I’m generally invested into anything related to toy design— mostly TakaraTomy, HasTak, and Sunrise bot stuff is my focus though. I am hooked on the design development surrounding Binaltech and Alternators for better or worse. And wouldn't you know, a bunch of car robots helped me to realize what I should re-prioritize my career track to be; that's the power of my dumb special interest at work

( •̀ .̫ •́ )✧.

Got tired of updating which music artists I like at the moment, but I tend to stick to ELO, Tokyo Ska Paradise Orchestra, hip hop, rock, J-punk, ska, funk, and EDM. I don’t mind getting music recs. Delighted owner to my little shit of a gecko. A lot of what I reblog is aesthetic posts, robotic nonsense, and other things. If you want to go ahead and block some of my tags, I’ve got a list of them linked in my pinned post. I try to put alt tags in the majority of images I upload. May need a poke on that though once in a while because I can’t remember everything.

There will sometimes be 18+ content. It will be tagged or marked under community labels as such. I don’t want complaining when the tools are right there to prune out stuff. Block the tags, block me, or go on your own way.

I have an affinity for and somehow keep crushing on turbonerd robots in STEM and medicine.

It keeps happening.

Ok, but like, Archadis and Airazor too. Birdman, birdwoman? Man, I don’t care... I’m just bi and giddy. If you get bothered by that kind of thing, I will probably piss you off. r/transformers or some specialty forum like Seibertron is probably more your speed.

Don’t be stupidly obnoxious around here; shit-stirrers get Gorg'd:

If you slander bugs, reconsider.

Please do not ask me my pronouns. Like, sorry, but I don’t know you. At least talk to me for a good while and wait before asking? Just use my name and no they/them-ing me if we aren't all too familiar, that's all I ask.

Things I like or have watched/read. Not exhaustive. Strong favorites are bolded.

Games

Bomb Rush Cyberfunk

Destiny (Well, it was good up until every update following Witch Queen)

Fallout 1, NV, 4

Final Fantasy VII

Halo

Lethal League Blaze

Mass Effect

Rhythm Heaven

Subnautica

Titanfall

ULTRAKILL

Comic Stuff

Astro Boy

Atomic Robo

Dai Dark

Dorohedoro

Hellboy/BPRD

IDW Transformers

Transformers Linkage

Kaiju No. 8

Kamen Rider Kuuga (2019)

Shows

Brave series: Might Gaine, J-Decker

Cromartie High School

Farscape

FMA 2003

Giant Gorg

Lupin the III

Kamen Rider: Ichigo, Gaim, Zero-One

Stargate

Transformers: G1, JG1, BW, JBW, Unicron Trilogy, Prime, RID 2015, Cyberverse, Earthspark

My MAL profile (I forget to update it though)

Blocked and still rooting through here?

I applaud your tenacity, but I don't get it. Have a little cheer in your life and go watch Kamen Rider or Medabots or smth.

Signing out.

[woozingie]

hello♡

just a quick lil note to let you know there will probably be no activity on this blog anymore. i’m still unsure whether i should actually delete it, but that will surely come in due time.

as i’ve been dreadfully anticipating since spring, i was unable to prevent my brain from snapping in the negative sense of the word, which forced me to live apart from society for a short while. now that i’m back in the wilderness, i have a lot of adjusting to do to focus my energy on the most important things in my life until i do more than just survive. since coming home i’ve barely reached for my internet connection apart from work/research related things and streaming shows and music (weird to think this is all internet stuff now). i think this is the new normal for me. i also can’t seem to find a way to interact with people online that won’t contribute to another one of those catastrophes i went through this summer. socialising has always been tough on me, and there comes a time when i have to ask myself why i go online and put myself through more socialising when the bit i do outside every day is already taking me out. 

it’s taking days to type and finally post this, because this has probably been the last time i partake in fandom activity, but however sad that is (especially after growing up online in lots of fan communities), it’s just not the same anymore. i’ve grown up, new people have been born and grown enough to be on here too, ways to interact have changed, i can’t live in the past so i accept that i can’t live in this present version of what i used to like!

still, i’m quite astonished i got the feedback i did on this blog. it was a quick escape during dissertation writing, and it has taught me that i enjoy the tiny little things of life a lot. it always made me giddy when i got messages or tags saying i was good at capturing the everyday, because it’s all we have, and it’s what i want to bathe in now all the time (except for when i’m in a sensory deprivation tank, which is my new monthly habit lmao what have i become)

i hope anyone reading this enjoys life to suit their own standards of enjoyment, but i’d highly recommend listening to some music with your eyes closed from time to time x

[lapseinart]

Wait okay i saw your tags on my post (im super new to tumblr idk if thats right or if this is even the etiquette for this sort of thing) and im in love??? If you have a fic of this i need it like air, its the precise amount of chaos i was picturing <3

Hi! dw i also just got here lol.

If I had my drawing things I’d definitely draw what I imagined to be going on, but I feel underqualified to write a fic for the entire concept bc I only watch tiktoks when they’ve migrated to Insta and tumblr

I have a sort of Batman YouTube AU somewhat inspired by the chaotic Public Relations by the Batclan that I haven’t finished the second part of BUT my plan for the second installment is under the cut

The text at the top of the screen reads: Your relationship with Batman.

Nightwing appears first. Unlike Batman, he’s in full costume. Unnecessarily, the name Nightwing is written on the right hand corner.

“My relationship with Batman?” he asks. “Uh…”

The screen cuts to the Red Hood. He’s lounging on the love seat, toying with an unlit cigarette.

“Fuck that guy,” he says immediately.

“Hood, no,” someone says, but the camera cuts to Black Bat.

She wears her cowl and a tank top and waves at the camera. She spreads her hand wide and taps the thumb against her forehead twice.

Text at the bottom says, “ASL: Dad.”

Cut.

Nightwing is sitting upside down on the loveseat.

“So you know how sometimes you have a way older sibling that thinks they’re your parent?”

“I mean, I guess,” the automated voice of WayneTech’s masculine AI says. The words Agent C flash in a corner.

“So it’s kind of like that,” Nightwing nods sagely, which would be easier to take seriously if he were right side up.

“Wing, you’re the exact same way,” someone else off screen says. The words Red Robin flash in yellow.

Nightwing pops up and glares off screen.

“Do you think I’m half as bad as him?” he demands.

“Uh…”

The screen cuts to black, showing the word no in all lower case letters and a period at the end.

The screen cuts to Red Robin.

“Batman is my mentor,” he says. “He-“

“He’s your dad,” Agent C says.

“He’s not-“

“He’s your dad,” he repeats.

Red Robin sighs.

“He’s kind of my dad.”

The camera cuts back to Red Hood.

“He’s your dad.” Agent C says.

“He’s not my dad!” Red Hood sits up immediately.

“You’re not my dad!” a bunch of voices say immediately.