#help me out and get cool things in the process!

[kenzlovesyou]

reporter!y/n and wbbstar!caitlin would be fun...

hi i’m so sorry this took so long 😕 i hope you enjoy this!

plot: short fluff you’re an intern reporter about to do a post game interview for the very first time! you’re super nervous about it and caitlin helps you practice before the real thing.

Reporting Live

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“Okay, Y/n. Just chill.” You said to yourself in the bathroom mirror. You’d just arrived at Gainbridge Fieldhouse to cover your very first professional basketball game and ask questions at the post-game interview. The game you were covering would be the Indiana Fever against the New York Liberty team. You were trying to hype yourself up for the game, but you were extremely nervous. The Fever had been getting serious media attention ever since Caitlin Clark had recently been drafted to the team, so you knew many people would be tuning in.

You stare at yourself and repeat the mantra you’ve been telling yourself since this morning. “You are brave. You are smart. You are super cool and you are totally ready for this!”

“Ready for what?” You jump in shock and turn around to see Caitlin Clark right behind you. The Caitlin Clark. You stare at her for a second not quite processing how Caitlin Clark is currently standing behind right behind you and asking YOU the INTERVIEWER a question. “Sorry um what did you say?”

Caitlin shrugs, turning on the bathroom faucet and rinsing her hands in the sink. “What’s got you so nervous?” She looked you up and down and smiled, “hey, that’s the reporter lanyard. Are you one of the interviewers?” You nodded shyly and giggled.

“Can you tell it’s my first day?” Caitlin laughed at you and shone her head. “Nope, definitely not. You look totally professional.” You couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or serious but you hoped it was the latter.

Caitlin’s words were kind, but you knew they were just that. She didn’t know you, she didn’t know your performance capabilities. There was no real way for her to tell you you’d be any good. You looked at ground and rocked back and forth on your feet slightly. Caitlin noticed this and frowned. Perhaps she could do something to cheer you up? She knew what it was like to be nervous at a new job, as her first WNBA game had just been a week prior.

“Do you wanna maybe, I don’t know, practice interviewing me?” You looked up at her quizzically. “You know,” she continued, “so you aren’t as nervous when it comes to the real thing!” Your cheeks flushed. Not only was she a great player, she also had a great personality.

“We could try that!” Caitlin nodded and signaled for you to start. “Wait. I can’t I don’t have a microphone.” Caitlin rolled her eyes at you and passed her half drank water bottle to you. “Perfect. Okay. Caitlin Clark. What do you think made you want to go pro in basketball? You’ve been amazing ever since you were younger, but what made you want to do this as a career?”

You held the water bottle ‘mic’ in front of Caitlin as she prepared an answer. She took a beat to think about her answer and smiled to herself. “I mean I think I just want kids to have someone to look up to, y’know? I just want them to know that, like, if they have dreams they should pursue them because it might end up paying off.” You nodded your head in response.

“That’s amazing. It’s good to know that besides having a remarkable talent you have such a good heart as well!” Now it was Caitlin’s turn to blush. Her cheeks turned rosy and she lowered her eyes to her shoes.

Caitlin cleared her throat. “Well, y’know, maybe since you asked me a question I can ask you one too.” You looked back at her quizzically.

“Aren’t I the reporter? What question could you possibly have for me?”

Caitlin stood up and walked closer to you, her eyes staring at you seriously. “Can I get your number?” You paused. Was the Caitlin Clark asking you out?

“How do you know I swing that way, Clark?”

“I guess that’s my second question for you. Do you swing my way?” You rolled your eyes at her and made a grabbing gesture with your hand and pointed at her phone in her pocket. She took it out and went to add a new contact and passed it to you. You typed your number in and before you knew it Caitlin had to leave to go warm up. You wished her luck and off she went.

The game was close, but the Fever ended up losing. You could tell by Caitlin’s face she looked disappointed. Her frown seemed to fade away when you walked up to the Fever team to do a post game interview. You went along the line of women, asking each one significant questions correlating to their stats and achievements in the game, and what they thought would come next. You sighed a breath of relief when it was finally over. The interviews went seamlessly, but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to still find something to worry about. You walked out to your car and started your car up to drive home, alone with yourself and your thoughts. That was until you got a ping on your phone.

unknown number:

great job on your first day! you didn’t look nervous at all, i guess the practicing helped? hopefully?

maybe getting dinner sometime could calm your nerves for next game :)

#wcbb #wcbb x reader #wnba basketball #wnba #wnba x reader #caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #iowa wbb #iowa hawkeyes #wlw post #wlw #wnba draft #caitlin clark x oc

[sirfrogsworth]

Adventures in Cooling

The 5-star rated HVAC repair service I used kind of depressed me.

It was almost... too good?

Like, they offer 24/7 service. They have a text message system that lets you know when the tech is coming. Every tech has their own custom van that serves as a giant advertisement. The entire process is documented with a tablet computer. Every serial number and model number must be photographed. He has to follow a diagnostic checklist. And an upsell checklist. And a repair checklist. He had so many checklists that at one point he pulled a card out of his wallet to make sure he didn't forget one of the steps. He had a poorly memorized speech for every upsell. You could tell he didn't have "his" tools, but the company's tools that he borrowed.

None of this was "bad" as far as a workflow. The service was flawless and nothing was forgotten. But you could tell that every detail was micromanaged and if the tech didn't follow the procedures to the letter, he would probably get some kind of demerit.

I felt sorry for my tech. He was in his 60s and clearly had a severe chronic knee injury. He walked slower than I do. He was quite monosyllabic and difficult to make conversation with. Not unpleasant, just not great at communicating.

At one point I asked him if I was a good candidate for a heat pump and he was like, "Everyone is."

End of advice.

Oh, and the uniform.

The uniform was very silly.

Every square inch of his shirt was meant to assure people they have a qualified technician. The one sleeve listed his certifications from some Alphabet Association that certifies such things. And then the other sleeve made sure to let me know my technician was drug tested and background checked.

The entire visit I kept trying to imagine how being stoned might negatively affect HVAC repair. I mean, if he was on a little cocaine perhaps we could have wrapped things up 30 minutes sooner. Marijuana might have helped him communicate. Opioids could make his knee feel better. I don't think shrooms would have been a good idea. If he hallucinated an angry fan monster in my A/C unit that could have been really awkward.

He was a terrible salesman—but for some reason, I fell for every upsell. Actually, I sold all of the upsells to myself in my head. I got a new filter and had him install it because I worried I would forget or I would install it improperly (not really possible, you just stick it in). But for the price I paid I could have bought 6 years worth of filters.

I just wanted everything sorted. I am so stressed and do not have the bandwidth to deal with A/C troubles. So I just said "yes" to everything. But the price kept inflating as we went along and every time it inflated he required a signature on his tablet.

This repair business had been corporatized to death and it made me miss all of my dad's friends from the old days who he would ask for favors. He always "knew a guy." He would trade car repairs for discounts on things we needed around the house. And they all worked for themselves and had their own tools and their own shitty truck and they all said, "There's your problem!" with the same masculine affect.

Their uniform was a flannel shirt and jeans and I bet some of them were high as fuck.

And this elderly gentlemen with the bum knee kept checking his checklist to make sure he checked every check because he feared managerial discipline.

He got to the sales pitch for the fluorescent dye. He was like, "Do you want this? You don't have to buy it." And I started selling it to myself in my head despite his assurance it wasn't really necessary. I worried if I had a big leak and I don't discover it until the middle of July, I would regret saying no in this moment. But then I realized he hated the dye injection process. And his poor salesmanship was mostly him not wanting his hands to be fucking radioactive yellow for the rest of the day. He tried wearing gloves to avoid it, but he still ended up with yellow hands and grumbled, "I really hate this stuff." Which was one of the few unrehearsed things he said to me the entire time.

Once the checklist was complete and the house was already starting to cool, he had one final sales pitch for me. He asked that I give his company a 5-star review and to make sure I mention his name. He told me that in July all of the techs with the most 5-star reviews will have their names put in a hat. And "the boss" will give one lucky employee a free vacation.

This vacation thing sounded like such a manipulation. And I'm sure "the boss" has instructed his techs to tell this tale of the free vacation so customers will be like, "Well, shit. I don't want this poor old guy with the shitty knee to miss out on that."

And it was then I realized just how this company got so many 5-star reviews.

Diabolical.

But the good news... my house is cold as heck.

And I keep shivering because I can't figure out the perfect setting on my thermostat. I guess I was used to the inefficiency and I will have to recalibrate.

[starstruckodysseys]

the thing about fhjy ending is that like. the promo dropped september 26th. it was like my fourth week of high school and second week of college. i still vividly remember freaking out about it in my high school library at 8am but trying to be cool in the process.

the proper trailer came out december 13th. luckily i was at home this time, but i remember shrieking and flailing and giggling like the biggest loser imaginable, because i was so goddamn excited. thank god i was home alone.

the first episode came out january 10th. i watched it about half an hour after it dropped, because i was at bowling practice when it actually did, and between coming home and getting dinner, i was a little late. i watched with the biggest grin on my face and live blogged the entire thing.

and now it’s may 22nd, and i just finished watching the finale. i loved it, obviously. i went on a roller coaster of emotions that surprisingly didn’t end with me fully sobbing, though it got pretty damn close. i laughed and i teared up and i cheered and i kept that same goofy little smile on my face most of the time.

i graduate in two weeks. this show has been with me for basically my entire senior year - through my entire bowling season, the musical i state managed and the play i helped create, every college application and subsequent admission, my actual college selection, every single dumb little thing you have to do when you’re a high school senior. in a way, i can’t separate fantasy high junior year from my own real life senior year.

it sounds cheesy, i know, but this season has really meant a lot to me. it’s strange now that it’s ending. i don’t really know what to do, now. focus on whatever never stop blowing up is, i guess.

i still love the bad kids forever, by the way. even if we aren’t going to see them in action for the next god knows how many years. they’re very dear to my heart. that isn’t changing any time soon.

#this is so dumb but i needed to say something #idk if it’s just me being dramatic but like… i feel like im going to be missing a part of myself #dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #reese’s pieces

[leonawriter]

To add to "Hakuba wasn't the one throwing the most shade at Hattori," I'm heading into the case itself, since I didn't last time.

Let's start with the fact that Hattori found blood on the doorknob and instantly tried to knock the door down. Hakuba, Junya, and Natsuki all look shocked, Natsuki even saying "Hey, wait a-"

Shinichi's the only one who isn't shown protesting, but he's also not shown actively helping to break down the door. He's right there, yes, but going just by the manga alone, we don't see him in action.

Later on, we get this-

Once Hakuba's said about how the "producer" was still alive, Hattori unties him.

Closely followed by...

First Junya, then Hakuba, saying that he's done things wrong. That he's incompetent.

In fact, Junya says "Even if [Hattori] is a very incompetent detective" while Hakuba says "I'll admit that your actions were unacceptable."

Of the two statements, Junya's is the more offensive to me - there's a difference between "unacceptable actions" and calling someone "incompetent." For instance, Detective Yamamura of the Gunma police is "incompetent" because he barely meets the base criteria to be a police officer, let alone someone in charge of a crime scene. Hattori isn't on that level. His actions were, however, unacceptable.

Moving on, and we see Hakuba point out, in detail, why they should have taken their time.

It's Junya, again, who goes on the offensive, assuming that Hattori was "[eager] to reach the crime scene before anyone else" and "not suited for being a detective." Hakuba says neither of these things. He's judgemental, yes, but he doesn't make things personal.

Funnily enough, Shinichi has a damn good point here. It ISN'T that Hattori is unsuited to being a detective! He is, however, hot-blooded, which does affect how he goes about things.

That isn't a bad thing, all of the time, and if it was, then Shinichi would have been joining the others in criticising Hattori. Thing is, Shinichi knows Hattori, and neither overly defends him (they're kinda right, after all) nor attacks him further (he knows why Hattori is how he is).

Later-

By this point, Hakuba has already seen Hattori acting "rashly" and "not thinking things through" so he feels he has a good reason to make remarks like these.

After that, however, when they do find the person they're after, he's visible from the outside, leaning against the window, bleeding.

This time, it's Hakuba who suggests going back inside and busting the door open, but before he can, Hattori is jumping up to bust through the window.

We're shown him breaking the glass, then unlocking the bolt on the window, in order to get in - unlike the first time, where it's just "bust open, get in."

In other words, we're shown his process.

What's important, to me at least?

Once the investigation gets underway, and now that Junya (rest in fucking pieces, dipshit) is out of the way, Hattori and Hakuba are... able to talk to each other with far more civility.

Sure, there's some checking of "you didn't mess something up again, did you?" but that's a valid question that one of them would ask during any other investigation as well, at some point or other.

That said...

It's only after they've done their preliminary investigation and the actual suspects are mostly out of the way that Hakuba suggests that Hattori be kept away from the crime scenes, since when he's been involved, the crime scene has been messed up, damaged, and... he's basically made a mess of it.

Thing is, this is where it's viable for them to have come to loggerheads with each other!

Hakuba is cool-headed and logical, while Hattori is hot-blooded and emotional.

I've even said before about how they're written as narrative foils to one another, being the rivals and closest male friends of their respective protagonists!

That said... for all that they butt heads here, they're back to collaborating not long after.

And when one of them brings up a point, the other listens. Hakuba doesn't discredit what Hattori's saying just because he's hot-blooded, and Hattori doesn't ignore what Hakuba's saying just because he doesn't like the guy/has bias against him.

On to the finale, and each of our detective protagonists has a different conclusion.

Hattori explains his idea of who the culprit is, only to be cut off by Hakuba, who comes in with his own, in a very disparaging way - "How many more times must you disappoint me," he says, only to be proven wrong and realise that he'd been letting his own bias (that a thief must be the culprit) get in the way of his deductions. Hattori continues with his explanation, which Shinichi tries to say "no, you're wrong!" about... only to prove that he knew exactly what he was doing and catch the real killer trying to hide evidence.

Effectively, this all proves that Hattori is just as good of a detective as any of the rest of them, especially so given the culprit's words at the end:

In other words: those things were done on purpose, knowing what kind of person Hattori is, and she respects him for being the kind of person who hopes that the victim is alive until proven dead. Who hopes for life, more than just another mystery to solve.

In this point here, as well as in assuming that the culprit had to be the same person as the thief, Hakuba is wrong, because he assumed that acting in a "hot-blooded" way was wrong since doing so would disrupt the crime scene.

What he should have been worrying about - and I wonder if this was a minor lesson for him - was "is the person inside still hanging onto life, and if they are, will taking the long route around take too long, and cause them to die?"

So, in these later parts, we do see that:

1 - It isn't even Hakuba, even after Hattori has said things that would legitimately upset him, who throws the first stone in antagonising him.

2 - It's only after seeing behaviour that could be seen as "rash" that Hattori hadn't thought through (unfitting of a detective) that he starts to bite back.

3 - They still work together with respect whenever it's about the actual investigation, and at no point do they get in each other's way, and-

4 - When Hakuba makes a mistake about his deductions, as well as when admitting no one knows where he is, for one thing he accepts his mistakes with grace, and for another thing Hattori doesn't gloat about it.

I wouldn't say that things are mended between them - first impressions count for a lot, and they didn't have a good one no matter how you look at it - but I'd hardly say that they have a non-functioning working relationship, or that they'd constantly be at each other's throats.

#dcmk stuff #leona rereads dcmk #dcmk #hattori heiji #hakuba saguru

[docholligay]

Buy my Fine Wares So I Can Be a Ship's Barnacle on My Mom's Trip!

Hello! Are you looking to enhance your October? Boy, do I have a deal for you, or maybe two! here with what you'll be helping me get for my trip so that I can hopefully have a lovely time with my mother and maybe even pay for something myself! (The Patreon will be paused in December)

This is where you come in! I have nice things below that you may want to buy, things that come up in limited quantities when available and that I have moved my schedule around to accommodate.

For everything:

First come, first served! First in my inbox, first to claim. If you’re second, I will keep you on hold in case person one does not pay. (I’ll tell you of course)

I do NOT have to like the item. If we want me to read something and do a positive only review…I mean I guess it’s not OFF the table, but the price would be highly variable and that would be something we’d want to discuss privately before any money changed hands. Not relevant to this moment.

Talk to me before you pay! Terms are different depending on our long-term working relationship.

Book review, delivered in October: $85 SOLD, includes full reading of any book up to 500 pages (longer than that isn’t off limits, just come talk to me) and a 2,000 word at least review of the book. You are absolutely allowed and encouraged to send me questions you’d like me address in the review, or themes you’d like me to touch on. Not a requirement though!

I have the right to veto a book and refund you, but, I’m actually not sure what that would be, in fairness. I just want to put out there I have the right to do it.

Must be available in physical form. 

What will I be getting with this? A Davek mini umbrella, because it's going to rain, cold rain, for 80% of the time I'm there and I want to drink my mulled wine dry as possible. (the extra $20 is going to my "buying wool socks" fund)

Book review, delivered in November: $85, and also everything I said above, just scroll up. I could copy/paste, but why make the post longer?

What will I be getting with this?

A letter sweater to replace the one I lost last time I was in fucking England.

Y'all, I loved this early 60s sweater. It was my first vintage piece. I am so angry at myself, I hate myself so much every time I think about leaving it on that fucking train, because I was trying to make the changeover in Peterborough and I'd never done a train change. I am so sad about it. i am sad right now

But there comes a time when we have to move on with it, with or not we're getting over it, and continuing to punish myself by not letting myself buy a nice women's letter sweater to replace it is not, I regret to say, actually accomplishing anything. I'm going to buy it, I'm going to take it the UK, and I'm NOT going to lose it. (Watch, I find it for sale in the vintage clothing section of Portobello road and damn near cause an international incident ahahah) (Jesus christ Doc do they really cost that much?? Babygirl this is the price of me buying an imperfect one and doing some cleaning and mending on it. You see why I hate myself over this)

A weekend of liveblog SOLD: $230, This is exactly what it sounds like, two days in a row of four hours of liveblog! A great idea if you want to do a whole opening episode of an anime or continue something that I’ve done in the past!

I am open to doing almost anything, but as with everything, I have the right to veto the show you would like to do. If you have something you think might be a little odd, you can always talk to me! I don’t get mad about saying no, as long as you’re fine with knowing it’s a possibility. I MAY LIVE TO REGRET THIS, BUT HOLLIGAY HATES CAN BE PURCHASED FOR A $40 ADD ON, AND NOTED ENGLISH SCHOLAR DOC FOR $60*

What is this buying?

I wish this were more fun, but this is my drinks wallet! I mean, i think that's very fun, but I know it lacks the excitement of a new dress or something. If it sweetens the pot at all, I'm giving my mother a tour of at least two of the pubs that I think of as being Lena/her family's style on the East End, and definitely am not hiding it under the guise of my mother's desire to find a pub she liked as much as the old Angel and Crown, which is now sadly defunct.

*Those of you who signed up on the interest poll to receive notifications receive $20 off the add-on, because that's the price I quoted you!

#help me out and get cool things in the process!

[solradguy]

Whenever I see someone being transphobic on twt in a bridget thread i reply with three pictures of my mains: ky kiske from ac+r, ky kiske from rev 2, and ky kiske from strive.

it self selects for people who actually play the game. it’s canon that he’ll fight off transphobes with the blade. and if they actually played guilty gear they’d get the underlining messages

While it can be really funny to bully these guys back, please keep in mind that nothing you can say or do to these people will hurt them or waste as much of their time as what they say will stick with you or waste your time. It might be funny to send them a bunch of Ky pictures, but what they're doing is laughing that the only response the people they hate can give them is sending a bunch of pictures of anime boys.

The only thing that works is blocking them. They've turned being an asshole into a recreational sport and getting any sort of response in return is a victory for them.

#asks #Unfortunately I was an asshole on the internet once (not a vicious transphobe just a basic internet asshole) #I know exactly how these people function because I was there once... #When you don't take the person you're arguing with seriously it's very easy to laugh at every single thing they do #Which is what these guys are doing. It doesn't matter how well thought out the counter argument is. They don't care and they won't care #All you can hope for is that they're young and they grow out of it (I did) #I feel bad for them because I think about what led to me being like that decades ago. Are they going through the same thing? #I was like that because I was in a hopeless situation and hated myself and hated everyone else #People arguing back just proved my point that everything sucked and my hate was justified #It's an awful feedback loop. People being kind to me felt disingenuous. Why should they be kind? I hated them. They had no reason to be nic #I had to get to a point where I was willing to help myself crawl out of that pit before I let anyone else even get near me emotionally #I still remember the day when I realized I was being a fucked up little shit to everyone lol #Early June 2011. It was sunny with no clouds and there was a cool breeze. I was listening to In This Moment and I realized #'What the hell am I doing? Do I want to be like this forever? Get your shit together man' #It was a slow process from there but I did get out of it. Slowly. Very slowly. #There's a lot I did that I regret and can't ever apologize for because it was so long ago and the names and faces are gone now #Apologizing at this point would be selfish and only for my benefit anyway. I can only hope that what I did didn't hurt people permanently #Anyway. I've never talked about this on here before because it's the kinda shit that gets put on callout posts out of context #So. I am laying my naked soul bare and raw for the sake of underlining my original point: Internet trolls don't care

[dykedvonte]

If Ulysses has a million haters, then I'm one of them. If Ulysses has one hater, then I'm THAT ONE. If Ulysses has no haters, that means I'm dead. If the world is with Ulysses than I’m against the world.

#this is slightly joking but like also not but also like am mixed on Ulysses on many factors #infuriating because i sympathize with his pain but it’s like #he is a well written and fundamentally flawed character whose hypocrisy I found doubly in #black characters I can tell were designed by white people with a semblance of an understanding of activism and bipoc oppression #but not enough for the character to not feel like hand holding for the majority white audience #plus personal grips with the whole twisted hairs thing and reference to slave braiding patterns #Ulysses irks me as a black person on a weird personal level and I can go into debt on why him being black is a big detractor for him to me #like he continues this cycle of distancing himself from his roots before remembering over and over again through his actions #he leave so much in his wake that the courier ends up correcting or helping like in honest hearts and old world blues because he’s self #righteous in a subtle way even to himself that he believes he stand out of his one man rule when he does not play an active hand #saw a post talk about how you choose to continue moving through his story and can leave at any moment and this it is partially your fault #but what of the oath that is set before you and is forced to take that he set up #I do not have to walk it but when I do the steps are not my own but those taken for me #you have to go out of your way to change it which is not something he expects because he’s playing by a story he’s been perpetuating in his #head about you two and the effect one man has when he’s continually been that one man more so than you as many of his actions directly lead #to the one you go through also the irony in the flag he continues to bear being the real reason he has no home #like he reps it when the package is likely enclave and thus use the same symbol #also still can’t get over how anyone could have delivered the package and he tries so hard to act like it was the couriers destiny or fate #when this was the one case of chance and that once man was likely a enclave engineer and how it’s really is never one man #it the process and he’s so annoying about it like he’s a cool character but if you don’t believe in his philosophy or already went through #these ideas cause they are very common talking points in poc especially BIPOC spaces he’s just old hashings and stunted #fallout #fallout new vegas #Ulysses you upset me but I’m like I feel you could be better if you weren’t so incessant #I don’t think I ever want to make a serious post stating this about him just because I’d start yapping and it’d never get finished #ulysses fnv #fnv ulysses #lonesome road

[keeps-ache]

little soup cans are some of the neatest things we have, wish there were more soup-can-like things in this world

#just me hi #though canopeners need to stop being deadly weapons to some degree before that hfhs #'they're not deadly tho ?' well usually yes. but did you know that they can age Badly? i did not! #and the one I was using was dulled to an extent that it would Skip over a part of the can #(nearly the same spot every time lol) and when I thought I'd managed to fool it and had only #the tiniest bit of metal between me and some beans (pretty sure it was beans) I thought #'ohh I'll just pull up the can lid :)' Well the lid snapped off completely towards and Into my hand #and I had a bean-can wound on my pinky for about a week or so. I do not know how long it's been lol #//but soup cans are pretty cool I feel like they're kinda underappreciated !! #you can just have Soup ? Whenever ??? and it's Normal !! wow :D #sure making soup is pretty great. but that's a process man. and we're not even associates #[<- 'a process I am (not) intimate with'] #like there is a little can of menudo in the pantry rn - medunito they call it isn't that just !! - and it's just there. it can be made in #like 10 minutes. is this Not the best thing ever ! ? #//I've also gotta figure out this sleeping thing that I've got going on (everybody has it going on) #I was maybe half a week into actually have a consistent thing going but the night I stopped was bc I am a sucker of a storyteller and we #were up til about. I think 4-6 a.m. #that's on me yes. my siblings vs. my desire to tell stories and rubber willpower hfbdh #a deadly match truly #and also I lost my snoopy watch (RIP snoopy watch you will be missed (I can't find it send help Waough)) and that was the only clock I had #in this room so now if I wanna know the time I have to go the living room - which is like a whole dang thing lemme tell you about it #/first I've gotta get up - easiest thing by far - and get to the door - assuming I don't get KO'd by my siblings' belongings on the floor - #get to the door. the door Is broken to some extent. opening it means a loud THDPD noise is sent throughout the entire house lol. and you #have to yank on the thing to get it open - so double effort there - and then you step out into the hallwayish area where you can then enter #the living room - oh so easy! but No! you then have to either turn on the kitchen lights and wake everyone with their door open or sleeping #in the living room for whatever reason Orrr you have to clamber over chairs pots perhaps a cat if you've got real bad luck that night to ge #up nice n personal to the clock so you can read the dang thing and see it's 11:23. which is like nothing so you stay up Anyway and do not #check the clock again because not only was that a hassle but also you released every creature that was in the room with you (that's a lot o #noise). but Yea the clock situation is ongoing hfbsh #'why don't you get a clock' that would be much too easy loll :) (last one disappeared and we keep forgetting lol) //ran out of tag space so

[rubberbandballqueen]

i just think that as a chemistry major i shouldn't be forced to take biology classes that expect me to memorize the everything to pass. i need some kind of "biology for chemistry majors" where they emphasize the techniques a living thing has at its disposal to remain at homeostasis and then look at how all these parts come together to form a complex living organism undergoing constant holistic processes to remain at equilibrium. i don't need to know what a golgi apparatus is called i just need to know how it serves its function in the complex process of transforming A into B

#had to google golgi apparatus just now to know what it does (process lipids n protiens apparently) i haven't been in a bio class since 2016 #my classmates in o chem would usually conplain to me abt the bio classes forcing them to memorize a bunch of #species that fall under certain taxonomic classifications bc their specificities Would show up on the exam #n i'm just like. that is a horror show. why do i need to be able to id 36 types of mollusks. #i'm probably Also like this bc i haven't taken a bio class since 2016 unless you count high school physiology then 2018 #the worm speaks #my thoughts on academia are pretty much always 'this sucks please let me test into the very specific credentials i want' #bc academia tends to assume that the things i wanna research are the things i wanna teach but that is actually untrue #mostly bc my fave parts of chemistry are the very foundational things n what i like abt teaching it is that you have to balance #accuracy with generality so that new students don't get totally lost in the details of it all or spend too much time focused on a niche #my interest in discussing w/experts mostly extends out to 'okay tell me the new findings. ooo cool i'll incorporate that' #'good luck with your problem tho' no interest in helping out with specifics. only interested in being able to communicate knowledge #the stuff i'd have more interest in discussing and researching lie more in the arts. i do love discussing a good symbolism #probably bc i can also accept that there's never really one exact answer! like what if i do a stem research and then im just Wrong. #art and the human condition on the other hand!! let's go let us gather the Contexts and then Discuss!!!

[inkats]

yup talking to people is too stressful how do y’all have like. Conversations. How do you make friends. I don’t talk to anyone regularly. I have like one “friend” (if I only have one short text conversation once every like. 3 months is it friendship? I don’t even see her anymore she’s moved away) and it was mostly her doing to heavy pulling to get this far. I’ve known people since literally kindergarten and I don’t think we’re anything more than acquaintances? Sunday friends as smoker on the balcony would say.

#ugh ugh ugh! #sorry I’m being. insane. #on main I’m sorry! #i need to. uh #read that book how to earn friends and influence people #maybe that’ll help. and on being awesome. #anyway #I’m super cool and regular! #ill get through it all! I’m not afraid to walk this world alone etc! #if I was less scared and confused this friend thing would seem nice. #it’s insane that some of the people around me are like. dating and stuff. how did you get so fun #also was it her doing the heavy pulling? #it’s not like. I’m not trying! #i text first I try to initiate conversation! #i just! I’m stupid. #oh but I figured out what’s the thing ppl would text me first about! #the first time happened recently:) it was about dolls. #so maybe #maybe it’s just a slow process. #maybe I’m becoming a real person. it’s just. I gotta keep on keeping on.

[nomazee]

what ppl don't tell you about writing is that it's half having zero ideas whatsoever and not knowing what to write & half having too many ideas and not knowing which ones to pick

#i literally have been in shambles writing so many things at once #p2 to 'the sun told me so' has been a slow and steady process for this reason exactly #i've rewritten it like four different times #this is the hardest thing i've ever done. and #AND #DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED #on this fucking todoroki painter au thing i'm trying to writ e #because holy shit #i have a bunch of cool lines and blurbs written and NO WAY of connecting them #me when i make another collection of vignettes instead of being a normal person and maybe writing a linear storyline #(i have done neither of these things btw) #help. ME. #also i've been rewatching sk8 and now i want to write a reki x langa fic. my head is going to explode #AND MY EXMAS ARE COMING UP. THERE'S TOO MUCH HAPPENING GET ME OUT #ALSO if anyone wants to beta read the todoroki painter au ... let me know i will literally let ANYONE beta read it #it's not an x reader #it's like just a character study almost #it.s.... a lot.... #it's gonna take like another month for me to finish HELPP #nat says stuff

[soy-sauce-and-mothra]

Hey! Are there blacksmiths in your story? I'm a hobbyist blacksmith and I'm here to help!

Blacksmithing is one of those things that a lot of people get wrong because they don't realize it stuck around past the advent of the assembly line. Here's a list of some common misconceptions I see and what to do instead!

Not all blacksmiths are gigantic terrifying muscly guys with beards and deep voices. I am 5'8, skinny as a twig, have the muscle mass of wet bread, and exist on Tumblr. Anybody who is strong enough to pick up a hammer and understands fire safety can be a blacksmith.

You can make more than just swords with blacksmithing. Though swords are undeniably practical, they're not the only things that can be made. I've made candle holders, wall hooks, kebab skewers, fire pokers, and more. Look up things other people have made, it's really amazing what can be done.

"Red-hot" is actually not that hot by blacksmith terms. when heated up, the metal goes from black, to red, to orange, to yellow, to white. (for temperature reference, I got a second degree burn from picking up a piece of metal on black heat) The ideal color to work with the metal is yellow. White is not ideal at all, because the metal starts sparking and gets all weird and lumpy when it cools. (At no point in this process does the metal get even close to melting. It gets soft enough to work with, but I have never once seen metal become a liquid.)

Blacksmithing takes fucking forever. Not even taking into account starting the forge, selecting and preparing metal, etc. etc. it takes me around an hour to make one (1) fancy skewer. The metals blacksmiths work with heat up and cool down incredibly fast. When the forge is going good, it only takes like 20 seconds to get your metal hot enough to work with, but it takes about the same time for it to cool down, sometimes even less.

As long as you are careful, it is actually stupidly easy to not get hurt while blacksmithing. When I picked up this hobby I was like "okay, cool! I'm gonna make stuff, and I'm gonna end up in the hospital at some point!" Thus far, the latter has yet to occur. I've been doing this for nearly a year. I have earned myself a new scar from the aforementioned second degree burn, and one singe mark on my jeans. I don't even wear gloves half the time. Literally just eye protection, common sense, and fast reflexes and you'll probably be fine. (Accidents still happen of course, but I have found adequate safety weirdly easy to achieve with this hobby)

A forge is not a fire. The forge is the thing blacksmiths put their metal in to heat it up. It starts as a small fire, usually with newspaper or something else that's relatively small and burns easily, which we then put in the forge itself, which is sort of a fireplace-esque thing (there's a lot of different types of forge, look into it and try to figure out what sort of forge would make the most sense for the context you're writing about) and we cover it with coal, which then catches fire and heats up. The forge gets really hot, and sometimes really bright. Sometimes when I stare at the forge for too long it's like staring into the sun. The forge is also not a waterfall of lava, Steven Universe. It doesn't work like that, Steven Universe.

Welding and blacksmithing are not the same thing. They often go hand-in-hand, but you cannot connected two pieces of metal with traditional blacksmithing alone. There is something called forge welding, where you heat your metal, sprinkle borax (or the in-universe equivalent) on it to prevent the metal from oxidizing/being non-weldable, and hammer the pieces together very quickly. Forge welding also sends sparks flying everywhere, and if you're working in a small space with other blacksmiths, you usually want to announce that you're welding before you do, so that everyone in a five-foot radius can get out of that five-foot radius. You also cannot just stuck some random pebbles into the forge and get a decent piece of metal that you can actually make something with, Steven Universe. It doesn't work like that, Steven Universe.

Anvils are really fucking heavy. Nothing else to add here.

Making jewelry is not a blacksmithing thing unless you want jewelry made of steel. And it will be very ugly if you try. Blacksmithing wasn't invented to make small things.

If there's anything here I didn't mention, just ask and I'll do my best to answer.

#yes some of this was directed at steven universe #the only thing su got right was bismuth crying when her anvil broke #cus those things are goddamn expensive and hard to transport #blacksmith #blacksmithing #writing #writing prompts #writing advice #writeblr #writer #writer problems #writerblr #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #writers

[exopelagic]

supervisor was met. god help our souls

#I think everything is fine and this is mostly residual anxiety #but also. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #I now have a project area that I can start properly planning out which is good #and I have a vague schedule for the next month which helps a lot #next two weeks have just become very busy bc I have the majority of the writing for my proposal to do #I’m struggling most at this minute I think with why this actually matters #bc looking like my project will be abt spatial structure within populations which like cool interesting #but I do have to talk abt why anyone should care abt this #it is kinda frustrating to me actually bc I wanted to do smth with more immediate relevance now but the area I’ve ended up with #was 1. result of me dropping the topic I actually wanted to do 2. mentioning one of the first things I could figure out smth coherent for #3. supervisor latching onto that from my email and now we’re running with it #so okay like this immediate thing I’m doing won’t have any kind of application bc this is a study system so that’s not the issue #need to think wider abt what you learn from this and generalisability #has relevance to range shifts bc of climate change and from there is important to small scale evolutionary processes #whether you get differentiation or stratification within populations #potentially more relevant to island evolution and like. gene pool stuff? #I think I’m struggling rn bc I’ve not figured out my hypotheses yet and I can test things in a way that will be useful for other things #and there IS still utility in understanding things better come on I was willing to die on the pure science hill for so long #hdhdhsjdhnshdbsb I think I’m slightly frustrated by my supervisor just not thinking very much abt stuff #like he didn’t know the schedule for the proposal deadlines and I don’t think he knows the format tbh #I also had to tell him the focus was on the one year and not the extension bc. dude this is a masters I only have a year what #I know he’s done these before and it wasn’t exactly a surprise that this was coming so I’m kinda confused and a little annoyed #but okay it’s fine it’s fine. I can email him abt importance. and I’ll be asking abt titles around Wednesday once Ive figured out some ideas #rn i need to think about what I would be testing here with what I have available and how I would do it and I can write an overview from that #figure out what are the important questions to ask and I can find stuff that would be relevant to like conservation and shit #bc I KNOW that there’s important stuff here that I’m just not seeing. I might have to link stuff to fitness to get a more rounded analysis #which is also fine I can do that that’s probably a good way to tie the project together honestly. will make that one of the main aims #I think the studies on that are kinda lacking anyway and haven’t been done in a while so would still be filling a gap and if not #I can use THOSE studies for relevance of the project. that’s what im missing i think it’s the next step so I can understand consequences #luke.txt

[ellemj]

Strawberries

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader One-Shot: SMUT

Request by @cherrywinedarling: fuckboy!Bucky, sex pollen.

Summary: Bucky, the man with a long list of girls on his roster, gets exposed to a sex pollen in the field. Will he fuck the first girl he calls or the girl he's wanted for the last two months?

Warnings: profanity, sex pollen (dubcon), fingering, unprotected sex, fuckboy!Bucky, size kink, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 7.5k

A/N: Special thanks to @cherrywinedarling for submitting such an inspirational (fcking hot) request and coming up with the entire plot of Bucky being unable to get himself off with a random girl, and only being able to get what he needs from reader. Lowkey loved writing this. And thanks as always to @littlemiss-yeehaw for pre-reading and catching some errors.

            Twice. No, maybe it was actually three times. Definitely three times. Bucky can remember being exposed to different versions of HYDRA’s sex pollen three times before. Each time was strictly for experimental or torture purposes rather than being done with the intent of breeding super soldiers, but it happened three times, nonetheless. So, this would be number four.

            Bucky lets the cool water from the shower faucet splash over his face for a minute before beginning to scrub his skin with a wet, soapy cloth. He tried to tell you that it wasn’t anything to stress over, that he’d keep his distance from the rest of the team on the quinjet and then lock himself in his room once you were all back at the compound, but you insisted on doing things the right way. He didn’t have to take an order from you, but he did. He shot you a frustrated look before making a crude comment and trudging off to the safehouse bathroom to take a shower like you’d told him to.

            “I’ll leave the door unlocked for you, don’t keep me waiting too long.” Bucky had said it with a smirk as he stood in the living room of the safehouse and stripped his shirt off with ease. But that smirk was gone the moment he shut himself in the bathroom and turned on the faucet. He’s been through this three times before but it was never enjoyable. It’ll start out as a sort of general discomfort, maybe some body aches and chills as his temperature rises slowly. Then it’ll progress to cardiovascular symptoms: his heart will begin to race, he’ll hear the thumping sound of blood rushing in his ears, his blood pressure will spike. In a normal person, the dangerous spike in blood pressure would be enough to cause a stroke, but Bucky’s vascular system has much more elasticity than a normal person. He’ll be fine. It’s the third stage of the drug’s effects that will really drive him mad. He’ll begin to feel the undeniable urge to fuck.

            As you carefully piece together the gun that you’ve just dismantled, cleaned, and oiled, you’re lost in thought. You’ve done enough research over the years to know that HYDRA worked overtime to come up with various chemical compounds that would induce a near primal sexual drive in super soldiers. They wanted a sure way to grow an army of super soldiers over time without having to go through the process of wiping countless minds clean and reprogram them. You almost audibly laugh when you think about the irony of Bucky Barnes being exposed to one of those very sex pollens on your mission today. Bucky Barnes, the man who lately seems to be attempting to catch up on his eighty-something years worth of celibacy, has been exposed to a chemical compound that will make him even more insatiable than he’s already known to be. You have to wonder if he’s secretly thrilled that he has the drug coursing through his veins now.

            “You’re not gonna go help your friend out with this?” Sam’s voice rings out from somewhere behind you just as you’re reloading your gun and sliding it into the side holster of your tactical pants. You laugh lightly, shaking your head as you begin packing up the last of your belongings from the kitchen table.

            “He’s fucked every girl he’s met since he finished therapy, I think he has a long list of people who can help him out when we get back home.” Though there’s a lighthearted tone behind your words, you’re serious. Bucky’s been a ladies’ man since he stopped seeing Dr. Raynor for mandatory therapy sessions, and not just your average good looking, single bachelor type of ladies’ man. Bucky’s a fuckboy. Sure, he seems to be respectful about it. He doesn’t lead girls on, doesn’t make them think there’s ever a possibility for something more than one or two nights in his bed, and he leaves them all satisfied. But he’s still a fuckboy.

            Your words didn’t hurt his feelings. Bucky can’t fault you for being perceptive. He really has fucked almost every girl he’s met in the last couple of months. Hell, he would’ve fucked you too if you’d just given him a chance. That’s how you ended up becoming friends. He tried like hell to get you into his bed shortly after you were assigned to the team and moved into the room next door to his, but you were adamant that you weren’t looking to be a notch on his bedpost. However, instead of telling him to fuck off, you put up with his shit and even seemed to have a good time doing so. So, you ended up being the only female friend of his that hasn’t been tangled up in his bedsheets.

            Although your words weren’t necessarily hurtful, Bucky still finds himself a little bothered. He was just about to join you and Sam in packing things up and getting ready to head out when he overheard your conversation and swiftly turned back around, quietly shutting himself in the bathroom once again. You’re right, he does have a long list of people who can help him out when you get back home. God, you’re always right. If he wasn’t so inexplicably drawn to you, he’d probably hate you. But being friends with you is one of the few things that keeps him from comparing his life now to his life eighty years ago. The girl from the bar last week, that’s who he’ll call when he gets home. She was pretty. She had a nice smile, eyes that really drew him in, and she was easy to talk to. She could definitely be the solution to the problem at hand. The more Bucky thinks about her, the more he realizes she sort of reminds him of you. Shit. He’s done that too many times in the past month, brought home girls that seem so familiar but it isn’t until he’s fucked them that he realizes they remind him of you. Why the hell does that keep happening?

---

            It’s just an hour later when you’re all arriving back at the compound. Sam excuses himself to go brief Fury and a few other higher-ups on everything that went down during your op, while you and Bucky head for the main tower, each of you ready to unwind in different ways. As you take the elevator up, your eyes wander over to Bucky, who stands to your right. His cheeks are flushed pink, a few stray strands of hair are stuck to his forehead with sweat, and he’s rubbing the back of his neck with his flesh hand like it’s sore to the touch. He acted like being exposed to a sex pollen was just another day at work for him, but you know him well enough to know that at the very least, he’s uncomfortable right now.

            When the elevator doors slide open to let you both out into the main room of the living quarters, Bucky doesn’t even wait to let you off first like he usually does. He steps in front of you and exits quickly, walking a little faster than usual to get to his room down the hall. Maybe that’s what makes you feel bad for him, or maybe it’s the fact that he feels like he has to pretend like he’s unbothered in front of you and Sam instead of telling you how much it sucks to have such a vile chemical compound wreaking havoc within his body.

            “Do you need anything?” You ask softly as you pass Bucky in the hall and near your own door, just a few steps beyond his. The sound of your voice breaks his focus and he drops his keys at his feet. Bucky stoops down to retrieve them and then turns his full body to face you from five feet away. You work on unlocking your own door, but cast a sideways glance in his direction. His usual smirk is notably missing, and a stormy, hard-to-discern look has taken its place.

            “If I do, I can call one of the girls I’ve met since I finished therapy.” The words are like ice: cold and jarring, sending a chill down your spine. He overheard you and Sam earlier. You don’t know why you feel like a kid sitting in the principal’s office, not when you’ve teased him over his fuckboy ways for as long as you’ve known him. It shouldn’t have bothered him that much considering it was true. Why do you feel like shit for having said it now? More importantly, why does his response to your question feel like a rejection?

            When Bucky steps into his room and shuts the door behind him, you hear him seal himself in with the resounding metal click of a lock. If only he’d known that a deadbolt wouldn’t keep you away.

---

            You’ve just finished showering and getting yourself ready for bed when you hear the familiar sound of Bucky’s door opening and closing down the hall, followed by two sets of quiet footsteps heading in the opposite direction. Two sets of footsteps? Bucky must’ve called for one of his late-night guests a little early tonight, to help with his situation. You’ve lived next door to him for a couple of months now and if you’ve learned anything, it’s that the man has stamina. So, for one of his guests to have arrived and left in the short time that it took you to shower and pull on some pajamas, something must’ve gone wrong.

            Bucky stands with his back pressed against the cool metal wall of the elevator and his arms crossed over his chest as he mentally kicks his own ass. He couldn’t go through with it. He called the girl from the bar, the one who reminded him of you. He invited her over, took her upstairs to his room, gave her a mind-blowing orgasm with minimal effort, but the moment he heard her cry out his name, he knew he wasn’t going to sleep with her. She sounded nothing like you, not even similar enough that he could’ve imagined she was you.

            “Thanks for coming over on such short notice, it was good to see you.” Bucky forces himself to break the silence in the elevator. When his eyes land on the girl standing a few inches to his left, she offers him a genuine smile.

            “Of course, I had a good time. I wish you would’ve let me make things even though.” She says, referring to the way Bucky had gotten her off but then briskly offered to walk her back downstairs. He nods slowly, tracing the backs of his teeth with the tip of his tongue.

            “Yeah, maybe next time.” There won’t be a next time, not when he’s stuck thinking about how hard it was to imagine the girl being you. A few minutes later, Bucky’s guest is riding off into the night in the car he called for her. He’s left standing in front of the tower, feeling the full effects of the sex pollen as he enters the peak hour of its activity. There it is, that undeniable urge to fuck.

            You’re sitting in an armchair by your bedroom window, munching on a bowl of strawberries that you settled on as a late-night snack, when you hear one set of footsteps coming down the hall. It’s the sound of Bucky returning to his room alone. You have to wonder if the sex pollen decreased his stamina. It must have, otherwise his little guest would’ve been here for at least another hour or two. You make a mental note to research that in some of the old HYDRA files tomorrow, out of sheer curiosity. As you sit there in your chair, licking a drop of strawberry juice off of your bottom lip, you can’t help but wonder what the hell Bucky’s doing. By your calculations, he should be experiencing the worst of the sex pollen effects right now, yet he’s alone in his room. You remind yourself that he doesn’t want your help, that he doesn’t need your help. You tell yourself that he probably took care of every urge he had with the girl that he invited over earlier, and then you try to focus on your snack and the TV show you have playing quietly on your TV.

            When you hear the distant sound of a pained grunt coming from the other side of your bedroom wall, every muscle in your body goes rigid. You quickly pause your show and set your empty bowl on the small table beside your armchair. Only a few seconds go by before you hear another grunt, followed by the sound of what you surmise is Bucky’s fist colliding with something in his room. Before your mind has a moment to attempt a rational thought process, your feet are carrying you out of your own room and down the hallway to Bucky’s closed door. Your fist is rapping against his door softly at first, knowing he’s awake and you don’t have to be very loud for him to hear you. No answer. You knock again, a little harder this time, hoping he hasn’t stroked out from a spike in his blood pressure. Still, no answer. The third time you knock, you use the side of your fist instead of your knuckles, and you bang on his door so hard that you feel it rattle on its hinges.

            Bucky heaves a deep sigh before unlocking the door and pulling it open, knowing you’ll be standing on the other side of it. Just the sight of you has Bucky’s already hard cock twitching in his sweats and he has to avert his gaze, choosing to look over your shoulder instead of right at you.

            “I would’ve answered the first time if I wanted to talk to you right now.” Bucky says coldly. A chorus of go away’s play on repeat in his mind as he wishes with every fiber of his being that you’d do just that.

            “You didn’t sleep with her, did you?” One look at Bucky’s disheveled state, his messy hair, the sheen of sweat making his chest and abs gleam under the dim lights of the hallway, and the way his breaths are coming in much more shallow than usual, tells you that you’re right. Bucky meets your gaze for a brief second, and his eyes give you the answer his mouth won’t. He didn’t sleep with her. “How bad is it?”

            “I’ve been through this before.” Bucky reminds you, running a hand through his hair and squeezing his eyes shut. You’re standing in front of him wearing a pair of gray joggers, a little cropped tank top, and a light cardigan over your shoulders. He knows that tank top well. If the lighting was a little better, he’d be able to see straight through the thin fabric of it. God, he needs you to leave. “Like I said earlier, if I need help, I have people I can call.”

            “You called someone and it clearly didn’t help, Bucky.” Just the sound of his name leaving your lips has him biting the inside of his cheek.

            “Go to bed.” His tone is authoritative now. But of course, you’d never take an order from him. Especially not when he’s so obviously miserable. Your eyes drift down his torso, taking in the sight of the super soldier that stands before you nearly drowning in a chemically-induced state of arousal. You don’t really know why it pains you to see him like this, why it pains you that he keeps rejecting your help, but you’ve had enough. When you continue to stand in front of Bucky, defying his order for you to go to bed, he drops his hand from his hair and narrows his eyes at you. As you make eye contact with him, an unfamiliar warmth begins to spread along the surface of your skin. Maybe that’s what made you do it, maybe the warmth is what made you start taking your clothes off. You don’t really know what it was, but once you started you knew you wouldn’t stop.

            Your fingers begin carefully tugging on the drawstring of your joggers, loosening the tied knot as you look into Bucky’s conflicted blue eyes. You continue watching him as his gaze darts down to the motion of your hands, his eyes widening as he realizes what you’re doing.

            “What can I do to help?” You ask the question in a whisper. It’s obvious what you’re offering and it has Bucky’s mind racing. He’s wanted you in his bed since the day he met you, but you never gave in to his chase. He’s sure that you’re only giving in now because you think that he needs you to, because you’re ever the kind, helpful girl next door for him. You’ve finished untying the drawstring of your pants and you’re letting the cardigan slip off of your shoulders, baring even more of your skin to him, when Bucky has to stop you. He reaches out with both hands, catching the soft fabric of your sweater in his hands and pulling it back up to cover your shoulders.

            “You can go to bed, that would be really fucking helpful.” Bucky rasps. The fingertips of his flesh hand graze over the skin of your shoulder as he sets your cardigan back in its place, and the contact sends a fresh wave of primal need throughout his body. That wave of need is quickly followed by a horrible ache that forces him to draw his hands back to his sides and clench his fists.

            “Bucky, stop rejecting me.” A sudden boldness comes over you and you find yourself placing both palms against his chest and pushing him back into his room. He doesn’t fight you as you take two steps inside and shut the door behind you, letting the room engulf both of you in near-darkness.

            “Rejecting you? You’ve rejected me since we met.” Bucky scoffs, falling back to sit on the foot of his bed. He brings his elbows to his knees and lets his head dip down to rest in his hands. He may not be watching you, but he’s listening intently as you strip off your cardigan and drop it in the armchair by his window.

            “Yeah, I wasn’t going to sleep with the guy who slept with everyone. But now we’re friends, and I’m not going to sit next door while you suffer through this alone.” Bucky dares to sneak a glance at you through his hands. You’re standing a foot in front of him, now in just your sweats and tank top, with your hands on your hips. God, your hips. He’s imagined holding onto those hips while he fucks you from behind so many times. His eyes flutter closed as he lets out a groan. “Bucky, please.” You saying please in such a circumstance is what breaks him.

            When Bucky pushes himself off of the foot of the bed and comes to stand only a few inches in front of you, you take half a second to wonder if you’ve just opened a dangerous can of worms.

            “Think about what you’re offering.” Bucky’s voice is shaky, but his gaze is hardened as he looks into your eyes. “This isn’t just some favor between friends.” You stay quiet for a moment as you run through the scenario in your head. You imagine going through with it and having sex with him, fulfilling his needs and lessening the pain that he feels from the sex pollen. You imagine the sun rising in the morning and the two of you pretending like nothing ever happened. Why does that last part make you feel uneasy? The idea of sleeping with him tonight doesn’t seem to bother you in the least, but the idea of going right back to normal tomorrow doesn’t sit so well with you.

            “I think it’s better if we don’t think about it.” Without letting another thought through your mind, you grasp the waistband of your joggers and begin pushing them down your thighs. As more and more of your skin is revealed to Bucky, his heart rate picks up and his breath hitches in his throat. When you stand up straight in front of him, with your joggers now lying on his bedroom floor, he has to bite his bottom lip to keep from grabbing you and throwing you down on his bed. You can see the wheels in his mind turning as he overthinks this. It’s the thing he’s wanted since he met you, being offered to him on a silver platter, but he can’t stop thinking about how this could ruin the most real friendship that he’s had since Steve. You do the only thing you can think to do to break him out of his thoughts. You step forward and take both of his hands in yours, guiding them up to your face. When his palms make contact with either side of your jaw, his thumbs are quick to begin caressing your cheeks, as if the gentle touch is instinct for him, as if the two of you have done this countless times before. “I said don’t think about it.”

            His blue eyes search yours for any sign of hesitation, but he finds none. So, he takes the leap. Bucky leans in and closes the gap between the two of you, his lips finding yours in the darkness. With the first brush of his lips against yours, your eyes flutter closed and you’re at his mercy. You part your lips to accept him, feeling a rush of heat travel through your body as he sucks on your bottom lip gently. You didn’t expect a kiss from Bucky Barnes to be so gentle. You expected it to be hasty, used as a means to an end rather than for the simple pleasure of kissing. But Bucky kisses like it’s as vital to his being as breathing. His tongue glides along your top lip slowly, feeling his way into your mouth before fully tasting you. As soon as his tongue tangles with yours, he pulls back, his hands still cupping either side of your face.

            “You taste like strawberries.” He says, licking his lips as he peers down at you with narrowed eyes. Blush creeps into your cheeks, you can’t tell if he’s saying that as a good thing or a bad thing with the hard-to-read expression on his face. Another lick of his lips and a smile begins to tug on the corners of his mouth. “You taste like strawberries.” He repeats, going back for more. This time, you experience the less gentle kiss that you initially expected from him. He wastes no time in sliding his tongue back into your mouth and letting it work in tandem with yours. As he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his vibranium hand slides down and wraps around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. His flesh hand ghosts over your jawline, along the side of your neck, and then you feel him wrap it around your throat just lightly enough that you notice it. Something about having his hand around your throat sets a fire ablaze inside of you, and before you know it, your hands are flat on his chest. You almost wish he had a shirt on so you could grip onto the fabric and tug him further into you.

            Bucky’s losing his mind. He’s losing his goddamn mind because you’re in his bedroom, your pants are on his floor, and you’re kissing him back. You’re kissing him and you taste like strawberries. The longer you let him kiss you like this, with one of his hands wrapped lightly around your throat and the other resting dangerously close to your ass, the more his fuckboy ways start to evaporate right through his skin. Kissing you for thirty seconds makes him rethink his entire lifestyle.

            You’re the one to pull back this time, you pull back the moment Bucky shifts his stance and you feel the outline of his fully erect cock pressing against your lower stomach. This time when you part, his gaze is so much softer. As much as you’re enjoying kissing him, you know that’s not what he needs right now. Taking matters into your own hands, you move past Bucky and sit on the foot of his bed. His eyes follow every move you make.

            “Are you sure about this?” He has to ask. He has to know that he isn’t taking advantage of you and your friendship before this goes any further. He isn’t so sure he’ll be able to stop once he’s really touched you, so he’s offering you an out now. When you nod, keeping your eyes on Bucky, he lets out a soft sigh of relief. Your eyes follow him as he moves around the bed to the nightstand and pulls open the top drawer. After pulling out a little square packet and dropping it on top of the bed, he looks over at you once more. “You’ll tell me if I’m too rough?”

            “I trust you.” You whisper. Bucky’s eyes darken as his pupils dilate even more and he begins walking back to the foot of the bed, coming to stand right in front of you.

            “You trust me.” He repeats the words slowly, savoring them. You trust him. He looks down at you with an even mix of lust and admiration, but you only notice the lust. Raising his right hand up, he tucks your hair behind one ear and then traces a line from the point of your jaw to the tip of your chin with his index finger. Bucky curls that finger beneath your chin and tilts your face upward. The way your eyes pierce his, he feels like you’re looking straight into his soul, like you’re seeing every darkened corner within him that he’s tried so hard to hide. Instead of feeling vulnerable, he feels at home under your watchful stare.

            Bucky tilts his head to the side and his eyes flit behind you to the expanse of the bed, signaling that he wants you to move back onto it. You do just that, turning over so your back is to him as you crawl further up on the mattress. A soft groan from Bucky lets you know he likes the view already, and you smile to yourself. You always knew he was attracted to you, but having the extra confirmation now really feeds your confidence. You can hear the rustling of fabric behind you and when you turn over once again to lay on your back, holding yourself up on your elbows, you see that Bucky has tossed his sweatpants onto the floor beside yours. Now, you see your friend, standing before you in only a pair of black boxers. Your breath hitches in your throat when your eyes land on the bulge beneath the thin fabric.

            “Oh my god, you’re so big.” Your eyes widen and dart back up to meet Bucky’s. Of course, he has a smug smile plastered across his face.

            “You couldn’t have guessed that?” He asks, placing one knee on the foot of the bed as he looks you over.

            “I never thought about it.” You find yourself staring at it again, but Bucky blocks your view when he starts crawling over your body.

            “You don’t have to lie, sweetheart.” Bucky tsks, resting his body weight on you as he leans in and kisses your neck. You find yourself tilting your head to the side to give him more access, loving the way he alternates between licking and sucking your skin. “God, you taste like strawberries, you smell like strawberries.” Bucky grunts against your neck before sitting back on his knees between your legs. “I don’t think I can wait much longer.” He says quietly, analyzing your expression. You study his face for a moment, taking in his flushed cheeks, the way his chest is rapidly rising and falling, and even the way the tips of his ears are turning pink. His blood pressure is spiking.

            You push yourself up to a sitting position and without thinking, you tug your tank top over your head, tossing it on the floor and completely baring your chest to Bucky.

            “Fuck.” The curse falls from his lips as his eyes devour your nearly naked body. It takes him a few seconds to compose himself and focus. When you start shimmying out of your panties, he moves to stand on the floor beside the bed, squeezing his eyes shut as he takes his own boxers off. He’s worried if he gets one look at you completely naked in his bed, he’ll start cumming and because of the sex pollen, he won’t stop.

            “Look at me.” Your voice is too kind, too sweet for someone so willing to be fucked. But Bucky listens, opening his eyes and meeting your gaze. His hand is fisting around his cock within a second, stroking it as he looks not at your body, but into your fucking soul. “You’re supposed to be letting me help you.” You remind him, fighting the urge to look down at where he’s touching himself. Bucky groans again but starts climbing back over you, his hard cock dragging along the skin of your thigh as he situates himself over you but slightly to one side, resting his weight on one elbow.

            “I don’t want to hurt you.” Bucky presses a kiss to your lips. It’s a kiss he meant to be quick and reassuring, but neither of you could resist deepening it. So, he licks into your mouth once again, loving the way you taste, and you feel his right hand sliding down your stomach. His fingertips ghost lightly over your thigh at first, testing the waters, but you don’t flinch away. He has to make sure you can take him. He knows he’s big, and he has no idea how long it’s been since the last time you were with someone. When his hand ventures between your legs, you spread them without hesitation, continuing to kiss him with a growing desperation. The moment Bucky lets his fingertips glide along your wet folds, he can’t stop himself from rutting against your thigh. “You’re so wet for me, fuck.” A soft hum leaves your lips but it’s quickly transformed into a moan when Bucky applies pressure to your clit and begins to circle the pads of his fingers over it. Sparks of pleasure ignite, urging you to spread your legs even more and break away from his mouth to take in a gasp of air.

            “Bucky, you don’t have to—” You’re cut off by your own cry when Bucky abandons your clit and slips two fingers inside of you, sending them only halfway as he watches between your legs. He’s in awe of you. Your back arches off of his mattress and he’s so tempted to kiss and lick all over your breasts, but he can’t ignore the overwhelming ache in his lower stomach and cock for much longer. He curls his fingers against your walls slowly, turning to watch your face this time. He studies you as your eyes scrunch closed and your mouth parts to let a heavy pant past your lips. You look fucking perfect. He knows the longer he delays his own release, the worse he’ll feel physically. He can already hear the blood rushing in his ears and feels the pain throughout his body worsening with every sound you make, but he wants this to be good for you. He needs this to be good for you. So, Bucky begins dragging his fingers out and then pushing them right back in, over and over again. He works you up to being able to take them deeper and deeper until he can’t push them in any more. That’s when he leans into you and leaves light kisses across your right cheek and temple. You find yourself leaning into his touch.

            “I can’t wait anymore.” Bucky grunts, as he pulls his fingers out of you slowly one last time. He wants so badly to lick his fingers and taste you, but he knows that if he gets a taste, he won’t ever be able to get over it. He’d spend every day doing whatever the hell he had to do just to get more. Instead, Bucky slides those two wet fingers over the head of his cock, mixing your arousal with his precum and spreading it down the shaft. He gives it a few strokes, letting his head fall against your shoulder as he begins to feel just the slightest bit of relief inside his body. But it isn’t enough. Bucky lets go of his cock and leans over you, reaching across the bed to grab the condom he placed there earlier. When he rolls onto his back and begins tearing the small wrapper open, you take matters into your own hands.

            Bucky damn near feels butterflies when you move to straddle him, bracing your hands on his bare chest as you swing a leg over him.

            “Just give me a second.” Bucky grunts, his eyes darting between the half open condom wrapper and where you’re lowering yourself down over him. He gets the condom out of the wrapper but freezes when he feels your dripping cunt grind along the shaft of his cock. “Shit, be careful.” He warns you through gritted teeth. You know you really should be careful. Hell, he’s slept with so many girls just in the last month that you should be using any and every form of protection out there. Not to mention the fact that both the super soldier serum and sex pollen really ramped up his reproductive system, increasing his sperm count and motility like crazy. The man could easily save the human race from extinction if he was the last viable male on Earth. But you’re not thinking straight. You’re not thinking straight at all when you begin grinding down and circling your hips against him, reveling in the feeling of his hard cock pressing against your clit. You drag your hips back and forth as Bucky’s hands move to grip you there, with the unwrapped condom still in his right hand. You can feel that little piece of latex between his palm and your hip. The thought crosses your mind so briefly, but once the seed is planted, there’s no going back. Feeling the condom all rolled up between Bucky’s hand and your hip is really what planted the seed. You want to feel him inside you, without a damn thing in between. So, you grind along the length of his cock once more, but when you near the tip, you continue sliding forward on it and grinding down until you feel it against your entrance, and then you grind down a little harder, angling your hips just right so it starts to slide in.

            “Oh my god.” You moan out, letting your head fall back as you reach down with one hand and start fully guiding him inside of you. Bucky can only watch, his grip on your hips getting impossibly tighter. You’ve only taken in the head of his cock when you still yourself, trying your best to adjust to his ample size. You feel a mix of stinging pain and pleasure, but he did such a thorough job of preparing you with his fingers that the sting is minimal.

            “I’m not wearing a condom.” Bucky pants, scanning your face as you slide down another couple of inches. He’s nearly halfway in now and it’s taking every single ounce of his self-control to keep from pulling your hips down and making you take all of it. Your eyes flutter open and lock onto his.

            “I know.” You pair your two little words with the act of forcing yourself to take the rest of his length. Your clit brushes against the base of his cock and for a moment, you actually think he might be too big for you.

            “Fuck.” Bucky groans lowly. His eyes scrunch shut even though he so badly wants to keep them wide open and memorize the way you look when you’re being fucking ruined by his cock. His balls feel so full and heavy, even more so than usual with the way the sex pollen is screwing up his reproductive system, and the fact that you’re the one he’s balls deep inside of isn’t helping. You really should’ve let him put on a condom, but he sure as hell isn’t going to stop you now. Bucky releases his hold on your hip with his right hand and lets the unused condom fall from his grasp, watching as it lands on the bed. When he digs his fingers into the skin of your hips once more, the sensation spurs you to attempt moving. You start with slow up and down movements, only fucking half of his cock, unsure if you could manage the whole thing at once. But when you get a look at Bucky’s face, at the way it’s contorted with pleasure yet restrained as if he’s holding himself back, you know you need to give him more. So, you take a deep breath and begin lifting yourself off of his cock. Bucky’s eyes follow, so focused on the way you leave his cock glistening as you pull off of it. When only the head is left inside of you, you breathe out as you sit all the way back down. Fuck, it hurts when he’s all the way in but you don’t want to stop. God, you don’t want to stop for anything. You go again, trying the movement a little faster this time, earning a soft grunt from Bucky and a few bruises on your hips as his hold tightens more.

            “Bucky, you’re too big.” You finally say, after sliding down onto his length the third time. You want to ride his dick and do as much of the work for him as you can right now, but there’s just no way. There’s no way you can pick up the pace and set a good rhythm when he’s so fucking thick and long that you feel him in your stomach every time you sit down. You don’t have the time that you’d need to adjust, you don’t want to make him wait for you to be ready for it. So, you need a new position. Bucky understands immediately. As much as he was loving seeing you fuck his cock all by yourself, his insides are screaming at him to take control and do whatever he needs to do to get himself off.

            Bucky eases you down onto his full length one more time, simultaneously hating and loving the way you cringe once you’re fully seated. Then, in one quick, smooth movement, he captures your hands in his and tugs you down to his chest, before rolling both of you over so he’s on top.

            “We can save that for next time.” Bucky promises, positioning himself so that the majority of his weight rests on his forearms on either side of your head. As soon as the words have left his mouth, you realize what he’s just said, but he doesn’t. He leans down and licks your bottom lip while you’re lying beneath him, with his cock motionless inside you, as you remind yourself that there will never be a next time. Bucky’s a fuckboy through and through, you’ve never known him to sleep with the same girl twice, and you can’t imagine anything about tonight is going to change that. “Are you adjusted?” He asks, pulling back from your face to look into your eyes. You bend your knees a little and take in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you focus on your senses. No pain. You nod your head and let your hands ghost along Bucky’s sides.

            “Are you always this gentle and thoughtful in bed?” The question sneaks past your lips before you can stop it, but Bucky chuckles as he begins to pull his hips back, sliding his cock out of you inch by inch.

            “You think I’m gentle and thoughtful?” Of course he’d take your question as a compliment. Or…maybe not. Bucky shoots you a mischievous look before biting down on his bottom lip and snapping his hips forward, thrusting into you so hard that your back arches off of the bed and your breasts press up against the skin of his bare chest. He took it as a fucking challenge.

            “I take it back.” You whine. You dig your nails into the skin of his back hoping to draw a little pain from him, but truthfully, he loves it. He begins slowly dragging his cock back out of you while you’re wondering how the hell he’s still so composed and restrained. “I thought being exposed to a sex pollen would’ve made this a quick, sort of desperate kind of thing.”

            “Is that what you wanted?” Another snap of his hips and you’re filled with his cock again.

            “I didn’t say that, it’s just what I expected. Does it not make you feel like fucking the shit out of anyone you can get your hands on?” Your fingers dance up his sides until they’re tangled in his messy hair. Another slow drag of his hips and you’re feeling nearly empty.

            “It does, but like I said, I don’t want to hurt you.”

            “Hurt me.” He freezes with his cock halfway out of you. Your own eyes widen at your unexpected request. Where the hell did your filter go? You didn’t even mean it the way it sounds, you just meant that you don’t want him to keep holding back for your sake. “I meant—”

            “I know what you meant.” Bucky grunts, clearly turned on by the presumed meaning behind your words. He lowers himself down until his body weight feels like a warm, thick blanket covering every inch of your body. He’s giving you what you want. The talking part is over, you realize, as Bucky lets his forehead fall into the crook of your neck and slides his knees beneath your thighs, opening you up for him even more.

            Then, he fucks you. He sets a rhythm and pace so desperate and unforgiving that every thrust causes the mattress to bounce you right back up against him. No matter how much he pulls out, you continuously feel the presence of his cock inside you. Every breath he breathes against your neck, every time his lips ghost over your skin, every needy grunt that meets your ears feeds you like a dose of ecstasy. The atmosphere is reduced to the sounds of skin on skin, panting breaths, and obscene curses and moans falling from parted lips. Bucky fucks you more thoroughly than he’s fucked anyone in the last two months. When he hears your moans increase in pitch and your breaths becoming more and more shallow, he drives his cock into you harder and deeper, making sure his name is the only thing on your mind. You give him no warning when your orgasm begins to tear through your body, but you don’t have to. Your cunt grips his cock so tightly that pulling out to thrust into you is damn near painful, so Bucky begins grinding into you, moving his hips in rhythmic circles. When your breaths begin to come a little easier, Bucky’s own release is threatening to spill over, so he starts to slow his hips and pull out of you. He isn’t wearing a condom and he knows this won’t be a small mess by any means.

But you, the girl next door, the girl who tastes like fucking strawberries, you slide your hands down and grab his hips every bit as harshly as he grabbed yours earlier, and you pull him further into you. An orgasm hits him like a fucking freight train. It wasn’t even the sensation of being inside you that sent him over the edge, as heavenly as that was. No, it was the fact that you wouldn’t let him pull out. The fact that you didn’t even let him wear a condom. The fact that you’re you and you’re so desperate for his cum that you’d hold him there and take it like you had a right to. After three seconds, Bucky’s surpassing a normal amount of cum, and both of you are fully aware of it.

“It won’t stop, fuck.” Bucky groans against your neck as he slowly ruts into you, trying to get himself through his orgasm. “There’s so much cum.”

“That’s okay, it’s okay, Bucky.” You whisper, moving your hands back up to his head and carding your fingers through his hair. “I can take it.”

Shit. He might be in love with you.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #mcu #marvel #the winter soldier #winter soldier

[the-temple-of-light]

*clasps hands*

...So do I need to actually introduce this AU or can I just launch right into it-?

#pittooy babbles #tl;dr roleswap-ish AU where the underworld recruits an angel before they can reach skyworld while palutena makes a copy of said angel- #-to help her escape the underworld #I MOSTLY feel the need to explain b/c the underworld angel is. basically pittoo. but named pit. #which I think makes sense when I say it bluntly but IDK how much I'd need to explain it in actual writing #also I know someone else has been working on a roleswap au of sorts but that's more centered on the forces of nature #so I don't THIIINK I'm stepping on any toes? #IDK I've been. honestly hesitant to check out that AU b/c every little bit I see is so interesting and I have a bad feeling that I'll- #-hyperfixate and I have enough projects and IRL things I need to bounce between that I can't really risk getting too wrapped up in a- #-New Cool Thing #I already spent a lotta time I was supposed to spend on. many many things. on an old horror interest I fell back into #which was fun!! but also distracted me from zines I was supposed to work on which was stressful #gaeijfwhnecje sorry for ranting BUT seeing that This is my thought process probably explains why the BTHB series has stalled #this is my brain right now! the antidepressant is working but the ADHD might be slightly more unmanaged #I'm coping as best I can just be patient #I write whatever keeps me from cracking and lately that just hasn't been KI

[jonnywaistcoat]

Hey, Horrormaster Sims. I have a wildly different question that barely relates to TMA (Sorry about that) but its about your own process. Please, if you could, can you tell me how your first drafts made you feel? I'm on the fence about writing my own thing (not a podcast, and again, not Magnus related, though I have a million little aus for that delightful tragedy you wrote, thank you for that!) But I'm discouraged by the collective notion that first drafts are always terrible, because there's no ... examples I can solidly use to help the dumb anxiety beast in my brain that tells me everyone who is in any way popular popped out a golden turd and not, well, you know. One of my friends said 'Oh I bet Jonathan Sims's first draft was nothing like what he wanted' and I got the bright idea to just. Send you an ask, since you're trapped on this hellsite like I am. Anyway, thanks for reading this (if you do) and if you'd rather ask it privately, I am cool with that. Alternatively, you're a hella busy man with Protocol (you and Alex are making me rabid, i hope you know) and you can just ignore this! Cheers, man, and good words.

To my mind all writing advice, especially stuff that's dispensed as truisms (like "first drafts are always garbage") are only useful inasmuch as such advice prompts you to pay attention to how you write best: what helps your workflow, what inspires you, what keeps you going through the rough bits. There are as many different ways to write (and write well) as there are people who write and so always consider this sort of thing a jumping off point to try out or keep in mind as you gradually figure out your own ways of writing.

On first drafts specifically, I think the wisdom "all first drafts are bad" is a bit of unhelpful oversimplification of the fact that, deadlines notwithstanding, no piece of writing goes out until you decide its ready, so don't get too hung up on your first draft of a thing, because a lot of writers find it much easier to edit a complete work than to try and redraft as they go. It's also important to not let perfectionism or the fact your initial draft isn't coming out exactly how you want stop you from actually finishing the thing, as it's always better to have something decent and done than to have something perfect and abandoned.

But the idea of a "first draft" is also kind of a fluid one. The "first draft" you submit to someone who's commissioned you will probably be one you've already done a bunch of tweaks and edits to, as opposed to the "first draft" you pump out in a frenzy in an over-caffeinated weekend. For my part, my first drafts tend to end up a bit more polished than most, because I'm in the habit of reading my sentences out loud as I write them (a habit picked up from years of audio writing) so I'll often write and re-write a particular sentence or paragraph a few times to get the rhythm right before moving to the next one. This means my first drafts tend to take longer, but are a bit less messy. I'm also a big-time planner and pretty good at sticking to the structures I lay out so, again, tend to front load a lot of stuff so I get a better but slower first draft.

At the end of the day, though, the important thing is to get in your head about it in a good way (How do I write best? what helps me make writing I enjoy and value? What keeps me motivated?) and not in a bad way (What if it's not good enough? What if everyone hates it? What if it doesn't make sense?) so that you actually get it done.

As for how my first drafts made me feel? Terrible, every one of 'em No idea if that's reflective of their quality, though, tbh - I hate reading my own writing until I've had a chance to forget it's mine (I can only ever see the flaws). I suppose there's theoretically a none-zero chance they were pure fragments of True Art and creative perfection, but Alex's editing notes make that seem unlikely.

#writing advice #rambling #first drafts #gotta say not mad on being called a horrormaster #feel like ive a ways to go yet #horror journeyman maybe