#Woman goes crazy in Starbucks

[aci25]

This country seriously have a mental health crisis 🤦🏻

#tu salud mental #mental help #mentally ill #problems #patients #mentally exhausted #mental heath support #sad people #crazy videos #funny #crazy people #starbucks #oh wow #omg #Woman goes crazy in Starbucks #metal illness #young people in USA

[your-eternal-lies]

_  YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME (chapter one)

Main Navigation || Please follow @your-eternal-library for all my fanfiction updates.

PAIRING — Steve Rogers x f!Reader SUMMARY — As his perfectly normal civilian neighbour, you’ve always been secretly curious about the Captain. Getting to know him while trapped together in your building’s elevator, however, definitely wasn’t on the agenda.

WARNINGS — None.

YOU’RE STUCK WITH ME

CHAPTER ONE HELLO, NEIGHBOUR

Steve Rogers stands before the sleek new digital coffee maker on his kitchen counter, his fingers fumbling with the confusing array of buttons. 

“Come on,” he mutters under his breath, blue eyes narrowing in concentration. The machine beeps in protest, flashing symbols that might as well be hieroglyphs for all the sense they make to him. 

Back in his day, he reminisces as he jabs futilely at the modern contraption, all he needed were some grounds, water, and a bit of heat. So, why does this have to be so complicated? 

But the LED display just flickers mockingly at him before flashing an error message, which only adds insult to injury. 

As Steve stands there, engaged in his silent battle with technology, his phone vibrates on the counter. It’s from Natasha, and for a minute, he thinks he’s being called into work. Instead, her words pop up on the screen like tiny grenades: 

Natasha: Have you asked out Sharon yet?  Natasha: She’s cute AND a nurse—practical for a guy who gets shot at for a living.

He sighs, pocketing his phone as he leans against the counter. Sharon is cute, he relents, but asking her out means stepping into unfamiliar territory. 

He tells himself that he can’t afford any distractions, thinking about his duty to SHIELD, about the literal shield that feels a bit heavier with each passing day. After Peggy, Bucky, the ice… he didn’t feel like it was fair to drag an innocent civilian into this crazy life of his. 

A lot of the time he still feels like that awkward and skinny Brooklyn boy, who had never even danced with a woman before, let alone go on a date with one. They had always looked at him with a sad mix of pity and derision, would much rather hang off the arm of someone like Bucky. 

And despite his now… enhanced, shall we say, appearance, the looks of admiration he often gets now just seem to ring hollow. 

He knows Natasha means well. She understands the weight of history he carries in his heart, as she’s got her own demons she fights to keep at bay. So, Steve never faults her for encouraging him to have a life outside of work… even if she doesn’t necessarily take her own advice. 

Well, he knows shockingly little about her, so he doesn’t know that for sure. 

Shaking his head, Steve decides to give the coffee machine one last chance, pushing what he hopes is the right combination of buttons. The machine whirrs affirmatively, and victory seems to be within reach for one hopeful minute—until it sputters pathetically and then goes dark altogether. 

“Ah, forget it!” Giving up, Steve unplugs the machine, deciding that he’ll just have to conquer the world of espresso another day. 

Clad in a simple t-shirt and jeans, a far cry from his Captain America garb, he decides to head downstairs to the Starbucks on the first floor. 

At least there, getting coffee is easy. 

Just down the hallway, you stand before your dresser, rummaging through its contents. 

When your hand finally emerges victorious, it’s clutching the lone survivor of your clean underwear collection—a single polka-dotted testament to your chronic procrastination. 

Laundry day cannot be ignored any longer, not unless you wanted to start fashioning outfits out of your dish towels. 

Resignation slumps your shoulders as you zip around your apartment to gather the scattered attire strewn across the floor, each garment snatched up and tossed unceremoniously into the gaping maw of your laundry basket. 

With the basket brimming, you wedge a hip against it to keep everything contained. You move slowly towards the door, putting on a pair of slippers, only to be stopped by the sound of whimpering coming from your couch. 

“No, Chuck,” you remind your unofficial roommate, a German Shepherd who goes by the name of Charlie—or Chuck, as you prefer to call him. “You can’t come. You are banned from the laundry room after ‘the incident’.” 

But Chuck’s tail continues to wag hopefully, his large brown eyes shining, his head tilted to the side in the very picture of innocence. 

You soften, but only a touch when you remember him peeing all over your freshly washed, neatly folded laundry, meaning you had to start all over again. 

“Nice try, buddy,” you give him a half-hearted glare. He lets out a soft woof, and you swear you see judgment in his eyes as he looks at your leaning tower of laundry. Well, what does he know, the big oaf? He licks his own butt. “Couch fortress until I return, okay?” 

The hallway outside your door is its usual self—stale air, the faint smell of someone’s burnt breakfast, and the muffled echo of someone’s TV playing what sounds like a rerun of I Love Lucy. 

As you round the corner, the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention. There, leaning against the wall with a casual grace that flies in the face of a man who leaps out of planes and fights aliens for a living, is him. 

Captain America himself, in all his star-spangled glory, waiting for the same ride down to the lobby. 

Oh, no. Nnnnope. 

You are not taking the elevator with Steve freaking Rogers, carrying an arm full of your unwashed unmentionables while dressed in old PJs and a tank top. There is no way! 

The urge to run back to the safety of your apartment is strong, where neither your couch nor your dog have arms that could bench press a Buick. 

Maybe you could step back behind the corner, make a run for the stairwell, or maybe even pull the damn fire alarm—

But it’s too late. He’s heard you, already twisting slightly at his narrowed waist and tossing a glance back at you over his shoulder. 

“Hey, neighbour,” he smiles. Your heart does an unwelcome somersault. 

Well, at least the elevator ride would be quick… right? 

« Series Masterlist || Chapter 2 »

Taglist — My taglist has been discontinued. Please follow @your-eternal-library and turn on notifications for all my fanfiction updates.

Notes — So, to encourage my writing, I’ve decided to make each chapter exactly 1,000 words, no more and no less. It’s harder than I thought it would be! But it also takes the pressure off to hit a longer word count and helps me manage the pacing. I hope you enjoy!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers series #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x you #summer’s fics

[vintagevict0ria]

𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞

“You brush past me in the hallway…”

chapter 1

pairing: Adam Driver x f!reader

content: n/a

a/n: omg i am soooooo excited for this you have no idea. Its been so long since i posted and this idea has been stuck in my drafts since july and since im back in my Adam driver era- id thought id finish this. This is mostly inspired by Taylor Swifts song "I can see you" and each chapter will be based on a lyric! So i am no expert on how film/actor/movie stuff works so bear with me. Hopeful as this goes on, it will get better. Im planning on finishing this by the new year (who knows if that will happen) but since im on break i should take advantage of my free time. Ok long story short I will be writing this shit non stop since im on a writing high so who knows if the next chapter will come out tommorow! Hope you enjoy! Notes are greatly appreciated!!

Y/n, a famous actress known for her beautiful face and captivating personality but also her incredible acting skills. You had been nominated for over 50 awards and won 5 oscars. It had been a while since you were on a set nor a movie. The last film was a roaring success and the critics were crazy about it! The media begged for another film starring Y/N Y/L/N.

The first thing you heard when you woke up was the sound of your phone ringing. Your agent- Carolina, was calling. You quickly answered- yawning and hoping she wouldn’t hear it. “Y/n! Great news!” You sighed, not really understanding what was happening. “You got the job!” The job? what is she talking about? “huh?” You rubbed your eyes, laying back down. “The movie!! Adam Driver is in it too! Oh my gosh i can hear them now! ‘Y/n y/l/n and Adam Driver are co-stars in the biggest hit of the year!” Once you heard his name, you sprung up “Wait what?” “Yeah! They want you here in LA by tomorrow morning. I’ve already booked you a flight to leave in..5 hours! Bye!” She hung up before you could say another word. You glanced over at the clock- 9:35. The flight was at 2:15 and it would take a while to pack and get ready. So, being the smart woman you are, you got up and started the day. Showering, packing, and of course- stopping to get starbucks.

Once you arrived in LA, you headed to the condo where you would be staying for a majority of filming. That morning you woke up and started getting ready for the day. Showering, and making a coffee before you headed out to the table read. You threw on a pair of leggings and a tshirt. It was late autumn so you took a jacket on the way out. At the studio you said hello to the crew and a huge thank you to the casting director. “Y/n!” It was Carolina- she ran up to you and embraced you in a tight hug. “How was the flight?” You smiled at the redhead girl “Great.” Carolina jumped up and down with excitement and handed you sheets of paper. On the cover was the name of the film, the name of the director-JJ Abrams- and your name. “Heres your script. You need to go ahead and head in there! Bye!” She walked away, the sound of her heals clicked across the floor. You quickly skimmed through the pages while walking and not paying attention. You soon enough ran into someone, your coffee spilling over you and the floor along with your script- which was on the floor…covered in coffee. “Oh gosh Im so sorry!” You apologized while picking up your script, wincing at the wet paper. “You might want to watch where you are going next time.” The voice was soft but stern. You looked up and realized it was Adam Driver.

He was wearing all black and his hair was messy. He glanced at you with a subtle stare. “Im so sorry!” You stood up, brushing yourself off. “No worries, happens to the best of us.” He rolled his shoulders back and popped his neck, closing his eyes. Damn he was attractive. ”You headed in?” You asked, trying to keep your composure together. Adam simply just nodded.

The first day of the read consisted of going over the aspects of the film and the time line of production. After the read through, filming would start, then the movie premiere would take place after filming and production in Hollywood, but that was a whiles away. When the read was over you walked out with another co star. Heading to your condo, you received a text from Carolina. "Girl, just talked to JJ and he just gave me word that there is a sex scene between you and Adam 😁" The stupid emoji at the end made you cringe. Carolina giving you this news shot your nerves through the roof. As if you weren't already nervous enough about working with Adam, having to film a intimate scene made it far worse. Kicking your shoes off and falling onto your bed, you opened instagram, an attempt to get your mind of the situation at hand, it didn't work.

#Spotify #adam driver #adam driver x reader #actor au #smut #fluff #angst #adam driver smut #adam driver fluff #adam driver angst #taylor swift #i can see you

[pedge-stuff]

HC: like if u are dating Pedro he is protective af in public. like the man is so sweet and wholesome but i like to think that if you ever get “harassed” in public or someone tried to record you,bother you, say he can do better than you to you or him he will like get sooo mad. He would barely be able to keep it together idk and like say things that would be unimaginable for normal pedro. (idk like just imagining him yelling or being like pissy and talking back to paparazzi or smothing is just whhwiwjwbwjwowiw to me) but its like sweet af, because it shows how much he cares about you. and that u are everything to him and whateverrrrr 🥺

idea ig idk

hm i will be back !!!! 😌 with more hc!! because this man had taken over me heh 😞

-thankful anon again as always still greatful for marked universe, m/gn content and the new fluffy fic that included oscar and the edibles ooohhhh so cute i melted !!!!!

I love where your head is at. Veered left with this one, hope it went vaguely where you were hoping. Thank you for the rec! :) Come back anytime. piss yellow range rover (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked.” apparently no one comments on this app anymore but they are my favorite so please drop a line!!

tw: gay slur in the middle. trans character, trans writer.

summary: baby's first homophobia

————————————————————————

You’re surprised it took so long, really. 

A full month after Pedro’s Tonight Show interview goes viral. After his SNL debut, the following week he spends holed up recovering, his begrudging return to LA for Mando press, and your reunion in the LAX Arrivals driveway two weeks later. Four full weeks— long enough that it no longer gripped teeth into the front of your mind. 

Long enough that your guard was down. 

Until, of course, some asshole decided he needed to be tastefully homophobic before his morning cup of coffee. 

You were midway through your LA morning routine: parting with Pedro in the parking lot of the strip mall that housed his personal trainer, and timing your long run around the surrounding area with the duration of his session, such that you were back to pick up a 2-drink mobile order at Starbucks by the time he emerged.

Your very normal, palatable oat latte was balanced atop his stomach-turning 6 black espresso shots, as you watched Pedro round the corner through the window. 

Sweat is beading at his temple, but he is all smiles as he trades you a kiss for his plastic cup.

It still feels like a novelty. Neither of you are usually PDA people, but the sudden lack of secrecy has brought on a second wave of the honeymoon phase. You can just do things like this, now— kiss in Starbucks or hold hands at restaurants or be seen grocery shopping together. You don’t have to take separate Ubers to the same place on date nights. 

The sun is shining, your iced latte was made right, your workout is over. There is a whole day in front of you, and a handsome man beside you. A man who holds the Starbucks door for both you and the woman pushing a stroller inside— but only reaches for your hand after. 

Things are actually really, really good. 

Until you step off the curb: 

“That is not the way. Fuckin’ fags.” 

Crazy how quickly some guy sipping a green goddamn smoothie can ruin your peace. Two guys, actually, snickering to each other as they unlock their car. 

Beside you, Pedro goes incredibly still. He drops your hand. 

“What did you just say?” 

His friend, chewing on his straw, grins as your stomach turns. A shit-eating grin. “At least it’s kinda straight, right? Dude’s got a pussy.” 

They erupt into laughter.  

White noise buzzes in your ear; your cheeks flush. “Come on.” 

You break away, towards the car, but his feet are rooted to the ground. “Pedro. Come on.” 

They are still laughing as they duck behind the tinted windows of a piss yellow Land Rover. Laughing as they close the door. 

Laughing as five and a half shots of espresso splatter across their black-tinted windshield, streaking in brown rivulets down the yellow hood. 

Pedro turns, finally, and stalks quickly across the lot. You have to jog to keep up. Behind you, the assholes are yelling profanities, but you don’t hear a car door open. Cowards. 

The moment he settles into the drivers seat, Pedro pounds a fist on the dashboard. Hard. His fingers curl into a tight grip around the steering wheel, which he clutches like a lifeline as he draws in a handful of ragged breaths. 

You can only watch from the passenger seat. Try and ignore the fact that he won’t look at you as he starts the engine and peels out of the lot. 

The drive to the Hills is dead silent. Even the radio can read the room. 

Silence acts as a breeding ground for your racing thoughts, which multiply like hatching mosquitos. Your ears are still ringing. Buzzing. 

It’s your fault— this is a fact. This was his biggest fear, wasn’t it? The backlash? This didn’t happen before he came out. (Before you forced him to come out, though he swears that wasn’t the case. You’d just finally, maybe begun to believe it, after a month. Or not.)

This happened to you, sure. Less so in New York, or LA. It’s almost funny, that you apparently stumbled across two of the only straight people in LA this morning.  Shitty people live everywhere. 

You’d both disabled the comments section of your instagram for a few days, but by and large, the feedback had been overwhelmingly positive. Until today. It’s different hearing it face-to-face. 

Pedro is halfway into the house before you realize you’re home. Slowly unbuckling, you debate leaving the iced latte in the cupholder; the thought of it turns your stomach. 

As you greet the dogs by the door, a distracted ‘hello,’ you watch him slip out to the condo balcony. He is clutching a pack of Spirits in a clenched fist. 

What are you supposed to do? There is nothing you can do, besides apologize. You pace between the kitchen and living room, chewing on your cuticles, eyes closed. The sweat from your run has now cooled uncomfortably on your skin. An apology won’t be enough, but you don’t have a solution. You can’t take it back. He can’t come un-out. 

The balcony door slides open, and Pedro is still silent as he shuffles to the kitchen. He pours a glass of water— out of habit, you assume. Though you never mind, he always washes the taste of tobacco away, after he smokes. Refuses to kiss you until after he’s cleansed his mouth, lest he leave any trace of stale smoke on your lips. 

Before you can really register, he has crossed into the living room, and pressed his lips to your own. 

He kisses you softly, and then moves to your forehead, eyebrow, temple, along your jaw. Doesn’t go as far as your neck, which he knows you are sensitive to— these kisses are not foreplay. They’re too light, too quiet. Your eyes flutter closed. 

Pedro’s chin hooks over the top of your head. His arms wrap around your shoulders. Your cheek presses against the base of his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, before weakly clearing his throat.  “I don’t know why I did that. I don’t know what came over me.” 

“Why are you sorry?” You pick your head up. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you sorry? You… handled that so well, querido. I lost my shit. I have never gotten physical like that before, I don’t know what came over me. I’m not violent. They were just… they can’t say that. It’s not right.” 

It is your turn to reach up, place a kiss on the angle of his jaw. “You are not violent. You did not lose your shit.” 

“It was a perfectly good coffee,” he pouts. 

“We can get another,” you placate, “but I can’t get another you. People are always gonna say shit. It’s kinda nice to have something so good, it makes people mad.” 

Pedro chuckles, weakly. “Yeah. I guess.” 

“If it’s easier to lay off for a bit, though—“ 

“Lay off?” His brow furrows. 

You rub a hand up and down his arm, lightly. “The PDA, doing public stuff, I dunno. I don’t want you to—“ 

“Are you joking?” You are given a look of sheer disbelief. “Jesus, no. Isn’t that what they want? You want them to win?” 

“It’s not a competition, Pedge. I want you to be safe, and comfortable.” 

“Fuck that!” His exclamation is loud enough to startle Edgar, whose collar jingles as he jumps grumpily off the couch. “I love you. We went through too much shit, to not be able to hold your hand outside a fucking Starbucks.” 

Pedro’s hair is a little tousled, cheeks a little flushed. He’s maybe never looked more attractive to you. 

“Okay?” 

You exhale. “Of course.” 

There is a pause, as the morning settles back around you. The sun is still shining, your workouts are still behind you. Plenty of time in the day to walk to a different Starbucks, for another round of drinks. Maybe you’ll hold hands on the way there. You can, if you want to. 

Pedro tugs on the collar of his white t-shirt. He grimaces. “Can we shower, though? I think I smell like the ocean.” 

You don’t mind. 

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller

[hayleythesugarbowl]

ooo can you do ones for the smosh women?

if so amanda and/or angela plzzz

smosh women x reader headcanons

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

a/n: ok i went ahead and did all the smosh women but angela and amanda are on here!! also i found out after i wrote this that jackie left smosh (😭😭) but im going to include her anyways!! hope you enjoy these <3🩰🍓

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

this is what I think it would be like dating the smosh women…

Courtney-

she bought you guys matching shirts

her love language is definitely physical touch 

and she’s always holding your hand or playing with your hair or giving you kisses 

tells you how much she loves your butt lol

you met her family and they all love you so much

boops your nose

loves cuddling under a blanket with you

she thinks you’re the funniest person ever

facetimes you all the time and when you try to decline saying you’re not having a good hair day she called you anyway and tells you how gorgeous you and your hair look

if you’re having a bad day she’ll cheer you up by being extra silly and taking you to your favorite places

Angela-

you guys take turns picking movies and shows to watch and get really into them 

she loves your sense of humor so much 

and you guys definitely make each other laugh at inappropriate times 

she lets you borrow anything of hers you want 

so much teasing 

you guys do karaoke together 

she sits in your lap all the time

you guys go to the theater together and she whispers to you throughout the whole thing

you guys get a dog 

she thinks you’re crazy talented and loves listening to you talk about what you’re passionate about 

Amanda- 

smells so good 24/7

knows your order at like every restaurant you guys have been to 

on your birthday she makes sure to tell the waiters it’s your birthday and then sings louder than anyone 

so protective of you fr

you guys have these really relaxing self care days and spa days 

and she definitely eats the cucumbers 

gives the best hugs omg

neck kisses 

anytime you’re uncomfortable or embarrassed she does something even more weird or embarrassing to take the heat off you

so supportive of whatever you do 

Arasha-

y’all watch so much Netflix together 

and all the other streaming services 

because she probably somehow knows all the neighbors passwords 

you guys have these elaborate prank wars

she always wins but she doesn’t brag too much

the best at comforting you when you’re upset 

rubs your back 

goes out and gets you starbucks because ‘you looked like you needed some coffee’

loves your smile so much 

the best at picking a restaurant and we love that 

Jackie-

definitely asked you out with ‘you ever been with a black woman before?’

(if you got that reference i love you)

always has a hand on your thigh 

you guys definitely got a cat…or a few cats 

you two go out to events and stuff and she never leaves your side and makes all the introductions 

you definitely went to a swing dance together once and dressed up and had so much fun

she led

she writes poetry about you 

and one fanfiction as a joke

and you’ve framed every one she’s given you

sings you to sleep 

Olivia-

sends you the most random memes at 2 am

‘saw this and thought of you’

and you spend so many minutes trying to figure out what they mean

she’ll just flop down on top of you on the couch and rest her head on your shoulder 

takes you to so many fun locations 

you guys have your own emoji language 

forehead kisses 

gets really close with your parents

remembers the most random things you said months ago and prides herself on knowing you really the best 

she gets the best gifts 

Kimmy-

makes her own valentines for you

always asking how you’re doing or if you’re cold or hungry or tired

calls you ‘sweetie’ and ‘honey’

you guys bake together 

holds your hair while you throw up 

introduces you to all her friends and compliments you so much in front of them

‘you pick’

calls you every day/night that you don’t see each other and you guys talk for hours 

she leaves you cute little notes all over the place

tries to make you laugh to cheer you up

her lock screen is you and she has you entered into her phone as ‘🩷💜love of my life💜🩷’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ ok i hoped you enjoyed these!! let me know if you want any full length headcanons for any of the specific smosh women or men <3 💋💌

#smosh headcanons #amanda lehan canto #courtney miller #olivia sui #angela giarratana #jackie uweh #kimmy jimenez #arasha lalani #courtney miller x reader #olivia sui x reader #amanda lehan canto x reader #angela giarratana x reader #jackie uweh x reader #arasha lalani x reader #kimmy jimenez x reader #smosh x reader #smosh women #smosh fanfiction #smoshblr #smosh #smosh squad #smosh pit #smosh fam #fanfic #fanfiction #headcanon #reader insert #x reader

[levmada]

𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧!𝐚𝐮 𝐄𝐫𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

- Erwin has the weirdest taste in music ever. he enjoys (1) classical music and (2) sabaton. Erwin WOULD BE IN LOVE WITH sabaton. majorly because he’s a massive history nerd and it’s like roleplay for him.

literally he’s the most patriotic guy yet not at all depending on what point in history you’re hyper-specifically talking about. because Erwin is wise beyond his years, intelligent and understands time is a flat circle, so he’s mostly jaded - especially about politics. wants badly a flag or type of people to whole-heartedly (hehe get it?) believe in, but there just isn’t.

-"through the fire and the flames" is unironically his favorite song.

- on that topic, he’d be the type of guy to go to disaster or wartorn areas and risk his fucking life by reporting everything as he sees it on tiktok or something. unsurprisingly he highly values truth.

smart and resourceful enough to never get in danger though. it’s honestly a little scary…

- his calling is to be a professor. would prefer working with more mature students on complicated nuanced topics so would avoid high school, middle, etc

- but Erwin will always be a bit of a risk taker or adrenaline junkie. probably gambles or goes sky diving. has climbed mount everest

- can’t cook in any au. hopeless. makes cereal with too much milk every time.

- actually reads standardized history books.

- one casual fleeting relationship with a woman (Marie) made him realize he was gay.

- super charasmatic and sociable yet NEVER dates. no one in his personal life aside from Levi, Hange, etc, know the inner depths of his personality and way of thinking.

- chronic conspiracy theoriest and he's right about every single one. probably runs an outdated-looking website that posts pictures or classified documents with no context

- literally sleeps like a corpse on his back, snores like crazy.

- likes cats and dogs equally as long as the dog in question isn't too untrained/rowdy. but honestly his favorite pet is a fish, but that’s pretty widely unpopular so he always lies.

- wherever he's going for whatever reason trust that Erwin will overdress. at the grocery store you could swear he's the ceo who's shown up by surprise.

- weighted blankets give him anxiety

- has a lot of money for a professor, and his family isnt that affluent. turns out it's tax fraud (he will never get caught though)

- has a MAJOR sweet tooth. starbucks is his religion.

- but will sniffle and tear up if he eats anything with a dash of black pepper.

Erwin masterlist | main masterlist

#modern au erwin is probably a socialist #erwin smith hcs #erwin smith headcanons #erwin smith hc #erwin smith #erwin aot #aot erwin smith #aot erwin

[preciouslandmermaid]

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby (carmy x f!reader) -- Part 2

Note: This wasn’t going to have a second chapter, but everyone was so gosh darn supportive and I knew it had POTENTIAL for more. So, here we are. I will be transparent and say that the smut cools down, but the tension ramps up 🔥🔥🔥 🥵🥵 Also, I have since finished the show…and wow…season 2 say when.

Warnings/Tags: cursing/foul-language, slow burn, communication failures, avoidance/denial of feelings, everyone is fucking stupid 

Chapter Synopsis: After your clandestine meeting with Carmy the backseat of his car – you endeavor to get life back to normal and back to business. However, after interviewing Marcus, Carmy confronts you, and it goes about as well as you’d expect.

Part One < Part Two > Part Three 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Look at this shit!” Richie announced while waving a magazine in the air with its glossy pages flapping noisily.

“We can’t see shit if you’re waving it around like that.” Tina teased him.

“Yo! Did you bring a porn mag to work, Richie? You crazy.” Gary said while shaking his head, sweeping, and laughing.

“It’s not a fucking skin mag, you pervert.” Richie slapped the magazine onto the metallic kitchen counter. “It’s Chicago Business Weekly and look who’s on the fucking cover.”

“Is it us?” Marcus asked. Everyone crowded around the main kitchen countertop near the stoves to see what Richie brought in. Sydney shook her head in annoyance, but couldn’t help giving a surreptitious glance to the front page.

“No, it’s not us.” Richie replied, annoyed, before tapping two fingers on the cover. “Recognize the smokeshow?” He said with a grin. “Our business is fucking fucked, dude. I can’t believe she didn’t tell me she was this jabronis’ granddaughter.”

“Morning, Chefs.” Carmy said while walking into the kitchen and tying his blue apron around his waist. Manny and Angel stepped away from the kitchen and returned to their dishwashing station, leaving a gap of space for Carmy to walk through. His eyes caught the magazine unintentionally and saw you dressed sharply on the cover next to an older gentleman with his hand on your shoulder. The text near the bottom corner read: ‘A Legacy Unmatched’.  

“Oh, yeah!” Marcus brightened, “I talked to her this morning.”

Carmy frowned and rubbed his chin with his hand. “What – ah – what do you mean you talked to her this morning?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

EARLIER THAT DAY

“Sorry about the chaos.” You said after shaking their hand and gesturing to the other plastic chair. You were set up around the corner of your restaurant in the alleyway. It wasn’t ideal, but the other option was trying to coordinate and set this up at a Starbucks and you weren’t going to do that. The June deadline loomed over your shoulder like an overbearing grandmother.

“We’re deep in renovations.” You explained.

“It’s no worries at all, ma’am.” The dark-haired, older woman said with a coral-pink tinged smile. You noticed there was lipstick on her teeth.

“You’ve got – uh –“ You tapped your front tooth with your forefinger.

“Ay, Dios Mío!” She collected a mirror from the depths of her purse and wiped away the smudge with her fingertip. As she did so, you looked over her résumé and drummed your pen nervously against the single white page.

“You’ve done a lot of catering. Could you tell me more about that?”

You maneuvered through interview after interview with practiced ease. You used the front of your grandfather’s notebook like a table to jot down notes on their résumé. You were attentive, well-spoken, and direct. You were good at this. You were good at talking to people, making connections, reading between the lines of conversation and body language.

However, you couldn’t figure out why you felt so fucking hollow after each interview. You shook their hands and smiled with a weak promise to talk soon. No one stood out. Not a single person made your heart triple-jump at their passion or impressive skills. You needed ambitious, diligent people to work here. You flipped through your grandfathers’ notes with a grimace at his interior design choices. He wanted a sleek, modern, and sexy breakfast/brunch location. That was his plan for this location. He wanted someone to stroll in at two in the morning and get the best eggs and bacon of their life and an espresso made from imported beans from Brazil that looked Instagram worthy.

You didn’t doubt that it would be successful. Ninety percent of his businesses that launched were successful. Just off the top of your head, you recalled he had three restaurants in Chicago, two in Indianapolis, and one in St. Louis. And they were all long-standing establishments that existed past the five-year mark. Business and entrepreneur magazines called him the “Mogul of the Midwest.” He cracked the code of flipping old buildings and turning them into income generators of massive wealth.

You frowned at the page showcasing the main dining area with silver, alien-curved chairs (How the hell were those comfortable?) and bulbous hanging lamps. You scribbled your pen across the page and made a little doodle of a dog pooping on the white-and-black checkered floor. You made a mental note to find out the earliest time a Health Inspector could come and check the place.

“Hello.” A warm, friendly voice pulled you from your thoughtful rumination. You looked up to see a tall, young Black man wearing a red beanie. A quick glance to your phone confirmed that this was your 9:30AM appointment.

“Hi!” You stood up, smoothing your skirt, and reached out to shake his hand, “Marcus, right?”

“Wow, good memory.” He smiled. You felt yourself smiling back like it was contagious.

“Phone reminders are a life saver. Have a seat, please.” The plastic lawn chairs were better suited for an outdoor concert. But hey, beggars couldn’t be choosers and it wasn’t like you ordered any of the furniture for the interior of your restaurant. Yet. You were going to. You were! You just hadn’t. All your other responsibilities were taking up every ounce of available brainpower. You didn’t have time to online shop and mindlessly click through catalogs.

“I see you’ve been working at The Beef for a while. How’s that going? What’s something you enjoy about that work?”

When you first saw Marcus’ qualifications, an alarm bell rang loudly in your head. There was a chance that he was here because Carmy sent him to try and get information about your restaurant. However, you couldn’t deny your own curiosity about Chicagoland Beef and thus – made the phone call to schedule your interview with him. If Carmy wanted to try and weasel information out of you then he was going to have to try harder than sending his peons to do it.  

“Well…” Marcus wiped his hands across his knees. “It’s been different since Carmy inherited the place.”

Your heart treacherously leapt at the mention of his name. The side of your neck (generously iced last night and covered with foundation this morning) tingled warmly. You crossed your legs and your foot bounced anxiously.

“It’s not bad. I mean sometimes it’s a shitshow. But, uh, him and Sydney…it’s been really inspiring working with them.” Marcus’ face lit up when he said it and you knew it to be the truth. Marcus continued to speak about his time at the Beef, the different chefs who inspired him, and his current passion project—doughnuts. At one point, he brought out a little three-ring binder and showed off some of his favorite pastry dishes that he hoped to make one day. Your heart softened at the sight.

You enjoyed Marcus’ energy and he spoke with the type of passion you were looking for in your employees.

“Do you like working for Carmy?” You asked when it seemed like you could sneak that question in without it being awkward. You imagined Carmy in the kitchen. It wasn’t difficult to do considering you only saw him wearing that stupid blue apron that emboldened the color of his eyes.  

“I do.” Marcus nodded. “Sydney is great too. We’re all chefs but she’s like—I don’t know—not really second-in-command because we don’t have a hierarchy or anything like that. It’s more like a chill-archy. But she’s kinda like second-in-command, you feel me?”

Interesting. Your experience within your grandfathers’ restaurant revealed that most chefs were egomaniacs who adhered to a strict toxic hierarchy. They fired off decisions and ran the kitchen with an iron fist because anything else would be unacceptable and merit room for errors. They strived for perfection in an already high-stress, high-demand workflow.

You leaned back and the plastic chair creaked at the shift of your weight. “Then why are you interviewing with me?”

“Honestly? I just wanted to get the vibe of the place. I might not stay with the Beef forever, you know? Especially with everything I’m learning. And I still have a lot to learn.”

You appreciated his candor. It earned him more than a few points in your book even if he was here at Carmy’s behest. You made a note on his résumé: Carmy/Sydney are inspiring to work with. You idly wondered if you should try and talk with Sydney. If she already had a place of command in their ‘chill-archy’ as Marcus put it, then she likely wouldn’t want to leave, but you were curious how their kitchen functioned as a whole, beating organism. Was everyone happy? You slid his paperwork into your file and lightly tapped your phone screen to check the time. You only had a few more minutes until your 10:00AM appointment arrived.

“I really appreciate your time today. Do you have any questions for me before we end our time together?” You asked by rote.

“I was wondering what sort of food you’d be making at this place when it’s done?”

Your stomach churned. It was your least favorite question alongside people asking what the name would be. You considered lying and letting Marcus take a false narrative back to Carmy. But what would be the point? You didn’t have a menu. Any answer would classify as a lie.

“American.” You replied lamely, hoping your lack of enthusiasm didn’t shine through your words. Your grandfather might’ve planned out the decorations and listed reputable vendors, but menus were given to the chefs. Granted, he had final say before anything went to print or to table. Yet, without staff or a potential menu – your great project was a skeleton of a restaurant with no heart. You tried to avoid thinking about that fact too much. When you did, your hands would tremble with the foreboding heat of June clinging to your armpits.

“Heard.” Marcus said before shaking your hand one last time and smiling. “Have a good day, Miss.”

You smiled closed lipped at him, “You too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You scrolled on your phone with your legs outstretched to the empty opposite chair. You took the last bite of your burger and chuckled at the overly cheesy engagement post your relative created. You double tapped and hearts danced on the screen. That wedding would be a clusterfuck of drama. You hoped you were invited. Hell, you even had a green dress with the tags still on it that you could wear.

The sound of a classic rock radio station echoed, though slightly muffled, from inside your restaurant while the workers finished installing your kitchen equipment. And somewhere down the street, a construction crew was jackhammering into the road and shouting profanities while cars honked at one another.

With all the noise and distraction, it was no wonder you didn’t see or hear Carmy approach you.

He cursed your name and then said, “What the hell?”

You scowled at him. “Good afternoon!” You crumpled the greasy burger-wrapper between your fist and tossed at him. It missed. “This is private property, you know.”

You met his gaze and instantly regretted it. The first thought that popped into your head was Carmy moaning and grabbing your hips in a reckless, lust-filled haze. Your cheeks burned and you bit your tongue against your back molars to regain control and calm.  

“Don’t try to poach my fucking people, alright?”

Ah. He didn’t know about Marcus’ interview then. You slipped your black heels onto your feet, stood, and folded your arms across your chest. You were dressed in your best dark charcoal skirt and a simple, starched white blouse. You had to admit you felt capable and invincible dressed like a bitch running the stock market. This was practically your superhero uniform after graduating college. Clothes might not make a person, but they sure helped.

You weren’t the sweaty, frazzled, and covered in paint bitch anymore. Carmy was dealing with an entirely different motherfucker today. You lifted your chin, defiant and proud.

“Marcus has every right to apply and interview for the position.” You made a sweeping gesture with one arm at the whole of Chicago, “Just like anyone else.”

Carmy scoffed and narrowed his eyes at you. “What?”

You raised both eyebrows in challenge and gave a minute shake of your head, “What? That’s the free-market, baby.” You said tauntingly.

He tugged a hand through his hair, looking away from you momentarily, before pinning you with a look that was both hot and cold. You valiantly ignored the shiver that sliced down your spine. There was barely a foot of space between you, yet you felt like the distance was much smaller. You clenched your jaw to refocus your attention on the matter at hand. Carmy had his panties all twisted up because Marcus dared to explore his options. What a little bitch.

“We fucked.” He said in a hard, flat tone and crossed his arms, “and then you go and try to take my staff?”

You laughed, throwing your head back, “Holy shit!” You jabbed your finger at him, nearly touching his chest but not quite—“What happened last night has nothing to do with my plans today. Don’t be so fucking self-absorbed.”

“Self-absorbed? Oh.” It was his turn to laugh, and he chuckled scornfully.  “That’s fucking rich coming from you. What’s your issue with me? Huh? What did I ever do you?”

“Every time we’ve spoken – you tell me the odds of my business closing or, in this interaction, accuse me of trying to steal your fucking staff!”

“I apologized for that!” He stepped closer and with your heels on – you were nearly eye to eye. How the fuck did you get so close already? Your world burned bright red, hot and pulsing, and your fists clenched at your sides. You glanced at his mouth. Fuck. Fuck. You forced your gaze back to his and unflinchingly stared him down. He was the one being the asshole here. Not you. He was the trying to change the narrative.

“No, you didn’t. The words ‘I’m sorry’ never came out of your mouth.” You countered in a hissed, angry whisper. You didn’t want to become the crazy bitch shouting in an alleyway, but Carmy was pushing all the right buttons to make it happen.

“Maybe because you didn’t give me a chance and jumped down my throat the second you saw me!”

“Well maybe that’s because I find you to be aggravating and arrogant!”

“I’m aggravating?” He seethed. The flush on his face was identical to the flush that bloomed across his skin when you were in the throes of passion. You hated the reaction it stirred in your lower stomach, the knot tightening and twisting, with embarrassing intensity.  His eyes hardened, though you caught their brief flick down to your mouth and to the make-up covered spot on your neck.

“Yes! You are!” You stepped back with an exasperated, astonished laugh before you did something insane. His mouth was dangerously close to yours and you weren’t going to win this argument if you kissed him.

“You act like you’re trying to be fucking helpful. But I see you! I see what you’re fucking doing!” You shouted, “You want me to shut down because you don’t want the fucking competition. Telling me ‘Oh there’s no foot traffic here’! Just stay out of it, dude! I’m not your fucking damsel in distress to save. I know what I’m fucking doing so, just back the FUCK off.”

“You know what you’re doing?” He mocked and reached into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Yes!”

“Yeah?” He tossed a magazine onto the ground between you. The professional photograph with your grandfather stared up at you. Your throat tightened with grief and a shameful, agonizing pang reverberated through your chest. That was the last photo we had together before he… You couldn’t even look up at Carmy, though you were aware he was looking at you. Your gaze was trapped like a rabbit in a snare on the photo.

“Why? Cause of your family? Cause of all your grandad’s money?” Carmy snapped, “Just because you come from some family empire doesn’t give you the right to treat other people like shit. I tried to fucking apologize to you, and you wouldn’t hear it.”

“I actually don’t give a shit whether your restaurant opens or not. It doesn’t change how I’m gonna run my place, alright? What’s not fucking cool is that you fucking interviewed Marcus and didn’t even have the decency to let me know. Especially after we--” He cut himself off and cursed harshly under his breath.

You closed your eyes tightly to stop the burning, sharp tears from falling. You wrestled your grief into a dark corner and punched its stomach. No tears. No more tears. Not in front of him—not in front of anyone. Fuck. You swallowed and your nails dug into your palms at the pressure of your clenched fists. The pain helped shake you out of it. You had work to do. The day wasn’t over. Your veins boiled with anger.

Your head snapped up and you glared at Carmy with the ferocity of the Gorgon Medusa; “Aren’t you opening soon? Get the fuck off my property before I call the cops, Carmy.”

He threw his hands in the air, irritated, “Whatever. I don’t have to deal with this.”

Your shoulders shuddered when Carmy turned his back and started a brisk, pissed-off walk to Chicagoland Beef. You bolted around the corner to the back of your restaurant and planted both hands against the brick wall next to the dumpster before choking on your sob.

“Fucking fuck fuck. Fucking asshole. Fuck him. Fuck!” Your rage condensed into grief and exploded like a shaken-up soda can. You didn’t know if you were crying for your grandfather or out of frustration or if it was because of your conversation with Carmy.

His words painfully bounced around in your skull. You tried to comb through your interactions with him to discover if there was any truth to it, but you were too pissed off to think straight. He’s just saying whatever he can to get under my skin. He does want my restaurant to close. He wants it to fail so that his can succeed.

You wiped away the tears that smudged your mascara. You had another interview in a hour. You needed to be presentable. You needed to be calm. You would think about Carmy and what he said later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carmy pored over Mikey’s scrawled notes and messy bookkeeping. It was a headache on top of a dozen other headaches he already had. Someone knocked lightly on the doorframe to his office, “Hey, Chef?” 

It was Marcus.

“Hey, what’s up?” Carmy leaned back into his wheeled office chair.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for not telling you I had an interview.” Marcus admitted almost sheepishly, “I don’t want to stop working here. And I’m not going to quit. It’s just…”

Marcus sighed and rolled his eyes, “Richie wouldn’t shut up about her after they met. And I got curious. I wanted to know what they were doing over there, what sort of restaurant it would be, and I wanted to know what she was like. I wanted to know if she was like you or Sydney. Anyway…I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.”

Carmy fiddled with his pen in between his fingers, “Oh, yeah. It’s cool, man. We’re cool. We’re cool.” He leaned up in his chair as Marcus started to walk away, “Hey, before you go – uh – what - what’d you think? Of her? Of the place – I mean.” He asked while scratching his ear.

Marcus’ brow furrowed, “I didn’t go inside because they were working. She’s nice and very smart and - oh! She really liked my notebook! But um…”

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He already knew what Richie thought. (“She’s the single hottest and bitchiest woman I’ve ever met. I seriously thought my balls were gonna freeze off when she glared at me and told me to leave before the streetlamps turned on”).

“I don’t know man. It’s probably just me.” Marcus shrugged, “I don’t know. She just seemed sort of...” His eyes focused on a spot in the air past Carmy’s head. “Like she was just going through the motions - kind of like how I felt before you and Syd started working here.”

Carmy frowned and tried to digest that information in a way that wouldn’t give him heartburn.

“At one point, I asked her what her favorite meal was, and she said, ‘whatever has enough calories to keep me alive’.” Marcus shook his head and chuckled. “Can you believe that?”

“Yeah,” Carmy smirked, “Yeah I can, actually.”

“Alright man, goodnight. See you tomorrow.”

“Night, Chef.” Carmy spun back around to his desk. He leaned his forehead into the palm of his hand and sighed heavily. Fuck. He scribbled a note and turned the page and then started digging through papers to track down an invoice from three months ago.

By the time he left, it was nearly midnight. He unlocked his car and tossed his backpack into the passenger side. Something fluttered under his windshield. It was likely a flyer to attend church, or a strip club, or something from a Jehovah Witness. Carmy lifted his wiper blade and removed the piece of advertisement and half of an old man’s face stared up at him with the words ‘CHICAGO BUISNESS WEEKLY’ in red lettered script above his head.

He frowned, leaning against the hood of his car, and unfolded it. In metallic, silver sharpie, across the cover page were the words: I’M SORRY I REFUSED TO LISTEN TO YOUR APOLOGY. IT IS ACCEPTED. I AM NOT SORRY ABOUT INTERVIEWING MARCUS. TRUCE?

Carmy chuckled lightly to himself, refolded the magazine cover, and tucked it into the inner pocket of his coat. He climbed into his car and despite the chill in the air—he didn’t bother turning on the heat. He was warm enough.

(Continue to Part Three)

#fic: nothings gonna hurt you baby #im a fucking for carmy yelling yell at me baby plss #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #shorter and less spicy but next chapter will have angst lol #the bear fic

[jovalencia]

how has your day been? in as many words as possible pls

wow. aiming for the stars. bold since you know how much I love to talk but I’ll give the people what they want

my day was pretty good all things considered. the things we’re considering is that I worked 3-8 instead of 12-5 today and I don’t even have a show to watch with my family tonight. the bachelorette was crazy last night kallie you would have loved it.

anyways the play by play of my day was I woke up at 9:55 bc my friend has her radio show from 10-12 and I listen as often as I can. but it wasn’t even her on the radio it was some other bitch but I was already awake so I just stayed up even though I was up late last night reading fanfiction and texting bi guy jason and journaling. so I ate my breakfast which was an overripe mango which I ate peel and all over the kitchen sink and gas station potato wedges I got from work two days ago. it was fine. and I watched a youtube video on the barbie movie by a youtuber I’m subscribed to while I ate. but I was still tired and I had enough time to take a nap so I did and let me tell you the last fucking thing I wanted to do was get up but alas I did. and I was hungry so I had a struggle meal (so you could call every meal I have these days) it of an entire can of green beans. I heated them in the microwave ofc but honestly they were fucking delicious.

I left for work a little later than I wanted and that was stressing me out and I started listening to my playlist from last summer and I must have played that shit to death bc I skipped like a million songs before I got to one I could listen to. I got to work and I liked all my coworkers that were there which is a fucking miracle and my three favorite coworkers (the guy my age, the woman who got hired the day before me, and the manager who doesn’t give a shit how much work anybody’s doing and has been perpetuating the wheels vs doors debate for a week) were all there so I was content. even if all the customers were fucking cunts for some reason like idk what was in the air today but people were being such assholes but it was fine bc every time they walked away my coworkers and I would just talk shit about them. btw I didn’t like the woman who got hired the day before me at first but now me and her are like this 🤞 ily sandy. she’s so fucking real and every time I tell her that she’s so real she laughs bc she thinks it’s such a funny phrase. but she literally is I swear to god I would have lost it if I was the only new cashier. but apparently she got a way better training process then me bc she’s constantly like “nobody taught you how to do x or told you that you need to do y? that’s so weird” like yeah sandy it is weird. and both of us have the same irrational fear that every other one of our coworkers hates us but at least we like each other so it’s fine. bottom line I love sandy she’s my best friend and I hope when summer ends and I quit that she goes and finds a better job she deserves it. also both of us got soooooo excited when we saw the new halloween candy display like fuck yeah you know what time it is

all the coworkers were talking about arbys at work and I’ve never even gotten anything other than fries and I was starving and we have no food at home because my family sucks at grocery shopping so I went to arbys and got a french dip sandwich and some mozzarella sticks. the sky was beautiful on the drive home and when I got there my mom was sitting on the couch in the front room crocheting but I opted to be a hermit and eat in my room. I got some grease on my bedspread but it’s fine. I started the new garrett watts video bc I have to watch all of his videos it’s tradition. well it’s usually tradition to drink starbucks while I watch his videos. maybe instead of finishing it while I go through my drafts I’ll watch it tomorrow after work and get myself a lil drink as a treat. bc that tradition started back in 2020 when every thursday after my last online class instead of killing myself like I wanted to I would go and use my years and years of starbucks gift cards to buy myself a lil drink then go on a lil drive and go home and drink my drink while I watched the newest sweet boys (garrett watts and andrew siwicki) podcast episode while I embroidered. anyways after that greasy ass dinner I was feeling like collapsing and dying so I ate half a green bell pepper in the kitchen. and even though that was all like less than an hour and a half ago I’m really fucking hungry again. I literally don’t understand how I’m always so hungry. it’s pissing me off.

since then I’ve just been fucking around on my phone and I think I’m gonna write my diary entry of the day then take my shower (I have to wash my hair boo👎👎👎) then try and go to sleep I’m fucking exhausted. speaking of my diary thanks for asking me this bc I’m probably just gonna copy paste it instead of actually writing the diary entry for today. which I’m ideally gonna write in a week but I’m back to being two weeks behind on my diary again. I knew that was gonna happen with dani visiting and all but it still sucks. hopefully I can get my act together before school starts. thanks!

#I love talking!!!!!! #meemaw😨

[orlissa]

A fandom I have not seen you reblogging for your ask:

A Game of Thrones/House of the Dragon/A song of fire and ice

I actually did HoD this morning, but I can proudly (heh) say that I've never, ever seen a single episode of the original series either :D (not a big fan of bloody stuff), but I know a lot, and I mean a lot about it.

Girl from a dying royal family is sold to a barbarian as a wife by her brother. Barbarian in turn turns out to be a loving husband who kills her brother by pouring molten gold on his head, I guess. But then the barbarian dies, and the girl miscarries, but gains three dragon eggs and goes on a military campaign to liberate the opressed. Everybody in the fandom was rooting for her, but then she went batshit crazy in the last season and was killed, and so everyone was super disappointed.

There is a family up in the north with a bunch of kids, out of which one is adopted - it's Jon Snow, who knows nothing -, although no-one is absolutely sure about his parentage for a very long time, so it's a big *mystery*. He eventually goes to protect this big wall, then shacks up with the dragon princess and kills her. He also has perfect fibonacci ass. Oh, and he dies at some point, but then walks it off.

The father of this family is played by Sean Bean, and, as it is his shtick, gets beheaded at the end of the first season. The oldest son and the wife gets killed not much later when a wedding turns into a bloodbath. The older daughter is a redhead and kinda... okay? The younger daughter is a tomboy who becomes a pretty good killer/warrior, and the youngest kid falls out of a window and gets paralyzed. He can also see out of the eyes of a raven or something. And he is being carried around by this guy name Hodor, who is named so because of a past traumatic event when he needed to "hold the door."

There is another family with three siblings. One of them is a dwarf, who is kinda cool, the other brother is a knight who loses his hand, and the sister is a raging bitch. The knight and the sister are also lovers, and her kids might or might not have been fathered by the brother. Later on he falls in love with this giant of a female knight and she is just the best.

The sister's firstborn is The Absolute Worst(TM), and he becomes king, but then gets poisoned and dies, and no-one is sorry about it. It also happens as just he married Natalie Dormer. Who also dies later on.

There is duel (I don't know why) where Pedro Pascal fights a mountain-sized man and gets his head crushed like a watermelon (yikes). His character is also a womanizer with a bunch of daughters.

Oh, yeah, there are these ice zombies on the other side of that wall, and "winter is coming" which means that there will be a time when they breech the wall, I guess.

There is a character called Littlefinger, but I have absolutely zero idea who he is or what he does.

Every character you like will die.

Everybody, even the actors, hate the last season with passion.

Once they left a Starbucks cup in the shot.

#ask #meme

[adventuringblind]

Awwww im sorry :(

Life sucks most of the time (unfortunately) sometimes and a lot of ppl deal with it better than us.

If no one’s said it yet IM FUCKING PROUD OF YOU FOR NOT GIVING IN.

Regarding the angst fics: GIMME. I’ll be the LAST person complaining cause it actually makes me feel something other than indifference and numb.

And max??? Your Ghoul max especially??? I WILL EAT THAT SHIT UP. GIMME. (On your own time and writing speed ofc).

If it ain’t obvious I’ll read pretty much anything you write. I’m a sucker for your ao3, I’m rereading one fic or another daily atp.

Also cause I always see you and 🦡 talking about energy drinks (monster) I’ll add my little quirks about caffeine in general cause I keep being told I’m weird for it and need some kind of opinion from ppl who don’t know anything about me:

I have said for YEARS that I don’t want to try energy drinks because I have an addictive personality. I damn well knew that I’d be addicted to the caffeine “high” or sleep (depending on how my adhd took it).

Until February when my friend but redbull in a separate cup and had me try it. Summary is I liked it and immediately wanted to cry when she told me cause damnit I’ve been avoiding it!!!!

So now I have EXTREMELY strict rules about my redbull consumption (it’s the only source of caffeine other than Coca Cola I actually enjoy the taste of (no I don’t like coffee)). And refuse to try anything else because one is bad enough.

Sorry this is so long but your always asking for ppl to talk… so I just did (whoops)

- 🦒

Okay yes… I am aching for human interaction. The interaction I’ve had with friends recently is not the greatest but in my defense! I’m still religious and so are they and we all have different values. As in - tumblr is like my side hoe that nobody knows about. I’m also bisexual which isn’t the most values thing in Christianity and so I get some weird looks when I rant about pretty woman. I CANT HELP IT THO WHY ARE YOU ALL SO GOOD LOOKING IT’S NOT FAIRRRRR. Same goes for a lot of other shit. Drinking and sex and smoking and sex and - the list goes on for days. IDK man just Lemme liveeee. Also trying to explain to people why you won’t go back t church is a pain. Like - idk? You watched my dad abuse my mom for YEARS, didn’t say anything and gossiped instead about how we were the ones not following him as the head of the household, the proceeded to hail him a hero because he stayed with my mom after she dealt with a fucking predator? Not thanks! I’d prefer never to speak to y’all again!

(Sorry for the random trauma dump lol)

That all being said, the interaction I’ve had is limited to my fiancé and my beta reader who is overseas in the UK. My fiancé has friends and goes out with them and I sit watching movies with my parents while getting trashed. My sister is there too. I love her dearly. But she’s 17 and dual enrolled to graduate with her associates degree in a couple of months so she’s busy T_T

Basically - I’m alone with my thoughts majority of the time and it’s not a fun place to be.

I’m considering making this specific Ghouls Max fic into a mini series because there is so much shit here. Plus, background Landoscar and Charlos have me FERAL. The plot is actually a lot like my Ao3 fic in some ways but not? Like themes are similar ig. I fell in love though and might make a series of one shots that follow Max and Reader post the events of that fic 👀 (which I will have for you EVENTUALLY)

Redbull isn't my favorite unless it's sugar-free (don't ask why because I find it IRONIC). I feel you with the caffeine thing and finding it hard to pace. I don't have a crazy reaction to caffeine and usually get by with a monster in the morning. Coffee tastes gross unless it's one of those places that have their own coffee beans and stuff. Which - okay - I'm from Washington state, and we have SO MANY COFFE PLACES HERE. I have three that are a 20-minute walk from my house. Also, Starbucks sucks.

Saw your ask right after this by the way and laughed because I'm blind and the emojis looked similar, so I didn't even realize at first!

I'm glad to see me and 🏍 are spreading our propaganda 😂

#Ren's.inbox #Ren's.thoughts #🦒.anon #🏍️.anon

[puttingtherotinerotica]

Who's this Rotten asshole?

Listen here, you dirty fucks. 

I'm Robbie Rotten, and I'm a filthaholic. 

First things first, if you're a minor, piss off. This ain't for you. If you initiate contact with me and I get the faintest inkling you're not of age, I will fucking ghost your ass. 

I write horror smut in varying degrees of extremity. I post my work on Reddit and Tumblr (it's in my links, but if it's on Tumblr, it's also on Reddit and vice versa) and will probably self publish them eventually. 

This is actually my *second* donkey show, so I'm going to answer a few questions I'm used to fielding right out of the gate. Make sure you read until the end, fuckwit.

Do you create custom content?

Yes, I do. Here's how it goes. 

The first length I offer is Flash Fiction. There's no word guarantee, but I guarantee one scene with a story arc with all the crazy little tics you need to get off in it. This will run you $10. 

For the other lengths, I require you to buy me a coffee first (check my links) to show you're serious. If you can't afford it, piss off. If you've already ordered a Flash Fiction scene before, and there weren't any issues between us, I'll waive that. 

A short story with three sex scenes, themed to your specifications with all your favorite sick shit worked in. I can get that done for you for $25.

And finally, we have novellas. Multi-chaptered, story heavy with a guarantee of eight scenes of world class filth just the way you like it. That'll be $50. 

For all the aforementioned lengths, I will not ask for any money until it's finished and ready to send.

However, my final offering is novel length. 20+ scenes, and an engaging story. This is a serious endeavor that requires some commitment. $75 up front, $75 on delivery. 

Does all that sound too expensive? Perfect. Leave me alone. I ain't in this to make money, I'm in it because I'm a sick fuck. 

If you're a dumb bitch who just wants to be a victim, keep reading.

Specifications

I am a heterosexual man. Writing from any other position is not my strength. I may play around with the occasional werewolf or eldritch monstrosity, but I don't do shit with animals. 

Other than that, I have no limits, except one caveat. 

I know a lot of you low-life bastards would love to read about your cheating ex getting sodomized by a chainsaw wielding maniac. I'm well aware you incel neck beard fucks would cum in your pants three sentences into a story about you finally fucking that lesbian from the Starbucks straight at gun point. But I ain't about that shit. It's weird. You're weird. Go get a hooker or something. You can have a type you want the victims to be, you can describe them for me, that's all cool. But I'm naming the characters and devising their traits. And for fuck's sake read the next part out loud for me: I don't give a fuck about the bitch who ruined your life. 

***Does you or someone you love have a burning desire to be on the business end of my pen?***

There's a few things to this. 

One. I'm nothing of I'm not a grade A fucking pervert. If you're a woman who was born with a vagina, I will gladly make you a victim in a story for the comically low, bargain bin price of…you sending me pictures of how fucking depraved you are. Nudes, lewds, all of it, I love it. Fat, skinny, tall, short, big tits, no tits, whatever race, I wanna fucking see it. Here's the catch: one must be verified, i.e. reach out to me privately and I'll tell you some shit to write on some paper and hold up in one of the pictures. Don't worry, I'll never ask you for your real name or any identifiable details. 

Note that these pictures and our conversations will be saved and archived in the event of any ramifications of me using your likeness. They will not be shared with anyone in any  other circumstance. (But I'm just a psychopath on the internet, I wouldn't trust me.)

Two. If giving your sweet little wifey a story about her getting gangraped by zombies for her birthday is your idea of a romantic gesture, I hate to ruin the surprise, but I'm going to need verification that the woman in question is down with this. You can PM me to discuss this. 

Three. If you're a sad fuck who wants me to write about your favorite anime character getting facefucked by you and your cheeto-fingered friends, go touch grass and get laid. 

Do you roleplay?

Sometimes, selectively. That depends on what you bring to the table. DM me and we'll see. Again. If I can't verify you're a woman from your posts and you're trying to roleplay a woman, I will probably ask you to prove it. There's weirdos out there. 

All that said, I'll do a lot of shit for money and a good bit for titties, so. Hit me up, slut. 

RIGHTS

If you get a scene or story from me, and you want to tell your laughably unattainable crush that you wrote it for them, I don't give a fuck. Just know that unless other arrangements are explicitly made I reserve the right to post the story I wrote for you freely on the internet, use said story for physical or digital publication for my own financial gain, and use or reuse characters your input may have had a hand in shaping. The stories and characters I create are mine. Period.

And finally, in conclusion, if you have a problem with any of this, eat shit. 

[mademoisellehypergamy]

✨ CREATING A PERSONA FOR HYPERGAMY & SOCIAL CLIMBING  ✨

The votes are in and “Persona” won! Ladies, get the notebooks out. Class is in session. And this is gonna be a long one.

Be honest with me: Are you currently your ideal woman? The majority of you will probably answer honestly and say no. And there’s nothing wrong with admitting that. The harsh reality is most women on their hypergamous journey aren’t even close to being the ideal woman they aspire to be. Hell, the average woman (hypergamous or not) will probably live her life never being able to become that woman, if we’re being completely honest here.

I believe every hypergamous woman should create and adopt a persona. You are who you believe to be. When I was younger, my teachers and parents told me I was academically gifted. So guess what? I believed the same! That pushed me to work even harder in school. Same concept applies here. You are who you believe to be. A persona isn’t a “fake” version of you. It is you. Your ideal person. It is malleable, so it can change at anytime. Just like you changed throughout your life.

STEP 0 - WHY YOU SHOULD ADOPT A PERSONA

✨Not Everyone Will Win the Birth Lottery. But that doesn’t mean you can’t rewrite your past, and repave your future path. Let’s face it: some of you were born into bad circumstances; abusive families, poverty, toxic relationships, obstacles and barriers, etc. And some of you are living lives currently that you aren’t satisfied with: stressful job, health issues, bad environment, *insert sob story here*, blah, blah, blah, woe is me!  But should your current and past conditions get in the way of your hypergamous journey? No! Absolutely not. 

✨You Can’t Be the Same Basic B*tch Forever. Okay b*tch, when you were being “true to yourself” in the past, look where it got you. Probably in a less than favorable situation. Congratulations for being an authentic basic b*tch! 🥳😊

Ladies, change is necessary. When you started your hypergamous journey, you underwent a change. Are you saying your hypergamous self is fake? Of course it isn’t! It’s still you, just an “elevated you”. One that is more aware and knows what she wants. 

✨ Most People Don’t Even Know Who TF They Are. It’s sad, but true. Most people are lost and suppressing their true desires and personality. I’m here encouraging you ladies to create your ideal persona and to become this woman. Because this woman is who you are deep inside, who you want to be. Stop hiding her! Create her, and become her! As long as this person isn’t harming anyone, there is no reason you shouldn’t chase your dream self.

STEP 1 - CHOOSE & CREATE YOUR PERSONA

This is the fun part ladies! Time to choose and create your new persona!

✨ What Kind of Woman Do You Aspire to Be?  Have fun with this ladies! What kind of woman have you always dreamt of becoming? Is she wildly intelligent and beautiful? Or perhaps she has a heart of gold and is adored by all?  Nothing is off limits. This is you.

For those of you who are truly struggling, below I have included a few examples of common personas. If you don’t know where to begin, choose one as the “foundation” and build on it. Make it your own!

*Disclaimer: Anyone that I mentioned/included below is simply for inspiration. Not all of these women are hypergamous. This is just for inspiration*

1. The Socialite/ The “It” Girl: This is the girl that everyone knows. She’s always at a party with a glass of champagne, wearing the latest styles, and living the BEST life. She’s glamorously unattainable and few have access to her, but somehow she’s a part of every social circle.

Inspiration: Jamie Chua (https://www.instagram.com/ec24m/)

2. The Traveler: This is the girl that travels constantly. Whether it’s across the globe or to a different state/town, she’s always on the go! No one seems to know how she funds her lifestyle because she always appears to be traveling and never working. Her pictures are always on point and high quality, with a combination of bikini pictures, relaxing scenery, exotic foods, and endless hotels.

Inspiration: Jennifer Tuffen (https://www.instagram.com/izkiz/)

3. The Influencer: Think of the ultimate Instagram Baddie; perfect body (usually because of surgery), full lips, carefully applied makeup, nails always done, hair on point. She is sponsored by all the clothes brands, and lives lavishly. She’s always out at a restaurant and traveling. Typically dresses in more revealing clothes/lots of bikinis.  What differentiates her from the Socialite? The degree of elegance and class. While the Socialite gives you an “heiress” vibe, the Influencer is more on the “flashy celebrity” side.

Inspiration: Kaylar Will (https://www.instagram.com/kaylarwill/)

4. Femme Fatale: She rarely posts on social media, but when she does, it only makes you question her existence more. This girl is beautifully sensual, and her social media only reveals bits and pieces of her life. She is an entire mystery, no one knows about her private life. One day she’ll be flying from London, the next she’ll be visiting an art gallery  She’ll sometimes post images of gifted roses with poetry captions. She oozes seduction and dark mystery. 

Inspiration: Dita Von Teese (https://www.instagram.com/ditavonteese) Now I thought long and hard about who to choose for this one, and if you take a moment to look at Dita’s IG account, you will understand why. You will notice that the ONLY thing she posts about is her clothes/lingerie brand or things relating to business. She reveals nothing about her personal life. Every post is promotion about her business. In fact, the last time she posted something about her “life” was on October 8th when she posted her CAT modeling another designer’s scarf. She’s a very discreet woman, and it works in her favor.

5. Girl Next Door: You know that basic b*tch that’s SUPER popular for no reason? This is her. From her Starbucks to her Tiktoks, she’s just your average girl living her life. In a way, she isn’t a threat because she seems approachable, relatable, and friendly enough through social media. Something about her aspires others that they can achieve a similar lifestyle. She’s terribly basic, but somehow, it works. 

Inspiration: Loren Gray (https://www.instagram.com/loren/)

6. Exotica: *This persona is best suited for women of color* She is exotically beautiful and unique. She is a trendsetter, not a follower. She has an air of heightened sexuality, with a touch of grounded-spirituality. Something about her is wild and untamed, and she oozes excitement and adventure. 

Inspiration: Monica Leon, or “Danger”. Now if you’re in my generation, you may remember the reality show “For the Love of Ray J” (which was ghetto btw💀). To this day, one girl that I will NEVER forget on that show, was “Danger”, the girl with the tiger tattoo on her face and that NO ONE liked, but Ray J was obsessed with. Although she no longer is on Instagram (and has since legally changed her name), I still believe she naturally embodied that exotic and mysterious woman persona. I recommend watching the show for free on Youtube just to observe her (and only her because the other women were pickme’s  💀)

7. The Luxurious Diamond: This woman is the epitome of class and elegance. She exudes femininity and grace, and holds an air of mystery by only showing us bits and pieces of her life. What we see is soft luxuries, wineries, beautiful clothes/scenery, and a life of comfort. She balances a mature, elegant, ladylike presence, with subtle girly-youthfulness. 

Inspiration: Г-жа Анисимова   https://www.instagram.com/creme_de.la_femme/

✨How Does She Look Like? From her hair to how she wears her makeup, be able to create a vivid description of her appearance. Being able to do this will show you where to work on with your current appearance.

✨Personality We all have traits about ourselves that we don’t like. This is your chance to identify your traits that you love and maximize them, while also working on the aspects of your personality that are a bit more problematic.

It’s important to recognize that some “negative” traits are not really negative. Society just shames us for them. For example, “The Socialite” persona may be polite, but that doesn’t mean she’s super open and friendly with everyone. Not everyone is her friend, and she is naturally unattainable. So why would she be super friendly to everyone? Some may call her “standoffish”, but I call it “selective”.

✨Past Self? Not a Problem.  So let’s say you had a less than perfect childhood and endured a lot of trauma. Not a problem, just reinvent your past! Now I’m not saying to straight up lie and make up a crazy story about how you grew up with billionaire parents and traveled the globe. I’m saying adopt a realistic story that’ll help you on your journey. 

For example, if your date were to ask about your past, instead of telling him how tragic your childhood was and how you were homeless and abused by your parents, and no longer have a relationship with them, you can say: “I moved around a lot as a child (“homelessness”), so I really enjoyed being able to interact with a lot of different people (make the negative seem positive). My parents still move around a lot, so it’s hard for us to meet (explains why you aren’t in contact with your parents). 

Reword and reframe, ladies. Not everyone needs to know everything.

STEP 2 - BRING HER TO LIFE

✨Remove. You cannot embrace your new persona, your new IDENTITY, if you are still stuck in the past. And that includes past connections that do not serve you. Some of your old friends (college friends, childhood friends, etc.) are not meant to accompany you on this journey. And that’s OKAY. Same with other toxic relationships in your life, family included. You will have to decide who to keep, and who to distance yourself from.

✨ Social Media! I’ve mentioned this in an earlier post, but social media is the easiest way for you to push your new persona. You control the content that goes on your social media, so even if you haven’t fully embodied your new persona, you can sure as hell fake it on social media. 

- Unless your persona is a socialite/influencer type, avoid posting too often. - Be consistent; if you retouch your images, make sure its consistent with all your photos. - Be mindful of what people tag you in/post about you. You know that “friend” who always posts the ugliest pictures of you? Yeah. They’re not your friend, hun. 

✨Dress. The. Part. Okay, sis. You can have the personality down perfectly, but if the look doesn’t match, no one will buy it. Your look is the first thing people notice, so invest in it. It doesn’t cost a lot, especially with fast fashion sites like Shein that sells clothes for $5. Just be able to keep up the appearance.

✨ Immerse Yourself in the Environment.  Looking the part and having the right personality is not enough, ladies! It wouldn’t make sense for you to be a “Socialite” sharing pictures of you eating at Red Lobster and Olive Garden every night. It wouldn’t make sense for the “Traveler” persona to share only bathroom selfies in her apartment. You have to live like the woman you aspire to be, and that includes placing yourself in those environments.

If you are not in the place financially to do so, learn to project the image without spending money. Ex: If you can’t afford to go to Hawaii, go to your local beach and take bomb ass pictures. Don’t tag the location. People will automatically see a beach in your picture and assume you are on vacation traveling. Get creative, ladies. 

✨You Owe Them Nothing. Ladies! Remember you don’t owe anyone anything. Not an explanation, not your time, nothing. So if you are living this new persona and people are asking questions you don’t want to answer: don’t. This is your life. 

STEP 3 - YOUR PERSONA WHILE DATING HYPERGAMOUSLY & SOCIAL CLIMBING

So now that you have created your ideal persona, and taken the steps to incorporate it into your life, how can you use your newfound persona to aid you on your hypergamous journey and while social climbing?

✨Infiltrate New Circles. Your persona should be someone exciting and enticing. People love befriending people who are happy and adventurous. Use your persona to befriend others and enter new social circles. You can do this through: - Social media; follow similar accounts to yours and interact with them. - Activities related to your persona; Let’s say you adopted the “The Luxurious Diamond” persona and started visiting wineries. You may notice when you go that there are regulars; identify the regulars and use your common interest of wine to strike a conversation. -Interest groups; join clubs/groups that help you reach your goals. For example, “The Traveler” may have always wanted to travel to Bali, but didn’t want to go alone. She joins a travel group to meet other likeminded inviduals and meets a travel buddy. This person ends up introducing her to others who also enjoy traveling.

✨ Be a Chameleon. You should  never be set on just one persona. Like I said earlier, your persona should always be malleable. You should be able to change yourself to your benefit, and always be open to expansion. When it comes to dating, a man may “want” a certain type of woman, but the secret is that most men just want a woman who is open to possibilities.  I remember a man who used to be on my roster who loved music. This man was always insisting on taking me to operas and symphonies. And he too was a musician (I really don’t like dating musicians, but that’s a topic for another day), so whenever he was performing he would have me sitting in the box so I’d have an “undisturbed” experience.  Now ladies, I’m not into music AT ALL.  But I was open and willing, and guess what? The man adored it, and he adored me even more! He spoiled me like crazy and would serenade me with music he wrote about me because I was his “muse”. Although I ended up ghosting him, I definitely appreciate a good opera now! 

✨Be Larger than Life to Entice. The attractive part about these personas is the fact that it feels almost fake. The image that is portrayed is almost mythical, like something out of a fantasy. You can’t believe this girl is traveling so much, or you can’t believe this girl still has a social life in the middle of a pandemic! It’s unbelievable, but that’s what makes us so intrigued. Men especially love fantasy. That’s why many men have a “dream girl”, a woman that embodies their physical and emotional fantasies. They love the impossible. It’s also important to remember that you are always being watched. People see you, whether in person or on social media, and when they see someone or something more interesting than their mundane life, curiosity will get the best of them. They’ll be drawn to you and want to know you.

✨ The Persona Advantage. Creating a persona is supposed to help your journey. The purpose is to reinvent yourself into someone who will help you better navigate your hypergamous life.  For example, if you are trying to get into more exclusive, affluent circles, creating a persona who is skilled in social and dining etiquette would be more beneficial than a persona that’s an Instagram Influencer. Being an Instagram Baddie that wears Fashion Nova won’t help you at a Charity Gala. So be sure to think of what you desire in life to shape yourself into that. Don’t just become someone who won’t get you to where you want to be. 

This post will definitely have a Part 2 in the future, but in conclusion: You can be whoever you want to be as long as you play the role. Be an actress in your own life, and live the life you desire.

Well ladies, I’ll be away for Valentine’s day weekend. Wishing you all a wonderful and safe weekend ❤️ Lots of love.

Follow my IG for more: @mademoisellehypergamy

#mhlessons #hypergamy #hypergamous #black hypergamy #hypergamy tips #black femininity #keptwoman #kept wife #spoiled girlfriend #spoiled gf #spoiled heaux #black girls in luxury #black women in luxury #luxury lifestyle #black women in leisure #black women in femininity #sugaring tips #sugaring

[letarasstuff]

One kind of intern

(A/N): This was requested by @greenslifestuff :) It took me a week or two because I had to interact with my friends in order to get the inspiration I needed 😅 Summary: The team gets to work with a gen z teenager. Let’s see how that goes.

Warnings: Swearing and gen z humour

Wordcount: 2k

✨Masterlist✨

___________________________________

“Team, this is (Y/N) (L/N). She will be interning for the upcoming three months alongside this team. (Y/N), these are Agents Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, Derek Morgan and Doctor Spencer Reid and our Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia”, Hotch introduces a teenage girl to his team like this happens every day.

“Wait Hotch, we don’t get interns. What is she going to do, no offense, but getting us coffee or what?” Morgan eyes her suspiciously. She looks like any teenager grabbed from the street. A band t-shirt, a torn pair of jeans and a cup from starbucks in her hands. Nothing you would expect to even enter a federal building.

“No offence taken, Agent Morgan. I know having an ugly pickly bitch working with professionals seems weird. It’s just I have summer break and I thought it would be a good thing on my resumé if I already interned in the FBI, because I just graduated and I wanted to go to the academy this fall. But if you wanna do a vibe check with me first, that’s fine by me. Whatever floats your boat.”

The room falls silent. Then out of all sudden everyone turns to Garcia, who puts her arms up in defense. “I don’t even know half the things she said, ask her yourself.”

That’s how the BAU gets their first contact with Gen Z culture and let me tell you it is a wild ride, so buckle up your seats, drink your tea up because we aren’t going to make any stops.

“(Y/N), I need you to come with me. We are going to the M.E. getting the latest reports from our last case”, Morgan tells her while passing her desk. In the blink of an eye the teenager is ready, putting her denim jacket with various pins and bits of patches on.

“Derek, can we get starbucks on the way back? The pumpkin spiced latte is back on their menu and I am on withdrawal. Pleaaaaaasseeee”, she looks at him with a pouty face. Morgan smiles. “Ok, under one condition: We both get one, take awesome pictures and send them to the group chat and then we act like we didn’t get them anything, but we actually buy them their usual.” He got the hang of it pretty fast. “Deal, Sis.”

While they are in the car on their way to the M.E. the agent groans. “Ugh, road work ahead.” “Uh yeah, I sure hope it does!” Morgan eyes her from the side. His whole demeanor says ‘old and confused’.

“What was that, kid?” But (Y/N) begins to laugh. “Don’t you know vines? Short dumb and funny clips people made?” It’s safe to say that this afternoon he learns to speak in vines, getting on Rossi’s nerves because nothing makes sense anymore.

“Ok, I heard you wanted to become a profiler. So I thought I would show you some old cases and then you try to figure out the profile. I’ll present them to you like I do to the team, alright?” JJ and (Y/N) sit in her office, safe from curious eyes. “As right as the law, Ma’am.” 

“Good, this is a case from several years ago. It happened here in D.C. Three men were murdered execution style in the middle of the night in an alleyway. They were all from different backgrounds. The only connection between them was that they were evicted for some form of sexual harassment or assault. The UnSub also had a signature: A shot into their groin while the men were alive.”

Unfaced by the presented facts (Y/N) pops a piece of gum into her mouth. “It do be like that.”

“What?” “I mean, it’s obviously a woman. She experienced any harassment or assault herself. She also has excess to the files, I assume she works as a paralegal, since most of them are women. Female serial killers are extremely rare, but they are better organized. The only thing left to say is good for her getting revenge.” The blonde looks at the teenager with wide eyes.

“I-I guess but you know you can’t say anything like that to Hotch, do you?” She asks concerned. “JJ, I’m dead inside, not dumb. I know this.” But the agent shrugs. “Good. Though I really want to see his face.” “Mood.”

Penelope Garcia is the closest one to relate to Gen Z culture, since a great part of her time is spent on the internet. She happily learns about all the phrases and their meanings as well as the newest trends and hypes.

“Purp is sus, I tell you”, is heard from the lair into the hallway. Spencer and Derek look at each other with concern on their faces. “Do you think they are alright or do we have to-” “IT’S A SELF REPORT I SWEAR PENNY! YOU WORK WITH PROFILERS IN GANDALF’S NAME!” Spencer’s question is answered by that.

“Baby girl, crazy girl, are you doing good? Do you need help or something?” The older one asks warily. But it’s drowned in another screaming match. “I TOLD YOU PURP WAS THE IMPOSTER BUT YOU HAVE TO TELL THEM I VENTED WHEN I DIDN’T! I WANT ALL TIKTOKS I SENT YOU BACK!” “YOU DON’T DARE TO REVOKE MY TIKTOK PRIVILEGES!” “WATCH ME GARCIA!”

“Whoa girls, what about taking a break?” Morgan tries to diffuse the situation. “Yes, I think JJ got new pictures of Henry and Emily brought cookies this morning”, Spencer adds.

The girls, who mere seconds ago were ready to jump each other's throats, look at the other one. “You get the cookies and I go to JJ, deal?” (Y/N) asks. “Deal!” Without sparing the boys another glance they run out of the lair. Their devices are still lit up. A red figure shines into their faces. ‘AMONG US’ is written underneath it. “I think we get too old for this stuff, don’t we Reid?”

Spencer always thought he was young. Of course, his mind is older, but physically he is not that old. But the intern proves him wrong. And boy is he wrong.

“Spencer, is there anything interesting to know today?” (Y/N) takes a seat on his desk, distracting the genius from his paperwork. It is a common occurrence for her to go to him to ask for a fun fact.

“Do you wanna learn something about sloths?” His knowledge (or the writer’s) on this subject is astonishingly big.

“Spill the tea, sis.” “Did you kn- What? But I don’t have tea to spill. And I don’t wanna spill anything, I-” Reid rambles in confusion.

“It’s just a saying, Spencer. There is no deeper meaning to it then ‘Tell me everything about it’. You know, it’s mostly used for gossiping, but I don’t really like to gossip. That’s why I use it in a different context. You got it?” (Y/N) explains it to him in a soft manner, knowing her generation can be complex.

“Yeah, I think I do. Thank you for telling me. I really like the phrase. It has a nice ring. What about you spill the tea about all the phrases you know and I tell you some things from my knowledge?” “I think you got yourself a teacher, genius. But now tell me about the sloths, I love them.”

A few days later Rossi catches her doing some weird moves. “Are you having a seizure or what is your problem, youngster?” Even though he tries not to show it, David took a great liking to (Y/N), thinking of her like a granddaughter. Still, most of her actions confuse the hell out of him.

“I’m practising a dance for tiktok. My friends and I worked on a choreo we wanted to film later. Come here, I can show you.” And that’s what she does in the conference room. The teenager walks him through every move of the choreo, explaining the meaning to it and how it correlates with the song.

“And then you move your arm like that. Exactly like that! You did a great job, David! Are you sure you don’t want to come with me later? We can make you your own account and name it ‘Grandpa-on-tiktok’. You can promote your books over there and it’s a way to float with the trend!”

Seeing her this excited Rossi can’t do anything but agree to the idea. Also, he secretly liked doing the dance thing. It made him feel young again.

“(Y/N), you said you graduated this summer. But your file said you are 16?” Emily asks her one boring day filled with paperwork and countless cups of coffee. “It is what it is”, she mindlessly answers, too focused on filling out the work in front of her.

“I mean yes but how?”

“Emily, smart people exist. I know, coming from me hits different, but here we are.” Finally (Y/N) puts her pen away looking at the raven haired woman.

“What are you talking about? I can’t really follow you.” The more the intern says the more confused gets Emily.

She sighs. “I don’t want to leave you on read here. I kind of am smart somehow. Apparently I was smart enough to skip a grade or two. But it’s no biggie. Many peeps do this, so I don’t sweat it.”

“Even though I feel like you are selling yourself short here, I know you are an incredibly intelligent person. Someday you will be an awesome profiler and any team will be lucky to have you. I really hope we will be the lucky team. But I’m still not sure if this is what I should say in this context.”

“Emily, you are goals. This fam is squad goals. I really hope to be a part of this someday”, (Y/N) admits. “I’m sure Hotch will do his best to get you on the team, you became a great part of it. I can’t imagine a future without you.”

Sadly Prentiss has to get used to a time without the team’s beloved intern. On her last day (Y/N) knocks at Hotch’s door.

“Hey, I wanted to say thank you. The time with you and all the others was amazing and I learned so many useful things for not only the academy but also for my daily life. I really had a glow-up here”, she says after coming in.

Hotch motions towards the chairs in front of his desk. “Take a seat, (Y/N). I got something for you. See it as a compensation for not getting paid for your internship. You really did great work and a better job than some agents, who are doing theirs for many years already but don’t know half the stuff you do. You are a valuable member to the team.”

“Wait, you speak in presence tense. I leave you all this afternoon, you know that, do you?” But the Unit Chief only gestures to a white envelope on his desk. Quickly the teenager takes it and reads it.

“Are you serious Hotchner? Because I will cry you a river if you joke”, she threatens him.

“I’m dead serious, (Y/N). Even though half of your talks are difficult to understand, the other half is twice as useful and important. Additionally to that, you are like a fresh breath of air that the team needed. That’s why a place here will be available for you as soon as you graduate from the academy. I trust you that you will pass with flying colors, I had to promise that to Strauss.”

“Of course, Hotch. I swear on my Animal Crossing Island that I will do my best and more. Thank you so much”, she leaps into his arms.

The others watch the interaction from the bullpen, pretending to not get teary eyed. Their favorite Gen Z Kid will come back to them after all.

Taglist:

Spencer Reid

@calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #penelope garcia x reader #penelope garcia x teen!reader #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x teen!reader #david rossi x reader #david rossi x teen!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x teen!reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x teen!reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #x teen!reader #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x teen!reader

[emiko-matsui]

concept: taako in faerun but it's tony hawk

-

kid: are you taako?

taako: i am

kid: no you're not

taako: ok, i'm not

kid: but are you, FOR REAL

taako: i am for real

kid: i thought you'd be prettier

taako: ME TOO

-

tsa agent, checking his id: taako, like that guy who saved the world taako

taako: exactly

tsa agent: cool, i wonder what he's up to nowadays

taako: this

-

taako: [at the rental wagon agency, can't find his name on the monitor, goes inside, waits in line & finally gets up to the front]

agent: you really are taako

taako: yeah, i looked for my name on the list outside but couldnt find it

agent: i deleted it because i thought it was fake

-

guy at fantasy costco: do you ever get mistaken for taako? or are you taako?

taako: both!

-

guy, in line at fantasy starbucks: my friend says you're famous, is that true?

taako: depends on your definition of fame

guy: will your name show up if i fantasy google it?

taako: yes

guy, typing into phone: you are tacos?

-

tsa agent, staring intently: i'm trying to figure out who you look like before checking your id

taako: ok

tsa agent: that cyclist, armstrong

nearby agent: that ain't lance armstrong

taako: he's right

tsa agent: oh you look like that guy who saved the world [checks id] and have the same name too, crazy

taako: crazy

-

woman nearby after a guy asks for an autograph: i don't know who you are

taako: i don't expect you to

woman: what have you done

taako: i saved the world

woman: are you from raven roost?

taako: no i'm from new elfington

woman: so you're not the guy with the sideburns that killed the hunger?

#this is so stupid i'm sorry #taako taaco #taz balance #taz #the adventure zone #tony hawk #taako #magnus burnsides #justin mcelroy #the mcelroys #shitpost

[agent-absinthe]

foreigner’s god pt. 1

marvel. bucky barnes/reader. canon divergent. heavy fic. 5k+

Blaire Briar gets through the day by telling herself that James Buchanan Barnes and the Winter Soldier are two different people.  It makes knowing he’s been pardoned and walking free easier for her to process.  Only when she’s forced to assist on a mission with him on the team roster her carefully constructed coping begins to crumble.  Forced to finally deal with their shared trauma Blaire and Bucky begin the difficult process of healing.  The process is made more difficult when Bucky realizes that despite everything he has feelings for her.

warnings: assault, rape/non-con, violence, blood, sexual content, language, No Snap AU

“Sir, I can’t take this assignment.”

Director Coulson looked up at the woman from his desk where he had been staring at the phone, currently on hold with Stark, a record 48 minutes now.

“That assignment requires your skill set, I would think after complaining of not feeling useful you’d be happy for the opportunity.”

“Sir,” she tried again- almost pleading, “I cannot take this.  Not with this team.”

He leaned back in the chair and considered the woman in front of him.  Special Agent Blaire Briar, who worked mainly as a grunt in Comms for recon teams.  Except when her special talent of Energy Vampirism brought her out into the field.  Although she wasn’t used often for the skill set, when it was needed she became invaluable.  Briar started out as an intern for Shield brought in by Maria Hill on a Stark recommendation- a series of personal traumas set off by Alexander Pierce led to her current position.

“The team was hand picked and is non negotiable.  Captain Rogers prefers to work with those he trusts and he says he needs you, this isn’t a request.”

“I have trauma with the Winter Soldier. I can’t-”

“Sergeant Barnes,” Coulson corrected feeling guilt at her desperate expression, “he was pardoned so as far as the government and all other agencies are concerned all reparations are paid.  Any personal feelings are just that- personal- and are to be dealt with in your own time.”

“And if I refuse?”

“You’ll be reprimanded and will most likely cost thousands of people their lives if not more.  I know that’s not something you want on your hands Agent, so just take the assignment.  You’ll be back in comms by the end of the weekend if all goes well.”

This was fucking bullshit. 

Blaire couldn’t see straight as she stomped down the hall back to comms, gripping the wall from a sudden bout of nausea that overtook her.  The folder was delivered to her in the afternoon by a security personnel and at first she had been thrilled to receive the assignment.  There were ruins on a small island off the coast of Ireland thought to contain a training base for Hydra recruits.  Files inside the base could provide names of remaining Hydra agents, contracts and agreements that the terrorist organization made, among other intel that could be incredibly useful.  It sounded interesting and she was itching to get out there and live a mission instead of listening in on one.

“Whoa, you ok?  Jesus, Blaire you look like you’re about to throw up.”  Hill’s voice sounded like it came from far away even when she put a concerned hand on her back.

“Tell me this job is worth it.”

“What?”

“I need you to keep me from walking the fuck outta here.  I can’t do this shit anymore, I can’t fucking do it.  I could be at Stark Industries or- or working with Strange or pouring goddamn drinks at Starbucks getting verbally abused by assholes.”

Her hands were on her knees now as she tried to focus on her breathing and stave off the panic attack building in her chest.  She was too young for this kind of stress.  Was any of this worth it?  The manilla folder containing her assignment was tossed to the floor, open on the team roster page so his name glared out at them. 

James Buchanan Barnes

When Maria saw the name she knew what was wrong immediately and knelt in front of Blaire, hands on her cheeks so she had to focus on her.

“Hey, hey, hey breathe for me, Briar.  That’s it.  Listen, they’re two different people- two completely different people.”

“I know that.  I know.”

“You can do this, you’re strong and I know for a fact that you’re too much of a bitch to let something stop you from doing your job, right?”

Briar laughed at that, the laughter dissolving into tears momentarily before she regained her composure, ��right.” 

“You are the only one that can help them on that mission, you’re the one that’s gonna be calling the shots.  Now let’s go ahead and go down to development so we can get you measured for your gear.”

~

“Are you listening to me, James?”  Dr. Raynor asked with a forceful tap of her pen against the notepad to get his attention.

“Not really.”

She sighed and started writing waiting until he looked up with irritation before continuing, “I said done correctly this could be an opportunity for you to cross another name off the list.  Emphasis on done correctly.”

Bucky let out a breath he was holding in and turned to the window so he could pretend not to hear what Raynor was saying.  The therapist was right and so was Steve when he approached Bucky last week to let him know about who they needed for the recon.  He’d apologized to people he tried to kill easy enough, but it didn’t feel like there was a proper way to apologize for what he did to her.

“And what am I supposed to do when I see her?  Just walk up and say sorry?  It’s like you and Steve live in this perfect little world where forgiveness is just handed out the minute someone says sorry.”

“Steve and I live in the real world where we face our problems-”

“Oh, here we go.”

“-where we face our problems and hope that we can be forgiven for any harm caused.  You’ll be working with this girl so you will have to face it sooner or later, make sure Rogers is there when you do it if that will make you feel more comfortable.  That’ll be your homework until our next session- try to come to terms with what happened and make an effort to talk to Briar.”  

It was just the same shit Steve told him over and over.  Dr. Raynor sure as hell couldn’t know what he was going through even Steve didn’t understand this part of adjusting.  

Of atonement.  

When he closes his eyes and concentrates he can still see Pierce with a smile telling him about a “special” side mission, a “treat really”, that he wanted The Winter Soldier to complete.

Her apartment was quiet when he entered through the bedroom window to begin the first step of the mission.  Placing a small hidden camera in the framework of her gaming setup tucked in a corner across from the bed.  When he walked into the rest of the home he was stopped by a curious mew and looked down to find a fat, grey cat weaving between his legs.  The cat observed him for the rest of the camera placements and sweep of the apartment, disarming any weapons he found.  A loaded gun under the sink, a taser between couch cushions, and a knife on the bathroom vanity.  

“Your target’s not on her way yet so hang tight.  Fix the camera in the living room while you wait, I want it more focused on the couch and turn on your body camera.”  Pierce’s voice came over the earpiece sounding almost bored as he sat at his desk and looked through the new feeds.

He gravitated back to her bedroom when he wasn’t given another task finding that the room was pleasant to be in.  Warm and dim, smelling like the floral perfume bottle he inspected earlier.  The cat followed and jumped to the bed meowing at the soldier in annoyance when he didn’t pet him.  Something like muscle memory took over and Bucky lifted his flesh hand out to the cat who purred rubbing it’s face into the palm.

“Good cat.” He mumbled earning another meow and purr.

After a few more minutes of radio silence he sat, the mattress and box spring groaned under his weight and the softness felt foreign.  When another minute passed he leaned back in the unmade bed and didn’t move as a purring weight laid on his stomach.  It was all so...comforting.  Only when his eyes began to close did the earpiece screech on.

“Target’s in transit, be ready when she gets there-”

The front door opening interrupted Pierce, “Tikki!  Where is my fat little man?”

Tikki jumped off of him and he could hear the cat meowing to it’s owner as she walked to the kitchen, tossing her bags down on the way.  The woman looked normal enough to him, a little heavy for an agent but nothing he couldn’t handle.

“She’s worn out from training but we still don’t know how long her power can last.  You need to get the implant in her neck to block the absorption if she tries anything.”

Bucky fished in his utility belt for the dime sized, pronged disk and held it in his fist as he stalked closer to the kitchen.  She was singing to herself while stacking up dirty dishes to make room for a take out bag.

“Thank god I got there before they closed and yes they did give me some grilled chicken for you, Tikki.  Such a fat kitty, lucky you’re so cute.  Sure as hell don’t keep you around to pay rent, you’re a freeloader and you don’t even care!”

Pierce was telling him to proceed, but Bucky stood in the doorway and watched her set a small bowl down in front of Tikki who ignored it to eye him and meow louder, suddenly puffing up as if realizing that the strange man was now a threat.  

“What’s the matter you crazy cat?  That’s all you’re getting so deal with it.”  

A low growl and hiss.

“Jesus Christ, what?  Is there a fucking-”  She started and turned around only for her voice to die in her throat as they stared at one another.  

“Ok, Bucky?”  Dr. Raynor repeated.

“Ya ok.” 

~

This was it.  They were getting briefed this morning then they’d be flown out, Blaire could barely stand without shaking so she sat at her small cubicle in comms until it was time.  She should have known that Steve would try to play good guy and come find her.

“Hey, Blaire.”

“What do you want?”  

“Briefing is gonna start soon, thought we could walk down there together.”

“To make you feel better or me?”

The super soldier leaned against her desk and crossed his arms, “you know I wouldn’t put you in this position if I didn’t have to.  There’s no other way for us to get through those doors, trust me we’ve tried.”

“Let’s just get it over with.”  

She wasn’t trying to lash out at Rogers on purpose but it was hard to control her anger when she felt this shitty.  Steve and her used to be good friends, introduced by Tony who thought Blaire could make the soldier blush, they ended up balancing each other out nicely.  After what happened with the winter soldier and Shield they grew apart not talking unless Tony had a gathering they were both obligated to attend.  It was a loss on both ends when they stopped hanging out, the easy back and forth humor between them almost nonexistent now.  It was early enough in the morning that the pair walked in silence without many other agents around until Steve broke it.

“I know I don’t have any room to say this, but Bucky’s a good guy.  Begged me to find another way so you wouldn’t have to see him, tried to back out of the mission, he feels like shit about this and he wants to apologize to you.”

Blaire already knew where this was going, “and you’re the buffer?”

“His therapist suggested it.  Dr. Raynor.”

That wasn’t something she expected.  Therapy was a good sign, taking the therapist’s advice an even better one.  Blaire wasn’t stupid she knew that Barnes was under the influence of years of systematic abuse when he attacked her, practically brainwashed and nearly physically impossible for him to defy an order.  He was a victim too.  That’s what made being angry at him still so hard.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Steve opening the door to the conference room to see Barnes pacing.  The hair was shorter and the arm was new, but his body had the same heavy muscle and wide stance.  She found that she couldn’t look at him when they finally made eye contact, not directly anyway.  Focusing instead on the zipper of his gear or scruff on his chin.

He’s handsome.  Why the fuck does he have to be handsome? It wasn’t fair.  None of this was fair.  The world was playing some kind of fucked up joke for her to still be attracted to him.  That wasn’t new of course; she found him attractive since she first saw the winter soldier in photos and videos from the attack on Fury in Pierce’s office.  She had been standing there staring at the holograms when Pierce made an offhand remark about it, teasing her for her flushed cheeks.  Now that she knew he was the one who ordered the attack the memory made her boil with shame.

“Agent Briar.”  At least he was trying to be polite.

“Sergeant Barnes.”

“I-” he stopped, his adam’s apple bobbing with anxiety as he swallowed. “I am no longer The Winter Soldier, I am James Buchanan Barnes and you’re part of my effort to make amends-”

“Your therapist knows how to write a good script.”  Blaire interrupted.

Steve didn’t make a move to intervene and stayed off to the side sipping a coffee and watching.

“Look, I know that you were not in control of yourself when it happened and because of that you are also a victim in the situation,” she said it slowly trying to sound reasonable, “There isn’t a lot that you can apologize for.  Pierce is the one who owes me that and he’s been dead for a few years now so I doubt I’ll be getting it anytime soon.”

“Thank you for understanding, not a lot of people do, but I still have to tell you how sorry I am for the pain that I caused you.  I want to try to make things right or as right as they can be.”

“If you really want that then you’ll interact with me as little as possible.  Please understand that it’s not personal.  I just can’t fucking look at you.”

Barnes nodded quickly, the words cut him to the core in a way he had never experienced.  Yet he still apologized, still at least tried to make amends with Blaire and despite her blunt reaction he hoped Dr. Raynor would consider it a success.

“Yeah, of course.  I can do that.” 

Bucky thought he was doing a good job with it so far too.  He stayed in the flank of the group during the mission and got to see her work after she was able to duplicate an energy reading and get through to the bunker.  Three Hydra agents crumpled to the floor as soon as they rounded a corner to stop their progress, Briar released the pent up energy she absorbed from them at the next group they came across.  Leaving their bodies broken and bloody in a heap against a wall.  

“Hey, Cap why the hell did you drag me outta bed on a Saturday?  Looks to me like Miss Atom Bomb here’s got it covered.” 

“Miss Atom Bomb sounds like way too pretty of a hero name for me, Sam.”  She laughed tossing a smile back at the Falcon, “guys on the Strike team just used to call me Leech.”

“Those guys were assholes.”

“Ya, they were pretty awful most of the time.  M’not gonna be able to keep it up much longer though, I fill up on too much and I burn out quick.  I got a few more bursts in me before I start seeing doubles.”

The bunker ended up being an intel goldmine opening up several leads for the team to follow in their mission to eradicate Hydra once and for all.  Being part of that kind of adrenaline high in person had made Blaire even more dizzy than her burn out, no wonder field agents dreaded being behind a desk.  It wasn’t until they were strapped back in the plane with the sun rising that she was beginning to feel that same dread.  She was dirty and tired but helped more in this mission than she had almost her entire time in Communications.

“How ya feelin’, Briar?”

“Like shit, Romanoff.  How about you?”

Natasha laughed and handed her a rations bar, “good to see you out in the field.  Started feeling like the boy’s club for awhile.”

“How on Earth will you cope with my loss come Monday?”

“A quick word with Coulson and I won’t have to cope with anything.”  She offered.  Producing another rations bar from her pocket like a bribe.

“Nat, I can’t.  Look at me, I’m not fit for field work-”

“You just obliterated more than 50 guys in that bunker and I’ve seen your hand to hand combat, it’s not bad.”

“Ya but I’m about to fucking pass out now.  I mean- it’s complicated.”

The assassin stretched out and settled in next to Blaire trying to think of a way to talk her into it.  Wanda and Vision were off trying to live the domesticality that Tony now had, leaving their team bare bones.  There was no telling when or if Thor would show back up from trying to fix shit back home, they were missing a super and Blaire seemed the best fit.

“You wanna be in communication so bad then why don’t you be our guardian angel when we don’t absolutely need you in the field?  It would get you out of that cubicle more often anyway, sure we could talk Coulson into a pay raise too.  Plus you’ll get to listen to my voice and boss Steve around, what more could you want?”

“You’ve operated without a guide in HQ for so long.  No one’s gonna buy it.”

“They will if Golden Boy and Wings asks.”

Blaire took the second ration bar and rolled her eyes, “I’ll think about it.”

She ended up taking it of course once Nat wanted something she almost always got it, Blaire sure as shit wasn’t going to tell her no.  For the most part it started out really well with the exception of a few hiccups in finding her place on the field when it came to real action.  Off the field was a different story- Blaire knew how to operate a team in a way that both got the job done safely and felt like borderline workplace violence at the same time.  Bucky tended to be the target for the latter on most missions.

“You don’t listen!  Jesus fucking christ I am going to buy a goddamn adult tether backpack for you!  And ya know who’s gonna have to hold the leash?  Wilson!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa don’t drag me into this.  I’m doin’ my job.”

Bucky wanted to dig out the earpiece and throw it, “I still took care of it, didn’t I?”

“You fight like you have handlers still, Barnes.  News flash, you don’t!  I’m the one who has to file all the paperwork when you go off course on your own and cause mayhem and destruction like its the fucking Winter Soldier Show.”

All Bucky did was ignore her suggestion to not engage with the hostiles ahead until Natasha and Steve followed suit.  There were only three guys from what he could see and a hostage was waiting for them with time running out so he did what he thought was best.  There ended up being six instead of three and the hostage received a minor injury when he wasn’t able to get to them fast enough.

“Well, it’s over and done with now so could you just shut up?”

Everyone on the line went dead silent for a few seconds.

“Quinjet is waiting at the extraction point for pick up.  Good job team, we look forward to your safe return to the hanger.  Briar signing off.”  Came the calm check out.

Sam landed next to Bucky with a satisfied chuckle, “oh you fucked up big time, buddy.”

“I hate you.”

She wasn’t waiting for them like she usually did when they landed, coming in a few minutes later with a small med team in tow to look over injuries.  Barnes waved off the attempts to dab blood off of his brow where he caught a stray punch and focused on getting his gear off.  Blaire wasn’t about to let him off the hook just yet, still too blinded by her rage to consider letting them both cool off before talking.

“That’s the third time you ignored me when I told you not to run blindly into enemy fire.  What’s your problem, Barnes?”

“I’m not the one with a problem.”

“Are you kidding?  It’s like you do this shit on purpose just to piss me off.”

“I do!”  He yelled, turning around to make eye contact with her.  “The only time you ever acknowledge me is when I get you riled up.”

“Oh, you poor baby do I not pay enough attention to you so you feel like you gotta act out?”

Bucky dropped the rest of his gear and started towards her, already feeling his energy dropping with each step from her defense.  He didn’t let it show and only stopped when he was in front of her.

“You’re the one with the problem here.  How am I supposed to fix this when you won’t talk to me?  You won’t even look at me dammit!  I’m the only one making an effort and I can’t let go of it if you won’t.”

Their voices boomed in the near empty hanger as Steve was making his way over to break it up after releasing the rescued hostage over to medical, fearing that he may be too late to salvage their already rocky relationship.

“What do you want, huh?  You wanna hit me?  Go on doll, take a shot and get it out of your system.”  Bucky continued leaning down to her height tauntingly.

“Maybe I do.”

“Great, let’s go.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea-”  Rogers started.

“Stay out of it, Steve!”  They shouted in near unison before Blaire turned on her heel and began speed walking to the exit with Bucky right behind her.

The night air was shockingly cold against their flushed skin and it made Bucky think a little more clearly as the door slammed shut behind him.  Only when he went to say something Blaire caught him by surprise with a haymaker to his cheek.  Her punch held more power than he would have thought, momentarily knocking him off balance enough for Blaire to ram him.  The impact of their bodies knocked both down to the wet grass as they struggled until she was on top raining half pulled punches down that she didn’t follow through with.  Her hits fueled by emotion slowly got weaker and weaker until she slid off of him sobbing. 

“I didn’t get mandated therapy.  I lost my dignity and my job and my will to live in the span of a fucking week.”  She choked out, nails digging into the artificial turf. “Then everyone found out it was Pierce that put out the hit and all that footage was just uploaded to the Hydra file.  Oh don’t worry Blaire it’s classified it’s so classified but no we can’t delete it or anything sorry.  I can get into it, I can see that file and I only have level green clearance.  It’s just sitting there for anyone to look at it.  My coworkers, bosses, the fuckin’ guys in coding.  They can just type in credentials and watch me get raped.”

This must have been what Dr. Raynor meant by coming to terms.  Pulling everything ugly out to the open so they didn’t have to dance around it any longer.

He looked strange without any of the guns and knives strapped to him, but it was still The Winter Soldier.  Blaire knew that in an instant from the face mask strapped to him like a muzzle and the silver arm shining against his black modified jacket.  She was frozen. Never in her life had she experienced Freeze instead of Fight, but then again she couldn’t remember the last time she was this scared.  Thoughts ticked off in rapid fire until Tikki jumped up on the counter with a hiss breaking the spell.  She threw the take out bowl of hot matzo ball soup that he easily dodged and turned around to feel under sink for the gun only to find it gone.  A hand clamped something down on the back of her neck, his metal one coming down around her mouth like a vice when she yelled out for help.

“Any of your neighbors try to help they die.”

No, that wasn’t right. He sounded local, like he was from New York.  That wasn’t possible.  The metal crushing her jaw came off when she threw her elbow back with full force catching his ribs.  It came darting back out immediately and shoved her to the kitchen floor on her stomach, his heavy weight on her lower back and ass was crushing as he straddled her.

“Fuck off!  Better kill me because I’m not saying shit about anything.”  She growled trying to buck him off.

There was no answer only his body going still like he wasn’t sure of the next move himself.  Then the weight was gone and for a second Blaire thought that maybe she could get away or at least get to her phone on the counter and send a message to Shield.  It was when she tried crawling away that she felt his fingers hook into her shorts and jerk them down.

“No!”  More panic now than before.  The prospect of death was always looming over her working where she did, but not this.  Please anything but this.

With the shorts off she was rolled to her back as he straddle her hips, his hands trying to catch her wrists again while she fought.  Nails raked down his face and neck, leaving rivets of red and tearing off his mask as they went.  When Blaire caught sight of his face she knew it was over.  There was no emotion there, just a slack jaw and blown out pupils.  He was going through the motions like someone was telling him what to do, a machine being controlled by someone else.  When the soldier did catch her wrists and pin them down with his metal hand he went still again, staring down at her as blood dripped off his face.

“I don’t wanna do this.”  He suddenly announced maybe to her or to no one.

“You don’t have to!  Just leave, just get up and leave.  It’s not too late.”

She could hear the faint static buzz of someone screaming from his earpiece and then the slack look was back and her thighs were being kneed open.  It was happening so fast and Blaire found herself completely powerless, he had done something to her to stop her energy absorption and without that she was just some intern with a little gun training.  No amount of fight, of pleading, would help her now.  Somehow that was more terrifying than anything else.

“Stop it! Get off me, get off!  I’ll fucking kill you!” 

The threats sizzled out into broken shrieks as he thrust into her hard enough to hurt both of them with no prep.  Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes from the pain and violation, droplets of his blood now falling faster onto her as he moved.  Blaire tried catching his hip with her heel to get him off and keep fighting but the metal squeezed her wrists tighter in warning til they gave way with a crunch, his pace never slowing and only growing sloppier.  The pain was too much for her to even scream for help, not that she’d want to.  Didn’t need poor Miss Hoffman coming in here waving her cane to the rescue only to end up dead.

She looked past his blank face to stare at her kitchen ceiling focusing on the water mark in the corner she kept meaning to paint over.  His flesh hand came up to her face to cover and turn it away as if he didn’t want her looking at him.  The kitchen filled with the scent of soldier’s blood making her mouth taste like pennies.  Droplets of it felt like scalding water as it fell on her check and neck.  How long would it take to scrub his scent off?   Her body couldn’t seem to adjust fast enough to allow her any relief but by the grace of whatever cruel god watched the display his hips stuttered and stopped.  A sob bubbled up from the sensation- too hot and too full, seeping out of her before he even pulled out.

There was always a point in his missions where the targets gave in and stopped fighting.  He watched that happen with this one after he stood.  Watched her curl in on herself as she laid there crying with his cum dripping out of her and down the back of her thighs.  Then he was back to her bedroom window without retrieving his mask or the blocking device, no longer listening to whatever was coming through the earpiece.  Mind going absolutely haywire and telling him he just needed to get out.

“I’m sorry, Blaire.  I didn’t know.”  Bucky sat up with his own chest beginning to tighten at what she was telling him, it made him sick.

She cried harder and shook her head, “it’s not your fault, Barnes.  No matter how much I want it to be so I wouldn’t feel so shitty for hating you.  It’s not your fault.”

Without thinking Bucky leaned over and wrapped an arm around Blaire pulling her to his chest.  She tensed at first but relaxed and returned the hug when she felt him begin to shake too.  So they sat together on the wet turf and cried until Steve managed to herd them back inside thankful they hadn’t killed each other. 

Bucky kept a hand on Briar’s shoulder as they entered, “Are we good?”

“Ya, we’re good.”  She clapped him on the back and then punched his arm as an after thought, “but if you ever tell me to shut up during a mission again I’ll tell your therapist and make sure you have to go to sensitivity training.  This doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“I’ll only get a rise out of you when I want you to yell at me then.”

He watched her roll her eyes and could have sworn he saw the corner of her mouth turn up into a smile.  That made him smile too and Bucky felt a new sense of ease.  Unsurprisingly at his next session with Dr. Raynor he found it easier to open up.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes/reader #Bucky Barnes #marvel #rape/non-con #assault #fanfiction #ao3 #eventual fluff #smut #trauma #ok so i havent posted anything on tumblr in a long time but I really wanted to post this #kinda way out of my comfort zone as far as topics since i dont usually write so much trauma #next part coming in a few days since it's already written

[diamondluxesugar]

Who’s Actually Surprised that Brits are Racist?

So first of all, the family dynamics of the BRF are actually so sad. When we see movies that involve royals, they have the external face and the internal face. The public persona and the behind-the-castle-walls persona. I find it incredibly sad that there is no differentiation between the two. The hierarchy being maintained while they're supposed to have down time, no wonder people are depressed and doing all kinds of crazy things. How do you build strong relationships with your family when it's all about the proper chain of command? No wonder Charles is ignoring Harry's calls. They have absolutely no sense of loyalty towards each other, which is what I suppose will happen when your entire family history is full of people chopping off each other's heads. It's actually pitiful. The fact that they got married in secret and didn't even have his brother there speaks VOLUMES. The sheer isolation that goes on in that family in incredible. My siblings are my confidants. If I have no one else in this world, I have my ride or dies. I can't imagine getting married in secret and only being my fiancé and the priest present. To not even trust your own sibling is indicative of a household that is so toxic that the only choice is to escape.

Honestly Harry probably doesn't trust William for some legit logical reasons. He (William) strikes me as a spiteful, vindictive person. He probably blamed Harry for a ton of things growing up and tried to fit that "perfect" role as the 3rd in line for the throne. Still, they're adults. This is no longer 15 year olds being forced to act and behave a certain way by their superiors. We're talking about some of the most powerful people in the world. They have access to millions of dollars of resources. They can go to the best therapists in the world and unlearn the behaviors that are toxic and make that change in their family dynamic. The Monarchy is the people involved in it. It's not a secret group of people pulling the strings, it's not the Wizard, it's not God. It's a definable set of people that make decisions for the family. And if it is Mr. Anderson from the matrix, fire his ass.

Now, Meghan needs to bear some responsibility in this. You mean to tell me you started dating a man and did absolutely no research on him? I start dating a man and look up everything I can find about him, including his friend history. I have my girl friends do some digging into his social life to find out all of the tea. I REFUSE to look foolish on behalf of any man. SO with all of that being said, Meghan darling you didn't even Google search Prince Harry? Didn't look up the race scandals he himself has been involved in? Didn't share any information about who you were dating with your mom? Knowing that these people are followed by millions of people? That doesn't seem 100% true. And if it is true, I think that makes her incredibly naïve.

But even so, let's say she did no research and didn't really know the full scope of these people. That in no way excuses all the psychological bullshit they put her, Harry, and Archie through. What is the reason? Does anyone have an actual explanation? Questioning how dark Archie is going to be like his father isn't a damn ginger and his mother isn't lighter than a blonde roast with extra cream from Starbucks. Not giving their kids protection? I'm baffled. Why? What's the reason? We all know the reason, and the crazy thing is that Meghan is a mixed woman who hasn't even gone through life with the experiences that women a darker than her have. Hell, I'm mixed, far darker than Meghan, and have had some pretty crazy experiences on that rock where they think beans and toast is a delicacy.

I believe a lot more of what Meghan and Harry have said than what's been peddled out over the years regarding her disposition and the BRF drama. And just for them both to still hold themselves back from blowing the whole place up is insane. If my in-laws were having conversations about how dark my kid is going to be, letting the media bash me at every turn, and just being overall cunts, I'm burning the place down and taking them with me. It's hard enough being black/mixed in this white world without having family being there to fight to the ends for you.

And dears, that brings me swiftly to my next point.

All of the drama and issues surrounding Meghan and Harry is being used to distract from what far more important people are doing. Let's be serious, who really cares if Meghan was 'a little bit mean' to her staff or ate too much avocado toast. Do you truly think she was throwing hot tea on people and we're just now finding out about it? I seriously question the BRF's motives behind launching these laughable investigations into Meghan's behavior while she was in the palace. Our favorite lizard prince, Philip, just had yet another open heart surgery, probably stolen from some orphan Somalia. William is sticking his dick in everything that moves, including his own wife's friends and the teachers of his own damn children.

And most importantly Prince Andrew with his pedophile self and his connections with Epstein.

You would think that the BRF wants to investigate possible ties with an international child slavery sex ring. But no. They want to investigate Meghan bullying her employees. Give me a break.

#harry and meghan #meghan markle #DLS musings