#anchor's daisi

[daisyducklover2021]

Donald and Daisy Ice skating.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Mickey and Minnie on Ice all week.

#donald and daisy #sunset #snow days #snow mountain #helmet #ice skating #donsy #mickey mouse funhouse #Donald x Daisy #my faves #winter jacket #donald duck #anchor #daisy duck #flower #having a good time

[levaagrace]

It’s all ‘death of the author!’ until you point out logical fallacies within the story’s narrative. Then it’s ‘but those are the ✨themes✨!’.

#jon didn’t actually want to go along with martins kill bill revenge tour until martin gave him permission #basira wanted jon (and melanie and daisy) to be ‘useful’ but never acknowledged that their usefulness hinged on them being ‘monsters’ #georgie told jon he needed and anchor then turned around and told that anchor to cut him lose #I could go on and on and fucking on and y’all can tell me the hypocrisy is the point #and that there was nothing any of them could do to make things better #but the fact remains that narratively speaking jon was punished for existing #and he was blamed for it all AND everything else by both said narrative and said characters #simply because the story itself revolved around him

[starringcupidpodcast]

Ep. 2: Marianne + Connell

This week, we're kissing like real people do and looking at the history of Marianne Sheridan and Connell Waldron, from the BBC limited series Normal People.

Join Zama as she ponders why social status is such a nonsense factor, how Connell could have been more open, and why Marianne's choices stem from her personal struggles. *TW*: mentions of sexual assault and suicide. We're heading up to Ireland for this week's controversial Who's Your Fave battle. Please do vote on our Twitter and Instagram polls.

Do be sure to follow us on Twitter @ StarringCupid and on Tumblr @ Starringcupidpodcast for updates and more content.

#marianne sheridan #daisy edgar jones #connell waldron #paul mescal #normal people #sally rooney #romance #drama #google podcasts #spotify podcasts #apple podcasts #anchor podcast #podcasts #limited series #south africa #south african #Spotify

[yagurlhere]

After finishing Daisy's Kin I think it's safe to say now:

I think Never Love An Anchor by The Crane Wives would fit Daisy, or just straight-up Daisy's Kin.

Also like how when it ended on Daisy going to check on Spotfur it cut to Spotfur's Rebellion.

#Warriors #Novella #A Warrior's Choice #Daisy's Kin #Spotfur's Rebellion #Animal #Cat #Xenofiction #Daisy #Spotfur #Never Love An Anchor #The Crane Wives

[consistantscreaming]

I'm relistening to The Magnus Archives, and I made a list of Actual Canonical Details we as a fandom forget about

- sasha gets coffee from a specific coffee shop every morning

- Jon has an excellent sense of direction

- canonically in artifact storage there is: a wardrobe light cannot penetrate, a carved rock eye that interferes with the video cameras and therefore is kept in a black velvet bag, and a scalpel ride with disease no matter what they use to sterilize it, kept in a hermetically sealed plastic box

- during halloween week, they have to call in the archives as backup due to the influx of statements. jon canonically gets a good nights sleep after disproving these statements.

- Jon sincerely believes he is far too unlucky for statements to just be a hallucination

- Not-sasha asked not to be recorded multiple times

- when told he benifited from gertrude's death, jons only response was "...I didn't?"

- [daisy became police in ~2002, almost 15 years before the story starts...meaning she is canonically late thirties/early 40s

- even when compared with the paranormal, daisy considers car accidents worse

- mary keay made an eye pun "i know the institute and i haven't always seen eye to eye, as it were"

- jon noticed when ghost hunt uk stopped updating

- sasha is taller than not-sasha

- annabelle dresses like a vintage clothing store exploded on her, has bleach blonde hair and dark skin

- annabelle looked "like the type of person that talked to cleaners as if they were actual people"

- annabelle looms over the cleaner by almost a full foot, meaning she Tall

- "the moment i die will feel just the same as this one" is not just a georgie thing, it's an End thing in general, as proved in ep 70

- not-sasha tends to stay late

- martin worked at the institute in 2009

- micheal has curly sandy blonde hair

-micheal is tall

- melanie and jon are on the same wavelength, and when working together they both came to the same conclusions with the same evidence

- elias does not think daisy is smart

- georgie is observant, and pays attention to peoples behavior

- melanie thought jon killing someone with a pipe was "wildly out of character" for him

- georgie and jon have a mutual friend named Jess who thinks Hungarian food is "too Soviet"

- jon borrowed georgie's coat when he went to meet jude perry

- jon tells jude to kill him as an ultimatum every five minutes

- elias tells tim that when presented with horrors, he finds comfort in beaurocrocy

- jared hopworth is handsome with cheekbones and a jawline to die for

- georgie was canonically willing to cover for jon to the police with no context after an unpleasant breakup and after no contact for almost 5 years

- georgie grew up poor in liverpool, and had a scouse accent until she went to oxford

- basira is a huge nerd and will talk about what she's reading to anyone who will listen

- nikola makes an allusion to not having a face

- martin and melanie got along fantastically

- georgie told jon that he needs anchors

- "if something happened to you, or-or god forbid, The Admiral, I-"

- "Don't be a Stranger." georgie thinks she's funny

- michael had a childhood friend who was taken by something like michael (schizophrenic) and that's what drove him to the magnus institut-he never you over what he saw or didn't see

- Hannah is a black woman who works in the library, had a "Thing With The Milk In The Breakroom" in april 2016. Went on maternal leave to have a baby in June of 2017.

- elias enjoys scheduling

- martin zones out when he has to read a statement, and often takes little notice of his surroundings when doing so/about to do so

- martin was looking for a book called "marvelous spiritualism and the circus in tge 19th century" and a guy named tom said tim had it checked out

- danny and tim didn't talk much, but were still close

- Abigail Ellison-who tim calls abby- is a mutual friend of tim and danny's from "back home"

- tim shipped danny and abby

- out of the two of them, danny was more assertive and tim "had never been able to stand in the way of his confidence"

- tim has a big armchair, a printer, and a couch

- melanie has made everyone in the archives cry

- [basira loved wtg until it "took a weird turn in season 3" when they introduced something she thought was odd

- melanie, basira, and martin used to go out for drinks, and martin and basira were gossip buddies

- Melanie's dad had dementia relatively young, but he always remembered her. He called her "Little Moth", and her mothers life insurance helped pay for him to be put into Ivy Meadows Care Home-where he was killed by the Corruption at the hands of John Amherst before Julia and Trevor burnt it down.

- julia is in her early thirties and wears nondescript hard wearing denim

- jon thought that reading statements could be a classical addiction, but decided that even if it was he had no time to, as he put it, "experiment"

- Peter was surprised that elias killed people kimself-implying elias has people to do murders for him. what other murders did he commission

- martin and basira both noticed something wrong with melanie after the Elias Incidint when her work started to deteriorate-martin said she'd always been "quite conscientious"

- right after being told by basira that standing by with a cup of tea wasnt enough, when melanie entered the room Martin immediately offered her a cup of tea.

- Martin knocked over a stack of papers and defended himself by saying that they shouldn't have been there. the absolute madlad

- after micheal stabbed jon, jon told martin he stabbed himself with a bread knife; and martin then proceeded to A) believe him and B) not trust him with anything sharp after that

- Gerry didn't care abt what happened in the unknowing bc he's a book. jon asked if he was serious. Gerry responded that he was, in fact, dead serious.

- gerry teases jon by saying he doesn't know anything before rescinding that statement avd giving the vaguest hint possible. he's such a dickhead i love him

- gerard didn't trust gertrude-he wanted to, but she reminded him of his mother

- gerard called trevor and julia "the van helsings"

- gerry was jealous of lietner bc his mom paid so much attention to them

- mary haunted gerard for 5 years before gertrude destroyed her, and gerry cried with relief when gertrude gave him back the destroyed book

- before the unknowing, daisy was running around killing mannequins and other Strangers

- tim didn't think they would be able to stope the unknowing

- jon would rather have tim where he could see him-which is why he let tim come (guilt guilt guilt guilt GUILT GUILT GUIL GU

- basiras dad couldn't stand people who passively whined about their problems. he always said "If you don't like something, you accept it and you adapt, or you fight, and you change it. Whining doesn't help."

- Melanie was depressed before the unknowing

- jon rambles about his latest insights and melanie wants to punch him.

- martin: "it felt good, weaving my own little web." "Also, i get to burn some stuff, so that's cool"

- basira was the one to suggest that they not tell Melanie they were doing surgery

-Daisy made jon listen to the Archers. "I hate it. but it feels... good, to hate something that can't hurt me"

#the magnus archives #magnuspod #tma #jon sims tma #martin blackwood tma #basira hussain #alice daisy tonner #melanie king #georgie barker #sasha james #not sasha #tim stoker

[ego-meliorem-esse]

Stormy Eyes

The 7-year-old looking boy with boundless energy, stood atop the hill, looking down at the small church where a somber funeral was taking place. In his small hand, Alfred clutched a single flower, a blue daisy. The daisy, a simple tribute to his best friend, Davie. Alfred had returned from London with excitement, eager to share his discoveries and stories, only to discover the devastating news of Davie's passing. His young heart ached, and the weight of grief hung heavily upon him.

Throughout his short life, Alfred had always been a whirlwind of activity, his mind racing from one thought to another, his body in constant motion. His father, Arthur, had observed these tendencies with a watchful eye, understanding that his son's boundless enthusiasm often came with moments of restlessness and broken vases.

As Arthur approached his young son, he saw the boy's restless fidgeting, his hands twisting the flower stem, and his gaze darting in all directions. He knew with how much enthusiasm and excitement Alfred carried and took care of the flower on his long journey to Boston. So, having Alfred bend and break the stem was a certain cause for concern. He recognized his boys fidgeting and what it stood for. An understanding that had developed over years of being Alfred's father and mentor.

"Alfred," Arthur said sternly, yet without a hint of annoyance. His voice carrying the weight of centuries of history and responsibility. Arthur looked down from the hill to the quaint church where a crowd of silhouettes gathered, and with an almost inaudible "Ah." understood the weight of the situation. He looked down at his son, his eyes softened with concern. "I'm sorry lad."

Alfred's response was not in words but in frantic fidgeting. His young mind was trapped in a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, rendering him staring down at the destroyed flower stem he seemed to cherish only a few hours before.

Seeing his son's distress, Arthur's concern deepened. He slowly kneeled down, reached out and gently held Alfred's face in his hands, physically anchoring the restless child and forcing their eyes to meet.

"Alfred," Arthur said firmly once again, his voice breaking through the chaos in Alfred's mind. "Focus, my son. You must."

Alfred's tear-filled eyes finally met his father's, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Arthur could see his son's eyes trying to suppress more tears from welling up. The effort was unsuccessful, because as soon as Alfred took a breath, all the supressed tears fell all at once. Through all that his boy didn't make a single sound.

Arthur's words continued, his voice carrying the weight of wistom obtained by blood and violence. "My boy, your life will be a lonely but fulfilling one. You will meet many people, nations, enemies and friends along the way. Each one will leave a mark on your heart, just as your friend here did." Arthur didn't dare look away at the funeral for the friend he just mentioned in fear of loosing Alfred to his own mind once again.

Arthur's voice almost quivered as he spoke of Alfred's lost friend. "Remember them, Alfred. Remember them all, and carry their memories with you. Your existence, my dear boy, is both a solitary journey and a shared one. You are not alone in this world of nations."

He paused, his grip on Alfred's face unwavering. "Your restless spirit is a part of who you are, Alfred, and it's a gift. Use it to carry the torch for those who have gone before us and for those who will come after. You have the strength within you to focus when it truly matters. Because, my son, when you do, miracles will happen."

He released his son and instead of going back to fidget with the plant, Alfred stood still and kept looking at his father.

As the funeral procession continued below, father and son remained standing on that grassy hill. Arthur's words seemed to echo back and forth in the young boys mind, his ocean eyes finally resembling calm waters. In that moment Arthur was reminded of stormy nights at sea and the calm morning that followed.

He was always good at sailing through the storm.

#hetalia #hws england #hws america #meli speaks #myart #my art #historical hetalia #i hate hate hate the anatomy here pls dont focus on that im begging #will i ever let these two live a non dramatic life #no. #my wriring #meli writes #hetalia fanfiction #alfred f jones #arthur kirkland

[formulapai]

24 REASONS I LOVE YOU!

some Lando Norris fluff headcanons🧡

scenario: 24 reasons you love Lando for his 24th birthday

warning:

pai’s words: happiest birthday to our papaya man, may health and joy fill your days 🧡

1. His laugh

It’s not supposed to be funny, especially not to you, but it’s early in the morning and you’ve spent the night playing video games with him, not resting for a minute or two. With a tired mind and bleary eyes, you stare as your character gets ejected off the track for the nth time this game, the lakitu riding a cloud getting you back on the track. Only for your Daisy to fall a few meters later. This plants the last nail in the coffin and Lando lets his explosive giggles fall free from his mouth, slapping his thigh and doubling over. You’re frustrated, tired and cranky, so really, this shouldn’t make you laugh. But he’s almost rolling in the floor, and his laugh is so contagious, filling the room with its high pitched tone, and suddenly you’re cackling with him as the race is still going on, both of your characters stopped in the middle of the track.

2. His eyes

The storm is raging outside their bedroom, angry flashes of white slipping through the closed curtains. The sky is playing a fast paced symphony, each booms louder than the last. It’s getting closer, or so the medias say, and the lump in your throat is getting bigger. Your heart is doing somersaults in your chest, you can feel your stomach drop at each noise, each flash of light. You’re laying in the middle of the bed, immobilized by your fear of storms, while your boyfriend is still unaware of it all, playing with Max, his headset blocking the sounds. It takes a blackout, and a single screech coming from you at the loss of comfort provided by your bedside lamp, to have him rush to you, apologies hanging on his lips. Only when he lays beside you, firm hands holding your face as he murmurs reassurances, you feel at peace, his sparkling eyes staring directly into yours. You may not be enamored with lightning, but you have to admit that the way it lights his blue eyes up at every strike, angry white flash instantly softened by the calm blue, is mesmerizing.

3. His hands

The crowd is particularly loud as you make your way to the paddock, left hand locked with your dear’s right one. You’re not particularly a fan of big crowds and packed spaces, but this is part of the contract, and the price’s worth the trouble. Singapore is buzzing with life and chatters, Lando barely containing his joy at the prospect of seeing his coworkers, his friends, and racing despite the weather. During all weekend, his hands act as your anchor, wether it’s resting on your waist, wrapped around your wrist, caressing your back or ruffling your hair to annoy you.

4. His words of encouragement

It’s a known fact that Lando is transparent about his mental health, doing his best to encourage fans and other drivers, public figures, to speak up about their struggle. He’s doing the exact same thing with you, always ready to listen to your ranting and give you some advices. Even when he’s particularly low, he’s pushing you to open up and share your every thoughts.

5. His friends

Now, this might sound strange. But Lando really knows how to surround himself with kind souls, having learned from past mistakes. Max, in particular, is someone you’re fond of to your boyfriend’s despair. One of your favorite thing to do together is make fun of him, during livestreams and off, he can never get one second of peace when you’re together.

6. His sass

This one is fully expected with him, but it never fails to amuse you. You’re at a club tonight, celebrating a night off while your boyfriend’s acting as a DJ. You’re hanging out with your favorite girls, Lily and Carmen, their respective boyfriends away to get some drinks while you’re dancing the night away. In the corner of your vision, you see a man coming your way, his intention very clear with the way he’s staring at you, so you choose to ignore it and fully turn to your girls. The man’s attempts at approaching you is not lost on Lando either, and he’s pleased to see him stop dead in his track when he notices the song the DJ is now playing, an electro remix clearly telling him to fuck off. He can’t hide his smug smirk when their eyes meet.

7. His moles

He’s laying next to you in the messy bed, sweat clinging to his skin, the morning sun hitting his back and highlighting his many moles. Both of you are spent, well loved and content, and as Lando moves to snuggle his face in your chest, your hands naturally come to stroke his back, circling around his moles, making him giggle.

8. His little notes

It happens whenever he’s leaving before you wake up, only for you to find out later. He likes to steal your “pretty writing stuff” and leaves you small notes in the kitchen, in the living room, right bedside the entryway, even in your bathroom. It ranges from I love you’s to random facts he knows you’re going to ask him about, and he knows he’s right when he receives texts from you later during the day.

9. His kisses

While you love each and every of his kisses, the ones he leaves on your lips in his driver’s room, almost late to his interviews are your favorite. He wants to stay by your side until the very last second, basking in each other while everyone is waiting for him. He doesn’t care about getting nagged at by his team, he only wants to enjoy your lips and takes his sweet time doing so.

10. His jpg account

Well, it quickly became a fan account dedicated to you after you announced your relation. He spends hours touching his photos up, sharing his thoughts with you about contrast, shadows and whatsoever. When he’s chilling on the couch, head resting on your lap, he takes his phone out and answers some comments, showing you funny ones, and mindlessly scrolling through his own account to admire his artwork once more.

11. His scent

It’s a known fact that he mixes all his perfume together, he proudly talks about it during interviews. While it sounds strange and not appealing at all, the notes of his perfumes all go surprisingly well together, creating a deep, masculine fragrance. It slowly clings to each and every one of your furniture and clothes, warming your heart.

12. His curls

He’s had some questionable haircuts but he learned to appreciate his curls and now can’t go back, not that you’re complaining. It stays in a fluffy mop on top of his head, shiny and silky. You won’t admit it but you clearly are jealous of his curls, so defined and soft when he doesn’t even do anything special to it. You found yourself running your fingers through it more often than not, letting him bask in the attention as he nearly purrs.

13. His teammate

Once again, strange thing to say. But Oscar is a special someone to you, and to your relationship most importantly. He was the first to know about his crush, much more observant than he lets on, and the one to watch it all unfolds before his eyes.

14. His sisters

They’re your sisters too, now, having adopted you even before you two were aware of your feelings. You have a special space for them in your heart, and so does Lando. While he’s not often free, when he is and it’s coordinated with his sister Flo competitions, he’s the first one to show up with you by his side. Both of you are also making time for Cisca, the oldest sister, and she absolutely adores you for that.

15. His brother

Oliver is pretty busy, but he’s always thrilled to have you around. He completely trust you to take care of Athena and Mila with Lando, secretly betting with his sisters about when you’ll have a child, or if you’ll have any at all. You once had to call him up in the middle of the night, after you accidentally broke Lando’s sim when you tripped on it, he wasn’t pleased.

16. The rest of his family

Obviously, you can not NOT put them. They make you feel welcomed and safe at all times, truly happy their boy has found someone like you to share his life with. You two are good for each other and they all know it, considering you part of the family from the very beginning.

17. His hatred towards fish

Not because you share it, but because you find it absolutely hilarious. Even now, Carlos still brings it to the table every chance he gets, and Lando stands his ground while you make fun of him. At this point, you know he’s too stubborn to ever admit he might not hate it as much as he claims, and he’ll die on that hill if he has to.

18. His driving habits

You’re in his car, a true passenger princess as he drives the vehicle around the south of France. The windows are down and music is blasting from the radio, he has one hand stroking your thigh while you’re munching on some snacks he stocked up especially for you. He’s careful with his turns as he knows your coffee is still full and at risks of spilling, and he parks under a tree so you won’t complain about the burning leather seat when you come back in the car. He knows your habits as well as you know his, and it’s a match made in heaven.

19. His love for dogs

Yes, you’re more of a cat person, but seeing him with cute dogs is the best part of your day. Ie he could have a tail, it’d be wagging as hard as the puppy’s he’s currently petting. He doesn’t want any pet yet, it’s not ideal with your lifestyle, which explains his joy when he sees one in the street. Fans know this by now, so more often than not, they come and see you two accompanied with their dog and it never fails to put a smile on his face.

20. His understanding nature

Sometimes all you need is some peace and quiet, alone in your bed. Lando knows it, and while he much prefers when you talk to him, he respects your needs and patiently waits for you while he busies himself. He knows you’ll come to him when you’re ready, he also knows he sometimes acts the same way, which makes him well aware of how you might feel if he pressures you into talking.

21. His shirts

It’s a common occurrence now, you steal them too often to pretend you do not do it on purpose. He knows it and it amuses him deeply, to see you prance around in his shirt as if you own it, even if you kind of do by now. If he buys some clothes by two so he can still match with you when you steal them, it’s a secret.

22. His texts

They can be tooth rotting sweet, but they can also be completely unhinged. He’s not good at answering his friends or his team, but he’s a pro when it comes to you. Bonus points for the memes oh himself he sends at random hours of the day.

23. His brand

Quadrant is his pride and joy, and it’s now yours too. If it were up to you, you’d be a human advertising panel, wearing the merch from head to toe. He’s always so proud when seeing people in the streets wearing some of his shirts, and secretly takes photos so he can show them to you when he’s able to.

24. His love

It’s sweet and warm, electric and hypnotizing, it’s all you ever wanted before meeting him. He loves like he does everything else, with his whole soul. He’d take the world down for you if you ever asked him to, he’d do everything he could to make you happy. He’s clumsy at times, unsure and careful, but he’s trying his best to be the one for you, even if he already is. He loves you with everything he has.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris fluff #f1 fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

[rillils]

There were times, back then, when Steve was sure he wasn’t going to pull through.

When the fever had consumed him for days, and the breath burned thick in the back of his throat, and Steve felt himself slip too close to the dark place that lived behind his eyelids, across the threshold of his consciousness.

Death, he thought: hovering like a loving mother at his side.

He could feel it, like a cold whisper gusting against his skin, chilling him with words of warning. Soon, it said; and Steve was too weak to do anything but lie there and listen.

He tried to tell Bucky once, drifting out of a delirious sleep.

“If… if death came tomorrow...”

“You’d punch him in the face,” Bucky shushed him softly, carding his fingers through Steve’s hair. The healthy warmth of his hand felt nearly cool against the fevered heat of Steve’s skin, and Steve leaned blindly into the soothing touch, sighing his relief as Bucky’s knuckles stroked his cheek.

Bucky. The world seemed to be fading at the edges, like a sheet of paper burning from the outside in, curling ash-black and falling away piece by piece; but Bucky was still there.

Bucky was made of gentleness and sound, sweet like the sweet nothings he poured in Steve’s ear when Steve slept fitfully, swept into his feverish haze and lost to the world for hours on end.

Bucky was touch: an anchor. Bucky was color, familiar and dependable, like the blue of the sky, the yellow heart of daisies, the stain-black of charcoal.

Steve glimpsed the downturned corners of his mouth, his lovely lovely mouth, red like ripe apples. Steve had dreamed of kissing it once. Twice. Every other night.

Bucky’s cheeks were so pale. His eyes looked so tired, circled by the bruise-like purple of his skin.

He hadn’t been sleeping, Steve knew. Steve had been sleeping, though – he’d stolen Bucky’s share of it while his body burned up from the inside.

“Buck,” Steve rasped, his voice thin and crusty, like plaster peeling off the wall. “If... if I go...”

Bucky shook his head, one curl coming loose from the once careful sweep of his hair. His pretty lips quirked up, a slip of a smile found so easily like he’d rehearsed it a dozen times before.

“Nah. You’re not going anywhere,” he said, collecting Steve’s hand to cradle it in both of his.

Steve’s head lolled sleepily on his pillow, lured by the sound of Bucky’s trembling voice.

“Buck.”

“Shh. You’re staying right here, where I– where I can keep an eye on ya.”

Silence spilled in the room, just for a moment – the space of a sniffle, of a soft, shivery exhale.

“Gotta make sure you don’t get into trouble, don’t I?”

One of Bucky’s hands left him briefly, and when it enveloped him again, there was a wetness there; one little drop trickling from the bridge of his finger, to land cool on Steve’s skin.

“Just. Just like I promised.”

And Steve knew then.

If Death did come; if it seized his wrist with its bone-thin fingers and bade him to follow, Now, child, it is time, Steve would say: No. He’s not ready.

He would think of the apple-red mouth he had never kissed yet, save for in his dreams; of the love he hadn’t quite begun to shape into words. He’d think of the life he’d only just caught a glimpse of, stretched far on the road ahead of him, twined with Bucky’s own as they reached into the future, together. Simply. Always.

No, Steve would tell Death. He’s not ready.

And neither am I.

#stucky #stevebucky #not sure what this is or where it came from but you know how it is #sometimes the thingie just gets stuck in your brain and keeps on knocking until you let it out #*screeches softly* #rillers scribbles #prewar stucky #preserum steve

[jamiesfootball]

Anyways. Back before season three aired, my working theory for What Ted's Deal was - with his advice to Jamie, with the panic attacks that were layered Jamie and his son - that it would turn out that his late father had also been abusive, but that with his father's death Ted had never processed it.

Obviously the show didn't go that route, but in general these were the points that I was daisy-chaining together to build something of a narrative flow:

Ted preaches kindness and positivity but also struggles with his own repressed anger and inability to be direct in what he wants. He continually, pathologically, puts people before himself, to the point that it's becoming a breaking point in his marriage.

Ted repeatedly praises 'women' for being the more emotionally intelligent of the genders. He looks at toxic masculinity as not just a thing to be examined and overcome, but the root of why men struggle.

He himself is a product of the same toxic male behavior, and while he tries to lead by example as an individual, there's a part of that culture that he almost sees as... natural? Like a foregone conclusion. A lot of his methods for dealing with the team in season one happen within the same social boundaries he decries. If he can get Roy to step up, if he can get Roy and Jamie to stop fighting and call a truce, then everything else will fall in place, because men follow a hierarchical structure. This is How Locker Rooms Work, and-

I always go back to Jamie's first, open receptiveness to Ted's 'one in eleven' speech as the first sign that Ted doesn't know how to deal with things directly. This scene reads as Ted being very taken aback by Jamie's willingness to listen. It has shades of their later scene at the Crown & Anchor in it, with Ted being the one who pulls away from a conversation that has the ability of getting emotionally direct and real.

Ted's repressed anger. His shouting at Jamie in 1x06 over practice, but also his shouting at Nate when Nate tries to stuff the letter under his hotel room door.

Ted emotionally reaches for the bottle like. A noticeable amount of times. But especially when he's getting divorced.

Every Sunday afternoon Ted's father used to take him to a sports bar. From age of 10 til 16.

Ted's mom is completely incapable of being direct

Ted and his mom never processed or talked about his dad's death

Ted looks devastated when he sees Jamie with his father in the boot room, but ultimately walks away

Ted sends Jamie a token to show he's not alone (Ted soldier)

Next time Jamie tries to talk to Ted at the bar, Jamie opens with addressing the subject directly (the Ted soldier) and Ted deflects. Asks about City. Won't look him in the eye. Doesn't say anything to Jamie admitting he left City to piss off his dad. He just says that line about how sometimes having a tough dad is what makes you better.

He thought he knew what he was doing [about Jamie] but Sam 'went and unsettled it.' Some people aren't lucky enough to have good dads.

Ted welcomes Jamie back but keeps his distance (much more than in season 1).

Ted begins having panic attacks that feature Jamie and his son.

Ted admits panic attacks linked directly to his father's death.

So this takes us through season two, and at this point my working theory was what if it turned out that Ted most of Ted's Ted-ness had been an active effort on his own part to become something less like his own father? It would explain his disdain for male-coded behaviors while also explaining why he seems unable to truly break away from them. it would explain his people-pleasing habits (and meeting his mom and knowing she is also allergic to asking for things, I think this could still fit as a trauma response). It would explain his putting women on a pedestal, if he had a bad male role model to begin with. It would explain how his demeanor around Jamie changes so much when they have the 'tough dads' talk turning into something closed off when his body language with Jamie has always been open before (and there's a lovely parallel with how they're both sat at the bar in that shot too). Hell it would add additional weight to that talk if it turned out he was also speaking of himself. His panic attacks would make sense, seeing himself in Jamie but also his son and his own role as a dad.

That, plus Ted being a character we regularly see drinking something harder than wine or beer, usually when he's emotionally stressed. Plus Ted's dad bringing him to a sports bar every Sunday for years, and at a young age too. Plus Jamie's dad being an alcoholic. That's where I thought this was going- I thought it would turn out that the late Lasso had also been an alcoholic and a tough dad. It just seemed the obvious conclustion at the time, to make the Ted & Jamie parallel into a full parallel.

Then you add in the fact that Ted married his college sweetheart and then waited until they were in their thirties before having a kid (In the midwest. Where he definitely would've been pressured about it) and all of this to me added up to a troubled man who struggled with the idea of becoming a father long before he had a son. Someone who spent years creating a facade, pretending (like his mom) that things were okay. Someone who maybe never felt right blaming his dad for any of it, not when it became so clear at the end how much his dad was struggling.

Only to have that facade crumble the second someone else from similar circumstances showed up to challenge it.

His dad was a product of his time, the same way that Ted is a product of his dad, the same way men are just a product of toxic masculinity, and Ted doesn't know how to 'deal' with any of it but he'd thought he'd gotten to the point in life where he had some solutions. Only to find that those solutions didn't work when held up to a mirror.

So yeah. That was my theory. Then season three happened, and I realized that unfortunately my theory had a flaw. See, I was so busy looking for a Watsonian diagnosis that would make Ted's idiosyncrasies make sense, that I completely missed the fact that the problem was Doylist to begin with. The show writers never meant for us to read into all of that, because the show writers themselves didn't see anything contrary, worrisome, or tone-deaf about Ted's behavior. Not from a toxic masculinity standpoint, and certainly not from the standpoint of discussing abuse of a male character.

It's not Ted who dismisses Jamie's dad's abuse. It's the writers. Which unfortunately means, since Ted by extension is the show, that it is Ted. Which is why all of us are left watching scenes like the 'tough dads' scene or the Mom City scene and going-

What the hell, Ted?

#apologies if this is rather rambly #i think i lost the point a few times #anyways here. have an old theory that got axed with the rest of them #though I stand by the idea that Ted also had depression in season three #ted lasso #jamie tartt #ted lasso meta #cw suicide mention #for Ted's dad #cw abuse #for jamie and (in this version) ted's dad #this is the longer version of the previous post that I mentioned in the tags

[aaron-m-geist-ff]

NOT EVEN GONNA LIE ZODIAC ASKS ARE SUCH A COOL IDEA!!! 😭 AFTER STALKING YOUR PROF- AHEM SORRY- READING YOUR WORK- couldn't resist the irresistible energy to toss my hat into the ring *wink wonk*. A-KNEE-WAYZ we're twinning- I'm a gemini tooo 🤭🔫 and honestly I would love something fluffy (tho I wouldn't say no to some smut either teeheee) life's been stressful lately :(( I'm pretty new to the fandom so I'm rather curious to see what you'll give me 👀...OH and I use she/they pronouns :))

PS: May I ask you what your favorite flower is?

PPS: Your writing is phenomenal, imma go stalk your ao3 later

Signed,

Your newest supporter.

Omg your ask made me smile so much because of how absolutely unhinged it is 😂you can stalk me all you want! And I could already tell you were a Gemini just from the first sentence 🤣A-KNEE-WAYZ, I will give you what you want now!

Ps: I like white daisies and any red flower ☺️

Pps: thank you for supporting me so strongly, twin!🩷💅🏻

_______________________________________________

You got…🥁🥁🥁

Satoru Gojo!

“Oh my god!! And then, you will never believe what happened next, my co-worker actually told me that her step daughter got cheated on! Isn’t that crazy?! I was so shocked, clutching my pearls and everything!” You continued to ramble on and on about one of your crazy stories.

Gojo sat there with his blindfold on, taking a sip of his soda as he listened patiently.

“Satoru, are you even listening to me?” You stopped telling your story all of a sudden to ask the question.

“Am I talking too much?” You asked. You were beginning to feel insecure. In the past, people used to straight up start ignoring you because of how much you talked. You really valued your boyfriend’s opinion of you and didn’t want him to end up disliking you for some reason. You couldn’t hide the concerned look on your face.

Gojo chuckled.

“Nah, baby. Talk all you want. I’m listening~”

He sounded so fucking dominant when he said that. It actually made your cheeks start to heat up. You weren’t one to get flustered easily, but having Gojo order you to talk more did stupid things to your Gemini brain.

Gojo smirked when he saw your blush. He rested his chin on his hand, leaning back on the couch.

“In fact…Come sit on my lap while you continue that story of yours.”

Gojo’s voice was so attractive to you. It made you nervous. And the idea of sitting on his lap made your heart do a flip in your chest. As a Gemini, you have a tendency to be a little too flighty. Your mind is often all over the place. Gojo enjoys being your anchor.

You sat on his lap, facing him as you straddled him. Your cheeks were flushing so much out of embarrassment. You swallowed thickly, wrapping your arms around Gojo’s neck.

“Right…So, anyway…W-where was I in the story? I think I lost my train of thought-“ you stuttered.

Gojo’s large hands moved to grip your ass. He squeezed it casually.

“Your co-worker’s step daughter got cheated on and you clutched your imaginary pearls,” he said with a short laugh.

You giggled, trying to ignore the arousal flowing through you.

“Y-yeah! Sounds about right!” You chirped cheerfully. It made you really happy that Gojo remembered those little details. He seemed to pay attention to you just like he promised. It made your heart feel warm to be appreciated in such a way.

_____

“Ha…Y-yes…Right there, Satoru-“

You moaned quietly, your face pressed into Gojo’s neck as you rode his cock. You could feel the tip pressing into your special spot, sending little shocks of pleasure through you.

“And what happened next in the story?” Gojo teased lowly, uttering the words right beside your ear.

You whined. “Satoruuu! I can’t….ha, fuck… I can’t talk-“

You were always quite vocal during sex, and how could you not be?? Gojo fucked you too well. He chuckled at your pathetic response.

“Oh? My little Gemini can’t talk anymore? Must feel really intense, babe.”

Gojo gripped your hips as he began to fuck you from below, pushing his cock up into your tight entrance. He moaned under his breath, getting lost in the feeling as he thrusted roughly without any hesitation.

“Fuck…Gonna fill you up, princess.”

#satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru headcanons #satoru gojo x female reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo #gojo x you #gojo smut #satoru smut #imagines #headcanons #gojo #satoru #gemini

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate Vessel (Sleep Token): Pt 4; “We can’t make any promises…”

“Daisy.”

Time felt like it was frozen.

My eyelids were heavy, vision dark beneath their shadow. At the sound of my name, I took a deep, anticipatory breath, chest sinking at its exhale. I struggled to open my eyes because I was so entranced in this moment, this sweet moment. After another slow breath, I came to, like I was dipping my head above water.

Oliver looked down at me, a heaviness sitting in his gaze, as if he had been running for miles and was just not finding rest at my hips. “Daisy,” he said, the corners of his slickened lips rising into the hollows of his cheeks. “Darling.”

I grinned up at him, one hand clutching the front of his hoodie and the other tangled with his hair at the nape of his skull. I didn’t know what to say. What to do. This was…uncharted territory. And the way he had just kissed me? I was beyond speechless. My brain felt dizzy. My heart rammed against my ribs.

I was on cloud nine, with no ladder back down to Earth.

“Darling,” Oliver whispered again, brushing his thumb against the apple of my cheek. His eyes drug themselves across my face, down my figure, back up to my own stare. “You are so beautiful.”

“Really?” I huffed out without really meaning to. I knew he thought I was attractive. He’d gotten a boner because of me dancing just last week. It made sense to my brain that he’d want to kiss because he wanted to fuck me. And, I remembered that first night up on the roof, he had complimented me. But, that hadn’t meant anything. That was a mindless compliment to flatter me upon first impressions.

This confession meant something else. It meant something…different. Better. More.

Oliver wanted to kiss me because he thought I was beautiful.

His brows furrowed for just the flicker of a moment, “Gorgeous.”

“I…” my eyes fell back down to his lips. The compliment, the way his eyes bore into my own, it made my mind wander.

Oliver didn’t let me struggle in the silence for too long. He leaned his head back down and took my lips into his again. I pushed my chest up against his, craving every inch of him that I could possibly consume. I swear to God I heard him sigh into my mouth, but I couldn’t exactly pin my mind on any singular, conscious thought.

If Oliver hadn’t noticed the door opening down the hall, then we would have been screwed. But, he did. And, as he pulled us inside the alcove of Sam and I’s hotel door, I finally registered Adam and Cyrus’ voices approaching us.

Oliver pressed his back against the wall and he turned his head as we anticipated their passing. He was clutching my hand, his fingers entwined with my own. I stared down at the chain connecting us. I couldn’t really be concerned about the danger when his touch was so warm. The spots on my body where he had once been were now cool, a nippy reminder of the fire he had sparked on me.

As Adam and Cyrus approached, I finally looked up from our hands. Oliver glanced at me, brows furrowed worriedly. I bit down onto my bottom lip like an anchor. Maybe they would just turn around, go back to their room? I considered dragging Oliver into the room behind us, but that would wake Sam. And that was a much bigger problem than the one at hand. He would throw a bitch fit if he somehow found out Oliver had so much as lingered a gaze across my skin.

No matter how hard I tried to manifest that Adam and Cy would b-line for their room, they were beginning to walk past us. Oliver quickly let go of my hand, shot across to the other side of the alcove from me. He leaned, casually, against it, hood somehow back up over his head again.

I crossed my arms over my body, face scrunched up as I tried to communicate with Oliver. What do we say?!

He shook his head, lips pressed together. “It’s okay,” he mouthed. Then, his eyes shot over to Adam and Cyrus.

Neither of them even turned to look at us. They were walking right past, caught up in a conversation about some video game. Cyrus, closest to us, glanced behind him just before they were out of sight. I felt my heart sink to my knees as I braced for impact.

“Oh, hey, guys,” he sent a wave over his shoulder. Adam looked at who he was talking to and smiled at Oliver and I.

Oliver nodded his head, looking away from them. I waved, an overly-enthusiastic smile on my lips. “Hey,” I breathed out. It sounded like I had no air in my lungs, like someone was choking me. But, I hoped they wouldn’t notice.

If they had, they just didn’t care.

We waited until we heard the elevator doors slide close, Adam and Cyrus’ voices disappearing behind its steel doors, before we even looked at each other again. I pursed my lips, nose scrunched, eyes squinted, as I waited for Oliver to start freaking out or something. He didn’t want anyone to know we hung out- that was made obvious to me that first morning at breakfast. I hadn’t expected that to change just because he thought I was cute.

So, I expected him to get all bent out of shape over what had just happened. Instead, he let out a deep breath, a playful grin overcoming his expression.

“Those two are dopey as fuck,” he chuckled slighty, stepping towards me. “I should’ve known they wouldn't say anything.”

My head leaned back as he towered over me, my expression shifting into one of confusion. “You’re not worried?”

Oliver touched my chin, tilting my head back more, “If they suspect anything, I’ll cover us, darling. Besides, they’ve been pushing me to talk to you more. Don't you worry your pretty little head.”

I smiled, a blush rising to my face in response to his words. “Okay…” my voice trailed off as Oliver leaned in again. He pressed his lips to mine in a shallow, slow kiss. My eyes fell shut, one hand coming to rest against his chest, the other between my back and the wall as I balanced there. I felt like I could sink into the floor.

But, Oliver was holding me by the hip again. We were falling into each other, completely taken by the moment again. Then, another door, somewhere down the hall, was thrown open. We snapped apart. A set of voices followed our fright, some foreign language neither of us knew rambling between the two.

I met Oliver’s eyes, giggles shaking my shoulders. He relaxed slowly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe we should get out of the hallway,” he breathed out.

I brushed my hair behind my ears as I spoke through my laughter, “I think that’s a good idea.”

“Would you wanna…” our chuckles fell off as he began the question, “my room? Would that be okay?”

I just grinned at him, nodding too eagerly, “That would be perfect.”

Oliver offered me that sweet smile I felt so lucky to be the cause of, and held out his hand. I took it and let him lead me to his room. Once inside, the once flushed air turned awkward. I shut the door behind me and followed him into the space, somewhat familiar to me because of my drunken escapade last week. Oliver stopped at the end of his bed and turned to me. He gave an unsure smile when I met his eyes.

I made my way to stand before him, a few feet put inbetween us. Being here, truly alone together, we didn’t know what to do. I knew what I wanted to do, what I wanted him to do. But, I would never make the first move. That just wasn’t me.

Oliver examined my face for a moment. He seemed to relax, lips curling into his uncontainable smile. I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth, grinning, nervously chewing on my lip. Oliver stepped closer. He took my hand, pulling it from where my arms hugged my stomach. The movement tugged me forward. I let my other arm fall to my side before reaching for his shoulder.

Oliver lazily pulled me closer. I moved into him, taking a deep breath before he covered me with his lips and his hands. We just stood there for a while, kissing each other, soaking up the silence. Oliver was hungry, though, and he began to crave more.

His movements became sloppy, harsh. I didn’t mind- it felt good to be so lusted after like I was right now. I would, I decided, do whatever he wanted me to. Here, now in this hotel room, tomorrow, when we leave this country. Wherever, whenever, whatever.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, and pulled me into his lap, easily slotting my legs on either side of his thighs.

I held his face between my hands, so delicately, like I was cradling moonlight. His hands came to rest upon my hips as he balanced me on his lap. Oliver’s fingers dipped dangerously low on my body, barely grazing across my pj shorts that were oh so short on me.

I wrestled my fingers into his hair again, quite content to feel the smooth, soft curls on the nape of his neck. He was so…perfect. So beautiful. I kissed him harder. I must have been too excited because I felt his head flinch back when I tugged at his hair again.

Oliver moaned against my lips, squeezing my hips like a warning. “Careful, darling.”

I bit back a teasing smile, flickering my eyes open to see the pleasured expression on his face as I pulled at his hair again. Oliver responded by grabbing my ass, eliciting a gasp from between my lips. He pulled his head back from my lips, meeting my open eyes with a winner’s grin.

“I said careful.”

I chased his lips, wearing my own smile, but he dodged my kiss. “Oliver…” I whined softly.

“Patience,” he tapped his fingers against my ass, “We have so much time. Let me drink you in.”

I blushed for the millionth time at his words, watching his eyes drag down my body. I felt his fingers move against my pj bottoms again. He seemed to tug at the material a bit, ghosting the curves of my thighs.

“These are cute,” he whispered, pulling at the hem. “Little flowers.”

The way his accent rolled the words out from the plate of his tongue tickled goosebumps down my spine. This, combined with his warm hands on my skin, had me shivering.

Oliver looked dazed, lost in the view, as he continued on looking me over. I didn’t know if he wanted to memorize every inch of my skin, or if he was dragging this out to enjoy every second. Either way, the way it made me feel was heavenly.

I twirled a piece of his hair around my fingers, patiently. He finally met my gaze again.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he moved a hand to my cheek and pulled my lips back into his.

I sunk into him again, gripping at his hair so I couldn’t completely lose myself. I was, however, getting lost in him. I ached for him everywhere, in my bones, in my blood, and my hips involuntarily ground down into his. Oliver moaned against my lips. Heat rushed to every crevice of my skin.

I felt his dick harden between my legs, pressing teasingly against me. I rolled my hips again as I chased that pleasurable sensation. Oliver’s hand slid down my chin, fingers coming to a gentle close around my throat. The pads of his digits pressed into my skin.

This drew a whimpering from my lips, one that curled the corners of his lips into a sweet smirk. “You sound so lovely, darling.”

Elated by his praise, I moved my hands to the hem of his hoodie. I tugged up at the bottom and felt the smoothness of his chest beneath my fingertips. Before I could get it over his head, Oliver removed his hands off of me and took my fingers in his hold.

“Easy, Daisy,” Oliver had pulled his face back a few inches.

A sudden rush of nerves rushed into me, bringing me down from the high I had been sitting on. I opened my eyes, ashamedly, meeting his gaze. I took my lip between my teeth immediately in an anxious rumination.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, trying to read his expression. His eyes swam with some sort of hesitance that only clouded into worry when he realized I felt guilty for trying to make such a move.

He let go of my hands, quickly taking a hold of my face. He dipped his head to my level, “No, no, no. It’s okay, darling. You didn’t do anything. It’s just…” Oliver glanced over to the alarm clock on the bedside table, red digits reading an ungodly hour. He looked back at me. “I want you…so badly, Daisy. But I want to take my time with you. I don’t want to rush it. I want…as long as possible. Can we raincheck? Would that be okay? For me, darling?”

I was bright red, more than likely hot to the touch. And, I was so beyond flattered and elated by his words that I struggled to come up with something to say. I, instead, nodded slowly. Oliver grinned at my struggling response. He brushed his thumb across my cheek before leaning in to give me another kiss.

My hands found their way back up his arms, swooping across his strong shoulders, until they were back in his hair. Oliver took a gentle hold of my neck again, kissing me like he was going off to war in the morning.

As we both began to pull away, his tenderness quickly snapped into this tight hold on my throat, forcing my eyes open, keeping my head steady so I would look directly- obediently- at him. His eyes were darker now, lusted over by his seduction, “Do not leave here thinking that I said no to you because I do not want you. Do you understand me?”

I moved my chin to nod, signaling my comprehension of what felt somewhat like a threat in the most appealing way.

He squeezed my throat for just a moment which straightened the angle of my head, “Ah- use your words, darling. Tell me that you understand me. Say…”

He raised his brows. I parted my lips, managing to respond, “I-I understand.”

“Say it…you know I want you. You know I want to fuck you.”

“You want to fuck me,” my eyes had gone wide, dazed. And my mouth was dry. I darted my tongue out to lick my lips and Oliver followed the movement closely with his eyes.

“Hm,” he squinted his lids in a satisfied manner, “Good girl. I can’t wait to take my time with you, darling. Slow and sweet.”

My fingers curled into his neck. I wanted- needed- friction and almost gave in, almost ground my hips into his. But, I knew it would do neither of us any good. I wanted what he wanted- to really enjoy what had been building up for a few weeks now. Tonight was not the night for that. We had to be on the bus in just a few hours to travel all the way down to Rome.

So, I resisted the urge, the craving pulsating in my veins.

Oliver loosened his hold on my throat. He slid his hands back to my face, cradling it with a sweet smile on his face. “I’ll walk you back to your room, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I chased his lips, satisfied that he gave me a kiss so easily.

Oliver helped me to my feet. He held open the hotel room door for me, before following me out into the small alcove. We peered around both corners and made sure no one was coming from either direction. Then, we darted just outside Sam and I’s door. Oliver caught up to me quickly, grabbing me by the waist and flipping me around. He pressed my back into the door.

I giggled at his sleight of hand, bracing my hands on his chest. Oliver shushed me gently as he leaned down. His nose nuzzled into the curve of my jaw, tickling me, only encouraging more laughter from my throat.

“Oliver!” I let out a strained squeal as he proceeded to nip at my neck. “You want me to be quiet, you have to stop!”

“Oh, but, darling,” he moved his lips to my ear, taking my lobe, just above where my earlobes were clasped, in between his teeth. “I want you loud.”

I smacked his chest playfully. He leaned back, receiving a pointed finger from me, a scolding in my eyes, “You can’t say things like that. Not when we’re out in the open like this. Not when I can’t even do anything about it!”

“Patience, Daisy,” he said my name again like some prayer. “I promise I’ll make all your suffering worth it. Just like I know you will mine. After all, you were the one pressing up against me in the cab.”

I dropped my jaw, “Hey! That’s not fair! You were the one being an ass and then getting a boner the second I changed out of sweatpants!”

“I know, I know,” he rolled his eyes in a teasing manner. Then, he pressed his lips to my cheek lovingly, “I’m sorry. We can talk about it later, when I am more awake, when I can give you a proper apology. Yeah?”

I tugged him impossibly closer by the front of his hoodie, “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he kissed me, “Goodnight, darling.”

“Goodnight, Oliver.”

–

“You’ve never seen Star Wars?!?!”

It was far too early for Max’s copious amounts of energy.

I flinched at his exclamatory question, my expression twisting into some sort of stunned, exhausted, confused face. “Huh?” was all I could muster, my bottom lip hung open.

Max rolled his eyes and further pushed to the edge of his seat. His large palms were held open, offensively, “Star Wars. Jedi, the Force, Princess Leia’s golden bikini, light sabers. You know, one of the greatest movie franchises- of all time?! You’ve never seen it? How can you even be remotely related to Sam if you’ve never seen Star Wars?”

“She’s too girly for Star Wars,” Sam shook his head from his seat across Max. He shuffled the deck of cards the two men had been wearing out this entire tour.

I crinkled my nose, “You can’t be too girly for something, dickhead. I’ve just never been interested in watching it.”

“She was too busy watching My Little Pony and playing with her Barbie dolls to really appreciate George Walton Lucas, Jr.”

I picked up a throw pillow sitting beside me on the bus’ couch and hurtled it towards my brother. Because he was facing sideways from me, he didn’t see it. It smacked him in the face. He hissed at the impact, barely hurtful to his strong demeanor, and shot me a glare.

I flipped him off, beyond grumpy because of my lack of sleep. “Literally anyone can play with Barbie dolls and still like stuff like Star Wars. You’re being kind of misogynistic.”

“Yeah, you are,” Ronnie spoke up from the other couch, across from me. She set down her magazine, eyeing my brother, “Talk about tone deaf.”

Sam glanced over his shoulder at her. He huffed, clutching his cards, “It’s just a joke, guys. C’mon!”

I knew my brother wasn’t sexist. He was just…a man. A straight white man who couldn’t really help being a little prejudiced sometimes. I always called him out on it and, over the years, he had improved some of his skewed world views. This was another one that I had been working on- his incessant opinion that we had both been gendered growing up. Sure, I was a feminine woman, but because of that, Sam felt I couldn’t be complex and like masculine-oriented things, like Star Wars or, ya know, metal music. I think it didn’t help that we were siblings. Those interests were his.

Ronnie’s help would have been appreciated long before today because, for some reason, all she had to do was glare at Sam and say, “Don’t be a cuck.”

And, then, my brother was apologizing to me. In his own brotherly way.

“Daz, it’s not that you could’t like Star Wars. You were just too involved with your own stuff to give it a chance. Sorry,” he looked away from me when the word fell through his lips.

I furrowed my brows, deeply confused, yet satisfied by his apology. “...Thank you. I mean, you’re right. But, I have wanted to watch them. Give ‘em a chance.”

“Then, it’s settled,” Max tossed his pile of cards down onto the table before him, “we are having a movie day. Lemme text the boys and see if they wanna join.”

“Any chance you guys can join them?” Ronnie inquired. “Sam and I wanted to play a game on the tv today.”

I looked between each member of the conversation, eyes lingering slightly on my brother and the boys’ manager. Sam met Ronnie’s eyes and seemed to read something there that no one else could quite see. I scrunched my brows again, tilted my head to the side. Curious.

Max, who had pulled his phone from his back pocket to start texting- I assumed- Adam and Cy, paused and looked up, “Hm? Oh, I mean…is that okay with you, Daz? Watch on their bus?”

It took me a moment to catch Max’s gaze, too focused on my brother, but I replied, “Yeah. I don’t mind. But, I might fall asleep at some point.”

“No worries,” Max waved me off. “We’ll switch next stop.”

The next stop was two hours later, in some random Italian town. The buses gassed up, Ronnie and I ventured into the station for some snacks. When inside, away from the prying ears of the boys’, my curiosity got the better of me.

“So, Ronnie,” I leaned up against the drink cooler beside the one she was looking at. I tried not to be creepy about my investigation, but I was too tired to play it cool.

She raised her brows expectantly, eyeing me from the side, “Yeah, Daz?”

“I’m just curious- you have anybody special in your life?” I shrugged, bottom lip jutted out in a I’m-totally-laid-back kind of manner.

Ronnie let the cooler door fall shut as her eyes narrowed slightly. As hard as her exterior was, I was very good at reading people. I saw her face flicker, with some sort of deception, “No. Why?”

“Like I said, just curious,” I waved her off, “I have some cute friends from college you might be int-”

“No, thanks,” she gave me a strained smile and b-lined away from me. I watched her back retreat, satisfied with the way she reacted.

So, something was definitely going on here.

Max was gracious enough to take my pillow, blanket, and book bag to the boys’ bus without me having to ask him. It was a pleasant surprise when I headed out from the station and Max waved me over to the other vehicle, cradling my items in his hands. I bid Ronnie farewell and she shot me a humored, “Good luck.”

As I approached Max, I gave him a sweet smile. “Thanks for grabbing that.”

“The sooner we get you on this bus, the sooner we can change your life,” Max rushed out, hurrying me up the steps.

I nearly stumbled over my feet, but managed to make it up inside the bus in one piece. “Oh- okay!” I breathed out.

Max stepped past me, carefully laying my pillow and blanket down on the couch in a folded pile. He abandoned my back pack on the floor, quickly making his way to the television to grab the remote control. I watched him for a moment, overwhelmed by his energy. Then, I turned my attention to Cy and Adam, who were both sitting on the other couch.

I offered up a smile, greeting them with, “Good morning, guys,” as I took a seat with my things.

“Morning, Daz,” Adam waved back.

Cy had a drum pad sitting on his lap and he focused on practicing some rhythms. He spared me a kind smile and said, “Hello.”

I situated my pillow against the armrest of the couch before laying back against it. Then, I spread my blanket overtop of me. I had my legs bent, knees close to my chest, to save room for Max, who was getting the movie booted up. After he finished, he rushed over to me. He didn’t take his eyes off the movie as he lifted up my legs and pulled them across his lap. My heart nearly melted at his loving gesture. Put aside his silly flirtations- Max was quickly becoming like a big brother to me.

Now that I was comfortable, the exhaustion of the past 12 hours began sinking back in. On top of getting up early for this travel day, I hadn’t gone to sleep until nearly 3am. Oliver and I’s encounter lasted a while longer than I thought. By the time I laid down, it was 3am. And we were due on the bus by 6.

I hadn’t seen Oliver since it happened, either. He must’ve managed to sneak onto this bus before I’d boarded mine. And it wasn’t like we’d text each other. I think Sam had sent me a notes app file with every important phone number I’d need over this summer trip, but I wasn’t going to go out of my way to message him. What would I ever say? Hey, had fun sitting in your lap last night, let’s do it again sometime! Or, hey why the fuck did you treat me like shit for the first few weeks of this tour and then suddenly you want to fuck me? Get real.

I wanted answers, of course. But, more than anything else, I wanted his hands on my body. He made me feel a way I hadn’t before- probably ever in my life. And we’d only just kissed. Everything about him was entrancing, from his words, to his lips, to his smile. I wanted to know every inch of his skin and every corner of his mind.

I didn’t know if I was entitled to that. If he’d ever give me that. Because I didn’t know what he wanted from me.

What did I want?

I realized I should probably ask myself that question. It didn’t matter what he wanted from me- I could not live my life trying to fit myself into the molds that people made for me. No, I could only be what I wanted- do what I wanted.

And I wanted…What, exactly?

My last few relationships hadn’t exactly gone well. From one failed long term relationship, to the next, I had jumped around a few times, from loser man to loser man. Not only did they provide me with loads of trauma, but they also sucked in bed. So, between having poor trust issues when it came to commitment and unsatisfied sexual urges- I didn’t really think I was looking for anything too serious. That was probably for the best, considering me and Oliver’s position.

Maybe we could just be, like, fuck buddies? I could learn to ignore the butterflies that fluttered in my ribcage when he’d say my name.

Right?

This was for the best.

Adam was only half-paying attention, scrolling lazily on his phone. Cyrus continued practicing on his drum pad. It nearly lulled me to sleep just ten minutes into the movie, but I tried to stay awake for Max. He kept looking over at me with an excited grin. I fought back yawns and sleepy stretches. But, I knew I wouldn’t be able to last much longer.

Once my brain quieted down from the noise that was Oliver, about an hour into the movie, I dozed off. When I woke up, the ending credits were playing. I shook myself awake, pushing up off the couch, so I was sitting up more.

Max tore his eyes off the television once he felt me moving around. He looked back at me with a gentle smile, “Morning, angel.”

“I’m so sorry,” I pressed a hand over my mouth as I yawned, “I didn’t mean to doze off. I wanted to watch the movie with you guys.”

Max patted my calf, “It’s alright. Seems like you need a good rest day. Adam and Cy abandoned us, anyways.”

I glanced to the other couch with a frown, “Aw, no. Now, I feel worse for leaving you all alone to watch the movie.”

“S’okay! Oliver joined me. He makes good company because he doesn’t ever say much,” Max nudged my side with his elbow, playfulness in his eyebrows.

At the sound of that name, I stiffened up a bit. My gaze cast across the room and found the darkly-clad figure seated where Adam and Cy had been. He had his long legs stretched out over the couch, face sunken beneath his hood, one arm bent up underneath his head. I drug my eyes down his body. A familiar warmth bubbled in my chest. He looked so fuckable. I had this thing for laps…And his looked pretty comfy.

Self-conscious, I pushed myself up off the couch more. Oliver didn’t even look over at me and he probably wouldn’t, but I wanted to be sure that if he did, I didn’t look like a mound of flesh and bone. I couldn’t really save my appearance when it came to my outfit and face, which I knew both looked unkempt.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe for the rest of the movie. I tried not to look his way too much, knowing that Max already had cautious suspicions of our interactions. But, he was so invested in the movie, I was sure he wouldn’t even notice if I did. Once the film finally ended, Max shot up from the couch to load the next one.

His back was turned to Oliver and I as he switched disks. I spared a glance to Oliver and a rush of heat shot through my body when I found his eyes. He grinned at me.

I flushed, surely bright red, and couldn’t help but smile back. He then glanced to his phone and flicked his head back to me, as if to suggest I pick mine up. I had been too stiff- or passed out- to have even looked at mine in the past three hours. I found it lodged in between my hip and the couch. I hadn’t even noticed the pressure on my waist until now.

I unlocked my phone, expecting to see a text from him, or something of that sort. But, there wasn’t anything. I scrunched my brows at Oliver, mouthing, “What?”

He made sure Max was still distracted before moving his thumbs across his phone screen, “Text me,” he mouthed.

I rolled my eyes at him. Then, I found his number in my saved contacts and typed out a message.

Daisy: you seriously dont have my #? wtf

Oliver: sorry :/ felt awkward asking anyone for it

Daisy: totally kidding, idgaf

Oliver: oh says the creep who already had mine

Daisy: for safety purposes

Oliver: mhm im sure its not because you want to booty call me or smth

Daisy: i dont booty call u freak

Oliver: i dont believe you

Daisy: im not a crusty ass man get real

Humored by the situation, I looked over to see if he had any visible reactions to my messages. His lips were pressed together in a thin line, as though he was biting back a smile.

My phone buzzed as he messaged me, but I was still looking at him. It was a struggled to look away. After a moment too long passed, he looked to see what I was doing. He met my gaze and I swear that a red flush painted his cheeks. I couldn’t look long enough to decide, though, because Max was rushing back over to his seat.

He lifted my legs again, laying them down across his lap, and situated our blanket. As the beginning previews of the DVD began, Max turned to ask me, “What did you think of the first one? I probably should have asked that before I put on the next, but I’m just too excited.”

I didn’t want to break Max’s heart, but I still did not have much interest in the movie series. It could have been because I had been passed out for half of the first movie and then stiff as a board during the second half. So, it was my fault.

I fibbed because I wanted Max to have a good time, “I’m into it. We’re cooking, for sure.”

Oliver laughed from his seat, leaning up to ask. “What?

I was taken aback by the beginnings of this interaction. He never talked to me in front of others, not that he ever spoke to me much at all to begin with. So, it took me a moment to gage my own reaction, process a response. My bottom lip was jutted in slight shock.

Max giggled at his friend’s reaction to my phrasing, confused himself, it seemed, “Cooking?”

I looked at Max with furrowed brows before bringing myself back, glancing between them. “Wha-huh?”

Oliver snickered again, “What the fuck does cooking mean?”

“What do you mean? Cooking? Have you never heard that phrase?” I frowned at their lack of understanding of internet language.

“Never,” Max shook his head.

“God,” I crossed my arms in faux offense, “bunch of grandpas.”

“Hey!” Max shoved my shoulder, only pushing me further into the couch. “We are only, like, ten years older than you.”

“Speak for yourself. Six,” Oliver waved his friend off.

“Kay, but you’re sixty at heart, so…” Max trailed off, lips pursed.

“So, get real,” I mocked Max’s expression.

Max was looking at the television now, so Oliver shot me a playful smile. I flipped him off. He rose his brows at me, then quickly turned his attention to his phone. I tried not to be too eager when I went to grab my own device.

Oliver: careful, darling.dont want to add fuel to the flame

I bit back a taunting smirk, reminded by his message of how much power I had over him, still. More so, now that he knew what I tasted like, what he could do to me in return.

My thumbs moved to their own accord, typing out something I’d probably pay for later…

Daisy: make me.

Before he could even read it, I turned on Do Not Disturb and shoved my phone into my pocket.

His eyes felt like fire on the side of my face.

I would always win this game.

-

There were literally zero opportunities for us to be alone together on that bus, and I knew it was driving Oliver mad. I refused to text him for the rest of the day and instead found myself drifting in and out of sleep. For a few hours, Max forced me into one of the boys’ bunks, insisting I needed to lay down so my neck wouldn’t break.

When I came back to join all the boys, we only had an hour left on the bus. The sun had already gone down. I was a little disoriented by the sleepiness aching in my bones and the lack of sunlight. So, I waddled to my same spot on the couch like a child, wrapped up in my blanket. When Max saw me coming, he shot up from the couch, having been laying down with his legs stretched out. Oliver was on the other end, by his feet, because Adam and Cy had taken their spots back on the other piece of furniture.

Max patted the spot between him and Oliver, who was scrolling through his phone. I remembered the message I had sent earlier and felt a tiny rush of energy ruffle up under my skin.

“Lay, I just wanna sit,” I waved Max off, tucking my legs up underneath me as I sat down. I was very aware that my thigh and shoulder brushed Oliver’s and so much more aware of the shuddering breath he took when I settled in.

Max thanked me before laying back down, legs stretched out overtop my lap this time. I blocked out the conversation they were all having, dissociating into my own phone. I had a few messages I needed to catch up, some from family members back across the pond, some from friends. A few of my posts on social media, too, had been getting a little more traction because of Sam being tagged in some of them. I tried not to be too chronically online, and only checked social media every once in a while. This was one of those rare moments.

It took Oliver but two seconds to message me again. I had yet to open his text from earlier, nervous though I had been so confident earlier. I took a quiet breath before opening them.

Oliver: is that a promise? Ill hold you to it, gorgeous

Ur lucky were on this bus

Daisy: ur silly

I knew it wasn’t the greatest response, but I still was not used to this kind of talk with someone so close to me. Sure, I'd flirt with men on the internet, but I never met them. Plus, any and all sex I had had so far in my life had been extremely vanilla.

I didn’t know what else to say to him. I was nervous.

Oliver: did i make you uncomfortable?

I tensed up at the message. He was too good at reading people and called my bluff right away, it seems.

Daisy: no no im so sorry

Not at all

Oliver: its okay daisy

Its probably a lot

To go from silence to this

Ill slow down

Daisy: no its totally fine! Promise!

Pls dont slow down

I like it

Oliver: its okay if youre not ready

We dont have to do anything you dont want to

Daisy: i want you though

Oliver: and you have me

But i dont want to rush into things that are that extreme if youre not ready for them

Daisy: im very vanilla

Oliver: thats okay

We’ll get you there, darling

Im patient

Daisy: ive noticed

Its virtuous

Oliver: well i want you

But you matter more than my own desires

And i cannot have you if you are not comfortable

Does that make sense?

Daisy: it does

Its incredibly kind

Thank you

Oliver: (its the bare minimum)

Daisy: i knowwwwwwwwwwwww but still

Shhhhhhhhh

Oliver: you shush sweet girl

you just tell me when somethings too much, okay?

Just talking about it made me feel much better about everything, so I took the opportunity to give him some breadcrumbs. And I enjoyed it when I saw him squirm in his seat, out of the corner of my eye.

Daisy: yes, sir!

Oops 🤷

Oliver: youre such a tease

Daisy: ikr

The conversation sort of dulled out from there. There wasn’t much else to say. And I didn’t know if he wanted me to move our discourse into uncharted territory by asking personal questions.

Besides, we had reached the hotel and were piling off the bus within the next few minutes. Sam and Ronnie were already waiting on the sidewalk, speaking softly to each other about something seemingly unimportant. It was chilly now that the moon had risen. I shivered in my thin sweatpants and wrapped my blanket up around myself more.

“How’d you movie day go?” Ronnie noticed us approaching them and immediately turned away from my brother. I was probably reading into things, but it was almost like they had been passing secrets through their muted whispers.

As we settled before them- me, Max, Adam, Cy, Oliver- I responded, “I might’ve slept through the whole thing?”

“Figures,” Sam snorted, reaching out a large hand to ruffle my hair.

I shoved his arm away, “Oh, shut up. It’s impossible to stay awake in these bus’.”

“No, she’s so right,” Ronnie nodded along. “Speaking of bus’, does everyone have everything they need off of them? They’re just gonna be parked out back. Just wanna make sure.”

I looked around myself, ensuring I had my bag, purse, pillow, and blanket. Though, because I always second guessed my own assurance, I replied, “I think so. But I'm gonna go double check.”

“Pretty sure we’re all good,” Max spoke for him and the boys.

Ronnie nodded between us before I set my things down to move up the steps of our bus. I checked through my bunk and the couch to ensure I had everything. Certain that I did, I joined everyone back on the sidewalk, giving Ronnie a confident thumbs up.

It wasn’t until we had checked in and were heading for the elevators that I realized my phone was missing. Of course it was- I never knew where that thing was.

“Shit,” I cursed, patting my pockets frantically. Max, Cy, Adam, and Ronnie piled into the open doors of the elevator before me.

Sam moved to follow, slotting in beside Ronnie and the wall. He turned back to me when he heard my frantic rustling. “What’s wrong?”

I dropped into a squat, my stuff falling into a pile there. I unzipped my bookbag and began shuffling through it. Glancing up at him, I responded, “Can’t find my phone.”

The doors began to close and Sam moved a hand over the pockets where the doors slid back into place. “Want help looking?

Before I could respond, another crouched down beside me, hands reaching for my purse.

“S’okay. I’ve got her.”

Sam nodded and moved back into the elevator, entrusting Oliver with the situation. “Text me when you find it, kay?”

I shot him a smile and watched as the doors fell shut, a ding signaling their departure. Oliver had unzipped my purse and was looking through it casually.

“Am I gonna find any bombs or drugs in here?” He grinned up at me, eyes peering out from beneath his thick lashes.

My heart skipped a beat. I zipped my bag back up, unable to locate my phone anywhere in there. As I did, I playfully rolled my eyes at him, “Oh, all the coke and all the meth.”

“Easy there, Walter White. Not in there?” He then pointed to my bag.

I scrunch my nose with a frown, “No. Think it’s on the bus, honestly.”

���That’s okay. Let’s go see, yeah?” Oliver stood back up, my purse in his hand. He offered me his other one and gently tugged me up onto my feet.

My shoulder bumped into his, knocking the breath out of me from the close proximity. His smile got a little wider. He took my pillow from my arms, too, and began leading the way out of the hotel. It took me a second to catch up, a little jarred by his proactive role in this. Here was a guy who had been ignoring me for weeks. And, now, not only was he helping me find my lost phone, but he also wanted to fuck me. It would never make sense.

When we were alone on the bus, on the landing of the short set of stairs that led up from the door, Oliver turned back to me. “Where do you think you left it?”

“Probably just where I was sitting earlier,” I set my things down on the couch as I moved towards it. I bent over, stuffing my hands into the cushions until my knuckles hit something hard. “Yep! Like I thought.”

I turned back to him with a proud smile, phone held up like a trophy. Oliver glanced his eyes up from the space where my thighs occupied. He had been staring at my ass. His face blushed slightly as an ashamed smile took over his features.

“You ask me to be patient, then you stare at my ass and make extremely teasing comments in front of our friends,” I crossed my arms over my chest, hip popped in a scolding sort of way.

Oliver sighed, running a hand over his face, “I’m sorry, Daisy.”

He seemed genuinely distraught by my joke, so I threw it away, shoulders relaxing, worries on my lips. “Oh, no, no,” I stepped towards him, “it’s okay! I’m not…I’m not actually mad. It’s okay, Oliver.”

“No, I just owe you so many apologies,” he shook his head, meeting my eyes with a frown.

I moved closer, touching his forearm gently. His skin seemed to melt in mine, his body relaxing into my presence as he almost leaned in to me. I offered a reassuring smile, “It’s okay. I promise. Max told me…a little bit. I get it.”

“No, I…” he shrugged with another huff, “I am going to sound like a fucking cliche right now, yeah?”

“I love cliches,” I snickered as I shoved his shoulder playfully. His fingers moved into mine, squeezing my hand.

“That was cliche,” he whispered through a deep chuckle. He then continued on, “I’m not good at making friends or, like…talking to people. I talk through music cause I just…I can’t ever find the right words in real life. I always say the wrong thing.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” I shook my head, “I think…well, I’ll keep my clinical opinions to myself,” I giggled with a playful roll of my eyes.

Oliver waved me off, “I have a therapist, don’t worry. I already know what you’re gonna say. I have low self worth- trust me, I know. I’m working on it.”

“At least you are,” I offered up encouragingly, “loads of fucked up people do way worse than you and they don’t even stop to think about how it affects others. The fact that you’re beating yourself up so much about something so mild tells me everything I need to know.”

“What does it tell you?”

I kept his hand in mine, but moved the other to his chin, touching it sweetly, almost to tell him to lift it up, “That you’re a good person, Oliver. I just know it. A bad person doesn’t worry if they’re bad. A bad person doesn’t carry his friend’s drunk sister home from the bar and wipe off her makeup. A bad person doesn’t apologize, what, three times now? For simply ignoring her because he was scared of letting her in.”

He nodded sheepishly, blushing again. His gaze fell to the floor as he looked away, “It’s not just that, you know. It’s…stupid, I don’t know.”

“No, tell me,” I swept my hand over his cheek, pulling his gaze back to mine. “It’s okay.”

“I, just…” he cut himself off again, searching for the words in my eyes, “You’re trouble, Daisy. I knew it when we took those shots up on the roof. I knew then that I wanted you, in more ways than I can even fathom. But, you’re so different from me…I knew I wouldn’t be good for you. So, I didn’t wanna allow anything to happen between us. That’s why I ignored you at breakfast, why I pretended we never spoke. I’m scared of you.”

“You don’t have to be,” I was just slightly confused by his words. “I’m only human, just like you. Flesh and blood.”

“Flesh and blood and this stupid little halo above your head,” he swept a hand over my head before pulling his touch down to the back of my neck. I giggled at his words. He cracked a smile. “It’s true. I see it.”

“You’re overdramatic,” I squeezed his hand. “Don’t put me on a pedestal.”

“I’ll try not to, but it’s what you deserve, I know it, darling.”

I examined him for a second, searching his eyes for recognition that he might have felt even a little bit better. I found it in the glints shining in his dark pupils. “Are you gonna let me in now? Now that we’ve had this talk?”

“Yeah,” Oliver nodded and I swear I felt him push his cheek further into my hand. “Yeah, I think I will. I just…I can’t make you any promises about anything. About this- about- us. I don’t know what I can give.”

“Whatever you have, I’ll take,” I furrowed my brows, the volume of my voice dropping down in a desperate sort of way. “Whatever you can give me, I’ll have it. It’s okay. I can…I’ll take it, Oliver.”

His face seemed to contort, overcome with emotion, understanding, comfort- peace, almost. He struggled to find words and, after a moment or two, asked, “Can I kiss you?”

I didn’t have to nod. My eyes told him everything he needed to know.

#sleep token x reader #iii sleep token #sleep token smut #sleep token fanfic #sleep token band #sleep token worship #sleep token iii #vessel sleep token #sleep token x you #sleep token x y/n #vessel (sleep token) x reader #vessel x you #vessel x reader #vessel smut #sleep token vessel #vessel #sleep token iv #sleep token #sam bartlett

[nocturne-pisces]

Jewel Encrusted

pairing: Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader

w/c: 1.4k

a/n: here’s some word vomit.

warnings: smut. it’s uhh- there’s some angst i guess? i also wrote like way too many similes and metaphors but whatever, yknow.

His knuckles turn white, his hands fisted at his sides. You don’t think his eyes could get any wider with the way he drinks you in like he’ll never see this again, like you’ll never let him this close again. He has to commit it to his Swiss cheese memory so he doesn’t lose the image of your face lit up in pleasure like neon signage.

You’re above him; the bounce in your tits matching the rhythmic slap of your ass against his thighs. This must be what it’s like to be ridden within an inch of your life, he thinks. Heaven lies between your legs and if he lets go he’s sure he’ll see salvation.

***

You might as well have invented antigravity when you waltzed into his life. The sway in your hips spun his world on its axis and Steve told Bucky that for the first time in a century he’d seen a glimmer of his best friend in the boyish smile he gave you.

***

You can’t imagine he could get any deeper if he tried, pressed to the limits of you while the springs in the couch are tested of their limits too. You look so soft, so supple, he wants to plant his hands on your hips and fuck himself a home in your chest where the heavy thud of your heart would make his echo a response.

But he won’t, his traitorous hands will not ruin this for him.

***

You asked him out the third or fourth time he’d choked on his own tongue trying to talk to you. A handful of near completely crushed daisies in his fist as he talked about making sure you had a good umbrella in case wind accompanied the rain later.

“Wanna buy me a coffee?”

The question had slicked off your tongue like oil and the gentle chime of your voice bound him tight. He answered yeah with too much breath but the way your face lit up made him remember that he brought flowers.

You’d tried not to laugh when he held them up and they all fell over his fingers like some stupid cartoon, your hand over your mouth and your tongue firmly held between your teeth. His head hung in defeat, but he appreciated the way you put those depressed daisies in a vase all the same.

Green tendrils of smoke curled from your fingers and he watched as each and every blossom stood to attention again.

***

“Are you going to touch me, Barnes?”

He feels like he has to unroll his eyes from the back of his head- physically peel his tongue from the roof of his mouth, dumbstruck as he feels every ridge and quiver in the wet and hot of you.

You slow down, cradle his face in both of your hands and suck his bottom lip into your mouth. You can feel the tension roiling in his thighs beneath you, the fraying thread of his self control as you still your hips, grinding against him slow and dirty.

He chokes on his tongue again, the head of him nudging against your deepest parts while your wet slips a small river down the seam of his nuts. He can’t think through the haze, can’t think past the way your skin feels against his. The only thing anchoring him in this reality is the vice tight grip he has on the couch cushions.

***

You’d struck up a conversation about books, noticed the worn copy of The Hobbit that he carried around like a stuffed animal when Steve was on a mission and made conversation about it. Bucky says that he’s been making slow progress through it, his eyes averting to the cup of coffee sat in front of him when you ask him why.

He doesn’t lie to you. Steve told him once that people who mind didn’t matter, and those that mattered didn’t mind. Bucky says that it’s hard to follow the story through all the clutter in his mind and without missing a beat you offer to read to him. The most beautiful woman he’s ever managed to stumble over himself in front of offers to read him his favorite story.

It doesn’t hurt anything but his ego when the coffee spills over the saucer and into his lap, but the red creeps up his neck and into his face all the same. You move your own coffee to the side and lean across the table, those same green tendrils looping around broken ceramic and affixing them back into place.

You apologize because you can’t put the coffee back in the cup, or at least you haven’t figured out how yet. He shakes his head and tells you that spilled coffee isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. You give him a sad kind of smile, one that he feels in the marrow of his bones.

“Why don’t we make sure it’s the worst thing that happens today?”

***

“Bucky, please, put your hands on me, baby, please.”

You plead with him, but he still doesn’t move, his hands refusing to budge from their spot on either side of him.

Finally, you stop, chest heaving, pulling his gaze up to yours. “Hey, are you okay? Do you want to stop?”

He shakes his head, his eyes falling shut and his forehead coming to rest in the valley between your breasts. “No,” he gruffs out, hot air puffing against your skin. “No, I don’t want to stop, I just—“

Even from this angle you can see his jaw flex, wincing as he beats himself internally for ruining this incredible moment. “Things break when I’m not in control and—“ his voice cracks, those sea blue eyes tinged with a hurt you wish you could pluck out, “I don’t want to break you.”

Bucky says it with all the reverence in the world, with so much sincerity that your heart breaks for him. You lean down and kiss him, lace your fingers into his hair and steal the breath from his lungs and he still keeps his hands firmly locked on either side of him because you’re still rested snugly in his lap and on his cock.

***

“She’s not pretending, Buck.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“I can. She’s not like that with anyone else. Just you.”

“Like what?”

“You don’t see the way she looks at you?”

“How does she look at me?”

Steve ponders it for a moment, tries to come up with any other time he’s seen that same look on your face. “She looks at you like she could understand where religion comes from.”

***

Bucky understands why some people are willing to die in the name of God. He understands why people are willing to live their whole life in devotion to something that may not exist. The difference is that there is real, tangible evidence that you exist in the purples and blues that blossom across his neck in the wake of your mouth.

“I’m not breakable, Barnes,” you pant, the heft of him still nestled deep.

“Everything has the capacity to break,” he groans back, swallowing hard when you clamp down around him.

“If you’re still coming up with Oxford words I’m not doing good enough.” You try to joke with him, but he’s so consumed with trying to keep himself under control that he can’t find it within to laugh at your joke.

You pull yourself out of his neck, kiss him back into this universe and rest your hands over his. “I can’t,” he pleads, like your hand rests on the dagger driven into his heart. “I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself—“

Your thumb presses his lips closed, fingers splaying against his cheek while you hold him steady. “I never asked you to be anything but who you are. I know what I signed up for and I want all of it.”

“I-“

You lean in close to his ear, press a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, let your green unfurl from your fingers, trail down his shoulders, and wedge his grip from the couch. Your hands slip from his face, down the slope of his neck, and rest on the plane of his chest.

“It would be an honor to be broken by you, Sergeant Barnes.”

The single note that sounded from the snapped harp string of his self control wrote a symphony in understanding.

He painted you in your favorite shades of sapphire and amethyst because nothing is ever perfect; and he kissed every single bruise when the sun came up because you know he is.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky

[yourlocalspacecryptid]

so the first episode we hear Martin is when he gives his corruption statement in season one. now, the entire reason why Martin even met Prentiss in the first place was because he was following up a statement about The Web.

and while there are several places that you could headcanon as the point where Jon starts to reciprocate Marin’s feelings, I feel that this episode is at least when Jon starts respecting and somewhat caring for Martin, not complaining about him as much and all of their interactions from this point forward aren’t filled with the sarcastic comments Jon made throughout this episode. With the most obvious moment being at the end of the episode when he offers that Martin stay at the archives until Prentiss stops stalking him.

fast forward to season four, when Jon goes to fetch Daisy from The Buried, the only reason they’re able to get out is because Martin was stacking tape recorders on the coffin, Whether it was due to Martins proximity to the coffin (him probably being closest to Jon relationship wise, thus being a good emotional anchor) or the tape recorders on the coffin, he gets out. The tape recorders, remember, are closely tied to the web, so Martin feeling the need to put tape recorders on the coffin seems awfully The Web of him.

on top of that most of the teaholding moments we get season 2 onwards are because the tapes turned on by themselves, the web wanted them recorded

hmm, and what is The Webs whole thing again? Fate, destiny, you have no free will, controlling the lives of others…

I believe the entire romantic subplot is just The Mother of Puppets helping their precious son (Martin) get together with his workplace crush

In this essay I wi-

#the magnus archives #tma #teaholding #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #the web

[aro-geo-turtle]

the TMA fandom ADORES Joshua Gillespie for his practical intelligence and problem solving, lauding him for his simple and effect solution to being presented with the Buried Coffin. And you know what?

I think that's not enough. I think we can go farther.

Joshua Gillespie saved the world.

Behold my reasoning:

Joshua Gillespie's iced key trick was enough to him to pass the Coffin's trial, meaning Breekon and Hope had to pick it back up again. They didn't have a new destination and so were stuck with it for over 20 years, still carrying it around by the time they joined back up with the Circus for the Unknowing.

During the Unknowing, Hunter Alice Daisy Tonner killed the entity's half known as Hope, and the half known as Breekon threw her into the Coffin in vengeance. During her 8 month imprisonment, her connection to the Hunt was severed and she realized she disliked the person it made her and the things she'd done.

By the time Archivist Jon Sims came and saved her, she was a changed person who knew she could never be forgiven but sought to be better and do good anyways. Over the next 6 months, she and Jon struck up an unlikely friendship and acted as Anchors for one another.

Between Martin being Forsaken, Melanie working to recover from the Slaughter, and Basira being a hypocritical brick wall, Daisy was, at this point, the only person Jon could rely on. They helped keep each other grounded and in check resisting the hunger.

If he didn't have Daisy there for him, what are the chances that Jon would have fully snapped and gone full Archivist, the world-ending weapon?

And the only reason she was there to keep him grounded was Joshua Gillespie outsmarting the Coffin.

Bam.

#tma #joshua gillespie #shitpost

[bazzybelle]

Aura Colour Quiz

Take this to find out your color aura! it is very cute.

Thank you for the tag @seiya-starsniper! This slipped my notifs! I only saw it because I was scrolling back.

Yellow

daisies, road signs, bumblebees, lemon merengue, bicycles, polaroids, awnings. your essence is yellow: you are precise yet shy, putting band-aids on your cuts alone. you demand much of yourself; your self-expression feels tempered by a mold you're intended to fill. you seek an anchor to hold and keep your doubt at bay. you are the dutiful. you are the one who rises after you fall. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of cream, gold, honey, and chartreuse, who share your loyalty and compassion. you are also drawn to the sturdy red and brown, who will help you grow and learn to not question your own judgment. however, you may struggle to get along with the overly-involved personalities of pink and green who are unconscious of their own feelings.

You. Dare.

Yeah, now that I feel sufficiently called out, let me send this to some friends.

@carryonsimoncarryonbaz @fight-surrender @giishu @amywaterwings @windsweptinred @samsalami66 @yellobb @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @ivelovedhimthroughworse @raenestee @janimoon @fleabagoftheendless @nausikaaa

#belle babbles #aura colour #fun quizzes

[athenagranted]

fuck it friday

i’m pretending its still friday. here’s some of my new WIP (affectionately titled Unhinged Buck) for y’all because it’s all i can think about rn!!

Eddie presses up behind him, hand splayed against his back. The edges of Buck’s vision are blurry, and he thinks Eddie might be holding him up, keeping his body from sinking down into the ground. He’s not sure. He just knows that they’re close enough that Buck can feel Eddie’s breath on his neck with every word that slips out of his mouth. (He wants to be closer. He wants to feel the vibrations of Eddie’s throat against his lips. He wants the pressure of Eddie’s hand to curl around his spine, tethering himself to Eddie in a way that can’t be undone. But he can’t have any of it. He knows he can’t. So he stays still, balancing himself against the point where Eddie’s thumb digs into his spine, planting his feet firmly on the ground and anchoring himself to the hard, cold earth, and he listens.) “How’s the driver?” Eddie asks roughly.  Hen shakes her head. “He’s gone. He was drunk — I definitely smelled alcohol on his breath. But his neck was bent pretty badly in the crash. He died before we could attempt to extract him.”  Buck grits his teeth. “Good,” he spits out, leaning further back against Eddie’s warm, warm body. He sways slightly to the side, and Eddie tightens his hold on Buck’s arm. “Good,” he murmurs again. Behind him, Eddie lets out a low hiss. Buck blinks, turning around to face him, taking in the slight scrape on Eddie’s brow bone and the dirt on his turnouts. He takes in the way Eddie’s worried eyes meet his, the soft honey-brown soothing the insistent pain in Buck temple. It’s a nice view, and Buck gives him a lazy, satisfied grin back. There’s no need to be worried. After all, Eddie is alive. He gets to go home, to the 118, to Chris, to his—  No.  Buck blinks. Eddie is alive. He gets to kick off his dirty shoes in the locker room and pull on the freakishly clean pair he always keeps in their locker — the one that Eddie only ever wears on drives back home from work. Eddie denies it, but Buck knows. He could recite Eddie’s every unsavory habit from memory alone, and he knows that those shoes have only ever seen the floor of a glass-walked locker room and the inside of a pickup truck. Today, Eddie gets to gently toe off those shoes, hide them in the top right slot of his shoe rack, and trek down the hallway to greet Christopher with a hug that he’ll shy away from, too old to let Eddie indulge in those small acts of love. Chris might cave eventually, though — even teenage moodiness hasn’t been able to curve Chris’s fierce love for his father. Eddie is alive, and tonight will end in a ruffle of his son’s hair and a twin chorus of I love you. Tonight won’t end in Chris reliving his worst nightmare. And it’s not just Christopher, Buck thinks — who knows how many lives were spared the moment Hen pressed two fingers against a still pulse; how many children were spared from the kind of blinding grief that Christopher faces every day. Who knows how many parents will laugh with their kids over dinner, how many bleary-eyed twentysomethings will show up late to work because of traffic, how many people will get to marry the love of their lives now that Hen has marked the body and moved onto the next patient. Eddie will get to do all of that and more, because he’s alive. Buck’s mouth ticks up in a smile. No, this was no loss. 

tagging some writer mutuals and a few people who were interested in this idea: @loserdiaz @captain-hen @jeeyuns @likegoldintheair @shitouttabuck @housewifebuck @antibyler @cal-daisies-and-briars @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @911-on-abc @elvensorceress @eddiebabygirldiaz @wildlife4life

#buddie #rae #rae.txt #rae writes #911